RWS305W SDSU Mod 3 Life Changing World Vision International Picture Project

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RWS305W

San Diego State University

Description

a writing prompt for a profile: part photo essay, part internet curation, part storytelling, this project requires you to follow your curiousity and introduce us to a unique topic as seen thru eyes of u-the writer

STEP 1-Using the four focus area questions in the attached file, write this journal as a kind of pre-drafting exploration of your proposed Wakelet Profile

uploaded file below-(profile topic proposal) due wednesday 6/19/19


-PROMPT: STEP 2

https://wakelet.com/wake/89da1f12-d110-4374-a13c-3...

profile links and samples:

https://blackboard.sdsu.edu/bbcswebdav/pid-4832160...

& the upload below(rws example mod 3)

-wavelet info:

http://infobunny.com/wakelet-getting-started-guide...

FINAL ASSIGNMENT ALL TOGETHER:

Three-Step Submission Guidelines:, 1) "publish" your profile on Wakelet, 2) upload a file here to Turnitin with the full original writing/text included, and 3) send and email to professor with your username, title and Wakelet link in the body and your section number in the subject line (#23 or #33).


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RWS 305W Module 3 Online Writing Wakelet Profile Topic Proposal-500 words Journal 6 prompt: ✓ Name person, place, event, phenomenon, or specific issue or idea I will explore in my Profile; does this topic connect to a larger social issue or current context? ✓ Cite traditional perspectives on this topic (list specific positions taken) and preview what makes your approach and perspective unique. ✓ Identify what sources (including quoted voices) you will curate and include; how will you bring readers into an understanding of your topic; what dominant impression do you hope to experience and reveal in your Wakelet Profile? ✓ Develop anecdote: write a vivid story that introduces or illuminates your interest/relationship to your profile topic – use dialogue and description! Clarins Cecilia Professor Williams Photo Essay 18+ Enter Alone Signed Waiver Blackout Haunted House Complete darkness. That’s all I managed to see after escaping from a hooded man who shouted obscenities at my face as he forced me to take off my shoes and socks. I am now in a black corridor, where I see a man standing in front of me. “Do you wish to kneel before me?” he snarled. “Yes, yes I do.” And so I kneeled. Unlike your typical haunted house, Blackout leaves out the usual zombie and monster jump scares and opts for terror techniques that play deeper into the psyche of its visitors. The attraction began in 2009 in New York City. Since then, Blackout has expanded to Los Angeles and Chicago due to public’s receptiveness and popular demand. Over the years, the entrance fee has climbed from the original price of $50 to now a staggering $65 for each person. One question burns on my mind: How do they do it? Could their popularity rest on the “scare” euphoria of Halloween? Could it rests on the simple notion of “something new to do?” Or could they be popular because we have a perverted interested with the horrors suffered outside the boundaries of middle-class America? With those questions in mind, I clicked the purchase button for an entry to the nightmare that lays ahead, so I can better understand the “It” factor that has turned Blackout from a small-scale terror theater experiment, into an underground Halloween phenomenon. After I braved the four-hour traffic jam that stretched from San Diego all the way to downtown Los Angeles, I finally arrived front and center at the entrance of Blackout Haunted House. I greeted a black-hooded male attendant to confirm my ticket reservation, and he replied by thrusting a clipboard to sign my waiver on. The waiver stated that I must be 18 to enter, I must go in alone, I am not allowed to talk, I am not allowed to touch the walls, I must do exactly as what I am directed to while in the maze, I will encounter darkness, fog, strobe lights, water exposure, sexual and violent encounters, and I must be out of my mind. Once, I’ve signed my rights away, a female usher positioned me on an X-mark. After a couple of minutes have passed and the clock hit exactly 8 PM, she grabbed my shoulder, turned my body towards a flight of stairs, and told me to run up as fast as I can through the wooden door. I ran. The entrance hallway for signing waiver and before the madness begins Mandatory wavers prior of participation Once I’ve entered the room, a light was flashed onto my face and a man grabbed the back of my neck as he barked for me to run up the next flight of stairs. While he trailed behind me, he shouted, “You’re too slow, go faster,” and “Bitch, run faster.” I entered through another door, where he grabbed me and shoved me inside a small toilet room. He smelled me, caressed me, and thrust his fingers inside my mouth, before he left and shut the door. All I saw was complete darkness. Outside the door, there was a recording of choir music that resembled less of a church orchestra, and more of a chant sung for a cult ritual. At this point, my pulse was thumping rapidly, but I’m not sure if it’s due to cardio or fear. Rather than staring at the darkness around me, I closed my eyes and stared at the darkness inside me to calm myself down. After 20 seconds of solitude and darkness, the same man entered with a flashlight and told me to take off my shoes and socks. Then, he told me to get down on my knees. A moment passed and suddenly, he yanked me off my feet and covered me with a black, hooded poncho with only a small slit for my eyes. He then led me to a black corridor and gave me a tiny green glow stick. As he passed me the glow stick, he growled, “When you find the man, the answer is the sky is falling.” He pushed me towards the black corridor and told me to walk. I walked. The corridor was pitch black and the glow stick was a useless source of light. I made my way through the winding black walls by the feel of my two hands. While being trapped in the corridor, I feared less of what’s ahead of me than what might lay behind me. The thought of someone stalking and creeping from behind made me walk even faster even though I can’t see a single thing. It wasn’t until a couple of steps did I figure out why he covered me with a poncho. As I was walking, I felt a wooden divider at the base of my feet, which forced me to extend my feet over it. Once I was beyond this divider, the whole floor was covered with water that reached halfway up to my knees. On top of that, the ceiling was sprinkling more water. After I walked for a couple of seconds more through the water, I saw the faint outline of a man right in front of me. He snatched the glow stick from my hand and yelled,” A or B?” I replied, “A.” “LOUDER,” he yelled. “Aaaaa…,” I screamed. “I CAN’T FUCKING HEAR YOU, LOUDER,” he barked harshly. So I replied again with added force, “ AAAAAAA…..” Once he’s satisfied, he silently growls, “Do you wish to kneel before me?” “Yes,” I replied. So I sank myself into the water and kneeled before him. After he grew tired of me, he straightened myself up and took off my poncho. He cocked my face to the water sprinkler and waited until I choked on the water. After I finished choking and gasping for breath, he led me to an opening on the floor and told me to crawl. I crawled. I could barely see my hands while walking He held my face underneath the sprinkler until through the corridor I was choking and gasping for breath I was soaking wet and inside an air vent that was littered with fake cobwebs. The shaft was a straight path and a stark contrast to the corridor behind me, since it’s dry and full of light. By this time, I felt more thankful for the warmth of the crawl space, than afraid of what this section entailed. I must’ve crawled for only 10 seconds, before I saw a figure on all fours advancing rapidly towards me. I froze. That figure is a he, and ‘he’ was a mental asylum patient, judging on the uniform he was wearing. He smelled me and gestured for me to follow him. After following him through the air vent, I arrived in a small, dimly-lit room—too small for anyone to stand up in. He pointed at a corner and ordered me to get on all fours. He then turned on a music that I can only describe as an eerie, prairie song of a woman singing about her lost lover. Suddenly, I felt a hand caressing my back and grabbing my hair. As he was smelling me, he softly grinded his groin against my ass, and whimpered. The song created an eerie atmosphere that made me shudder even more as I laid motionless on my knees and hands. After he was done, he told me to sit on my butt and grabbed a black bucket that was sitting on the other side. I wasn’t sure if he was going to throw whatever is in the bucket to my face, so I just stared at his smiling face. He told me to hold up my hands and started to rub ointment onto them. Next, it was my feet. Afterwards, he dried both of my hands and feet with a towel. That was quite nice actually, come to think of it. Once they were dried, he looked at me and his face changed from a smile to a scowl. He fixed his eyes onto mine and uttered, “Milk.” The word didn’t register in my head, so I asked, “Milk?” He uttered again, “Milk,” now, ever so loudly. Suddenly, he grabbed my face and pressed it against his nipple. I sucked on it as he whimpered and moaned, “Milk, milk, oh…milk…oh.” He came. Then he gestured for me to crawl into a hole on the wall and leave. I left. After I crawled through the hole, I emerged into a shady, junkie-ridden bar, with a longlegged woman who lazily propped herself in front of the counter. Another girl emerged from my right, took my hand, and led me to a corridor of rooms. She smiled and asked, “Left or right?” “Left,” I answered. Once we entered the room on the left, she handed me a blue marker and gagged me with a black band. She then told me to repeat everything she said and write it out on the wall in front of me. I couldn’t remember what she said, but it was along the lines of “surrendering myself to blackout,” “volunteering for a public showcase,” and “I have now been branded.” After I finished, she took my hand and led me to another room of darkness. She asked me if I want it fast or slow. I told her I wanted it fast and she told me to lie down before she left the room. To be honest, I was anticipating a man coming from the door I went through and pretend to rape me as part of the show. However, to my fortunate dismay, it was only the same girl who came back in. She got on top of me and started to yell and ask about my whereabouts last night and called me a liar. After the screaming was done, she told me to get up and guided me outside and into another room. This time, though the room was completely pitched black, there was a small red light hovering on the corner. She ordered me to sit underneath the red light. I sat and she laid her head onto my lap. She started to masturbate. Her voice whimpered my name and started off as faint whispers. Then her breathing grew heavier and her moans became erratic. Her body convulsed as she welcomes the tidal wave of orgasm that shaped into her arching back. Once she caught her breath, she took my hand and led me to a different hallway. I let her. At the end of the hallway, there was man and woman screaming at one another. I assume that they’re boyfriend and girlfriend, since the freedom of my own imagination is the only thing I’m allowed with in this place. He violently grabbed her and dragged her into a separate room. All the while, I was standing on the other side, mouth still gagged, and waiting for someone to come for me. Someone did come and she was the same girl who masturbated on me. She gently grabbed my hand and guided me to the end of the hallway. She pushed me into the room where the boyfriend and girlfriend entered into, and suddenly, a plastic bag was placed over my head. A man grabbed my body and shouted for me to make the crying girlfriend stop crying. “TELL HER TO FUCKING SHUT UP BEFORE I KILL HER,” “TELL HER TO BE QUIET,” “TELL HER TO SHUT UP,” he ordered. I tried my best to do what he asked. However, with my mouth still gagged, my words only sounded like incoherent gurgles. When the girlfriend wouldn’t stop crying, he angrily tore the plastic bag off of my face, grabbed a gun, and placed it in my hand. “SEE WHAT YOU’RE MAKING ME DO?” he screamed, as he grabbed my hands and gestured the gun towards the girlfriend’s face. He then took the gun away, grabbed the back of my neck, and led me into a coffin. He yelled at me to get inside. I went inside and he closed the lid. Strangely enough, I was neither feeling claustrophobic nor suffocated, and I laid there in peace. After 20 seconds of solitude, the lid was open, and a light was flashed onto my face. The boyfriend then grabbed the girl and put her inside the coffin, before slamming the lid shut again. The girlfriend laid motionless on top of me, but then she started screaming her head off as her body twisted from shock. After a couple of screams, the lid was torn open again, and the boyfriend yanked me by my armpit and told me to get up. I got up. The inside of the coffin was pitch dark and constricting. Just like, well, a coffin A standard wooden coffin was used, with interior furnishings of body cushions and a pillow He squeezed my neck and shoved me onto another room, where a man came from my right and grabbed my hair. He gestured with his flashlight onto a pile of shoes and socks. I saw my shoes and mismatched socks. While still holding my hair, he told me to grab my shoes and put them on as fast as I can. I did as he told and he grabbed my neck and hurriedly led me outside onto another set of doors, where they led to a familiar set of stairs that stretched downwards. He harshly whispered to my right ear, “You are done now. Leave this place and don’t ever show your face here again.” With that note, I quickly descended from the staircase and into the hallway entrance. I see the black-hooded attendee who now acknowledged me with a smile and handed me my jacket and purse. After I gave him a nod of goodbye, I exited the building and greeted the fresh, polluted night air of downtown L.A. By this time, my clothes were completely wet and I was shivering from the breeze despite my dry jacket. I glanced back to the door entrance that proudly wears the sign “Blackout Haunted House” on top of its mouth. A smile curved around my face, “Well, that wasn’t too bad.” As soon as my feet hit the pavement of the outside world, I felt a wave of happiness and accomplishment. Blackout was a unique experience that definitely challenges me to push the limits of what I can handle. However, despite the “abuse” I suffered whilst in the maze, I was disappointed at the relatively tame shock-value that was incompatible of the hype that surrounds Blackout. Prior to entering, I pictured situations of waterboarding, nudity, obscenities, and extreme breach of personal space. I pictured torture scenes from Argentina’s “dirty war” period, but instead, I suckled on the nipple of a mental patient. The lack of extremity I experienced makes me hesitant to conclude that people participate in Blackout, because they have a perverted interest of the suffering of others; stemmed from the boredom of their middle-class lives. Instead, Blackout serves as a pricey, harmless experience that adds a certain novelty to the usual haunted house, scary movie nights, slutty costume contests and downtown barhopping that Halloween has to offer.
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Running Head: PHOTO ESSAY WRITING

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Photo Writing Essay
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PHOTO ESSAY WRITING

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The Life Changing World Vision International Picture, Palestine
How they see us…
Profit and money-oriented organization, higher-than-average group, killer, and
fundamentalist supporter. We have previously received critics and false allegations in the past
that are so serious to the extent that they tarnished our name. For instance, in the year 2015,
February, some individual went to media to claim that we have announced the hiring of
homosexuals openly as employees in the organization, a claim that ended up making the
organization to be suspended for some time due to the inception on the social media platforms.
However, this claim received stiff opposition from various religious leaders of high-profile and
the suspension was reinstated after four days. In 2016, April, World Vision International’s
director of Gaza who goes by the name Halaby El Mohammed was accused of supporting a
Palestinian Sunni-Islamic fundamentalist organization known as Hamas, yet the donations are
supposed to be channeled to the needy. The claims are still under investigation.
These are some of the claims that I have always heard individuals make whenever I passby about World Vision International. I heard one asking, “She works for that devil
organization?” “Yes, she is the project animator,” snarled the listener. Many people have less
knowledge of what World Vision International’s mission, vision, role, projects, and resources it
has for the people of Palestine. But as an animator, who is part of the organization, I know, and I
understand that those misconceptions, stigmas, and stereotypes are not correct. Yes,...


Anonymous
Really useful study material!

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