Anas Tinkory's English Journal

Who is this Isabelle Kerr lady to be putting down my generation?

I think my generation is more like Shakespeare than she realizes. In-fact I would say that we are all mini Shakespeares in the making. We have created our own unique language that is strictly for us. Who else would understand the sentence; link me at s-way mans gotta bounce out real quick. The older generation would be totally confused however the younger readers would know exactly what I want to do and why. I want them to meet me at the south junction quickly as I need to leave soon. Now are you really going to tell me that’s not creative. Kerr actually says “Shakespeare will  be turning in his grave.” I would have to say that I agree. Shakespeare would be turning in his grave but not at us playing with and evolving the English language. As he did this himself all the time without him we would not have words like ‘addiction’  and ‘assassination’, and you can bet that she has used these words before. ‘haven’t you Isabelle?‘

Kerr also stated that words like “selfie” “unlike” and “digital detox” were “pitiful emblems of the current young generation’s contribution to language.” I strongly disagree as I think it is inspiring how young people are smart enough to create a  new language. It should be respected not undermined. She goes on to say “I am embarrassed and ashamed” and so she should be. She hasn’t taken the time to learn this new amazing language. Just because she feels left out, does not mean that the language  is rubbish. I’m sure she doesn’t understand Mandarin so is she saying that 14.4% of the world should be ashamed. When people first traveled the world loads of new languages were made; French, Spanish, Arabic etc. was that appalling?

Her inability to see that ‘slang’ words are an inspiration to the evolution of the English language and should be treasured and promoted, rather than criticized by people who are narrow-minded and do not understand.   To label it a ‘disgrace’ to the British language is a disgrace in itself. This is why Issabelle Kerr will never have a mind of her own, and will always be a ‘sheep’ who is afraid to break boundaries and be creative. It is clear that Issabelle Kerr has a biased opinion, and has never been exposed to the culture where this type of language has originated. Maybe one day she will see the beauty of this evolution of the English language.

Modern language or slang as Issabelle would call it is actually highly advanced and technical. If you understand how it has been formed an works you can find out where someone lives and the relationship two people or a group of people have with each other. For example in South London a young person would say ‘beef’ to replace the word ‘fight’ and in North London they would use the word ‘Beef’ to reference to a good looking male.

ation to the

http://mentalfloss.com/article/48657/20-words-we-owe-william-shakespeare

Can you remember when you were in school? Of course you do, it was the best days of your life right? Cast you mind back to that lesson you will never forget, in my school it was History.

I can tell you now that History is the lesson that gets your blood pumping, your fingers tingling and your foot thumping. When you step through the History classroom door you see the teacher standing by his desk. He grins at you with his bright sparkling white teeth and waves you in. His short stocky figure instantly comforts you as you know he is a friendly chap.

His knowledge and enthusiasm about History is like being in a time machine. Within a few of his words you are there fighting against Nazi Germany. Debates flying back and forth like bullets and bombs of knowledge exploding. Nothing pleases more that the constant colouring in, the bright colours reflect my mood. As I know the next fifty-five minuets are going to judgement free.

If only this was true, life would be heaven.

It isn’t true because your blood doesn’t pump it runs cold. Your fingers stop tingling and become still while your foot becomes static. When you step through that door your life drains away from you. You see him, the grin you long to see is not a grin, but a snarl. That short stocky figure has grown into a fire breathing demon, waiting for you to speak out of turn.

I was right about one thing: you do feel like you are in Nazi Germany. This Hitler impersonator imprisons you as if you were a Jew in a concentration camp. The idealistic view of a communist world is pulled away from you and dictatorship takes control. His words do not bring you back to the trenches, but make you feel like you are in no man’s land, cold and alone.

There are no colours in this classroom, but pages and pages of black ink scribbled into textbooks. The walls are dull and lifeless. The only sign of life and hope is the work from other students who have somehow made it through this torture pinned up around this cell.

This is a living hell, you die a little over and over again. Slowly you fall into a comer, not sleeping but not awake. Only to be brought back round by the fire and the screams of the demon.

It is sad to say that this kind of teaching is current into today’s schools, and hopefully there is someone out there who can make a difference one day. But realistically, lets take a look back in time. For years teachers have punished children; inflicting pain, embarrassment, custom term papers and physical punishment on them to stamp their authority.

But schools must have changed from the days of old, surely?

They think that they had it hard with the slipper and the cane, but they have not experienced this new kind of corporal punishment. This kind breaks you down, it makes your brain decay slowly but surely, this is mental torture.

If you have been affected by this article, or feel that this is something you would like to discuss more please email:

cwaugh@nautical.lambeth.sch.uk

The poem I am linking to my story is ‘Bayonet Charge’.

As he lay there tossing and turning, you could see the dream etched across his forehead and the pain streaming down his face. The sweat he was exuding formed a moist patch surrounding his torso. The ache in his body that has been formed through the years of pain and distress was evermore apparent
as he lay there numb. This was however not the case in his mind. The battles he was facing were far larger then those that loomed on the surface. As he awoke the puddle of sweat swarmed down him and he broke down into tears. Then he stopped. It was if a simple thought of recognition to his outside surroundings suddenly hit him. Although his thoughts that tore him to shreds flew in and out of his ominous mind, there was almost a peace and calm which fluctuated and rose out of him. All this time he was running away from his fears but now he realised he must face them. He must stand up tall and with a purpose.

It was a dark, humid evening when I was out on patrol, we had a long day fighting the Taliban and were heading back to the so called ‘safe zone’. The morale among my fellow soldiers was low, we had nothing left to offer. We were sitting in the truck in an abysmal state, then we stopped. There was a commotion outside and a dialect of Arabic was shouting in our direction. That’s when the gunfire started. We jumped out of the truck and took shelter behind it. There were bullets flying over our head. They were close. I shot back in anger and that’s when it happened. It was if time had frozen, my friend, the one who was there for me throughout everything, gone in a flash. I could taste the fear growing in my mouth, slowly travelling down the length of my throat, into the pit of my stomach where the butterflies currently fluttered their wings ferociously. Now it was just me and my thoughts. Am I really making a difference? Who am I really fighting for? But the biggest question that posed in my mind was what the hell am I doing here? The bullets continued to fly over me, Then it hit me. Yes I am making a difference, I’m here to fight for my country and all the people at home that are relying on me to return, to provide for them, hearing their voices of undying love scrolling around my head, keeping me going, keeping me alive. That’s when the bullets stopped, they were retreating. But why? I cautiously went to inspect the aftermath. I took 3 steps and after that it was just a flash. Every night I relive this dream, waking up, trying to run away from reality, which is quite ironic because I won’t be running away from anything, nor walking nor crawling.

The hospital corridors stench of bleach travelled through the room that gave the air a feel of despair. The doctor continued his tests on the depleted soldier, you could tell by his submission that there was no hope for this young fighter. It was not just his legs that left him when the IED exploded, but his mind and his soul too. A man’s dream gone in a literal flash. This lasted a couple of weeks before the Doctor noticed a change. The young soldiers mind set was different. Yes the dreams still continued but he woke up determined, not crying. This was no longer a lost soul in a war zone, This was a dedicated man ready to make a change in his life, for the better of not only himself but everyone around him, that single flash may have changed his life temporarily, but the soldier inside will live on forever.

Wife to Be (Petrarchan Sonnet)

I stroll along a fragrant country lane(a)
With honeysuckle perfume on the air -(b)
And feathered crooner’s warble to revere -(b)
Then cross a golden sea of flowing grain(a)
In empathy – it seems to sense my pain(a)
Of knowing all was done with my affair -(b)
Her empty meaning now the solitaire(b)
She cast away – betrothment all in vain.(a)
But oceans team with many fish to catch(c)
So I must up and hoist another sail(d)
And seek the one that really waits for me,(e)
For soon auspicious breezes will prevail(d)
In guiding forth to find a truer match: (c)
The one to take my hand as wife to be.(e)

2.It is the same rhythm as Shakespeare sonnet iambic pentameter.
It is 10 syllables.

3. I found the metaphor verse 4: “Then I cross a golden sea of flowing grain”. This metaphor means he is walking through a field of wheat.

4. It is a poem is about man or woman who walks across the countryside, through fields, with a broken heart. But he says that he should not be worried because there is more “fish in the sea”, which means that there are other women in the world that he can love. He can have a better future out of you.
5. The Volta starts from “but ocean them with many things to catch”. Before this point, he was heart broken and he though he could never live another. From the starting point of the Volta, then he realised that he could have a better life without her.

I am single, I do not have a wife
The weather is dull which suits me just right
I feel its the end of my lonely life
However if you have a nasty bite

But,would you change for me with this poeM
You’re eyes are blue as the sky and you’re hot
If I take a picture of you I’ll show’m
And if I sell them they may buy the lot

Me and you together the summer feels so fine
And you are a dumb blond and so am I
At times when you speak you are out of line
You taste like a sweet pie and you’re sly

I love every night when you go in your cage
But at the end of the day you are my dog

QUESTIONS:
1) What is the basic idea of the poem?
2) Where is the Volta in the poem? What happens at this point?
3) How could this sonnet be improved?
4) Does this sonnet conform to all sonnet rules? If not, which part has to be amended?
5) Which part do you like the most? Why?
6) What do the references to the weather symbolise?
7) Write an improved couplet for the end of the poem.

The director uses different types of camera shots. Those shots are not chosen randomly. Camera shots are carefully chosen by the director in order to emphasise the feelings felt by viewers. The director used sound to make more drama in the scenes. In the second scene when the car goes up the green hill, the director operates with a long shot. To the contrary, in the following scene, the director changed shots and used a level med over shoulder shot. This change of shots creates a clear split between those two scenes.

In one of the scenes Paul is dropped out from the static visual field of the camera. That builds up tension because we don’t know where he went, where he did land on.
Then the camera focused on Paul’s face. The camera man uses a close up shot to his face. You can see on his face that something is not right but we still don’t know what it is. Then Paul recoiled, jumped up and the fog started to disappear and we saw what Paul landed on. The film maker uses the changing of weather condition to emphasise the tension.

Another effect used by the director is produced by the sound track. The director uses several peaceful digetic sounds such as frogs, grass and cricquet, which create a relaxing and calm atmosphere. Then the director suddenly change of atmosphere by stopping the previous soundtrack and from this point we start to hear the sound of the squeaky sound of the car vibration. This soundtrack rupture creates a shock for the viewers.

In the last scene of this film, we can see Paul standing up an then looking up towards the misty road in front of him. Then, the fog slowly disappeared and we can see many dead bodies lying on the road. Here, the director uses a long over Paul shoulders shot. When the fog slowly disappears, it creates a tension effect. We don’t know what remains hidden by the fog. Also, the over Paul shoulders shot makes the viewers feeling Paul’s pain. It is like we are part of the scene.

Once upon a time, there were a cat and a dog always fighting each other .The dog what was fat and small. And he always had a cigar in his mouth. The cat was skinny and had weird moustache. He was really loud and very persuasive. If he did not get his own way he was angry. He hated certain kind of animal such as mice and birds. One day the cat took the birds and he made them working for him. He took them to the shower to make them clean out his way and made them work and they have got little food and sleep. When they get old they go to the shower. Their jobs were cut down trees. All the jobs would be farmer and carpenter and if you do not have that skills you go to the shower.

One day the cat sent the planes to the dog area. The cat planes dropped bombs to the dog base. Then, the dog sent up his pitballs. The pitballs were the fastest planes around in 1939. Five of the pitballs went down. Only one was left. They spinned around the cat planes. The cat planes could not see anymore it then it was behind the pitball fired all he bullets at the cat planes. They all blew up.

All of this is not, of course, merely a study in one pig’s power play. Napoleon does not make sense unless you realize that he is a double for Joseph Stalin, who served as the General Secretary of the Communist Party from 1922 until his death more than 30 years later. Like Napoleon, Stalin was a master at pulling strings behind the scenes. He grew a secret police force, the NKVD (later the KGB), which behaved a bit like Napoleon’s dogs, ultimately proving its by assassinating Leo Trotsky, Snowball’s double and one of Stalin’s chief rivals.

The links between Joseph Staline and Napoleon the pig are:
They are both greedy and they are both really powerful and wealthy.
As Joseph Staline has got his own secret police force called KGB, Napoleon the pig has got his own little army made of poppies.