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Emma Vass Public Feed

Willow Vass Capstone

Posted by Emma Vass in CTE Senior Capstone · Kamal/Ugworji · Wed on Thursday, May 28, 2020 at 9:57 pm

I wanted to create a capstone that represented my interests, and had a positive impact on the musicians and artists I know. Foundations for Artists was an idea for an event which would showcase poets, musicians and photographers wanting to start their careers, serving as a networking opportunity, and a memorable experience. However, after quarantine occured it became clear that an event was no longer possible. My final product is an explanation of my process, along with some original music I worked on during quarantine.

Link to Music: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/10KJVTq44HNOpkWPQzOth2msKh7zHKg3G?usp=sharing

Capstone Final Presentation
Annotated Bibliography
Tags: capstone, Jonas, 2020
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Cultures of Violence - Advanced Essay #3

Posted by Emma Vass on Sunday, May 5, 2019 at 8:36 pm

Acts of anger and violence are hard to miss in United States history. As it appears in American culture, through our entertainment and through our core values, is only enabled to be problematic via the environments it is cultivated in. It is often questioned whether this violence is by nature or nurture. However, because environments which systematically encourage it are entirely responsible, this answer will not have an impact. Looking at the human mind will be rendered insignificant if we fail to pick apart the systems that mind is processed through.

At an initial glance of the many scenarios in which violence occurs, it might be difficult to find a unifying factor between all of the variables at play. One article from Scientific American entitled Understanding Violence goes over some of the reasons violence plays a role in the human experience. Findings from research on our counterparts, monkeys, has explained how other species use violence more practically. “They do not start a fight to alienate themselves from another individual, but rather to renegotiate the terms of an ongoing relationship,” and goes on to say that “peacemaking, an important part of this negotiation, appears to be in part a learned skill.” Looking at how these observations relate to the way monkeys work, it is clear that the learned skill here is not the violence, but what it is used for. Regardless of how their brains impact their actions, the bulk of their decision making comes from their learned routines. Had they grown up around an environment in which violence was used for another purpose, that is the purpose they would use it for as well. In this instance, the violence utilised by individual monkeys is influenced by the culture cultivated by the group, and considering their relation to the human race, it can be inferred that a similar phenomenon might be at play in people.

Observing how monkeys express and deal with issues using violence is not the only way to understand how it relates to the human experience. Philip Zimbardo, an American Psychologist known for his work on the Stanford Prison experiment, often discusses the complexities of violence in the human mind. In a Ted Talk on this subject, he asks the question, “where do people go wrong?” heavily exploring the lines between learned violence and people that are, hypothetically, intrinsically violent. In his conversations regarding violence, Zimbardo outlines some reasons for the violence that comes out in people. More heavily, he blames “blind obedience to authority,” and “conformity to group norms.” Most notably, it is important to point out that this would obviously have an effect on people when their environmental context is that of violence, anger, etc. In his work, Zimbardo discusses the events at Abu Ghraib, in which American soldiers not only torture their prisoners, but documented their horrific endeavours, posing with a smile and thumbs up. These American soldiers were dropped into a world in which violence against the other was acceptable, and so that is the path they took. Along with the fact that these people had previously been functioning, normal members of society, this shows that their behavior was heavily influenced by the environment they were in, both in their peaceful and violence environments.

In 1968, third grade teacher Jane Elliot designed a social experiment to conduct on her students. She wanted to test how the students would react to dividing them up and assigning stereotypes to separate groups. After seperating the class into blue eyed and brown eyed students, she told the students with blue eyes of their intelligence, and brown eyed students that they had inferior traits. Within the day, she noticed brown eyed students becoming more anxious and less confident, in addition to their grades and comprehension dropping. Additionally, the blue eyed students would begin to bully the brown eyed students for their differences, and take advantage of the privileges they were given because of their blue eyes. The next week, the students were informed that they had been misinformed; those with brown eyes were in fact superior. Almost immediately the roles were reversed. This shows, that regardless of their actual intelligence, students based their actions and beliefs on that of the group; when students felt superior, they bullied those in the other group. This shows that the environment set out for a group of people, either by an authority or higher system, is entirely responsible for the way that they take out anger and violence on those around them.

Knowing the impacts of the environments people are placed in, not only in their development but throughout their life, is significant because it can help us to create a more peaceful environment, confident that it will create a peaceful outcome. Regardless of a person’s baseline mental state, they will end up going with the grain. In the end, realizing the impact of systems and environments as influences will help us shift the responsibility on the bigger picture, and come up with larger scale solutions to problems of violence in the world. This is important because it shows that the changes we make in the world should not be with the soldiers or the students, but in the government systems and in the schools.


Bibliography:

  1. https://www.ted.com/talks/philip_zimbardo_on_the_psychology_of_evil?language=en

  2. https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/understanding-violence/

  3. https://www.pbs.org/video/frontline-class-divided/

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How Toxic Masculinity Pollutes More Than Just Men

Posted by Emma Vass on Thursday, January 17, 2019 at 8:27 pm
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In this essay I explore the confines of toxic masculinity and propose it is something that can affect anyone. If I were to write it again, I would like to spend more time on analysis to better support my thesis. I would also have liked to create a better flow, because I feel the essay can be choppy at times. However, I was ultimately proud of the format of my essay, because I tried something new in terms of the format, and how I introduced the topic. In the future I would like to further explore the ways in which I could rearrange my writing.


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I could not have been further from familiarity buried deep in the Yosemite National Park, but I felt right at home, hard to find in the forest. A soft chill fell over the evening air. The smell of smoked wood served as a distraction so the sun could sneak away discreetly.

I did not know everyone there, and the new-faced adults were intimidating. All I knew was that I was older than the other kids, and consequently more level-headed. Jeromy, a family friend, was quickly conjuring up flames to cook a campfire meal on, but the guests were getting hungrier than the fire.

“Hey, does anyone want to help me out choppin’ logs?” Jeromy spoke cheerfully. His smiley tone indicated he was addressing the kids table. He was offering the handle of a small axe to any willing to accept his challenge.

Being the boisterous leader of the younger ones, I stepped up to the plate. With my fabricated confidence, noodle arms and all, I undeniably announced myself as a viable candidate. But my self-assured stance soaked in anticipation would not even savor the satisfaction of acknowledgement. My efforts went largely unnoticed, and Jeromy’s eyes cut through me like a knife through sad butter and landed instead, on some other, younger boy slumped absentmindedly behind me on a log. This little boy got to chop the logs.

So as I watched him barely heave the hatchet over his head, I was counting the ways in which I could have done a better job. I critiqued his form spitefully, but my mind was more heavily milling over my flaws. What was it that took my offer out of the running? Was I too small? Was I too stupid? Not trustworthy with an axe? How could I possibly prove myself capable of cutting wood? I was angry that something about my superb stature squashed my chances of wood chopping. In that moment, and in many to come, I compared my own strength to those who stole my missed opportunities. Over time, I picked up the pattern that my femininity was racing ahead of me and kicking opportunities out of the way like unlucky pebbles.

There are a million things I could have done once I discovered my femininity. I could have embraced it with its bright colors and pretty pieces, and used it to propel me towards opportunities. I could have hidden it; I could have accepted it. I chose to crumple it up small and swallow it whole. In order to finally have hatchets handed to me, I needed all the muscle mass I could get.

But why did I choose to suppress it? How is it possible that, in that moment, the system imprinted on me, a girl, that the right thing to do was rid myself of femininity?

The concept of toxic masculinity being something capable of affecting people other than men is explored in the Telegraph’s article Violence Does Not Come Naturally to Men and Boys: “Contrary to what Fox News and faulty science would say, it takes a huge effort to turn boys and men into killers. From primatologists to evolutionary anthropologists, we know that neither women nor men are killers by nature” (June 2015). We live in a society which heavily promotes organizations like the NFL, or encourages men to follow careers in the military or in construction. These are all jobs which require their participants to, more times than not, put on a brave face, and fight through physical and emotional afflictions. More importantly, some of these organizations do not even allow women to participate. Our society is riddled with systems which impose toxic masculinity onto men, and evidently these philosophies do not come naturally to them. The article continues, “Extreme trauma, humiliation, shaming, social isolation and intense indoctrination are nearly always part of the making of men who kill.” There are intense and rigorous factors at play which aim to make men this way, and if these ideas were imposed on women, they would be changed just the same. Jared L. Skillings, Phd, emphasizes this point in CNBC’s article Gillette's toxic masculinity ad earned a mixed response—but research supports the message. “There are also ways in which men can be unhealthy — just like women. And so it's important for us to try to highlight and accentuate the areas that are positive and try to identify and fix the ones that are not” (January 16, 2019). In this severely indoctrinating system, it is perfectly possible for women to inherit the same ideas. They can be unhealthy in the same ways as men. In many cases, their environment makes that possibility a reality.

My example of chopping firewood is not an isolated incident. For years to come, I spent hours of my time working tirelessly to look and feel more masculine. Habits of self hatred and an incessant need to feel tougher were probably picked up from the boys with whom I spent a lot of time. Although I will never really go through it, I know how much energy it takes out of a person to truly embody masculinity. I am well aware of fearing femininity being a full time job. In middle school, I even spent a few years forcing myself to be a tenor in a capella because I feared those around me associated lower octaves with a higher IQ. I wore big, baggy t-shirts because I believed that being small would hold me back, and I wore a thick skin and an angry face because I thought if I was too nice I was too weak. I associated coldness with coolness, bigger muscles with a bigger brain, and femininity with negativity. Ask me anytime and I will gladly tell you the story of a parasite called toxic masculinity using a woman as a host.



Works Cited:

  1. Barker, Gary. "Violence Does Not Come Naturally to Men and Boys." The Telegraph. June 05, 2015. Accessed January 18, 2019. https://www.telegraph.co.uk/men/thinking-man/11652352/Violence-does-not-come-naturally-to-men-and-boys.html.

  2. Hess, Abigail. "Gillette's Toxic Masculinity Ad Earned a Mixed Response-but Research Supports the Message." CNBC. January 16, 2019. Accessed January 18, 2019. https://www.cnbc.com/2019/01/16/scientists-agree-with-the-message-of-gillettes-toxic-masculinity-ad-.html.

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Advanced Essay #1 - Thorns

Posted by Emma Vass on Friday, September 14, 2018 at 11:09 pm

Intro
The goal for this essay was to show that valuable experiences are not always enjoyable, and that personal growth does not always come easy, or feel comfortable. I want the reader to come out of this paper with a new appreciation for bad experiences. I think that sometimes it can be significant to put yourself in situations without expecting things to go swimmingly, and that there is still something to be learned from that. In the future, I would like to become a more descriptive writer that is able to give description concisely.

Thorns
The feeling started off small. In the beginning, it was just as bothersome as the log I was sitting on cutting into the back of my thigh, or the wood chips in my boot that were just out of reach. As time passed, the sky dimmed. The sun began to hide and I grew jealous. I tried to hold it in; I’d handled sleep away camp decently thus far. Up until that night I was able to get by with short sentences and hunched shoulders trying to hide in my chest, but my nerves started to tangle themselves in knots I could no longer untie. With a desperate glance towards my camp counselor and a silent wimper I asked permission to go back to my cabin. She responded with a tender nod, and I pulled myself away.
I made my way through the forest anxiously, but not carefully. I was so surrounded by emptiness it was suffocating. It felt like the forest was trying to coil around my waist and pull me in, Maybe it wanted to hang me in the trees as a warning. My own veins started to give out; it felt like my blood dried up and retreated to my knees. My skin was evaporating rapidly; I could feel it sizzling away, and almost felt whole pieces of me escape into the frightening forest. At that moment, anything was less chaotic than my body. I felt weak; my stomach felt stitched together. Yet I pressed on through the night, and walked faster still. The twigs clawing up my clothes and my skin felt like fireworks ripping holes in my head. When anxiety gets you that vulnerable, even the sound of a clock clicking can eat you alive. In that moment, the sound of snapping leaves felt like firecrackers.
When I made it to the other side of the wooded hell, the branches that had tortured me melted off of my arms and cowered away from the dim light hanging in the gravelled road. But the feeling still did not leave me. I still felt my heart ramming against my ribcage. I still had to endure my stomach twisting into tight, painful knots. I stumbled stupidly forward. Not even the sweet sound of boots crunching gravel brought me comfort. Instead pebbles scraping against each other made noise that gave my bones a dull ache; I thought of how it might catch the attention of a cruel creature of the night. I stunk of fear.
By the time I got to my cabin I expected some sort of relief, but my anxiety whispered that not even screen doors and shuttered windows could keep me safe from her. I scrambled up to the safety of my top bunk. The dirty sleeping bag was cold and crisp against my hot, dry hands. I crawled into my chilly vinyl sleeping bag, and it sucked the heat from my weary skin. I started to sob quietly. Surely the mental state I’m in could only end in death. I tried to search for warmth in the doom filled darkness, but I found sleep sooner. A panic attack was quite enough for me. That night I vowed never to come back to sleep away camp again. I was the one who went to camp, and I was the one who walked through the woods knowing their would be sharp sticks and intrusive thoughts I would trip on. There would be no reason for the scars the thorns left, only extra work when my skin would have to sew itself back together. I dragged myself through mud with no reason to show for it, and I still would have no explanation if I dove back in. 
One night I found myself filling out another camp application.
That night I knew deep down the sort of danger I would put myself in signing up for camp. The application process alone was enough of a hassle, not even including the stupid amount of emotional strife it caused me. And yet my fingers did not stop typing my name, no matter how much my anxiety tried to pull them back. I still added pictures to my portfolio. I still trekked through signatures and phone numbers and emergency contact information. I must admit, in those moments I was made of second guessing. The sound of clicking keys were dragging me as close to my doom as the sound of tugging branches had. Yet I still submitted the application, accepted the call back and soon enough I was in a car, on a highway, lugging my life long possessions to a place I’d never been before. My mother would leave me there and not come back for a while yet.
Why was I doing this to myself?
On the way up to the third camp I’d went to, the road was made of this question. The gray sky ahead peeled back to expose those words swirling in the clouds. Why does anyone do anything to bring back their pain, when it is so comfortably buried deep?
But that is exactly it. Anxiety has found a home in my head. She has furnished it and made it her own. She has shuttered the windows and stuffed cluttered secrets under her bed. When I am home, so is she. She is asleep, but still there, waiting to come out and bite when I least expect it. It is hard to kill a beast in hiding. I realized that in the years at camp before, I had come back stronger. I learned that people can only solve their problems when they can see them before their eyes. Now I know that therapy sessions are not to make me feel better, they are to make me better. I work through my troubles to solve them, not to stomp them deeper. People who take breaks from their comfort zones only leave because comfort zones leave no room to grow. Now I know that people trek through thorns so their calloused fingers can’t be cut up next time.

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My Personality Slide

Posted by Emma Vass on Friday, December 2, 2016 at 10:17 am

My original slide is slightly different in the design, but very different in its meaning. When editing the slide, I changed a few of the words, because after further thought I realized that not all of them felt like they described me. Eccentric, for example, didn’t quite fit how I wanted to describe myself, so I replaced it with caring. As for the other words, I am very passionate about debate, voicing my opinions and activism. Additionally, basketball and videogames are two big hobbies of mine.


For my image, I originally decided to use a guitar, but I changed it because it didn’t feel very personal. Instead I replaced it with one of my sixth grade projects. This project was a part of our journey in self discovery; to create a mask we thought represented ourselves. This mask is created around my identity at the time, and still holds a lot of truth in my identity today.


Many aspects of the mask are very symbolic, which I think is similar to identity in itself. You won’t be able to discover everything about me just by looking at me once. First, the forest at the chin represents my adventurous side, the river represents my creativity, and the rocks around the nose represent more jagged sides of my personality. I’m often stubborn, and easily upset. Finally, the spaces where the rest of the mask should be represent the parts of my personality I haven’t found yet. There are still holes in my mask, and parts of myself that I need to discover.


I made sure the color of the flag on the far right contrasted the background color of the words in intensity, but that they still went well together. I also tried to keep it minimalist but break up the space with the variation in value at the same time. I also contrasted the size of the text to add a bit of variation. The mask, in addition to being a part of the meaning of the slide, also adds some shape and form to the slide. Finally, I made sure to space out the word section and the mask section to follow the rule of thirds.


Screenshot 2016-12-02 at 10.15.09 AM
Screenshot 2016-12-02 at 10.15.09 AM
Screenshot 2016-12-02 at 10.15.35 AM
Screenshot 2016-12-02 at 10.15.35 AM
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My Home Network

Posted by Emma Vass on Friday, October 14, 2016 at 10:24 am

How does it work?

A few weeks ago I needed to discover how internet gets to my home for an assignment. So, naturally, I started outside, and looked at the different wires that go into my house. The wire that I found brings internet to our house is called a CoAxel wire. It comes into the house from the back, along with a power wire and a few other lines. The CoAxel brings internet into the house through the garage, then goes through the basement and connects to them modem and router. The modem and router are what distribute internet to all of my family’s devices. They’re connected to a TV, Two IPhones, and a few computers.

What did you learn?

I knew that internet comes to my house through a wire, but I didn’t know that there were different kinds of wires. There are two different types; Fiber Optics, and CoAxel. CoAxel, which is what I have, basically brings internet and radio signals through a wire. Fiber optics is much faster, and it’s because it brings internet to the house using light.

What should people know about having an ISP?

Everyone should know how much they’re paying per month, and exactly what they’re paying for. That means people should know how their internet works, so they don’t get ripped off.

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