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Effects of technology on social isolation
Effects of technology on social isolation
Effects of technology on social isolation
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We were difficult to understand this writing title and subtitle: So Much Dead Space, Creating Store Windows Alive with Promise. Because we just looked at title, it was hard for ours to understand them. Before reading, we were indifferent to people's behavior, when we walked to the street or took the bus. Perhaps these days, we always fell into smart phone. We disagreed that pile of people cross and stay crowded together as they continue down the street. Since people's walking speed is different, we think that they can't walk together. We agreed that a creative store window is fascinating for pedestrians. After reading, we knew that people walk faster than the old days. Because many people live in busy life, people cannot help walking faster.
And these days, it’s too sad for people to find something instant and simple. We thought that it is important to have relaxed time to look around store like past time. Because of these days, people have no time to stroll along the street.
While writing, authors use a variety of literary devices to allow the reader to comprehend the main idea that needs to be taken from the story. Included in these literary devices is diction, and diction is crucial in the author’s development of the tone and theme that is produced. Without precise word choice, the reader would not know what kind of emotions to feel or what kind of ideas to think about the piece of writing. In the futuristically set short story, television runs everybody’s lives, and nobody can be who they are anymore due to their sitting in front of a television screen. The use of Bradbury’s selective wording throughout his story leads the reader to step into an eerie, yet strangely familiar setting. In the short story, “The Pedestrian”, Ray Bradbury uses diction to emphasize the morbid tone displayed throughout the story line and to emphasize the overall theme that technology can replace individualism.
Her attention to the most miniscule detail and her grand explanations of spaces impacts her writing style and her reader’s reactions. This particularity is seen in this example: “I woke to a room of sunshine. A wispy-thin curtain veiled a multi paned sliding door of glass...The windows needed washing but slid easily apart and I stepped out onto a tilted balcony, a string mop on a hook to the left of me, and a half-missing board where I had planned to put my right foot. The breath went out of me...About 200 feet below was the sea… (151).” The authors account of this event could have been dull and simple as “There was a hole in the floor of the balcony”, but instead she chose to use detail and descriptors to engage the reader to imagine seeing the strange hotel room that almost turned her relaxing morning into a 200 foot
In conclusion, the article is trying to tell us to live in the moment and allow ourselves to get bored. So, that we can truly connect with the people and things around
Imagination can take you anywhere, and see beauty in unlikely places. Shel Silverstein’s “Where the Sidewalk Ends” takes the reader on a short, but poignant journey through the poem, and leaves the reader, somewhat unexpectedly, at the end of the sidewalk. Though it sounds like a very boring location, Silverstein unexpectedly transforms the end of the sidewalk into a rift in reality that contains compelling impossibilities, and he encourages everyone to see it for themselves. At first, the end of the sidewalk seems to be a literal place, but Silverstein defies expectations by describing a scene that could only occur at the end of the sidewalk, and not reality. Actually, even though he begins by describing a physical location for the end of the sidewalk, the location itself isn’t totally feasible.
“I wanted to get out and walk eastward toward the park through the soft twilight but each time I tried to go I became entangled in some wild strident argument which pulled me back, as if with ropes, into my chair. Yet high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual watcher in the darkening streets, and I was him too, looking up and wondering. I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.
Through lonely, ill-fated, descriptive language, The Pedestrian left readers shocked and whirling with realism of the story. Bradbury 's message hit home as a firm warning, yet adds a glimpse of hope. The Pedestrian prompt its reader to reflect on their surroundings and continue its relevance despite the vast changing
My car slows as it approaches a stoplight. I take this opportunity to allow my mind to become engulfed with my surroundings: the bright fierce red of the traffic light, the brilliant blue sky with its specs clouds, and the mass of hurried people. The four corners of the intersection are filled with people who are preoccupied with their fast-paced lives to notice the little things, such as animals and anxious cars awaiting the traffic light. My thoughts vigorously put all of the information that my mind has gathered from the intersection to order.
The time I was lost at Walmart, I was six years old I was mad about something and that’s when I started wandering off somewhere until finally I turned around my mom was gone I looked all around couldn’t find her anywhere the feeling of me being by myself without know one being here with me to protect me or be here with me, I felt like I lost her forever and that I can’t find her anywhere because Walmart was like a huge store so it was gonna be tough to find her, after a while I started crying and calling her name “mom!”, at that moment one of the employees at the store helped me find my mom by operating on this entercom and called her name luckily I knew her name because if I didn’t how else will I suppose to find her, next they called her
In 1933, Ernest Hemmingway wrote A Clean, Well-Lighted Place. It's a story of two waiters working late one night in a cafe. Their last customer, a lonely old man getting drunk, is their last customer. The younger waiter wishes the customer would leave while the other waiter is indifferent because he isn't in so much of a hurry. I had a definite, differentiated response to this piece of literature because in my occupation I can relate to both cafe workers.
The nature of human communication requires that only a certain number of details may be expressed. A photograph leaves out what is beyond its frame, statistical data generalizes answers into categories to make results meaningful, and words distinguish between specific concepts to present ideas. The author of a written work chooses the details to express not only what they want, but how they want the audience to feel about it. I will analyze what the author chooses to include and to ignore in The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky and “Hills Like White Elephants” by Ernest Hemmingway.
Moving your body makes your position change; you're physically not where you just were. Moving your life gives you a life change; you're not going to be in the same mental space as you once were.
My rosy pink, baby cheeks lay against the chilling cold window instantly cooling down my burning face. My dark, dull brown eyes stared blankly out into the gloomy blue sky. I saw autumn approaching fast with the multicolored leaves flying wherever the strong blowing wind decided to take them. I started recapping the goodbye’s I had to say to my friends, family and my childhood “boyfriend.” I grew an irritating anger towards my father, for, at the time, I was too young to fully understand; it was not his fault. After seeing my heated glare at him, my father promise me that we would never move again. He assumed that I would make friends in no time.
It takes a while to process everything that is going on, but once you see the whole picture, the smaller details come out and are noticeable, even within the visually assaulting Square. The tall buildings are the first things you recognize; just the sheer size of them makes you feel like a tiny, unremarkable speck of dust. Each has its own character and was created with a unique design. A uniting factor of the buildings is the windows. The glass surface reflects the afternoon sun’s light, making a giant mirror from the buildings’ sides. The mirrors create an enormous hall of other building’s distorted reflections. Hanging from the buildings are advertisements for everything under the sun. Many billboards are for the different musicals that are going to be shown at Broadway soon; the classics, like West Side Story, Phantom of the Opera, Annie, and Wicked, are always there. Others are announcing the release of a new HP laptop, or Samsung HDTV. Some unveil a high fashion store’s new fall line of sweaters and jeans. Of course, there is the obligatory Coke commercial, telling you to enjoy a refreshing bottle of ice cold Coke.
Last year was actually one of my best years in high school. I was much more focused on passing and getting into my books but I was more focused on getting everything done. My junior and sophomore year were pretty much tied in together since I was trying to get everything done to be in my right graduating class my senior year. I wanted to make sure that I got all of the credits I needed to graduate with my class. Last year I was in the tenth grade because I did not do so good in my ninth grade year the first time so I had to repeat the ninth grade because of this last year was a lot tougher than it probably should have been. That made no difference in how dedicated I was to do everything I had to do to get thirteen credits by the end of the year.
Once upon a time, I saw the world like I thought everyone should see it, the way I thought the world should be. I saw a place where there were endless trials, where you could try again and again, to do the things that you really meant to do. But it was Jeffy that changed all of that for me. If you break a pencil in half, no matter how much tape you try to put on it, it'll never be the same pencil again. Second chances were always second chances. No matter what you did the next time, the first time would always be there, and you could never erase that. There were so many pencils that I never meant to break, so many things I wish I had never said, wish I had never done. Most of them were small, little things, things that you could try to glue back together, and that would be good enough. Some of them were different though, when you broke the pencil, the lead inside it fell out, and broke too, so that no matter which way you tried to arrange it, they would never fit together and become whole again. Jeff would have thought so too. For he was the one that made me see what the world really was. He made the world into a fairy tale, but only where your happy endings were what you had to make, what you had to become to write the words, happily ever after. But ever since I was three, I remember wishing I knew what the real story was.