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Gabriel Musselman Public Feed

Gabriel Musselman's Capstone - "Gabe and the Babes - EP"

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Capstone - Rami - Wed on Friday, May 22, 2015 at 7:54 pm
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Here is a link to my public SoundCloud profile, on which you can find my Capstone project:


https://soundcloud.com/gabriel-musselman/sets/gabe-and-the-babes          


   The Capstone project is a continuation of the learning that a student has been experiencing throughout their high school career. Because of this simple truth, I decided to base my project an endeavor I have spent countless hours both in and out of school trying to perfect: music. My Capstone is a collection of four recorded songs that showcase a yearlong struggle to write, record, and produce professional, bona fide music. The result is an EP entitled “Gabe and the Babes”, featuring talents from both SLA and my own family. All tracks are recorded on solitary condenser microphones directly into Garageband, an entry-level software available for free on SLA’s school laptops. The recording sessions took place in basements and dorm rooms, and the final product represents countless hours of frustration, sweat, and musical tears.

Two of the songs on the EP (Extended Production) are covers of tunes by artists that I admire, whose work I chose to record both for its artistic value and the challenges that recording on a nonexistent budget and cheap, available gear imposed. The first of these, “Blues Run the Game” by Jackson C. Frank, is a prime example of American Folk music. Because folk has been instrumental in the development of my own musical tastes and style, I decided to include this piece as a tribute to musicians that have influenced me. The second of the two covers, “Monster Ballads” by Josh Ritter, is a song that my brother and I love. It is only fitting then that we would collaborate to produce a cover: he plays rhythm guitar and sings, while I play a short solo midway through the song.

The second two songs included in my project are original pieces. They represent a large majority of the struggle that went into my project’s genesis. The problem was that, at first, I was unable to channel any type of musical inspiration for long enough to complete a piece. When I finally had the material ready for recording, I found myself tasked with recreating what I believed the song should sound like using only one microphone or direct – input instrument at a time. The first song in this set, “This Breeze”, chronicles a feeling of peace that I experienced while sitting on the roof of my home with my guitar one morning. The piano that appears in "This Breeze" happened entirely on accident, and is played in earnest and inexperience by myself. Ben Diamond, SLA’s music teacher, features as the percussionist on this and the other original tune. The second song, “Here by Eight”, is a Bossa Nova – inspired look into modern jazz and blues. Felix D’Hermillion features as the first solo guitarist here, while I round off the trio (Gabe and the Babes), playing rhythm and solo guitar as well as bass.

             


Sources and References


Diamond, Ben. "Recording and Producing Music." Personal interview. 28 Jan. 2015. ]


In this interview, I consulted Mr. Diamond on several methods with which to record and produce music. Our conversation spanned the technology used to record different instruments as well as the methods that were available to produce and mix tracks using computer software. We talked about instrumentation and microphones as well as computer programs and rhythms. The conversation really went wherever we wanted, drawing from different tangents we drew. We also talked about songwriting and the shapes that songs take on. I used this to influence my decisions in both choosing which instruments to use in my songs and which software to utilize.


Simon, Paul. Graceland. Paul Simon. Warner Bros. Records, 1986. CD.


This album by Paul Simon is famous for its lyrics and recording. He recorded it in a South African studio while touring Southern Africa. The rhythms in the music have been used in countless projects by other artists, and are classified as some of the most complex available. I used the iconic tracks as a research material, studying the structure of the piece as well as the lyrics and the recording methods used. I looked at the different interplays between the rhythm section and the melody of the song and used that information to make my songs more complex. It was my hope that, by studying this album, I could spice up my songs and make the rhythms more complex.


Pattison, Pat. "IMRO Songwriting Seminar with Pat Pattison." Lecture.


This lecture given by Pat Pattison at the Irish Music Rights Org headquarters teaches tools that can be used to tie emotion together with lyrics in a song. Pattison is a professor at Berklee College of Music, and has done extensive research into the nature of rhyme and verse and their application in songwriting. He uses teaching methods that are common more to an English teacher than to a music teacher, which serves to make music theory more accessible to the common man. I found it informative and easy to listen to. I used these tools in writing the lyrics to my songs, specifically when he mentions the way that the absence of lyrics can create a sense of instability.


Pattison, Pat. Writing Better Lyrics: The Essential Guide to Powerful Songwriting. Cincinnati: Writer's Digest, 2009. Print.


Pat Pattison, professor at Berklee College of Music, takes on the topic of lyrics portraying emotion and gives useful tools with which to write better song lyrics. He talks about the structure of popular songs and famous examples. He also talks extensively about using the absence or presence of lyrics to emphasize emotions that the author may be using in their piece. I used this book as a guide and to refine the lyrics I had already written, changing them to fit the templates that he provided. It proved helpful in shaping the structure of my songs and their overall direction.


Poyser, Debbie. "20 Tips on Songwriting." Sound on Sound Jan. 1999: n. pag.Sound on Sound. Web. 28 Jan. 2015.


This article by songwriter Debbie Poyser, published in 1999 in the magazine Sound on Sound gives twenty helpful hints and tips in order to help struggling songwriters. It outlines exactly what it is that makes artists struggle in writing pieces and gives helpful tips to overcome those boundaries. It covers all aspects of the process, from the conception of an idea to the finishing of a lyrical idea. I used these tips numerous times throughout the songwriting process, and the lesson in this article were extremely helpful in determining if my process was going to be fruitful or not. I cross-checked these tips with every one of my song lyrics.


Roseman, Ed, and Peter Reynolds. Edly's Music Theory for Practical People. Kennebunkport, Me.: Musical EdVentures, 2009. Print.


This is a book all about what makes music music and how that can be applied to the music that we hear or write. I have been studying from this book for a while, and almost everything I have learned about the theory side of music has been from this volume. It is easy to understand, hence the “for practical people”, and I have found it enjoyable. It has been immensely useful in showing me how the lick or chord progression I had written worked or didn't work musically. With its help, I refined the music I had written and wrote new things.


Wilder, Alec. The Great American Songbook. N.p.: Blendingwell Music, 1973. Print.


The Great American Songbook by music critic Alec Wilder is considered by many the greatest collection of American music in history. It chronicles hundreds of songs that are considered lyrically or structurally excellent. They are the creme de la creme, the best songs of their era. The book focuses mostly on Broadway and musical film pieces, but includes jazz and orchestral pieces as well. I used the volume to examine the structure of songs from that period and compared them to more contemporary songs. I noticed some similarities between the music that I liked and had written to some of the pieces that were in the book.


Plant, Robert, John Bonham, Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones, and Willie Dixon.Led Zeppelin II. Led Zeppelin. Atlantic, 1994. CD.


This album, the second from musical icons Led Zeppelin, won critical acclaim for its sound and style. It launched them from the minor fame they had received for their first record to the worldwide fame that they achieved later in life. I wanted to make some of my songs resemble some of theirs, and used this as inspiration. I particularly liked the imagery used in some of their songs, specifically "When the Levee Breaks". It was crucial that I identify lyrics and chord progressions that I liked from the album, and I used these to inspire some of the things that I would write in my project.


"Circle of Fifths." Circle of Fifths. N.p., n.d. Web. 30 Jan. 2015.


This informative online tool teaches about the circle of fifths, an important facet of music theory. It is something that ties all of music together, and is helpful in seeing connections between chord progressions and relationships. This theory was crucial in understanding the chord progressions I had written and how I could apply them to songs that I was currently writing. I used it throughout the writing process in order to find a place in where I could spice up a section or write a new lick or harmony. I think that this information is crucial for anyone that wants to write a song that isn’t the basic three chords of pop music.


Rush, Toby W. "Music Theory for Musicians and Normal People." Music Theory for Musicians and Normal People. N.p., n.d. Web. 30 Jan. 2015.


This online database catalogues hundreds of lessons on music theory in convenient charts, graphs, and diagrams. It is made by Toby Rush, a data analyst and musician, who has dedicated his time to providing these free tools to aspiring musicians. I used this resource to teach myself more about music theory and what made my music work or fail. It proved extremely helpful in showing me new paths that I could take my songs and in showing me what I had already done with the songs I had written. I used the tools found on the website to create templates for the songs I wrote.


Frederick, Robin. "Learn How to Write a Song." Robinfrederick.com. N.p., n.d. Web. 30 Jan. 2015.


This online resource details the steps in which songwriters create their works. It also addresses some of the challenges that face them throughout their journey. It includes lessons and tools as well as links to other outside resources on YouTube and other sites. I used this as a jumping off point by which to find other resources and look at examples of good song lyrics and chord progressions. I also used the steps to help influence my process when writing a song, changing what I had made to fit the criteria and tips outlined in this resource. I found it extremely helpful.



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The Hunter

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in English 3 - Pahomov - C on Thursday, June 5, 2014 at 2:09 pm

Hard eyes glared up at him from behind an oaken counter. He paid no mind to them or their owner as he swung his legs over the rusty stool and dropped into its seat. His boots clicked down onto the bronze pole that served as a footrest. Jackson reached up and took his broad hat from his head, setting it down on the stool to his right.

“Gimme an ale. Somethin’ strong and dark. And a hunk of bread if you would be so kind,” he said. The barkeep continued to shine the glass in her hands for a moment before setting it down.

She was a pretty maid, couldn’t have been more than ten and seven with auburn hair that hung down to her shoulders. The soft flicker of a fire burning in the corner of the room brought out the green in her fierce eyes. She grabbed a tankard from the bottom shelf behind her and unstoppered the great wooden barrel that hung over the edge of the bar. A thick, dark mead flowed from the hole where the cork had been and drained into the glass below. The lass ripped some bread off of a hard white loaf behind the counter and set it on a tray with the ale beside. She slid it down towards him with a scrape and tapped the bar twice with her fingers.

“That’ll be two coppers for the ale, one for the bread, and another ten if’n you’ll be wantin’ a room,” she said with a cold stare. Jack took three coins from the purse at his belt and slid them to her over the countertop. He wouldn’t be needing a room tonight. Not if everything went as it should. He took a swig from his tankard and looked around the room, sweeping over the chairs scattered across the room and huddled around the hearth. The dusty men occupying them stared back with hard defiance. All except one. Do I know him? The man stared shiftily down at his boots as he drank from a rusty tin mug. He looked to be about twenty years of age with oily black hair hanging down to cover his bulbous nose and hideous twisted lips covered in scars.

It was not the most pristine of establishments. In fact, it was just about as dusty and forlorn as any of the saloons Jackson Blake had visited in his day. But if catching outlaws was a religion, this rusty bar was his Shangri-La. That’s Long Bill Waters, sure as day. I’ve never seen a bandit so ugly. Looks like he's got five or six friends in tow.

Jackson finished his drink with a few slow gulps and slid it down the counter to rest in the barkeep’s hand. The men around the fire were talking in hushed voices now, glancing occasionally in his direction. A few of them looked nervous, fidgeting as if they were waiting for something urgent. Jackson didn’t like that any more than he did the silver-grey six shooters that hung from each and every belt in the circle.

He casually reached down to his hip and felt reassuring cold steel beneath his grip. He was ready for whatever they might bring. This was not his first rodeo.

One of the men stood slowly and sauntered over to the bar, his boots clicking on the hardwood floor as he walked. He sat down next to Jackson’s hat and ordered a whiskey, straight. He cast a fleeting glance over in Jack’s direction, lingering just a second too long on the pistols by his side. They’re looking for trouble, but so am I.

“You been to Fort Griffin ‘bout this time last year? I’m lookin’ for a friend of mine. Might be you can help me find ‘im,” Jackson spoke up. The man fidgeted his gaze over to meet Jackson’s.

“Can’t say that I have. As to yer friend, I would need name or a face.” Jack reached into his pocket and set a crumpled piece of brown paper on the bar.

“Just so happens I have both. You seen this man before?” Jackson noticed the man’s neck tense as he unfolded the paper and stared at the face looking back at him.

“Son of a bitch…” The man’s hand shot down to the pistol at his side, but too late. Jackson’s own six-shooter was already in his hand and leveled at the outlaw’s chest. POP! POP! The first round caught him in the shoulder as he tried to rise. The second slammed into his chest right over his heart. He let out a soft gasp as his head hit the floor. The barkeep screamed out of shock and dropped the glass she was shining, glass shattered over the floorboards.

Around the fire the men were jumping out of their seats, drawing guns and kicking chairs out of the way. Bill Waters fired the first shot as soon as his finger found the trigger. The bullet whizzed past Jack’s head and buried itself into the shelf behind the bar. The barkeep fled the room through the back door as Jackson vaulted over the counter to take her place. Dozens of bullets screamed into the thick wood around the bounty hunter’s head as he huddled beneath the bar. The sound of their exit was so thunderous he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out. I need to shoot my way out of here. Wait for an opening, stay alert.

By then three of the five that stood around the hearth had run out of ammunition and stopped to reload, kneeling on the hardwood floor. Jack took notice and drew his second gun from his belt. One, two, three. He jumped up, guns barking. A bullet struck through one bandit’s throat at the navel, sparking a fountain of red that sprayed in every direction. Another grazed the shoulder of the man next to him and knocked him from his feet, where Jackson finished him off. But for every shot the bounty hunter got off, his remaining targets sent three singing back through the air.

Jackson recoiled from a round that buried itself in the wood next to his arm on the bar and another ten that whistled past his head. He ducked back behind the counter. The outlaws continued to fire while he shoved six rounds into their chamber’s and caught his breath, protected by the thick wooden counter. This’ll never work. Those that are left won’t fall for that again. Jack unstoppered a bottle of gin that rested on the shelf behind him and took a long swig.

Suddenly the gunfire ceased and a cold silence filled the room. Smoke from both sides of the bar floated up to the rafters. “Bounty hunter!” a deep, gruff voice called out. “We’ll give you a choice now. Lay down your weapons and come on out here and we’ll spare the girl. Keep firing and my next bullet goes through her skull.” The girl. Dammit, how did they get to her? This’ll cost me.

He raised his hands over the edge of the counter and slowly rose to his feet. “I’m comin’ out.” Four bandits and one bartender stood in a semicircle around a scene of demolition. Blood pooled under a pile of what had once been chairs but had been reduced to firewood by the scrambling gunmen. The girl was unharmed as of yet but they had her surrounded, steel bared.

Long Bill flicked the barrel of his pistol over in Jack’s direction. “Walk.” He pointed to a spot on the floor in front of him. Jack climbed over the bar and walked slowly over, both palms raised. “You put up a hell of a fight, hunter. But we canyon boys have seen a fight or two in our days, and we’re not so easily incapacitated as it were.”

Jack looked over to the girl standing in the midst of their group. She caught his gaze and held it for a brief moment. He saw a flicker in her eye in that second, a look that frightened him. “Just you wait,” her eyes said. “Wait and see.” Jackson felt a knot twist in his belly. Ah, shit. She’s gonna try something.

Bill Waters took a step forward and raised his gun to level with the bounty hunter’s teeth. “Now, seeing as that you have surrendered, we will be doing whatsoever we like with your life and gold.” Jack swallowed back the nervous tension that had reached the back of his throat. He felt suddenly cold, then hot, as chills swept over his body. How am I gonna get out of this? The outlaw turned back and nodded his head at the barkeep girl behind him. “And hers.”

“You promised,” Jack scrambled to his feet in protest and advanced on Bill’s posse.

“Whoa, there cowboy. Back on up now,” Bill cocked the hammer of his pistol. “Now what we promised and what we intend to deliver are not one and the same. Being as we are humble thieves and murderers ourselves, we do not place too much emphasis on keeping promises. We’re bandits, you should know that. Are you ready to die now, boy?” Behind his shoulder, the girl inched forward. Jack looked down at her hands, which were removing something black and slick from the folds of her gown, he thought it to be a knife.

Jack cocked back his head and spit full in the outlaw’s face. “Well I guess that answers that,” one of the posse offered.

Bill raised his pistol again and made Jackson return to his knees. Jack closed his eyes. If you’re gonna do something, girl, do it quick. He looked back up and stared Bill dead in the face, defiant. Long Bill laughed, “I’ve never had much of a pension for allowing last words and the like, but…”

Suddenly the girl’s hands snaked out and Jack could see the object entwined within. If only for a fleeting glance, he could make out silvery circles raised over a a slick black surface. The length of the small flat rectangle was strewn with lines running from beginning to end. Small bright lights shone from one end, flashing on and off.

“What in the hell…” One of the posse began. But the room was suddenly filled with a shrill, high-pitched whine which seemed to echo off of the rafters and fill Jack’s head, his eyes, his chest. He sank to his knees and clasped his hands over his ears. The lights were shining violently now, throbbing red. Only the girl remained standing, seemingly unaffected by the sounds or the lights. The outlaws lay flat on the floor, rolling around and covering their ears. How the hell is she doing this?

Suddenly the lights and the sounds ceased. An eerie silence replaced them, and the light from the fire dimmed. Jack started to rise before… SCREEEECH! What looked like tiny lightning bolts flew from the end of the black device and shot out in every direction. Jackson was lifted off of his feet and thrown into the far wall, crashing violently against the wooden panels. A chair exploded onto the floor next to him and an empty tankard slammed into the small of his back.

He lay there on the floor for what could have been thirty seconds or an hour before he rolled painfully onto his side. He tried to open his eyes, but found that smoke filled the air thick and black. Off to his right someone was coughing as if they meant to die, so, Jackson crawled in that direction, bumping into rubble and burning chairs as he went. By the time he reached the source of the noise, he managed to open one eye and could see the room burning and collapsing around him. Three bodies lay atop one another underneath a fallen roof beam. Another had made it as far as the front door before he had died of burns, gunshots, or some combination of the two by the look of him. Jack crawled over to where he had dropped his six-shooters and gripped them tightly in his hands. He would do well to keep them around.

The coughing was coming from Long Bill Waters. He had fallen in the confusion of the blast, getting trapped by cascading debris, and lay with a pistol in his hand underneath the collapsed beam. Thick red blood clung to the skin of his chest, and flowed grisly from his mouth and left ear. Jackson kicked the pistol away and bent down over the man. “Your days of murder and rape are over, but not entirely by my hand. I’m sorry.” He raised his gun and put a bullet through the man’s brain. The blood spattered up into Jack’s face, and he wiped it from his brow.

Just then the rubble by the door shifted and a pair of dusty hands clawed its way out of the pile. Another one’s still alive. Jack looked back over his shoulder to see if he could find the last of the bandits, but when he looked back the pile was moved and the hand was gone. Shit, how did he move so fast? Through the smoke-blackened window he caught a glimpse of auburn hair fleeing towards the stables. Shit, how did she move so fast? He clambered over Bill’s body and went out of the door.

He limped slightly as he ran. The blast had slammed his leg into the wall with bone-shattering force, but he was hard to break, and recovered quickly. A crescent moon lit his way around the back of the burning saloon and into the barn doors.

She was saddling up a mottled brown palfrey when he caught up, her fingers working deftly over the old leather straps. Either she didn’t notice his footsteps crossing the stable threshold and creeping up behind her, or she did not mean to finish what she had started. Jack, however, was not given to such luxuries. “Where are you stealing off to with that horse? I have some questions that require answers.” Jackson cocked back his pistol to help make his point.

She turned and stared him down. “I’m done here. There’s work elsewhere for me. For you, too, it would seem.”

“So you’re a hunter.” Jack couldn’t believe his own ignorance. Of course she was. He lowered his gun, but didn’t put it away. “You know you didn’t finish Long Bill off. The credit’s mine.”

“I figured as much after I heard that shot. Thing is, I was headed out of the door when that building collapsed.” She turned back and resumed working on the saddle. The young mare whinnied. “Got trapped beneath a falling beam and couldn’t see much on account of the smoke—”

“How did you do that. I’ve never seen something so powerful.” Her silence told him more than her words could have. “Well you’re a fool if you think I’ll let you walk out of here. Not after that.”

She faced him and laughed quietly. Her eyes sparkled green in the moonlight shining through the open doors. “Good thing I’m not walking.”

And suddenly a pistol was in her hand and she was hurling bullets his way. Jack felt a force strong as a train rip into his stomach and knock him off his feet. A blinding pain rose up to his head and he screamed in agony. She swung up onto the saddle and kicked the horse twice in the ribs, galloping out of the barn. Jack realized he still had gun in one hand, and squeezed two rounds from the barrel. The first flew through the night sky past her head and off into the desert. The second slammed into her leg above the thigh and drew a dark stream of blood that shone in the blue moonlight. But she held onto the saddle with a yelp of pain and rode off towards the distant hills.

Jackson rolled to his side and pushed himself up to sit. The pain was nauseating, and he turned to retch in the straw on the floor. Taking leave of his senses, he drew in a sharp breath that sent a new wave of pain rolling over his stomach. He struggled to his feet and found a saddle on the wall. I can’t let this go unpunished. She won’t get away.  He hobbled over to a lean grey horse in the corner of the stable and threw the saddle up. He groaned his way through the straps and up onto the mount. In the distant moonlight he could see the dust from her trail rising into the night sky. Warm blood slicked down the side of his shirt and fell onto the ground in large drops; his head swam. He kicked the horse in its side and rode off after her.

At first the trail was easy to find. But as the soft sand turned to clay and rock, her trail all but disappeared. The only distinguishing path left was the rare drop of blood that fell from her leg and shone deep purple against the brown and red ground. She went to the hills, and he followed.

Jack caught her on a red sandstone butte three hundred feet above the desert floor. His horse made it only three fourths of the way up the trail before it became too steep and rocky to navigate. He continued on foot, passing a mottled brown palfrey along the way. The top of the butte was covered in green moss that proved a soft foothold; his boots dug into the soft ground. She was sitting on a twisted log facing away from him, the ground before covered in a pool of slick red. His own blood still seeped from the wound in his stomach, but he gritted his teeth and pushed forwards.

“End of the road, I fear. This is as far as it goes.” Jackson called out as he advanced on her seat. “That was a helluva shot back there. You almost did me in, but you’ll find I’m a bit harder to kill.” She stared ahead, ignoring his words. She still had a small pistol, but it lay on the ground in front of her.

Jack reached the log and hobbled around its side, using one hand for support on the rough, dry surface, and the other to nest the six shooter glinting in the moonlight. “You see, the truth is that I like a good fight, under the right circumstances. I like it almost as much the reward when I win. But you meant to take that reward from me. I’ve been tracking Long Bill Waters for longer than you’ve been playing this game.” Jack reached the front of the log and aimed his pistol at her head. “The game’s over.” She stared off into the distance, her hands resting on the dry wood to her sides. Talk about dignity in defeat. “Are you hearing this? I said it’s over.”

She made no move or sound. Jackson moved to her front and saw his error. She sat slumped over, the light gone from her emerald eyes. Her head drooped down into her navel. She’s gone. Jack breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t much like executions. He holstered his pistol. It should be just about morning now. He turned towards the coming light. But if he was looking for a sunrise, he didn’t find it.

Hard eyes glared up at him from behind a shiny six shooter. He stared back. His mouth gaped open in shock. “You’re wrong, hunter. The game’s just begun.”

“How did you…” but Jackson stopped himself before he started. Of course. He had seen it before, at the saloon. “You’ll pay for this.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.” She squeezed the trigger. POP! A brief flame burst from the barrel sending a hard bullet screaming through the air and through Jackson Blake’s left eye. Darkness crept up to cover the world.


— - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - —


Jack Masterson awoke in a cold, blue room with white sheets pulled up over his chest. His eyes felt heavy with disuse and his arms were leaden weights sinking into the firm springs of the mattress. It was daytime, the yellow beams of light streamed through the windows and thin curtains. He blinked to adjust his vision and pressed a small blue button to his side to raise himself into a seated position. “Game Master!” he croaked, his voice cracking and sharp to ears.

Electrical nodes attached to different spots around his chest, legs, and arms. The control cap sat heavily on his head, and he reached up feebly to pry it off. The wires that covered his body took slightly less effort to pull off, but even that proved to strain his fingers and wrists. He was reaching for the last pair on his legs when the game master came running in on two stubby legs, dressed head to toe in regulation blue.

“Masterson? What happened, you were first in the rankings since last week!” The man sputtered. He gave him a quizzical stare. Jack glared back and swallowed to clear his throat.


“I think we have a hacker.”


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A Brief Encounter

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in English 3 - Pahomov - C on Thursday, March 20, 2014 at 11:25 pm

Part One


We always thought that they would find us. We always thought that they would come out of the sky and either hail or annihilate us. But that was sci-fi material. In fact, the first contact occurred just outside of the orbit of Proxima Centauri, a red dwarf star in the constellation Centaurus. Imagine our surprise. The search for extraterrestrial life took us further than we had dreamed, and yet the answer lay not four and a half light years away. We thought it would be Hubble or Maximus or any of our other long-range telescopes that would discover some blip on the surface of a planet on the outskirts of some solar system and then, suddenly, bam, we would have discovered alien life.

But, in 2137, a research team sent to collect data from our neighboring dwarf star was astounded to find an oblong, deep black device etched with slender markings lodged in the webbing of their spacecraft. It was unlike anything they had ever seen. Certainly it couldn’t be natural. No environmental condition or mineral forming could have created the complex patterns and glyphs that were carved into the artifact. There was only one explanation: something else was out there, and we were not alone.

Once news of the discovery reached Earth, chaos of biblical proportions shook the foundation of societal laws. The planet split in half, one side wishing to pinpoint and contact the aliens, and the other wishing to hurl the device into the sun, never the wiser to its origin.The latter group decided that, to ask the questions of where and why the object had been sent, would be to risk the safety of the entire planet. They established their borders along the equator, forcing their counterparts out of the Northern Hemisphere in the largest land-exodus in recorded history. They colonized the now half-abandoned cities of the Northern half of our planet and began to amass resources, communication technologies, and, eventually, armies. There was no way they could stand by and let the one thing that was keeping them alive dissolve. The extraterrestrials didn’t know we existed, and they intended to make sure that never changed.

Those who wished to search for answers formed new borders along Central America, Northern Africa, Australia, and the Pacific Islands. But countries no longer needed to exist. Within the confines of both the North and the South there was no need to distinguish differences that had plagued humanity since the Middle Ages. Black and white, gay and straight, only intellectuality was favored above all other traits. Now there was a greater goal. They attempted to resolve the issues between the two sects, but to no avail. Tensions rose steadily higher.

The conflict reached a boiling point in November, 2155, when the second greatest discovery of the century was made. A team of researchers working on decrypting the artifact’s etchings made a landmark breakthrough, managing to decypher almost half of the entire set of markings through a computer algorithm. Some of the characters depicted stars we had seen in our own night sky. The others pointed to a massive planet the size of three Earths, their home. If we could find the astrological locations of the surrounding stars, we could find the planet they so desperately wished to share.

It was a map, and it led us right to them.




A Brief Encounter


A bright green light flashed for a brief second on the dashboard and then was gone. The radar swept slowly from sector to sector, detecting nothing but the emptiness of space and a few small asteroids that quickly passed. Outside of the long glass cockpit window, tiny lights shone brilliantly throughout the dark sky, both closer and further away than seemed possible. Annabelle had travelled for seven months, stopping for neither obstacle nor repair. At speeds a hundred times that of light, the ship had travelled nearly eighteen parsecs from its port on Earth, the farthest any ship had been from the motherland.

In his small crew’s quarters, the sound of Lukas’s slow breath traveled across the cabin and filled the silent halls of the ship. The health monitor displayed a steady heartbeat that rose and fell, noting the rhythm of his sleep. His boots and suit hung just by his feet next to the bed. Lukas had settled in ten hours before, and was just now beginning to stir.

The heavy olive eyelids that held back his sight slowly separated. Lukas stretched his arms out to either side and twisted his back, feeling the tension of a long rest leave his body. He rose to his feet and slipped inside of the deep crimson spacesuit that he had worn a thousand times before. He admired the fit in the mirror opposite his dormitory. Though it was well equipped for any environmental challenges, it was made of only a thin composite material a mere half-inch thick. Even so, it was lighter than cotton and more breathable than any shirt Lukas had worn back on Earth. A golden insignia of two meteors fleeing from a sleek spaceship embroidered the center of his chest. The boots he decided to leave behind. He wouldn’t need them; he wasn’t going to leave the ship today.

Feeling a slight dryness in the back of his throat, Lukas slunk slowly out of his quarters and down the hall to the bathroom. The glass door slid open as he neared, and he reached just inside to fill a cup of water. The cool taste of the liquid filled his mouth as it slid down the back of his throat. He walked to the galley and opened a vacuum-sealed container of beef, bread, and dried fruit, staples of a modern Earth diet. He would need his energy for the day to come.

Lukas heard a soft click and a sudden rush of air as the halls filled with fresh oxygen. The environmentally-controlled ship left nothing to be desired. Temperature and toxin-monitored water flowed from every tap and spigot around the crew’s quarters, and nuclear heating tubes kept him safe from the almost negative one-hundred degrees celsius temperatures that crept just outside the spaceship’s hull. The whole system was run by a super-computer stored away somewhere in the ship’s many engineering rooms. Sometimes, when the Annabelle would pass too close to a star, it would have to enable carbon-conduction cooling methods to keep its sole passenger from baking alive. Lukas was happy for the protection. After all, space is a dangerous place.

The LED screens of the pilot’s monitor flashed bright blue for a second and then flicked fully on as Lukas approached the cockpit. He settled into the deep, leather arms of the captain’s chair and turned to face the bay window that lay before him. Almost immediately he shrunk back away from the emptiness that lurked outside of the thick glass wall. It was too much. For months he had stared out at the black and found only black staring right back. Now as he approached his destination he felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. All of his preparation, all of his thoughts and imaginations about what he was about to discover were about to be reaffirmed or swept away with the alien winds.

Setting out from Earth, he knew he would be lonely. He had no delusions as to the distance between his flying tin-can and the orb of rock that he called home. After he switched to post-light speeds, he was no longer to contact anyone on Earth. Their communications simply could not reach him fast enough. But it was not without cause that he now flew through the vacuum of space. He flew for discovery and wonder and everything that had ever made a person stare breathlessly up at the night sky. But more importantly, he flew for peace. He flew for the end of the war that had raged for thirteen years between the North and the South.

The preparations for Lukas’ departure were made long before the location of the alien planet was know. They would be ready, they thought, so they could finally have the answers when they needed them most. But, after the map had been drawn, it was only a few short months before the first bullet left its chamber. The North couldn’t stand by while its southron brother destroyed the one thing keeping them safe. The South couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste. They launched their space shuttle, and the fighting began.

Annabelle was a capable ship; her top speed was one hundred and fifteen times that of light, and it relied on a warp drive system well ahead of its time. For the Southern scientists, however, that wasn’t fast enough. They wanted to be alive to see their ambassador reach the alien planet and peaceful encounter on a much different scale than had ever been seen before. So, much like its pilot, the Annabelle Lee was not the first choice for the mission. That honor went to the Red Baron, a highly advanced project that boasted some new technology sure to revolutionize space travel. But in the midst of a military skirmish surrounding the research base in Sao Paulo, the Baron was incapacitated, its navigation system ripped from its skeleton and the uranium cores that powered it stolen. There was no choice left. The launch had to go on.

Lukas was the third best astronaut in the lineup. Out of ten applicants, he was the second best navigator, the third best translator, and the worst fighter. But instead of succumbing to the pressure and dropping out of the ranks, Lukas stuck through the training and came out on top. He knew something the others didn’t. He craved something they hadn’t even begun to consider. They were not traveling sixty light years to conquer or to invade. They were going as ambassadors. Lukas understood that the only way to stifle the effects of war on Earth was to ask the questions that nagged at humanity’s heart. He alone could bring the message of peace to the aliens, and he alone could bring it back to Earth.

“What is our ETA?”

Lukas’ question rang about the steel walls of the cabin. A soft click of machinery swiveled the front-facing monitor to his eye level and a soft feminine voice answered his call.

“Approaching Gemini 3 -7 from rear-orbit. Acceleration negative one thousand kilometers per second. Arrival in 13 minutes.”

He stood and turned off the monitor, shutting down the cockpit lights as he went. Before he left he activated the automated external defense system linked to his spacesuit and designed to protect him from harm. The mission was to prevent violence, but he was blind against the unknown species, and he had no way of knowing what was out there.

Lukas made his way to the back of the ship where the loadout room was located. He donned a set of black composite gloves. They could withstand heat up to three thousand degrees Celsius and stood against cold just as vicious. He attached a small micro computer system to his back that would give off environmental readings and detect life forms within a thirty foot radius. A helmet of impenetrable diamond glass covered his head down to his shoulders, with a display that showed toxin levels in the air and the amount of oxygen left in his tank. He would be fine, he reasoned, thirteen hours of air was enough to get out and explore and then come back to the ship. Thirteen hours and he would be back on the ship, he told himself. All he has is thirteen hours.

His heart was racing inside his chest as he reached for the leather holster strapped to the wall. The clasps fit snugly around his waist, and he adjusted the belt so his laser gun would be just next to his hand. He lifted the gun from its place on the rack and looked it over twice. The carbon fiber handle fit nicely in his hand. It held enough power to level a house, if he needed it. For his life and the thirty billion back on Earth he prayed that he wouldn’t.

“Arrival in one minute at landing zone Alpha. Conditions stable. Wind speed thirty miles per hour with heavy sediment.”

“Doom. Doom. Doom” his heart seemed to scream at him. “Don’t open the door. You don’t know what’s out there. You don’t know what could be waiting.”

The Annabelle buckled under its own weight as the landing gears struck the hard alien ground. Three hundred and fifty to trillion miles, and he had made it. He took a deep breath to try and calm his heart and untie the knots in his stomach, but to no avail. His fingers shook as he raised his glove to the bright orange release button on the steel door in front of him. His hand fluttered nervously around the hilt of his laser gun. Annabelle shuddered and the door fell from its hinges to the ground below.

Ffffwwwwwwwwwww. The wind and dust howled into the ship as Lukas stumbled forward. The alien sediment trapped in the wind blew around his helmet, and he could not see but fifteen feet in front of him as he walked down the ramp. His feet found the rocky soil at the bottom of the ramp first, but his knees were soon to follow, digging into the cold, tan ground. He wasn’t sure if his eyes had seen what lay before him or if his imagination had conjured it.

A pale grey, muscular creature ten feet in length lay unmoving on the ground below. In its four seven-fingered hands it clutched sharpened poles made of the same black material as the artifact Lukas had studied to prepare for his mission. Its feet were like solid blocks of stone, dauntingly huge like its massive arms and torso, and callused from intense use. A surprisingly sophisticated face sported a pair of tusks that grew from just behind the alien’s jaw in the place of teeth. A long flat nose pointed up at the sky. Quiet and blank were its three blue eyes as they seemed to stare into the space in which Lukas had been standing. From its chest leaked a clear red liquid which had stopped flowing some time ago.

Lukas climbed shakily to his feet and stepped over the body. Tears now leaked from his face as he walked, but he pressed on. An alien hill loomed before him, but he could not find the capacity to climb it. Strewn across slope were dozens of other alien bodies, thrown about like ragdolls. Their tusks shown proudly in the light of the two suns. Their blood ran cold in the tan dust around them.

Taking a deep breath, Lukas turned and began walking towards a small shadow at the

edge of his vision. He strained to see a metallic looking object floating a few feet off of the ground. He picked up his pace and the object grew larger in the distance. His boots slammed one after the other on the hard rocks below his feet. The metal began to take form. Lukas slowed down to a walk as he realized it was the wing of a ship; his hand dropped to the pistol on his thigh. Slowly he walked left and ducked under the wing. The ship felt cold to the touch as he brushed his hand against its side. He took a step back and looked up. His knees buckled and his eyes watered as he stared at the side of the spacecraft. If his mission was to protect Earth from the attack of the aliens, it was complete.

The red letters on the side of the ship read: The Red Baron, Earth.




Epilogue


Captain’s Log

Captain Robert Stark II

May 25th, 2180

The Red Baron

Our destination was Gemini 3 -7, and we were to arrive on the 20th of May. We flew the Baron out past the orbit of Pluto to a location safe enough to test the new engine. Spirits were high as we knew we would be the first on the aliens’ doorstep. A ship was sent out some years before us, but more as a last minute resort than a full attempt at mission success. It was piloted by only one pilot, with no crewman or defense teams. By creating a wormhole in space-time we would be able bypass its travel speed infinitely. With this new technology we could go where and when we wanted in a matter of days. It took the Baron thirty six hours to prepare for launch and thirty minutes to create a wormhole. We entered not knowing if we would return, but without a single trial run, we were successful. We entered Gemini’s orbit and landed safely.

For a few days the aliens were nowhere to be found. We sent out search parties every six hours to check the surrounding hills. The rocky crags that overlooked landing zone Alpha were covered in thousands upon thousands of dark green bushes which we later attributed as the aliens’ primary food source. We found no animals on Gemini for the first couple of days, but eventually a couple dozen grey snake-looking creatures approached the ship. That was it, until we made first contact.

The aliens are a brutish bunch of foul-smelling creatures. Ten feet tall, skinless, and greyer than the London sky, they have three eyes bluer than the rivers that streamed around the landing zone. Two ugly, sharp tusks protrude from their mouths, and they have no teeth at all. They are quite primitive, and when we first discovered a small group huddled in a cave, they were brandishing long spears made of an unknown mineral. Seeing us at the mouth of the cave, they quickly grouped together and pointed their spears at our throats, shouting in some incomprehensible tongue. We made quick work of the lot and carried one back to the ship in a bag for DNA analysis. But it was not long before more, a force of about one hundred, quickly followed. They surrounded the Baron and locked us in the cockpit, forcing us back with their spears. Here we await what, death? Triumph? We hold our breath.


God save our souls.

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50 First Shrews: How "The Taming of the Shrew" Influenced "50 First Dates"

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in English 3 - Pahomov - C on Friday, December 13, 2013 at 9:13 am

A popular trend in today’s society is for a group of people, a set of ideals, or a style to return to it’s roots in contemporary culture. It is seen as almost original to bring back a popular catch phrase, wear a 1930’s style suit and tie, or own a vintage automobile. Many modern television shows and movies can be retraced back to their roots in contemporary literature as well. While they may not always directly reflect the plots, themes, or characters of their older counterparts, these pictures are heavily influenced by the works that have come before them. The 2004 film “50 First Dates” reflects Shakespeare’s “The Taming of the Shrew”, using themes of love and romance, as well as the parental involvement in those affairs, inspired by the late playwright’s comedy.

“The Taming of the Shrew” follows a troupe of men seeking to woo a duo of sisters, one a sweet, fair maiden named Bianca, and the other a seemingly bitter “shrew” named Katherine. Lucentio, the son of a rich man seeks to win the hand of Bianca, but is unable to do so because of a rule set forth by her father, Baptista - Bianca cannot get married before her sister Katherine is wed. Lucentio goes undercover as  a school teacher to woo his love, while a suitor named Petruchio takes a more forward approach in taking Katherine as his wife. In “50 First Dates”, a young playboy, Henry falls in love with a local girl, Lucy who is plagued by a mental condition; unable to form short term memories past a night’s sleep. Lucy’s father, Marlin, forbids her from forming any type of romantic relationship for fear that she may be hurt.

Shortly after Henry learns of Lucy’s mental condition in “‘Dates”, he follows her to her house to try to win her hand, however her father has other plans. In order to protect her from waking up next to a man she does not recognize for the rest of her life, he forbids her and anyone who wishes to be with her, from finding love together. “50 First Dates” reflects society’s need for a safe and comfortable life, just as “The Taming of the Shrew”’s Baptista does for his daughter.

“Gentlemen, importune me no farther, For how I firmly am resolv'd you know; That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter before I have a husband for the elder.”

(Baptista, Act I Scn I)

Baptista will not allow Bianca to marry for fear his eldest daughter will be alone forever. This fear is great enough that he is willing to sacrifice his daughter’s affections to calm his anxieties. Because there are so few suitors for Katherine, Bianca must also wait to be wed. Though this play was written hundreds of years ago, it describes perfectly today’s society’s need for certainty. As outlined by modern media like 50 First Dates, people today are unlikely to make a decision without near-complete certainty. Baptista is uncertain of Katherine’s future, and sacrifices Bianca’s, at least for the time being.

It is not until the plot of “50 First Dates” has progressed quite far that Henry is given permission by Marlin to court the forgetful Lucy. After Marlin realizes that happiness and security for his daughter can be found in Henry, he relinquishes his grip on her love life. Henry and Lucy begin to fall in love, and eventually become married with a child. The last scene finds Marlin, Henry, Lucy, and the couple’s child together on a boat in Alaska, a dream Henry has had for quite some years. The fact that Marlin is present at the end of the film says that he condones their marriage and had a large hand in completing their relationship, just as Baptista eventually finds a husband for Katherine.

“I know not what to say; but me your hands. God send you joy, Petruchio! ‘Tis a match” (Baptista, Act II Scn I)

A rich man, Petruchio, comes to the city where Baptista and his daughter live. Lucentio seize the opportunity and strikes a deal with the young suitor - Petruchio will marry Katherine, thereby freeing Bianca to be married as well. Baptista immediately takes to Petruchio and promises him his bride. Lucentio and Bianca eventually become married as do Petruchio and Katherine, all with the blessing of Baptista. Unlike Marlin from “50 First Dates”, however, Baptista’s rules never changed. He is a steadfast figure throughout the entire play, and holds his standards throughout the storyline.

The film “50 First Dates” by director Peter Segal was written hundreds of years after William Shakespeare’s play “The Taming of the Shrew”, yet it still draws heavily from ideas presented in the play. Both texts describe society’s reliance on control and dependence on certainty through their plots, characterizations, and scripts. Both follow a set of young lovers who need to find approval from the fathers of the women in the text. Though the fathers are reacting to different circumstances, they are doing so with the same intentions, and the same outcome. Maybe our society isn’t much different from that of years gone by. Maybe we’re just all trying to find love and approval for that bond.


Works Cited:

Shakespeare, William. The Taming of the Shrew. Pp. 84. J. Tonson & the Rest of the Proprietors: London, 1734. Print.

50 First Dates. Dir. Peter Segal. Perf. Adam Sandler, Drew Barrymore. Sony Pictures, 2004. Netflix.


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Othello Journals

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in English 2 - Pahomov on Friday, May 3, 2013 at 9:10 am

Journal #1

Iago - Act II, Scene III

And what’s he then that says I play the villain?

When this advice is free I give and honest,

Probably to thinking and indeed the course

To win the Moor again? For ’tis most easy

The inclining Desdemona to subdue

In any honest suit: she’s framed as fruitful

As the free elements. And then for her

To win the Moor—were’t to renounce his baptism,

All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,

His soul is so enfetter’d to her love,

That she may make, unmake, do what she list,

Even as her appetite shall play the god

With his weak function. How am I then a villain

To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,

Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!

When devils will the blackest sins put on,

They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,

As I do now: for whiles this honest fool

Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes

And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,

I’ll pour this pestilence into his ear,

That she repeals him for her body’s lust;

And by how much she strives to do him good,

She shall undo her credit with the Moor.

So will I turn her virtue into pitch,

And out of her own goodness make the net

That shall enmesh them all.


Iago here is speaking to himself, but could just as easily be speaking to a crowd or a single person. He is speaking about his plan and about Desdemona. Here Iago is trying to rationalize his plan with his conscience, which can transcribed to several audiences by putting emphasis on several sections of the speech, particularly the first half. The actor can show this by putting a questioning spin on the first half of the speech to show that he is talking merely to himself, and a kind of arrogant twist to the first half if he wants to be speaking to an audience. The second half of the speech is where Iago has successfully justified his plan in his mind. This part of the speech is confident and assured. Using hand and body gestures here would increase the drama and add a satisfying surety to Iago’s words. The tone of the speech overall shifts from the first half being unsure and faltering, questioning, to a tone that is encouraged and sure.


Journal #2

Cassio

Cassio appears in several important scenes. He appears in Act II, Scene III, where Iago plans to get him drunk and to lure him into a fight with Montano. He is not told what Iago’s plan is, obviously, and is successfully tricked. He personally sees that Iago is his “friend” and attempts to drink with him. He takes this as a sign that Iago wants the best for him, when he really is being just as deceitful towards him as Othello. In Act III, Scene II, Cassio talks to Desdemona about getting reinstated and getting his position back. He unwittingly and unwillingly falls right into Iago’s plan. He is told by Iago that the best way to Othello is through Desdemona. If we just concentrated on Cassio’s scenes, Othello, or rather Cassio, would be a tale of frustration and confusion. Cassio does not know what is going on, and has no way to. I think that the story of Cassio is not as interesting as it is frustrating.


Journal #3

When Iago was a young boy, he was diagnosed with leukemia. They could not treat leukemia in those days, so Iago’s mother went to a witch doctor, a Moor. “I can save him. But it will be at a great cost.” Iago’s mother was so determined to save his life that she said she agreed to everything and anything. “Ok,” said the witch doctor, “Let’s begin.” She told them both to lie down next to each other and to relax. She mixed a potion and poured it over Iago and his mother. Suddenly, Iago felt relaxed, he felt calm, he could begin to feel his body recovering, his bones began to strengthen. “Mother, I can feel it working!” he exclaimed. But there was no response. He looked to his right, and saw his mother, cold, no life in her eyes. “NOOO!” he exclaimed dramatically. The price for his life was the life of his own mother. “I’ll kill you! You villainous Moor!” He screamed. From that day on Iago hated all Moors and vowed to be mean to one one day.

Journal #4

The tone of voice, body language, and movements I want to portray Iago as having are those of a villain in power. He is sly, he is demanding, he is confident but sneaky. I think that he holds his chest up high but slouches. He is like a rat, a soldier rat, but a rat still. Iago is not going to have a prop or costume, I think that the body language relays all that I need him to say, and that a costume would distract from this image of Iago. I am however going to bring Othello some props. In our scene has a headache, and I will bring in some “Ye Olde Orange Juice” and some “Ye Olde Aspirin.” Our presentation is going to stand out through a combination of great acting, confidence, and interesting portrayals of each character in their turn. I think that this will be a very fun performance to be involved in. I hate acting, though.


Journal #5 - Post Performance

“I will in Cassio’s lodging lose this napkin. Trifles light as air are, to the jealous heart, confirmations strong as proof or wit.” This line is very important to the play and to our scene. Iago often reveals some plot twist, plan, or scheme of his through lever words and delivery. I think that here Iago is more talking to himself than the audience, but regardless, he is explaining how Othello’s jealousy will cloud his judgement. He is playing on emotions as if they were a harp, using his skill set, (trickery, a sly tongue, and a black heart), to control others. Without this scene in the play, the audience would not understand how Iago’s plan will fit together. He shows us that jealousy is a powerful and dangerous weapon.

I think that our performance went quite well. Although the mechanics were not always there, the flow of the scene went as expected, which is all you can really hope for with lightweight actors such as myself. Will and Penelope did a great job, actually. Their performance was convincing and funny. Tytianna and I did not speak as loudly as we had planned, but we pulled through and finished our scene strongly. If I could do the scene over, I would have remixed it. I imagine Othello as a Rastafarian wielding, chilled out man, Desdemona as a sort of princess, Emilia as a sort of wise and clever maid, and Iago as a sleek, devious type. Seeing as none of this would be probable with our level of experience, I don’t think this would be possible. It would be fun to do, though.

By performing the play and analyzing the characters in order to play a more convincing role, I think my understanding of the play increased ten fold. The character sheet really helped me a lot. That was definitely the most interesting and engaging part of the experience. Performing the play helped me to get inside of Iago’s mind. I had to create motivations and a whole new mindset for myself in order to portray him well. This overall was a very fun and engaging project. You should do it again next year.

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Levanta El Ritmo

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 2 - Bey on Friday, April 26, 2013 at 10:32 am
Catalina Williams, Jesús Musselman, Ignacio Chhin, Isabel Abuali


My Song 15 2
Sample:

Apple Loops
Apple Effects
Latin Dance Beat: By Justin Rivers
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La Casa Nueva

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 2 - Bey on Friday, April 5, 2013 at 6:44 am
​Maria DeOliviera y Jesús Musselman

https://vimeo.com/63377809
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International Relations

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in English 2 - Pahomov on Wednesday, March 6, 2013 at 10:47 am
The story of how my mother braved a war to connect with the people of El Salvador.
01 English Interview
I think that my podcast really showcases crossing boundaries well. A lot of my questions were centered around this idea, and the rest were very complimentary to these specific questions. I think that the interview went well. I really tried to sit back and let my mother speak her mind instead of leading her into answers that I wanted to hear. I did not know very much about her story until the interview. It was fascinating to sit and listen to her tale. I did not know that she had been the adventurous type in her past. I knew that she loved to travel, but this was a stretch for the imagination. The editing was really the hardest part of the entire project. I could not schedule the interview for an earlier time, so I had barely any time to edit at all. I got by by the skin of my teeth, and I think for that situation I did a very good job. The music especially was hard to choose. I had to find one that was sort of following the theme without going too in depth into the project, really. I really thought that the music I chose did this quite well. It set up the podcast quite nicely, and had a sort of latin them to it. Overall I think that the project went quite nicely and was a good test of my skills and discrepancies.
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Watch Your Mouth

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in English 2 - Pahomov on Thursday, January 17, 2013 at 1:44 pm
“That’s just the thing. It happens all of the damn time!,” I exasperatedly stuttered.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”, my history teacher, Mr. Sanchez joked.

It was true, I told him, I did. “Well, not that one,” I admitted. “I have a couple.” 

This part was true as well. I am an avid “code-switcher”, I even have my degree in street talk. I find it easier to keep a collection of dialects rather than attempt to drag one around all day. I switch from mouth to mouth, talk to talk, slang to “proper English”. But I am not alone, no. The majority of American teens and young adults share this trait, as well as a good percentage of working class adults. This idea of a collective identity, or rather multitude of identities unifies, not a people, but a generation. It accomplishes the same thing that an accent does for a region. 

In his essay, “If Black English Isn’t A Language, Then Tell Me What Is?”, James Baldwin says, “People evolve a language in order to describe and thus control their circumstances, or in order not to be submerged by a reality that they cannot articulate.” The youth of today (and yesterday, and perhaps for generations to come), seeking to evolve themselves into what they believe to be a righteous and fulfilled picture of a modern teen or young adult, have constructed a system by which to identify themselves and others as fitting and familiar. We call this system “slang”. It is as much a part of a generation as you are to your’s and I am to mine, and it intends to provide an escape from conformism to a much easier way of speaking.

In the midst of a generation that searches for definition and identity, perhaps it is vital to have a an open mind and an open voice. That is, I believe, the reason behind this need for an always-changing dialect in today’s youth. We find the best way to represent our intentions is to mask them in a shroud of yolo’s and ratchet’s. It, not unlike and somehow a factor of slang, comes and goes with the tide of social nuances. It is a passing fad. That being said, something must be said for the persuasive power of slang on a generation. Think about it. When was the last time you stopped and turned when you heard the latest Oxford Dictionary entry being used by man sitting down the aisle of your bus? Often it is the unexpected blatancies of slang that draw our attention. Slang accomplishes what it intends: it get’s people heard.

But where do we draw the line? When does slang become the odd one out and “proper English” gain a foothold? Oddly, society seems to draw the boundary in certain situations and not others. “Job Interview” dialect is a term often used by comedians to describe the physical and psychological change in demeanor used by millions of people every day. This change happens when these people feel the need to substitute their everyday dialect for something more formal. This is just another code switch. Familiar and unprofessional dialect is replaced with a white-collar, almost jargon, dialect. 

At school, I talk at a loud and slang-controlled, almost rambunctiously diverse, tone. My words are short and to the point. The way I see it this is because to be heard in an environment such as school, one must be loud and to the point or his audience loses all trace of interest. You have to be funny, familiar, personal. During my commute, my dialect takes on a much blander and quieter approach. My words become slow, drawn out syllables. I lean more towards saying nothing at all rather than saying something that would seem out of place on something so diverse as a rush-hour train. When I do say something, it is often an apology or a quick thank you. It is funny how silence is the greatest weapon we have on trains against familiarizing ourselves with those strangers around us. Thirdly, my home dialect is one of passion and meaning. Not that I speak in a poetic or even an emotional way, but rather that my voice is open and free for expression. This is because I have already come to know those that I live with. I’ve had fifteen odd years to do so. 

“You don’t act like that in public, I hope.” My mother probed. “What are you going to do when you take a girl out on a date?”

“Don’t worry, Mom, I know how to act on a date.” I assured.

There are many ways in which code switching is beneficial to society. It provides a route by which teens and young adults (as well as many adults) can seek to find themselves and not lose their identity along the way. They may explore the possibilities of both sides of slang and what each entails without pledging fully to one or the other. It is, like a fad, a passing dialect, passed down from generation to generation, always changing, not unlike the people it represents.The purpose of a dialect is to express, and by no means do code switchers miss the mark. Code Switching is both a dialect and an intense display. Wielding it as a sword, young men and women everywhere hold the power to give and take away power over language. Code switching is the future.





Video: https://vimeo.com/57683377
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A Full Life

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in English 2 - Pahomov on Tuesday, November 27, 2012 at 8:30 am
(Warning: Violence)

(Sitting and looking at chair. Resting pistol against his head.) Four thousand, one hundred and sixty dollars. Phew. There’s no way to say that lightly. (Stands up. Pacing.) What has a man done with his life to owe four thousand, one hundred and sixty dollars of his livelihood to another man. What paths does he have to follow to bring him here, today. Ropes binding his hands and feet in some display of pitiful arrogance towards his ancestors. Sitting, waiting, ready to let go, ready to die. (At die pulls pistol up and holds it at chest height. Stays there for a couple of seconds. Holds pistol back down. Sits down and looks out over pool.)

You know, they say that taking a life is the hardest thing man has done, but man, MAN, has always been capable of incredible things. But what am I, incredible? No. What have I done to deserve such a title? My title is Janitor. “Sweep,” they say. “Sweep, clean out the pool. Sweep, clean the damn bathroom.” I... I’m goddamn tired of this job. (Turns back to man) For twenty thousand dollars a year I am a... a servant of the working class. And do you know what? I am damn good at it. Maybe that’s why I don’t leave. Plus there’s this; this “job”, if you want to call it that. Dirty, nasty business. That’s all it is. The dirt and grime rejected by society. Lowlife criminals like yourself owe someone like your boss a lot of money, no? Haha. But you know how this goes. I am the end of the line. I am the last face you will ever see. And they’re paying me a hell of a lot more than twenty thousand dollars. (Laughs)

You lived the life of these men, damn near walked in their shoes. How does this make you feel? Your whole life has led up to this very moment. Every (emphasis) decision you have made since your eyes first caught a glimpse of this magnificent world of ours has brought you to this. Very. Moment. (Pauses) Every decision I have made has brought me here today. And what have I done right to be the one holding the gun and not looking down it’s barrel. Maybe none of my decisions were right. Maybe my decisions were just less wrong than your’s. 

Who’s to say you haven’t lived a full life? Hell, I don’t know a damn thing about you. You could have once had a dream, a life, a girl. But you threw that away didn’t you. Crime itself is a drug. That’s what I always say. (Emphasis) You think all of those dealers and druggies on the streets are out there throwing it all out there for a reason? No, no man. They are a slave to the rush, the, the false sense of purpose and power that comes from disobeying. They seek to overthrow, to prove their worth, and for what? Status and singularity. They long to be unique and to stand out from the crowd. It starts young; they always do. I did. And I’m not talking about selling weed on the corner. I was never about that life. Harvard educated, not top of the class, but up there. I had a girl, a life, a dream. But I just couldn’t be happy, could I? I had to go and rebel, I had to be unique, to stand out. (Laughing) But look at me now! (Gestures around room, arms spread) A rec center my kingdom and a mop my staff! This is living, is it not! (Laughs)

No, I should be as fortunate as you to have the comfort of death. You don’t have to worry about anything at all. Not a care in the world. At least, not in this one. But, ah, listen to me ramble on. I am selfish, taking up so much of your time. We have work to do, do we not? Thanks for listening. (Raises pistol quickly and fires almost instantaneously. Picks up mop and begins to clean up blood. Fade to black.)


End.

1 Comment

La Casa Perfecta Del Señor Sanchez

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Sunday, June 3, 2012 at 1:08 pm
Screen Shot 2012-06-01 at 1.34.30 PM
Screen Shot 2012-06-01 at 1.34.30 PM
            El Señor Sanzhez es un fantastico hombre y merece una casa fantastica. ¡Es por eso que hacemos su casa perfecto! La casa es en Emerald Bay, California. Está es grandiosa porque tiene mucho intereses y quiere una familia. Está muy moderna, práctica y simple y tiene colores vibrantes. Está cerca de la playa y las montañas, porque le gusta los lugares. Está lejos de la ciudad, porque no le gusta. También, la casa es en un lago porque le gusta pescar y nadar.
Aquí es una foto de Tahoe Lake en Emerald Bay, donde la casa está.
Twilight_Color_at_Emerald_Bay_Lake_Tahoe_California
Twilight_Color_at_Emerald_Bay_Lake_Tahoe_California
¡Y aquí es una foto de la casa final!
Screen Shot 2012-06-01 at 7.57.33 AM
Screen Shot 2012-06-01 at 7.57.33 AM
¡Hay TODO en la casa!
  • Un gimnasio enorme y limpio con ropas, pesas, campos, una pista y una piscina para nadar porque le gusta practicar deportes y ejercer.
  • Un sótano comfortable, simple y mediana tiene muchas sillas, un tele y cosas de Lakers porque le encanta los Lakers.
  • Una biblioteca grande y viejo con muchos libros, un escritorio y una lámpara porque le gusta leer y escribir. También, necesita un lugar estudiar porque le quiere trabajar en una universidad.
  • Tres cuartos enormes con colores vibrantes y con una cama, un armario, una guardarropa y un espejo. Hay tres cuartos porque quiere una familia pequeño.
  • Una cocina grandisima, de lujo y moderno con todo: una nevera, estufo, lavamanos, lavaplatos, una mesa y sillas porque le encanta comer y cocinar.
  • Tres baños limpios y medianas tiene duchas, la
E1 U9 Proyecto_ Gabriel y Leah(2)
E1 U9 Proyecto_ Gabriel y Leah(2)
Tags: La Casa, E1 U9, español, Spanish, Leah y Gabriel
8 Comments

You, and The World

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in English 1 - Dunn on Thursday, May 31, 2012 at 9:06 am
6a00d8341d417153ef0168e5e2f1e1970c-800wi
6a00d8341d417153ef0168e5e2f1e1970c-800wi
This blog is last in a series of three that discussed and explored the ethics and judicial standings of copyright infringement, namely, internet piracy. In my last two blogs, I gained a knowledge of the topic and did some investigations of my own. Piracy and You is mainly about the acts SOPA, PIPA, and CISPA. Internet Piracy and Morality is about how to make the decision yourself and about the lack of information given to the public. Doing this research has exposed me to a wide array of opinions, bills, laws, and movements. But are these different acts making a change? And if so, in which direction? The problem is awareness. People need to know, and we need to be the ones who tell them.
Piracy
This piece of original content is an example of how a question or statement can invoke thought in a person. The goal of this poster is to make the viewer think about piracy in a new light. It allows them to take a step back and question what they are told. I think that piracy is a decision. It is up to the pirate to decide if they are breaking their own moral standing. With this poster I am getting the word out, spreading the knowledge and asking each viewer to look inside themselves and think about their actions or standpoint.
AntiPiracySeal
AntiPiracySeal
I conducted my own research which gave me interesting results to work with. Many who were surveyed admitted that they or someone they knew had committed internet piracy and were against censorship laws, while another large portion of these people were severely uninformed and had no clues as to the specifics of the topic. This shows us something. There is always a need for information and learning in our communities. We need to be the ones to teach and inform the peoples of our communities about this diverse topic. The way to go about doing this is to talk to the people we work with, play with, and live with in order to spread the word.
Piracy
Piracy
This picture pretty much sums up my opinion on piracy. I believe that it is a crime, but a much lesser one, and deserving of much less punishment. While I'll admit that copyright infringement holds much weight in the way of theft for some, for me it does not. But as always, the decision is up to you. You decide how you will live your life, and don't let anyone take that away from you. This is Gabriel Musselman. I hope you have found my blogs both thoughtful and intriguing, and I hope to  bring my opinions to the world at other times and in other ways. Thank you.
Internet_Pirate_Flag_by_Joshernaut
Internet_Pirate_Flag_by_Joshernaut
1 Comment

Internet Piracy and Morality

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in English 1 - Dunn on Monday, May 21, 2012 at 9:17 am
    Internet Piracy is still a large issue in the world, and it is ever growing. As more and more laws are being considered to ban this crime, pirates are banning together to save their craft. Since my last blog post I have conducted my own research on internet piracy, as well as ask the opinions of my peers and colleagues. The results were interesting, and posed many questions for the future.
ip-infringement
ip-infringement
Out of 28 people interviewed, only half knew what internet piracy is. The other fifty percent consisted of people that either had no idea what this was or had just heard it mentioned before. What does this mean? This means that people are misinformed. The government, while right in its deliberations and conscience, has a knack for not telling both sides of the story. They fail to inform the public and to ask questions vital to the system. More than half of these people also said that piracy was wrong. If this is true, then why is so much media pirated every day?
Trent48
Trent48
Out of these people interviewed, well over half said that they or someone they knew had or still is committing internet piracy. This raises the question of morality. Why do we think piracy is wrong? Piracy takes profit away from the person or group of people that create the media we use. If you are not paying for the media you use, you can be sure that the company who produced it is. This is why people feel bad about breaking infringement laws. This is also why pirates disagree with SOPA, PIPA, and CISPA. These laws would allow for the entertainment industry to hunt down and prosecute them. If this happened, we can be sure that they would be more swift and brutal with their rulings than the government ever was. This is because internet pirates are stealing from the companies, not the government.
tumblr_m44vusOGRu1rwq01ho1_1280
tumblr_m44vusOGRu1rwq01ho1_1280
In my opinion, copyright infringement is wrong. I do not think that it is prosecutable. Kids are not sued when they shoplift from their local Walmart. The same goes for the internet. Now that U.S. laws are starting to catch up to current crimes and events, the government is getting more of a hold in the online world. I personally have pirated on several occasions, but so has most everyone in the U.S. Every time you get that new song you love from your friend, or that old album you lost a while ago from your cousin, companies and coallitions such as the RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America) consider you a criminal! I do not think this is right, but it is up to you  to decide.
images
images
http://gizmodo.com/5877000/what-is-sopa

http://www.samizdat.li/2009/09/morality-of-internet-piracy.html

http://bigthink.com/ideas/42029

http://www.go-gulf.com/blog/online-piracy​
Tags: "English 9, You and the World, Blog #2, Gabriel Musselman
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La Casa

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Tuesday, May 15, 2012 at 8:14 am
4295310311_9e7b070052_z
4295310311_9e7b070052_z
La casa tiene dos cuertas. La casa tiene una nevera en la cocina. La casa tiene dos camas en el cuerta. La casa tiene un comedor. La casa tiene un baño grande. La casa tiene un jardín.
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Piracy and You

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in English 1 - Dunn on Saturday, May 12, 2012 at 11:11 pm
    For a 9th grade English project, my class is researching and blogging about topics that we find interesting or relevant to us. After thinking long and hard about this, a light bulb came on over my head. Aha! That’s it! Internet piracy. Internet piracy is one of the most talked about and debated topics in the United States and all throughout the world these days, and it’s all due to three small laws that seemed harmless to the world until they were brought to light by the internet community. SOPA (Stop Online Piracy Act), CISPA (Cyber Intelligence and Sharing Protection Act), and PIPA (Protect IP Act) are probably the most controversial technology laws to date in the U.S.
120404-cispa
120404-cispa
These laws were brought about with the intentions of stopping internet piracy and protecting copyrights, but many believe they have overstepped their bounds. If these laws were or are passed, it could potentially invade the privacy of every internet user in the entire country. Basically, these laws put the power to investigate, judge, and criminalize into the power of the entertainment industry, which is the main target of online pirates. How is this legal, you ask? The government believes that this will help put the power of copyright into the creator’s hands, but really all it is doing is deputizing the entertainment industry and giving them the means to act on their own accord. If this happened then the right of privacy would be taken away from every citizen of this country.
93fd4bb194c012a812138c2383a2785d
93fd4bb194c012a812138c2383a2785d
This is why it interests me. I personally don’t enjoy being told how to live my life by someone who has no authority over me. Pirating is a personal choice, and no one should make your decisions for you. The problem is that most pirates do not find anything wrong with what they are doing (says a Go-Gulf.com article). Maybe this is why most people find these laws to be ridiculous. They think that they are trying to take away the ability to choose. Well, I’m with them. I won’t stand by while the entertainment industry tries to take away my rights. I won’t have it! You can help too! Contact your local Congressman and tell him how you feel about SOPA, PIPA, and CISPA!
piracy
piracy
http://www.opensecrets.org/news/2012/04/cispa-sopa-pipa-and-biglobbying.html

http://www.go-gulf.com/blog/online-piracy

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Copyright_infringement
2 Comments

-Negative Space Reflection

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Art - 9 - Hull on Monday, April 30, 2012 at 9:57 am
  1. ​Negative space is the part of a drawing that is not the object being drawn or the things behind it. If there is no object in that part of the picture then you get negative space.
  2. I cut out the picture and then used reflection. The parts that were left were negative space.
  3. If an artist can see negative space then he/she can better understand the shape of the subject.
  4. Yes. It defines edges and shapes.
0430120952a
0430120952a
0430120952
0430120952
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¡Viva Perú! (Gabriel y Alexis)

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Monday, April 16, 2012 at 2:19 pm
Screen Shot 2012-04-16 at 2.18.07 PM
Screen Shot 2012-04-16 at 2.18.07 PM
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El Secreto de la Nutria

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Friday, April 13, 2012 at 1:13 pm
Hay una familia en la el cento commercial de Filadelfia. Hay una papá, una mamá, un hijo, y una hija. La familia tiene una casa pequeña. La familia tiene una nutria. Es una nutria grande. La nutria es muy importante. La nutria tiene una secreto. La nutria está triste. La nutria llora. La nutria le dice al papá, "El mar, Mamacocha, no esta contento. Mamacocha va a destruir el mundo." Hay un problema. Es un problema grande. La nutria le dice al papá,"Sube una Cinnabon más alta con tu familia." La familia camina hacia la Cinnabon más alta con la nutria. La Cinnabon más alta se llama "Cinnabon".


4 Comments

Gabriel y Naihema

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Wednesday, March 28, 2012 at 9:04 am
Screen Shot 2012-03-28 at 9.03.16 AM
Screen Shot 2012-03-28 at 9.03.16 AM
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Macbeth Project

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in English 1 - Dunn on Wednesday, March 21, 2012 at 11:35 am
This is my project for English on Macbeth. I started this project with an idea I was given, and made it into my own special thing. I grabbed my friends and used quotes to form a gameshow type setting. I read them the quotes and they answered with an analysis. I filmed all of the segments and then added cheering, quotes, and soundtracks. This is the culmination of our efforts. Enjoy!
New Project
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Website

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Wednesday, March 21, 2012 at 6:57 am
http://elgoslingproyecto.weebly.com
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Breaking News; A Special Report

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Friday, January 27, 2012 at 12:27 pm

SLA es una escuela muy buena. SLA es pequeño y blanco también. A la escuela, tenemos una biblioteca, muchos clases, y un café. Tenemos los clubs de música, arte, y bailar. En la escuela, tenemos 500 estudiantes y mas o menos veinte profesores y profesoras. SLA está en Filadelfia. Me gusta SLA porque es divertida y extraña. ¡Es un buen ambiente para mi!




Clase: Ingles.
Profesora: La Señorita Dunn.
Actividades en la clase: leer, escribir, y ver videos.
Responsabilidades: estudiar, leer mucho, y practicar a escribir.

Materiales: un libro, una lápiz, y una computadora.



SPanish
Clase: Geometría.
Profesora: La Señorita Thompson.

Actividades en la clase: escribir y hacer problemas de matemáticas.

Responsabilidades: prestar atención y completa la tarea.

Materiales: un lápiz y unas hojas de papel.
SPanish 2
Screen Shot 2012-02-06 at 11.55.33 AM
Screen Shot 2012-02-06 at 11.55.33 AM
Tags: andresgonzalez, E1U4, E1 U4, español
1 Comment

Mis Seres Queridos

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Friday, January 6, 2012 at 12:13 pm
Spanish Benchmark
Tags: Venezuela, andresgonzalez, Andres Gonzalez, E1U3
5 Comments

Gabriel Musselman Slide 2

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Technology - Hull on Tuesday, December 13, 2011 at 1:04 pm
Tech Slide
In this slide, I demonstrated the use of bleeding, color contrast, and size comparison. I used neon colors against a black background to make them pop off of the screen. I also used other techniques; i.e. the burst of neon blue in place of the dotted "i".
1 Comment

Joseph Promerio

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Thursday, December 8, 2011 at 9:29 am
Él es Joseph Promerio. Tienes los ojos café y el pelo café tambien. Tienes dos hermanos mayor y un hermana menor. Joseph tienes un perro y un gato. Él no le gusta nada pez.
images
images
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Josh Ritter

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Wednesday, November 16, 2011 at 7:22 am
Su nombre es Josh Ritter. Tiene treinta y tres años. Es de Idaho pero vivo en Pennsylvania. Él mucho gusta cantar y practicar música. Él es alto y musical. No le gusta nada aburrido.
images
images
Tags: E1 U2, Spanish, blog, Descriptions
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Small Talk With Big Words en Espanol!

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Monday, October 31, 2011 at 2:26 pm

Basic conversation questions in the Spanish language.

 

 

In order to hold a basic conversation with someone in Spanish, you need to know the following questions:

 

In English

En Español

Hello, how are you?

¡Hola! ¿Cómo estás?

What is the weather like?

¿Qué tiempo hace?

Where are you from?

¿De dónde eres tú?

What time is it?

¿Qué hora es?

How is it going?

 

¿Qué pasa?

 

 

Here are some audio flashcards en Español to help you practice! 



imgres-6
imgres-6
Quizlet.com, home of free online educational games Study these flash cards | Study spanish flash cards
imgres-5
imgres-5
Now that you can ask basic questions in real life, you are ready to go hold conversations en Español! Here is a video of a girl, Jenna, talking to a guy, Júan In Spanish!
El Autobus
Tags: Manuel, Negative E1U1
6 Comments

How To Talk Respectfully en Espanol

Posted by Gabriel Musselman in Spanish 1 - Manuel on Monday, October 31, 2011 at 2:26 pm

The difference between respect and disrespect en Español!

 

To tell the difference between a respectful and a relaxed attitude in Spanish, you need to know the difference between two Spanish terms:

Tú, and Usted (Ud.) While these words both mean you in English, in Spanish Tú is a relaxed form of the term, while Usted is used when talking to a superior, or someone that you respect.

 

Here are some digital flash cards en Español to help you practice:



Quizlet.com, home of free online educational games Study these flash cards | Study spanish flash cards
Now that you know the difference between Tú and Usted, you can use these terms in real life! Here is a video of a boy, Carlos, greeting his principle in Spanish!
USTED1
Tags: E1U1, 2011, Manuel, E1U1, Spanish
8 Comments
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