Significant Connections

Control through Fear. 

Through many dystopian texts expressions via deep themes of manipulation can be connected. The thirst and conquer of power, spawn from cryptic methods of controlling a community through fear is particular to our studied dystopian novels and films. Fear has been recognised by leaders in power as the most effective form of control.

Why you are not entitled to anything

  • Written for my peers
One day you were born in a hospital in a bed, or in your house maybe a bath? You were named after a great grandparent or an idolised rugby star, a pretty flower. You were celebrated for days on end and still remain to be continually showered in praise. Your parents call you important, a sweet heart, the light of their life. You start your day on a full tummy and end it with a hug from mummy. You play for the top sport team and enjoy the company of many mates.
You have 100 more followers than all your friends. Bill from down the road isn’t even close to reaching your best liked photo on Instagram. You are liked by the opposite sex and enjoy the attention. You hear the comments in the hall. “man they look good today” “Jesus christ I would kill to have a body like that”. This fuels your fire, encourages the light to burn bright and the idea of invincibility coats your mind.
You drive mums old car for skids at the outlet and expect to return back for dinner .You find year 13 boring and are excited for the prospect of university and the chance for independence. You expect many great things in these coming adult years. Because you are important, a sweet heart, the light of their life and Mother did not raise no loser. You want money, fame and good fortune. You want happiness and acknowledgment, you want a good job, you want stability, you want to get married.
You want 3 kids 2 boys one girl. Because girls are hard work  She would be named rose after the pretty flower and the boys Ritchie and Kieran after the best rugby players of all time. Up the all blacks. You want a large house with a bigger pool than Bills and an even bigger backyard for Kieran and Ritchie to kick in. You expect all of this. Like its a gift from god. You expect pounds of luck. You expect life to be moderately hard. Hard is my middle name. Life won’t be hard.
Because guess what world I am a white and i was born in New Zealand. A privileged human. A good human, a wise human. A human taught from day one what to expect from society. Your parents said all you gotta do is find a partner get an education and things will be good. What is good? I bet you daddy didn’t tell you what happens when you get fired for sleeping in. Daddy didn’t tell you that no one wants a partner who makes half as much as Bill? But darling, i’m important, a sweet heart, the light of your life.
Ha Guess what so is every Tom, Sarah, Jack, Rachel and Bill. Guess what you will fail and it is going to sting. A longer lasting sting that stops you from going out with the homies on a Saturday night. Your body will be shocked with this feeling of change. It Keeps you tucked under your kmart duvet for days on end. Because mum isn’t there to plaster your bumps or write you a note.
One day you will no longer be number one. You will soon release you aren’t top gun. You my white fellow male and female individuals will find out quite soon you are entitled to nothing.Entitlement is defined as the fact of having a right to something. What right now do you feel entitled to? The chairs you sit on, the education you receive, the air that your little lungs breathe. I know I feel entitled to it.
I have done my part. I come from a good family. I cleaned the dishes this morning and oh I volunteered for challenge wanaka way back when. I deserve this. and maybe well everyone does. But have you ever thought maybe you don’t? What if one day you awake. education is removed. you are entitled no longer. 1 in 4 million children in the middle east are not entitled to basic schooling. Every 21 minutes a child under five dies in the african continent from preventable disease. Are they not entitled to life.
Me, you, I ,us have had a great run. An amazing run, a run conducted by mum. A run that is not similar to everyone. But this run changes next year and entitlement unconsciously coats our expectations. I believe everyone is this room expects something. Different levels of expectation perhaps. But it’s still present. I was born 6637 days ago. In Christchurch at exactly 1:26 am on June the 20th 1999. I was born a female. I was born white. Roughly that year there were 59,120 babies born in new Zealand. I was probably number 29,500. It’s scary isn’t it?
The fact that you are just a number in the wake of the world. I was named after my great grandmother, my parents call me important, a sweet heart, the light of their life. I believe them. I go to school and come back safe. I expect that. I never wonder from the norm. I unconsciously expect food and shelter 24/7. I have a shower every morning and clothes to put on my back. I go to bed 10pm every night and wake up alive. Do I think about others receiving the same treatment I do all over the world on a daily basis. No.
Do I lie awake at night thinking about the starving children deprived from education in the middle east No. However ironically I am thinking about that stupid assessment tomorrow and what I will eat for breakfast the following morning. I live a life many people can’t comprehend however I expect more. I believe that entitlement needs erasing. Without entitlement nobody is let down. Everyone must work to gain their desires.
By Removing this idea from your mind and hopefully this will allow you to survive. Because going into the world expecting entitlement will leave you ultimately lonely and quiet shook. Because honey there are so many other lights in the world and expected entitlement will not lead to to a happy retirement.

 

 

Film Study, Creative Writing, Speech and Exam Prep

Hi Ella,

I think you’re going to be away for Tournament Week.

The following two links are to the structure we’ll be following for the Film Study while you’re away and to the practise paper (and exemplar) that you can use as a preparation exercise.

Also, can I ask you to put the  script of your speech and your dystopian creative piece onto your blog and work on it from there? This will allow me to ensure its authenticity in case you wish to use it as a portfolio piece.

Righto!

CW

Film Study:

Film Study: Minority Report

Practise Paper:

Practise Paper: 2.2 Film Study – Minority Report

Speech – Draft

Speech Ideas

  • Should you base your perspective of people on stereotypes you have heard?
  • Do you think the death penalty is the best punishment for dangerous criminals?
  • The importance of listening to your parents.
  • Should parents lie to their children about Santa
  • Why we should cut down the Wanaka Tree
  • Why you should be a nice human being
  • Why the saying “treat others the way you want to be treated” is the reason humanity is ok

 

Persuasive Language – Draft Ideas

Emotive Logical Fallacy – Appeal to Emotion

Imagine a world stripped of resources. No environment to enjoy. A place of nothing. Do you want this? Do you think this is right?

Well guess what, you have no choice. This will be your life. This will be your earth. It has been proven that by the year 2030 the world will only be 21% forestry.  By 2050 there will be no fish in the sea and by 2088 there will be no oil to construct fuel. This loss of resources with occur. The enviable ultimate doom can however be postponed or even demolished entirely.

Changing Climate

Mounds of empowering hills inject the luminous azure sky. Dusted with the frozen white juice stolen from the world below. Below, a lesser state of the mind, a place of heartbreak and hunger.

Creative Writing

Awaking from Slumber

Captured in the white fingers, unconsently torn from a state of wonder. From a place of dystopian pleasure, an abduction set in darkness without a seen exit. Fatigue debilitates the mind and freezes the conscious, utterly ceasing time.

I tear the canvas of coverage hysterically in an act of retaliation to the heated obis.

 

Dystopian Text: Chapter One

Dystopian World

 

Before the time of loathing, I remember the deep red satin sheets which draped the clustered market stalls. This particular place used to hold the greatest pleasures. Refractions of piercing white diamonds were sold here, the foreign kind that reek of pleasure and self entitlement, still manage to hold their presence in this naked earth. Not so long ago now I watched the purchasing of these forgotten treasures. Piles of the rarest medicine and the most outrageous watches drenched the tables of the sellers. They would grin ear to ear with the presence of their products. However demand for these goods is absent now that time is no longer counted. Broad older men, who were drenched head to toe with strong cologne were the most common customers. Their dark cloaks filled with coins milled in and out of the various stalls. Ambling children fattened by the decadence of love and food, whose singular fear was fictional followed their guardians through the choreographed system of which was the selling.

The selling started at nine and finished roughly around five, I knew this because Mother would be hanging up the washing in our backyard. Her delicate fingers carefully placing the clothes in swift movements, in time with the motion of her chestnut hair. Humming to herself she would complete her work, intertwined with the constant resonance of the market. I miss those sort of sounds, the ones that are never far gone, continuing to trigger the brain in a form of comfort. Being apart of the Allein limits sound. I took german when I was 10 and

limits sound.

Its my 46 circuit presently. This area is roughly 26 hours away from the checkpoint. It has taken me 12088800 minutes it still remains the same.

Above, the darkened sky holds dusty pheasants, their long dark tails control the moving clouds which weep exhaustion. The terrain below encases my bare feet. My movements create imprints in the baked earth. 1, 2, 3 I count like a rhythm. Counting lets me focus on containing to walk. I see the plague of unworthy power that has been grasped, I see the pettiness, I see the wastefulness, I see how lonely life is now. The shrapnel of unsuccessful aims and dreams coat the rugged terrain. Back then everything no matter how politically influenced and forcefully imposed on us had some sort of purpose. I grip the yellow tattered band highly strung around my waist. The only visual connection to the past. Materialistic memories of belongings and ownership of not just things but yourself.