A..A...A!

I deserve an A. Since the last two classworks were late, I am downgrading an A+ to an A. I have completed all the other assignments right on time and to the best of my ability. It was not hard to do because each assignment we did was interesting and meaningful. It is the first time I have actually had modern day subjects incorporated into the class. I loved how most of our work involved  technology which only made the class feel more modern and more "in 2010." The class was unique and it gave me a chance to see how useful blogging is. Although many of the things we learned in class were controversial, it was truly stimulating. I thoroughly enjoyed each day of class. (:

The Bank

9:00-10:20 am

Ethnographic Essay

I try so hard not to stare at the red pimple protruding from the bank teller’s face. She has black hair that looks really short in length because of her perm. She is rather young, possibly in her late twenties. As she handles money and deals with the customers she seems so kind and sweet. As if she really is happy to be here on the Friday after Thanksgiving, when she could really be at GSP shopping. She hides her disappointment well, but I see her frustration. In the minute right after she says “Thank you, have a nice day,” and right before her next customer, I see her shake her frozen posture up a bit as she reapplies the same fake smile.

I look at the other bank tellers.  Each has their own style of smile and posture, but they all have the same amount of fakeness. They cannot be blamed for not finding a reason to smile today. The intense lighting used to brighten one room hurts my eyes and prevents them from closing and the bland paint on the walls only seems to hurt my eyes more. The same plants I see in every bank are what are placed in every corner of the room. The chairs are lined up back to back in the middle of the room. We patiently await the time until the display by the bank tellers’ window light up and say “Next Customer.” I am nowhere near next and my patience is running out. I stand up and walk to get a cup of water. A short elderly man is also getting water. He smiles and moves aside, signaling for me to go right ahead. I shyly smile back and quickly pour my water and drink it in one gulp. I then turn around, smile back at the man and return to my seat. However, when I get to my seat, there is a woman sitting in my seat. She quickly half-gets up and apologizes. I smile back at her and tell her it is okay and move to another seat.

At the bank everyone is forcefully polite. No one wants to attract any attention to themselves but at the same time, they do not want to seem antisocial. People who came alone exchange small talk and slight smiles, while others who came with another family member quietly whisper to each other. They smile apologetically at people when they believe they are being too loud. I sit restlessly in my chair but I do not dare lean back or position myself to be comfortable because I do not want to make much noise or seem too relaxed. My parents and my sister hate waiting at the bank so once again I was sent in as they get to wait in the car. This time I do not have my i-pod so I am defenseless against strangers. I keep my head down but discretely watch people. My curiosity will not let me stop looking but I have to be careful not to make eye contact because it can spark a conversation. I look up at the curly haired-bank teller again and see the neon light flash up. I am next. I get up and briskly walk to her. She smiles at me, I smile back and hand her the money inside the envelope my mom entrusted to me. She takes it with two hands and enters it in a machine. I watch her hands and realize that she is looking at me with the same fake smile. When she is done, we smile at each other again and as I turn to leave, my smile quickly drops.

I do not know why people need to fake sincerity and kindness. Sure it makes people feel more comfortable, but it also makes people feel the opposite. They all feel a need to be something they are not. Being happy 24/7 is not a reality. I get back in the car and continue to conversation we were having before I left. I tell my mom that I want to be a wedding planner instead of a pharmacist. She raises her voice again and keeps nagging me about why pharmacy is the only option of major I should be focused on. I sigh and give up my argument. I think back to the bank and realize that many of them are not as happy and kind as they seemed. The frightful thing is that people can change to whatever they want to portray themselves to be. Its hard to trust anyone when what they show you on the outside is so different from what is on the inside. 

Beary

9:00-10:20 am
Analysis Essay

My most treasured inanimate object in this whole world is something I call Beary. She is twelve inches of soft snow-white adorable plush. Her beady eyes, pink heart shaped nose, and her permanent sitting position is the only familiar thing from my past that brings me comfort. 

I was five years old and my family and I went to a diner to eat one late night. As soon as I saw her in box of the claw game, I knew I wanted her. I put in twenty-five cents and led the gigantic metal claw right towards her. The claw wrapped around her perfectly and dropped her into the shoot. Soon she was cuddled in my arms. My brilliantly large vocabulary thought to name her Beary. Beary originally came with her arms attached to a red heart shaped pillow that bore the beautiful phrase "I Love You." My small fingers constantly squeezed the pillow whenever I was scared or nervous. She is the first and only thing that I ever won in a claw game. The precision and caution it took to win her could never be matched by any other five year old. As soon as she fell into my arms I jumped for joy and ran into my dad's arm. He lifted me up and patted my head. He chuckled and told me "good job." I giggled as I swung my new bear around and showed her off to my sister. It was one of my happiest days and one of my happiest childhood memories. Even today, Beary gets her own space on my desk, she has never seen the inside of a travel bag, she is forbidden from getting dusty, and she will never be thrown away. Beary has been there longer than anyone else and she brings me comfort in times of stress,