Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Here's my favorite Peace tip to be a good woman
"Beauty is one of the ways the adulteress draws her prey...[but] it is all right to have some external adornment, because stripping oneself of all makeup and wearing only plain, drab clothing does not make a woman more pleasing to God."
Friday, May 22, 2009
Profile: Revisited
Well, here it is. I attempted to have a theme and I think it's apparent throughout but not totally punch-you-in-the-face obvious, but I like how it turned out with what I had.
Learning for the fun of it: Akiko Kunii
By Marni Newell
Between white Grecian statues and reprinted art pieces, Akiko Kunii bustles in near the end of the alter-ego themed party for the 2009 graduating class of Kalamazoo College. She grabs a plate of hummus and vegetables in between posing for pictures with Vanna White, what looks like a female mob boss, and an 80’s prom queen, chatting with a man in a fedora by the table of food.
Later, the 80’s prom queen and mob boss admit they don’t know much about Kunii. Senior Julia Anderle De Sylor, the Vanna White of the party, knows her from a common extracurricular activity, the Business Guild, but says she still doesn’t know her well.
“I feel like I’d have to know her for years to really understand her,” Anderle De Sylor says. She contributes this to the culture difference: Kunii is from Japan. “Americans are more direct,” she says.
Kunii, a tall, slim, thirty-something Japanese woman is a familiar face on Kalamazoo College’s campus, noticed for her attendance at most campus-sponsored events. With a backpack perpetually slung over her shoulder and sporting sensible running shoes, Kunii finds time to attend meetings, lectures, and classes both as a student and a professor. As a teaching fellow for the Japanese department, Kunii teaches Japanese 203, a job she’s wanted since she was a teenager, and is enrolled in Anthropology, Teaching Foreign Language, and Mind Body.
When asked about spare time, Kunii draws a blank. “When do I have spare time?” she muses. “Sleeping?” She asks for a definition of ‘spare time’ and reconsiders. “You can see me in the library or office, any other place I’m just running.” She pauses, rethinking her interests. “Yeah, running.”
Through a program in Japan, Kunii was placed to teach at Kalamazoo College, a college she was excited to be a part of because of its prestige. Other members of the program were placed throughout the Midwest. Although life as an international student at Kalamazoo is hard enough—not to mention being a professor as well-- Kunii’s interests in learning outweigh the side affects: her full schedule. But, Kunni says it’s a “good busy…because I can see so many things and participate, but difficult because I have to choose.”
Because of the tight schedule, Kunii says she isn’t a member of many clubs—if you don’t count the Business Guild, Eyes for Sight, and dance lessons.
Anderle De Sylor, a fellow Business Guild member, sees her contributing a lot to the group when she is able to show up for meetings. “She sometimes has class conflicts,” Anderle De Sylor says. But this doesn’t stop her from trying. Even though she had a lab during the Guild’s international business conference, Anderle De Sylor says she “dashed in” as soon as she could.
Kunii knows about moving fast. During the winter, she broke her arm while jogging outside. “I hit the ground and it was terrible,” she says. After meeting many doctors at Bronson hospital and waiting longer than she’d like for an x-ray (“I’m always hungry so I didn’t like waiting to take x-ray” she says) Kunii was left with a broken arm, a card, and a bag of animal crackers from her Japanese class, her favorite. Kunii cites this as one of her favorite aspects of Kalamazoo College. “I’m so happy and lucky to have nice students” Kunii says.
The broken arm has slowed Kunii down, but not much. She may not be able to have her fifteen minute runs every day, but she can still dash from classes to meetings to events.
That’s another down side of being busy for Kunii, when you’re busy “You only say ‘Hi, how are you doing?’” without stopping for an actual conversation. What’s worse, when she would run, she would only be able to shout a salutation on her way by. “In Japan we,” Kunii pauses and bows and proceeds to say she feels “very rude” when she can’t bow.
That’s one of the first things Anderle De Sylor noted about Kunii. “Whenever she sees me she asks how I’m doing,” she says. But, more than that, she asks for specific updates in Anderle De Sylor’s life that she has spoken with her about. “Not many people do that,” she says. “You know—follow up.”
Manners are important to Kunii, who thinks the biggest difference between American and Japanese cultures is the lack of respect for elders, saying “In America, equality is more important than politeness.”
Kunii’s politeness is far-reaching, Senior Amel Omari met Kunii once at a women’s awareness group meeting. “I had to explain to her what ‘bitch’ meant,” Omari said, smiling. “Now she says ‘Hi’ when she sees me.”
One of Kunii’s obstacles in America has been to overcome the stereotype that because she’s not American, she can’t understand English. “People think because of the language we don’t understand. But I understand the concepts,” she says, drawing a fraction on a pad of paper. “You call this a fourth, right?” she asks and then points to the four. “In Japanese, we say the bottom number first.”
Although she already has received a bachelor’s degree and teaching certificate in Japan, taken classes at Northwestern University in Chicago, and teaches a class at Kalamazoo College Kunii identifies herself with the international students more than the professors. She describes having the moments when she realizes she’s Japanese. “I’m Akiko, but still I’m part of Asia, part of Japan,” she says.
Kunii’s visa runs out in June, when she’ll return to Tokyo to her family and her mom’s food, which is the first thing she’ll ask for when she’s home.
Learning for the fun of it: Akiko Kunii
By Marni Newell
Between white Grecian statues and reprinted art pieces, Akiko Kunii bustles in near the end of the alter-ego themed party for the 2009 graduating class of Kalamazoo College. She grabs a plate of hummus and vegetables in between posing for pictures with Vanna White, what looks like a female mob boss, and an 80’s prom queen, chatting with a man in a fedora by the table of food.
Later, the 80’s prom queen and mob boss admit they don’t know much about Kunii. Senior Julia Anderle De Sylor, the Vanna White of the party, knows her from a common extracurricular activity, the Business Guild, but says she still doesn’t know her well.
“I feel like I’d have to know her for years to really understand her,” Anderle De Sylor says. She contributes this to the culture difference: Kunii is from Japan. “Americans are more direct,” she says.
Kunii, a tall, slim, thirty-something Japanese woman is a familiar face on Kalamazoo College’s campus, noticed for her attendance at most campus-sponsored events. With a backpack perpetually slung over her shoulder and sporting sensible running shoes, Kunii finds time to attend meetings, lectures, and classes both as a student and a professor. As a teaching fellow for the Japanese department, Kunii teaches Japanese 203, a job she’s wanted since she was a teenager, and is enrolled in Anthropology, Teaching Foreign Language, and Mind Body.
When asked about spare time, Kunii draws a blank. “When do I have spare time?” she muses. “Sleeping?” She asks for a definition of ‘spare time’ and reconsiders. “You can see me in the library or office, any other place I’m just running.” She pauses, rethinking her interests. “Yeah, running.”
Through a program in Japan, Kunii was placed to teach at Kalamazoo College, a college she was excited to be a part of because of its prestige. Other members of the program were placed throughout the Midwest. Although life as an international student at Kalamazoo is hard enough—not to mention being a professor as well-- Kunii’s interests in learning outweigh the side affects: her full schedule. But, Kunni says it’s a “good busy…because I can see so many things and participate, but difficult because I have to choose.”
Because of the tight schedule, Kunii says she isn’t a member of many clubs—if you don’t count the Business Guild, Eyes for Sight, and dance lessons.
Anderle De Sylor, a fellow Business Guild member, sees her contributing a lot to the group when she is able to show up for meetings. “She sometimes has class conflicts,” Anderle De Sylor says. But this doesn’t stop her from trying. Even though she had a lab during the Guild’s international business conference, Anderle De Sylor says she “dashed in” as soon as she could.
Kunii knows about moving fast. During the winter, she broke her arm while jogging outside. “I hit the ground and it was terrible,” she says. After meeting many doctors at Bronson hospital and waiting longer than she’d like for an x-ray (“I’m always hungry so I didn’t like waiting to take x-ray” she says) Kunii was left with a broken arm, a card, and a bag of animal crackers from her Japanese class, her favorite. Kunii cites this as one of her favorite aspects of Kalamazoo College. “I’m so happy and lucky to have nice students” Kunii says.
The broken arm has slowed Kunii down, but not much. She may not be able to have her fifteen minute runs every day, but she can still dash from classes to meetings to events.
That’s another down side of being busy for Kunii, when you’re busy “You only say ‘Hi, how are you doing?’” without stopping for an actual conversation. What’s worse, when she would run, she would only be able to shout a salutation on her way by. “In Japan we,” Kunii pauses and bows and proceeds to say she feels “very rude” when she can’t bow.
That’s one of the first things Anderle De Sylor noted about Kunii. “Whenever she sees me she asks how I’m doing,” she says. But, more than that, she asks for specific updates in Anderle De Sylor’s life that she has spoken with her about. “Not many people do that,” she says. “You know—follow up.”
Manners are important to Kunii, who thinks the biggest difference between American and Japanese cultures is the lack of respect for elders, saying “In America, equality is more important than politeness.”
Kunii’s politeness is far-reaching, Senior Amel Omari met Kunii once at a women’s awareness group meeting. “I had to explain to her what ‘bitch’ meant,” Omari said, smiling. “Now she says ‘Hi’ when she sees me.”
One of Kunii’s obstacles in America has been to overcome the stereotype that because she’s not American, she can’t understand English. “People think because of the language we don’t understand. But I understand the concepts,” she says, drawing a fraction on a pad of paper. “You call this a fourth, right?” she asks and then points to the four. “In Japanese, we say the bottom number first.”
Although she already has received a bachelor’s degree and teaching certificate in Japan, taken classes at Northwestern University in Chicago, and teaches a class at Kalamazoo College Kunii identifies herself with the international students more than the professors. She describes having the moments when she realizes she’s Japanese. “I’m Akiko, but still I’m part of Asia, part of Japan,” she says.
Kunii’s visa runs out in June, when she’ll return to Tokyo to her family and her mom’s food, which is the first thing she’ll ask for when she’s home.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
The only thing better than an article about crazy anti-feminists is a short article about crazy anti-feminists
Here you go...
http://www.motherjones.com/media/2009/03/books-purpose-driven-wife
http://www.motherjones.com/media/2009/03/books-purpose-driven-wife
Monday, May 11, 2009
Because if they don't struggle, you don't have a story...
It's been hit or miss with Telling True Stories for me, but the Ethics chapter was endlessly interesting to me. I kept bouncing from love of narrative journalism to a deep hatred and embarrassment.
I guess I'll start at the beginning. I read a book on cognitive dissonance, and it was all about how memories are mostly wrong a lot of the time. The beginning of the chapter really speaks to that inconsistency, and I think that's really important. I know the book I read talked about a woman who wrote a memoir and then at the end of each chapter had talked over her memories versus her siblings' and her parents' and had conflicting stories from each person. This is so sad but so very important to not only writing, but to life in general.
Second, I feel like my interactions with my profile subject are bordering on unethical because she may not completely understand what I'm doing, and I think I'll show her some of what I have written so far just so she can get an idea and I won't feel so much like I'm misleading her.
Now, on to the crazy stuff. I almost couldn't read about all the stories about following people who are suffering or poor or both and not being able to help. Especially the story about the child trying to get to America and getting beaten and robbed and wandering into the city half-naked and bloodied. I guess I just can't understand that. It's important to have these stories and to tell them so things can get changed, but it takes a special person to be able to witness it without helping. Also, Bill Clinton sent a letter to one of those people, but are policies getting changed? Is there anything long-term happening with these stories, or are a few wealthier people sending aid to these specific cases and then the fad is over? I don't know. And if it's the latter, I don't see the difference between helping the kid as it's happening and waiting until you have a horrible true story to tell and letting other people help them. This gets into the whole point of narrative journalism and its affect on its readers.
I guess I'm a little sceptical because I feel the readers of these stories are probably more upper class and have the resources to send money or clothes to one person and then have their consciences clear. "What?" you're asking "How do you figure?" I don't know, but I don't see a lot of people from my small town reading anything but the Hillsdale Daily News--and they definitely don't have stories showing the hard life of the immigrant trying to make it to America. Thus, their negative opinions aren't changed. And, if these are the majority, then what long term differences are the stories making?
But, I'm wrong. It's much better to have these stories written and even have 5 people read them and tell their friends (I realize the actual readership is much higher than 5) than to have these stories remain absent and people go on thinking their limited thoughts about immigration and poverty.
I just can't get over the idea of watching people struggle just to tell their story.
In the end, I realize how important narrative journalism is to cultural understanding and to change. I think everyone should know I'm always sceptical at first, that's how I work things through. Often, if I start out liking something absolutely, it inevitably falls off its pedestal and I'm crushed with disappointment. So, this is better.
I guess I'll start at the beginning. I read a book on cognitive dissonance, and it was all about how memories are mostly wrong a lot of the time. The beginning of the chapter really speaks to that inconsistency, and I think that's really important. I know the book I read talked about a woman who wrote a memoir and then at the end of each chapter had talked over her memories versus her siblings' and her parents' and had conflicting stories from each person. This is so sad but so very important to not only writing, but to life in general.
Second, I feel like my interactions with my profile subject are bordering on unethical because she may not completely understand what I'm doing, and I think I'll show her some of what I have written so far just so she can get an idea and I won't feel so much like I'm misleading her.
Now, on to the crazy stuff. I almost couldn't read about all the stories about following people who are suffering or poor or both and not being able to help. Especially the story about the child trying to get to America and getting beaten and robbed and wandering into the city half-naked and bloodied. I guess I just can't understand that. It's important to have these stories and to tell them so things can get changed, but it takes a special person to be able to witness it without helping. Also, Bill Clinton sent a letter to one of those people, but are policies getting changed? Is there anything long-term happening with these stories, or are a few wealthier people sending aid to these specific cases and then the fad is over? I don't know. And if it's the latter, I don't see the difference between helping the kid as it's happening and waiting until you have a horrible true story to tell and letting other people help them. This gets into the whole point of narrative journalism and its affect on its readers.
I guess I'm a little sceptical because I feel the readers of these stories are probably more upper class and have the resources to send money or clothes to one person and then have their consciences clear. "What?" you're asking "How do you figure?" I don't know, but I don't see a lot of people from my small town reading anything but the Hillsdale Daily News--and they definitely don't have stories showing the hard life of the immigrant trying to make it to America. Thus, their negative opinions aren't changed. And, if these are the majority, then what long term differences are the stories making?
But, I'm wrong. It's much better to have these stories written and even have 5 people read them and tell their friends (I realize the actual readership is much higher than 5) than to have these stories remain absent and people go on thinking their limited thoughts about immigration and poverty.
I just can't get over the idea of watching people struggle just to tell their story.
In the end, I realize how important narrative journalism is to cultural understanding and to change. I think everyone should know I'm always sceptical at first, that's how I work things through. Often, if I start out liking something absolutely, it inevitably falls off its pedestal and I'm crushed with disappointment. So, this is better.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Responses.
I didn't do Akiko justice in my piece, but I wrote it as fast as I could and posted it, so my apologies for that. Here are my comments for you!
Mary,
This is an awesome piece. You put so much detail into the descriptions of Munchie that it’s hard not to know exactly where in the store you’re referring to. The anecdotes about Munchie are so amusing, I could read pages of that stuff. There’s one image, though, that I’m not sure I understand: the part where Paul is just trying to get Will to smile, I don’t really understand what he’s doing. It sounds like he’s doing the universal “I want a hug” sign. There’s something missing from this and I’m not sure I can accurately pinpoint it. I don’t know if I wanted you to profile Paul or if I thought that you were trying to do too much with this piece and it turned out to be a survey of all of these anecdotes and jokes from Munchie without a strong focus. I guess I felt like, as I was reading the descriptions of Munchie in the beginning, that I was waiting for you to start telling the story. I don’t know if a brief history of Munchie would remedy this, or if that would be totally boring. Either way, your piece dances circles around mine and was so entertaining.
Colin,
Same as Mary, this piece is smooth like butter. You really took me through the train station and set up the scene beautifully. Plus, you have a few really great lines in here, after the horrific death of the college student, “It was the two men who went into the bathroom, saw Heisinger, saw the blood and walked back out and across the street for coffee that put the sticker on the mirror.” That is just golden. I guess I have the same question as I had for Mary, though, and I’m not sure of the focus of the piece. You have the train station and you have the murder, and to me they seem a little separate. I don’t know if you were focusing on the station post-video cameras, thus post security. So, if now it’s safer than it was in 2000, or if you were focusing on the train station and that’s one of the anecdotes you wanted to tell. You could have easily gotten into the history of the station as well, but that would have been boring and I like the story you’re telling.
Camilo,
First of all, I love Linda. She’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met at K, I’m so glad you profiled her. Second, you have some fantastic images and details in this, I particularly like her morning routine that’s kind of set to what cup of coffee she’s on. There’s a few parts that are confusing, I think you could introduce Jim as Linda’s high school sweetheart, because as it is, it doesn’t become clear until the second paragraph. I really like how there’s this underlying theme of death in her profile, and you did a great job of following that all the way through. I think you introduce Jim’s death too soon, because after that you back up to when he was still alive and where they lived for his job. I don’t understand the quote, “After Jim’s death my goal was to raise a happy healthy young man who wants to leave his mom, and I think I’ve done it for good.” I also don’t really think the quote that she “wasn’t having success just getting pregnant” says what you want it to say. As it is, it sounds like she was trying to get pregnant and couldn’t, but you want to say she didn’t feel fulfilled by being a mom. Overall, you picked an amazingly interesting woman, this is a cool profile.
Emily,
This piece just seems like it’s already published. You have such beautiful language, especially when describing the scene and the characters. Your writing makes me believe you from the beginning. I feel like there are two themes with this story, though, and you could pick one and make it deeper. There’s the theme of this group of artists that is dispersing and this woman who started it in this awkward position of having no one really taking the group mentality seriously anymore, and then you have the theme of recycled art and the techniques of the artists. Did you ask Filtzpatrick what her plans are for next year? What the turnover rate is for artists, how this keeps Exquisite Corpse from reaching its full potential? These are kind of awkward questions, so I would understand if you didn’t ask them or don’t feel comfortable asking them. As it is, I feel like you’ve started telling me a story and I don’t really know the ending. What is she going to do next year and how does one become a member of the exquisite corpse? Also, when Howes is peeling cardstock off of the art piece and says he can’t believe she matted it as if she had to qualify what it is—I have no idea what he’s talking about: I have no idea what matting is and I have no idea who ‘she’ is. Overall, fantastic writing, Emily.
Maureen,
You have quite the character to work with here! Jane’s ideas of friendship are so foreign to me I want to hear more about it. I feel like what may have happened is you went to hang out with these girls and they didn’t really do anything. That’s fine, I think you can work with what you have, but you have to cut some of these scenes. I don’t see the significance of detailing Susan making sausage in the microwave, or the details of stir fry. You could say Susan went downstairs to make food and invited the others down and let that lead to your Crystal Ball scenes, but as I reader, I really don’t need to hear how things were cooked. Also, is there any way you can get Jane to talk more about herself and her views on social relations? I’d love more direct quotes from her. How close is she with her parents? Does she not have siblings? What was high school like for her? What else about American culture doesn’t she like? You have action with Jane watching the Crystal Ball attendees parade around the common area, but you need more content for this to be an amazing piece. Great job selecting Jane, though, she’s quite the individual.
Lindsey,
Your opening paragraph is fantastic, you really introduced The Strutt with grace. Overall, though, I’m not sure right now whether this piece is a narrative or a review of the food and atmosphere of The Strutt. You don’t really have much background or history, but you do a great job of describing what’s there now. What information did you get in the interview? You can talk more about the people who frequent the Strutt, or the bands they have every weekend, or the craft shows they host on the weekends, too. In fact, I think it would make this piece multidimensional if you discussed how the Strutt transforms itself to meet each of these obligations: music venue, craft show, chill coffee shop. That would completely follow your thesis in this, since you say the Strutt is more than just a simple coffee shop. Great descriptions of the food and atmosphere, but I want more! Tell me what Bain looks like, tell me what he’s doing when he’s talking to you, tell me what the college students next to you look like. Who’s winning at Monopoly?
Joseph,
This is a great piece. I love the images, specifically the sleeping, possibly dead, homeless man in the gutter. You do a great job of giving such strong details of Johnny’s appearance and his gestures and even his pauses, I can see so many of these scenes clearly. The only part I guess I don’t completely follow the opinion of the narrator is when you say Johnny isn’t an egotistical, cocky rocker, but a few paragraphs earlier I think he is. He’s not a professional rock star, but he’s already been through all of the typical rocker heathen lifestyle of excess? And he’s over it and thinks it’s dull? I don’t know what rubs me the wrong way about that paragraph, but he sounds like a bit of a jerk from that section. I guess because to be able to have gone through all of the excesses of a rock star and then gotten over it implies he’s done well enough and had enough money and resources to do that, and it just bugs me. Again, I can’t explain it, I should be happy he’s not an addict anymore, I guess. I love the scene with the kids and the balloons, though. I thought you said you talked to him on the phone and he wasn’t doing as well anymore? I want to hear more about that, and then you can switch the story arc into the highs and lows of the rock star lifestyle, I guess. Nice piece.
Mary,
This is an awesome piece. You put so much detail into the descriptions of Munchie that it’s hard not to know exactly where in the store you’re referring to. The anecdotes about Munchie are so amusing, I could read pages of that stuff. There’s one image, though, that I’m not sure I understand: the part where Paul is just trying to get Will to smile, I don’t really understand what he’s doing. It sounds like he’s doing the universal “I want a hug” sign. There’s something missing from this and I’m not sure I can accurately pinpoint it. I don’t know if I wanted you to profile Paul or if I thought that you were trying to do too much with this piece and it turned out to be a survey of all of these anecdotes and jokes from Munchie without a strong focus. I guess I felt like, as I was reading the descriptions of Munchie in the beginning, that I was waiting for you to start telling the story. I don’t know if a brief history of Munchie would remedy this, or if that would be totally boring. Either way, your piece dances circles around mine and was so entertaining.
Colin,
Same as Mary, this piece is smooth like butter. You really took me through the train station and set up the scene beautifully. Plus, you have a few really great lines in here, after the horrific death of the college student, “It was the two men who went into the bathroom, saw Heisinger, saw the blood and walked back out and across the street for coffee that put the sticker on the mirror.” That is just golden. I guess I have the same question as I had for Mary, though, and I’m not sure of the focus of the piece. You have the train station and you have the murder, and to me they seem a little separate. I don’t know if you were focusing on the station post-video cameras, thus post security. So, if now it’s safer than it was in 2000, or if you were focusing on the train station and that’s one of the anecdotes you wanted to tell. You could have easily gotten into the history of the station as well, but that would have been boring and I like the story you’re telling.
Camilo,
First of all, I love Linda. She’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met at K, I’m so glad you profiled her. Second, you have some fantastic images and details in this, I particularly like her morning routine that’s kind of set to what cup of coffee she’s on. There’s a few parts that are confusing, I think you could introduce Jim as Linda’s high school sweetheart, because as it is, it doesn’t become clear until the second paragraph. I really like how there’s this underlying theme of death in her profile, and you did a great job of following that all the way through. I think you introduce Jim’s death too soon, because after that you back up to when he was still alive and where they lived for his job. I don’t understand the quote, “After Jim’s death my goal was to raise a happy healthy young man who wants to leave his mom, and I think I’ve done it for good.” I also don’t really think the quote that she “wasn’t having success just getting pregnant” says what you want it to say. As it is, it sounds like she was trying to get pregnant and couldn’t, but you want to say she didn’t feel fulfilled by being a mom. Overall, you picked an amazingly interesting woman, this is a cool profile.
Emily,
This piece just seems like it’s already published. You have such beautiful language, especially when describing the scene and the characters. Your writing makes me believe you from the beginning. I feel like there are two themes with this story, though, and you could pick one and make it deeper. There’s the theme of this group of artists that is dispersing and this woman who started it in this awkward position of having no one really taking the group mentality seriously anymore, and then you have the theme of recycled art and the techniques of the artists. Did you ask Filtzpatrick what her plans are for next year? What the turnover rate is for artists, how this keeps Exquisite Corpse from reaching its full potential? These are kind of awkward questions, so I would understand if you didn’t ask them or don’t feel comfortable asking them. As it is, I feel like you’ve started telling me a story and I don’t really know the ending. What is she going to do next year and how does one become a member of the exquisite corpse? Also, when Howes is peeling cardstock off of the art piece and says he can’t believe she matted it as if she had to qualify what it is—I have no idea what he’s talking about: I have no idea what matting is and I have no idea who ‘she’ is. Overall, fantastic writing, Emily.
Maureen,
You have quite the character to work with here! Jane’s ideas of friendship are so foreign to me I want to hear more about it. I feel like what may have happened is you went to hang out with these girls and they didn’t really do anything. That’s fine, I think you can work with what you have, but you have to cut some of these scenes. I don’t see the significance of detailing Susan making sausage in the microwave, or the details of stir fry. You could say Susan went downstairs to make food and invited the others down and let that lead to your Crystal Ball scenes, but as I reader, I really don’t need to hear how things were cooked. Also, is there any way you can get Jane to talk more about herself and her views on social relations? I’d love more direct quotes from her. How close is she with her parents? Does she not have siblings? What was high school like for her? What else about American culture doesn’t she like? You have action with Jane watching the Crystal Ball attendees parade around the common area, but you need more content for this to be an amazing piece. Great job selecting Jane, though, she’s quite the individual.
Lindsey,
Your opening paragraph is fantastic, you really introduced The Strutt with grace. Overall, though, I’m not sure right now whether this piece is a narrative or a review of the food and atmosphere of The Strutt. You don’t really have much background or history, but you do a great job of describing what’s there now. What information did you get in the interview? You can talk more about the people who frequent the Strutt, or the bands they have every weekend, or the craft shows they host on the weekends, too. In fact, I think it would make this piece multidimensional if you discussed how the Strutt transforms itself to meet each of these obligations: music venue, craft show, chill coffee shop. That would completely follow your thesis in this, since you say the Strutt is more than just a simple coffee shop. Great descriptions of the food and atmosphere, but I want more! Tell me what Bain looks like, tell me what he’s doing when he’s talking to you, tell me what the college students next to you look like. Who’s winning at Monopoly?
Joseph,
This is a great piece. I love the images, specifically the sleeping, possibly dead, homeless man in the gutter. You do a great job of giving such strong details of Johnny’s appearance and his gestures and even his pauses, I can see so many of these scenes clearly. The only part I guess I don’t completely follow the opinion of the narrator is when you say Johnny isn’t an egotistical, cocky rocker, but a few paragraphs earlier I think he is. He’s not a professional rock star, but he’s already been through all of the typical rocker heathen lifestyle of excess? And he’s over it and thinks it’s dull? I don’t know what rubs me the wrong way about that paragraph, but he sounds like a bit of a jerk from that section. I guess because to be able to have gone through all of the excesses of a rock star and then gotten over it implies he’s done well enough and had enough money and resources to do that, and it just bugs me. Again, I can’t explain it, I should be happy he’s not an addict anymore, I guess. I love the scene with the kids and the balloons, though. I thought you said you talked to him on the phone and he wasn’t doing as well anymore? I want to hear more about that, and then you can switch the story arc into the highs and lows of the rock star lifestyle, I guess. Nice piece.
Monday, May 4, 2009
50 minutes late, but still...50 minutes late.
Profile: Akiko Kunii
By Marni Newell
On a Monday evening, during the a reading of a new book of short stories by Kalamazoo College English professor Andy Mozina, Akiko Kunii enters the dark lecture hall and fumbles to find a seat in the back. She succeeds, but not without a few backward glances at her entrance.
“I came at the end because I was busy,” she explains. Busy only begins to describe it: Kunii is both a teaching fellow and a full time student at Kalamazoo College. She’s currently teaching Japanese 203 and taking Anthropology, Teaching Foreign Language, and Mind Body. She doesn’t belong to many campus groups, but is learning to dance for World Night. “I’m terrible, but I like it.”
As for free time, Kunii draws a blank. “When do I have spare time? Sleeping?” To understand better, she asks for a definition of ‘spare time’ and then reconsiders. “You can see me in the library or office, any other place I’m just running,” she pauses shortly. “Yeah, running.”
Kunii likes to get a ten to fifteen minute run in everyday, something she hasn’t done since she broke her arm running in the winter. “I hit the ground and it was terrible.” Her Japanese students were sympathetic and caring, though, sending her a “Get Well Soon” card written in Japanese and animal crackers. She appreciated the card, but liked it more because it was in Japanese, “I’m so happy and lucky to have nice students.”
Kunii knows Andy Mozina through a workshop they took together. “I keep asking him questions,” she says motioning to her right where he had sat in relation to her at the workshop. “And he would write it down to me the definition and the word and he read it to me.” To Kunii, that’s the most effective way for understanding English.
“People think international students don’t understand because we don’t know English. But I understand concepts.” Kunii reaches for my pen and slides the pad of paper near her to draw a fraction on the corner of the page. “You call this a fourth, right?” she points to the four with the pen. “In Japanese, we say the bottom number first.”
Kunii came to Kalamazoo College through a program offered in Japan that sends students all over the United States. She attended Northeastern College in Chicago before coming to Kalamazoo. Northeastern is “Very different. Much, much bigger.” When she has questions, Kunii attends office hours of professors, something more widely available at Kalamazoo than Northeastern.
When office hours aren’t available, Kunii uses the students at Kalamazoo. “I met her once at a women’s awareness group,” Senior Amel Omari says. “I had to explain to her what ‘bitch’ meant.” Omari smiles saying, “Now she says ‘Hi’ to me when she sees me.”
Manners are important to Kunii, who thinks one of the negative aspects of Kalamazoo College is how busy everyone is. “I can only say ‘Hi, how are you?’ when I see people when I’m running. In Japan, when we see people we—” she bends down to pantomime a bow. When Kunii is running and can’t bow she thinks she’s being rude.
Between preparing to teach classes and homework for classes she’s taking, Kunii tries to see the bright side of being busy. “[It’s a] good busy…because I can see so many things and participate. But it’s difficult because I have to choose.”
By Marni Newell
On a Monday evening, during the a reading of a new book of short stories by Kalamazoo College English professor Andy Mozina, Akiko Kunii enters the dark lecture hall and fumbles to find a seat in the back. She succeeds, but not without a few backward glances at her entrance.
“I came at the end because I was busy,” she explains. Busy only begins to describe it: Kunii is both a teaching fellow and a full time student at Kalamazoo College. She’s currently teaching Japanese 203 and taking Anthropology, Teaching Foreign Language, and Mind Body. She doesn’t belong to many campus groups, but is learning to dance for World Night. “I’m terrible, but I like it.”
As for free time, Kunii draws a blank. “When do I have spare time? Sleeping?” To understand better, she asks for a definition of ‘spare time’ and then reconsiders. “You can see me in the library or office, any other place I’m just running,” she pauses shortly. “Yeah, running.”
Kunii likes to get a ten to fifteen minute run in everyday, something she hasn’t done since she broke her arm running in the winter. “I hit the ground and it was terrible.” Her Japanese students were sympathetic and caring, though, sending her a “Get Well Soon” card written in Japanese and animal crackers. She appreciated the card, but liked it more because it was in Japanese, “I’m so happy and lucky to have nice students.”
Kunii knows Andy Mozina through a workshop they took together. “I keep asking him questions,” she says motioning to her right where he had sat in relation to her at the workshop. “And he would write it down to me the definition and the word and he read it to me.” To Kunii, that’s the most effective way for understanding English.
“People think international students don’t understand because we don’t know English. But I understand concepts.” Kunii reaches for my pen and slides the pad of paper near her to draw a fraction on the corner of the page. “You call this a fourth, right?” she points to the four with the pen. “In Japanese, we say the bottom number first.”
Kunii came to Kalamazoo College through a program offered in Japan that sends students all over the United States. She attended Northeastern College in Chicago before coming to Kalamazoo. Northeastern is “Very different. Much, much bigger.” When she has questions, Kunii attends office hours of professors, something more widely available at Kalamazoo than Northeastern.
When office hours aren’t available, Kunii uses the students at Kalamazoo. “I met her once at a women’s awareness group,” Senior Amel Omari says. “I had to explain to her what ‘bitch’ meant.” Omari smiles saying, “Now she says ‘Hi’ to me when she sees me.”
Manners are important to Kunii, who thinks one of the negative aspects of Kalamazoo College is how busy everyone is. “I can only say ‘Hi, how are you?’ when I see people when I’m running. In Japan, when we see people we—” she bends down to pantomime a bow. When Kunii is running and can’t bow she thinks she’s being rude.
Between preparing to teach classes and homework for classes she’s taking, Kunii tries to see the bright side of being busy. “[It’s a] good busy…because I can see so many things and participate. But it’s difficult because I have to choose.”
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