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WRITING > CHRISTMAS EVE POEM
01.05.10
My Mom and I wrote a funny poem about our family and read it aloud on Christmas Eve. Enjoy! The Christmas Eve party started early this year
WRITING > FAKE LAWSUIT
12.10.09
Last April Fools day I sent this email out to everyone in my family. We have our own business and online sites. I got them all good. They were freakin' out! . . . . . . FROM: Micheal Baumann (michaelbaumann@kirkland.com)
I recently was contacted by Claudio Miranda Cinematography with regards to a copyright infringement made by Creocan Graphics, subsidiary of Willowrise LLC. A photo is currently posted that you do not have the rights to publish without permission. It is important that we inform you of the seriousness of this matter and request that you remove the photo from the site immediately. Please remove the photo still taken by Claudio Miranda posted here: http://www.creocan.com/lds_film_buff.htm In some cases the owner of a copyright will simply produce a warning to the person(s) that have illegally posted the material. My client has decided to move forward with a lawsuit against Willowrise LLC for this infringement. In a case where the copyright owner sustains the burden of proving, and the court finds, that infringement was committed willfully, the court in its discretion may increase the award of statutory damages to a sum of not more than $150,000. In a case where the infringer sustains the burden of proving, and the court finds, that such infringer was not aware and had no reason to believe that his or her acts constituted an infringement of copyright, the court in its discretion may reduce the award of statutory damages to a sum of not less than $200. My client believes this to be an act committed willfully and has therefore asked me to inform you of this lawsuit. DO NOT attempt to reply to this message or contact Claudio Marianda Photography or Kirkland & Ellis LLP. Attempting to do so will create further litigation and damages. I will be contacting you again within the next 24 hours to further discuss this matter. Thank you,
Kirkland & Ellis LLP
. . . . . . After they found out it was me they were all relieved. My Dad said I should consider becoming a lawyer since this sounded so legit. I used a real law firm, a real lawyer, and a real client. This prank has now gone down in the Hall of Fame of all time best April Fools Jokes in our family, right along side 'Mom's hair is falling out', and 'Jake (my brother) just burned down half the houses on the block while on his mission'.
WRITING > COLLEGE ESSAY
12.05.09
After spotting is completed, the composer creates a cue sheet. This is where all places in the film found to need music are recorded in exact form. The precise timing to the second of every action from beginning to end is written out in specific order. This way the composer knows exactly how to write the music he or she must add to the final cut. The third step is now possible. Since the cue sheet determines the timing in minutes, seconds, and frames, the composer is now able to create the musical score. A video of the film with a digital time code that displays the reel number, minutes, seconds, and frames into each reel for all action combined with the cue sheet enables the composer to create the composition. These tools allow the composer to create perfect timing in the music to fit the action. Computer programs called sequencers assist in this process of perfecting the composer's work. In earlier films a composer would show the director the music at an early stage by playing the composition on a piano. The disadvantage was that most of the instrumentation had to be imagined. In modern movies, the composer is able to create a digital version of the music score to show the entire composition at once. The downside to this, from the composer's point of view, is that the director is allowed full access to change whatever parts of the score he or she wishes. The Creation and Functions of Music in Film Structure written by Shelly Hathaway
WRITING > COLLEGE ESSAY
11.24.09
Motion Pictures depend on a variety of elements to create an overall film structure that will give a particular movie meaning. One very important element is that of sound. When used properly, it can be a key source in providing specific emotions to a given scene. There are three types of sound used in motion pictures. They are dialog, effects, and music. This essay will focus on music in motion pictures, the steps used for creating a film score, and the functions it has in helping to set a more powerful film structure. When a composer begins the production of a film score, there are five steps the music must go through before completion. Spotting, cue sheet preparation, composing, performance and recording, and mixing. The creation of the musical elements in a film must take place in post-production. In fact it is one of the last things added to a film because spotting is dependent on the final cut. During the process, the composer, director, and producer watch the final cut and determine where and when music added will have climaxes, come out soft, or not be present at all. It is basically the moment where the composer learns what music is needed in a particular film. Other important things are determined, including tempo, emotional force, and musical cues. In the film Return to Me, director Bonnie Hunt found it appropriate to add these three elements to a scene where Minnie Driver's character, Grace Briggs, is receiving a heart transplant and David Dochovny's character, Bob Rueland, has lost his wife in an accident. As the heart from Bob's wife is transferred to Grace, the music cue begins as Grace's grandfather waits in a hospital chapel praying that the operation will succeed, the music of Angel Standing By by Jewel, brings emotion with a very slow dragging tempo, signifying how long and hard the wait is to see if Grace will live, At the same time, a montage combines the hospital waiting scene with a shot of Bob in his home, mourning the loss of his wife. The music's slow pace again helps the audience to feel how long and horrible the night is, as he contemplates his future without her. It is a very gripping scene that passes time through a number of dissolve fades, and when the music ends with the sound of the new heart beating successfully and Bob waking up in the morning, a period of about three actual minutes to the audience seems to have been an entire restless night because the music gave that sort of tempo and emotional response. The effects the music creates in this scene were all premeditated while spotting the final cut. The Creation and Functions of Music in Film Structure written by Shelly Hathaway
WRITING > ONLINE NOVEL
09.28.09
Chapter 1, continued... "No matter what you think, It's still not the type of thing people like to see," the voice of her Mother reached Sam's ears as she rounded the corner towards the kitchen. "No one in their right mind answers the door in a bathrobe!" "Catherine, he really didn't care. I'm sure UPS guys see people in their pj's all the time. Why do you always have to make such a big deal of this sort of thing?" her Dad said in a low patient tone. "I'm not making it a big deal! I'm simply trying to keep you from embarrassing yourself!" her Mother said, her voice rising. "Well then there's no problem, I don't get embarrassed by that sort of thing. End of discussion." "Well you are embarressing me!" "There it is!" Sam heard the sound of her father slamming his hand on the table, "I knew it was coming to this!" Her Father's patient tone changed dramatically, "I embarrass you. You never want to admit it. For heaven sakes, I am the same guy you married 16 years ago. If you were embarrassed by me back then, you shouldn't have married me. I can't change who I am!" "I'm not asking you to, Michael! You're asking me to pretend like I don't notice or even care about how out of control this family really is! Just look at how Sam dresses!" Sam froze in the kitchen doorway as she heard her name echo across the walls. Her mother whipped around in alarm after noticing the shocked look on her husbands face. "Morning," Sam said with quiet sarcasm. Catherine's face was horrified. Her mother was a pro with overly dramatic looks. You'd think she'd just witnessed a suicide. There was a terrible awkward pause that was only broken by the sound of Kibbles, Sam's black cat, scratching on the outside of the glass doors that lead into the backyard. Catherine used the distraction to escape and quickly crossed the kitchen to let the cat in. Sam's father turned back to his cold cereal and began shoveling the last few bites of soggy corn flakes into his mouth. Sam rolled her eyes. Typical morning in the White home. Her parents were never good with communication. They always spoke to her as though they completely approved of her every action. But then Sam would learn the truth as they screamed at the top of their lungs secrets they didn't want her to ever find out. "I'm late... I guess," Sam said quickly. She grabbed a silver package of pop tarts on the counter to her right and made for the front door. "Have a good day, sweetie!" her Mother called out in a bubbly tone just before she shut the front door behind her. Samantha White written by Shelly Hathaway
WRITING > ONLINE NOVEL
09.01.09
Chapter 1, continued... I sat up, pushed the blankets off and let them fall to the floor. The musky smell of morning filled the air. Too paranoid to leave my window open in the night, the room always had that smell when I first woke up. My window was smack next to a busy highway. Only about 10 feet of grass separated my ground floor room from vehicles traveling anywhere from 55 to 75 mph. I knew someday, if I was careless and left it open all night, some hitchhiker was going to pry it all the way open and strangle me to death as I slept. It happened in a movie I'd watched a year or two ago. I can't remember the movie title, but it had been such an intense scene, I didn't really care about the fact that the idea of something like that actually happening to me was quite ridiculous. I didn't think like that. Imagination shut down reality, no contest. More than anything I loved to imagine I could turn invisible whenever I wished for it. Which would of course, be all the time. I could go from place to place without receiving the usual dirty looks from other students or my parents. For example, no one would have the opportunity to disapprove of my choice of clothing today. They wouldn't see my purple lace arm warmers, knee length sleeveless black dress, high boots and ripped fish-nets. Not to mention my pale white skin and careless reddish black waist length split-end hair that my mother insisted on chopping off every two weeks at least. About 90 percent of all my clothes are either black, torn or just odd. I can't help it, whenever I was handed $100 cash from Mom to go shopping for new clothes I couldn't stand anything I saw. Most of my options in clothing only came in cheap wimpy pastel colors. Colors were so wrong on me. In my opinion, the only color that suited me was black. However, I do love metal necklaces and accessories, all forms of colorful tights, leg and arm warmers and usually spend most of the cash on these types of extras. So I end up with holey pants and tops, shabby dresses and skirts that I can never bring myself to throw away and piles of new extras to wear with them. If a shirt got a hole in the sleeve or shoulder I'd simply wear another shirt over it. Since everything I had was black, this was easy. Black goes with everything, especially black. So, when I noticed a few new holes in the dress I'd put on, I threw over it a black button-up top with short sheer sleeves. I grabbed a couple chain necklaces and bracelets lying on my dresser and slipped them on as well. I ran my brush through the thick long strands that made up my careless hair and glanced at myself quickly in the mirror hanging from the door. I liked the way I looked. It was me. It's how I wanted to look. Perhaps I wouldn't draw as much attention as I do dressing in a pair of khakis and a pink shirt, but I'd rather not have to gag every time I walked by a mirror. I sighed. As always, I reminded myself it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Being myself is the only thing that matters. After all, I'm the one who has to live with myself. I must to do things my way. Grabbing the handle of the bedroom door, I pulled it open and headed towards the kitchen. As I slowly made my way down the sunlit hallway, I began to hear the faint sound of voices coming from the top of the stairs. Samantha White written by Shelly Hathaway
WRITING > ONLINE NOVEL
08.24.09
The air filled with a shrill buzzing. It snapped at the silence, harsh and rhythmic. I turned over with an angry groan and smacked the snooze button on the alarm clock balanced on the chair next to the bed. It was morning again. The cursed beginning of another day. And I was still in High school. Suck. Oh, I'm sure there are tons of girls who look forward to high school. I guess there could be many reasons. Some girls like talking to friends, going to the prom, and I've heard some weirdos even like their classes. In my case however, there's never been anything about the whole affair that appeals to me. I never get good grades, my so-called best friend ditched me 3 months ago when she made the cheer leading squad, and the idea of me going to prom is... laughable. Ok, I admit I may be coming off as a very negative sort of person right now, but you have to take into account that it's morning. I've always been a night owl. I adore the night time. More than anything, I love curling up on the sofa in the basement most nights after my parents go to bed. No one else ever goes down there because for some unknown reason it's always 30 degrees or lower. I make myself some popcorn and sometimes eat a candy bar I bought with my milk money earlier that day and watch a horror movie or two. Since I'm always up so late, it's obvious why mornings suck so much. The blaring on the alarm a second time startled me out of my thoughts. I sat up and surveyed the room. Annoying pinches of light seeped through the sides of my black curtains lighting up the various clothes scattered across the floor. The smallness of the room made 2 pair of pants, a shirt and and my black coat cover the whole of the carpet. It was at that moment a sharp knock came on the door followed by the sound of my mother's voice. "Rise and shine sweetie! You're late, the bus leaves in 10 minutes!" I looked at my clock. It was only 7:45. My mother loved to do this. She thought she was being clever. Like I wouldn't realize that school started at 8:30 and still had a whole 30 minutes to throw on some clothes, brush my hair and down a pop tart before the bus arrived. I rolled my eyes and played along to avoid further discussion. "Ok. I'm up," I called. Samantha White written by Shelly Hathaway
WRITING > ONLINE NOVEL
08.11.09
It's hard to describe how I feel. People will walk around saying, I'm not happy, or I'm excited or even I feel lonely. How can you take the puzzling emotions that dance around inside and put a simple label on it like, sad, frustrated, or happy? I have never been able to determine exacly what I'm feeling. Especially when that guy walks by. It's like suddenly my throat clogs and I'm all self conscious of what my arms are doing. Like he'll think I'm weird if I have one hand on my hip, or if I ball my hands into fists. Definitley I shouldn't fold my arms. Everyone says that sends a bad signal. Whatever that means. I lied. There is one time I can always tell how I feel. When I'm completely alone. I feel... peaceful. It's such a relief to be away from the difficulty of coming off as a normal person. Of course, I am normal. Well, as normal as anyone is. But I am always trying to make sure I 'come off' that way. Otherwise look out, here come's the commentary: "What's wrong?", "You're eating that for lunch?", "Somebody's in looo-ove..." Yes. When I'm alone, I don't have to be on my guard. I know how I feel. But when I'm amongst the rest of the world, I have no clue. In fact I have no clue who I am, since I'm constantly trying to 'come off' as an acceptable person. So how, I ask you, am I supposed to be myself around... him. Samantha White written by Shelly Hathaway
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