the eyes i cant believe

Our most used sense (if applicable). the eye ball a portal to the soul or the scanner of the hidden within. my inspiration for this log come from the picture written titled "Omayara Sanchez" by isable Allende. the little girl is holding on for life, "and yet look at her hands they are so elegant..." her eyes intense with pain and still observant hides her frustration unable to help her self her eyes hold strong brown and puffy her determination to survive shines with such beauty, i have to ask did anyone help her?

my pictures are of my the left is the original eye right is the inverted eye. Do they share the same expression? i took the shot just looking into the lens, i didn't think if anything in particular but when reviewing, the right eye resembled hurt and the expression surprised.the left eye looked utterly distraught completely devastated.
Isabel speaks more about the little girl and the pain she feels for her daughter whenever the image appears," my daughter trapped in a body that does not function anymore, omayra trapped in mud.

the image of any child,person, in pain is very hard to look at but once all aspects and angles are taken in the challenge is to make a connection to understand and feel what the object and what the artist was capturing.

the main idea of Omayra Sanchez comes from the comparison of her daughter and omayra "Endurance and the love of life, the acceptance of the tragedy and death..."

outerform

http://pro.corbis.com/images/91175-31.jpg?size=67&uid={8998A5CF-0FA0-4D97-9528-CDDADF4E9109}
Pm baker to me again

i put on several different costumes to get through my day. the student, the chef student, the sleeper, the most dreaded of all the pm baker. i, like Clark Clint, put on a uniform to pursue and complete, my task. i work as a baker, 9 hour graveyard shift 4 days a weeks its a terrible weight to bare. I'm the soul producer of a company, with out my abilities they would cease to exists.
my uniform depending on my mood , white t and black pin stripped pants or a black t- shirt with gray checkered pants, a hat and of course black non-slip shoes. unlike superman my emblem isn't iconic across the world though when i walk out the front doors of panera bread my emblems brings me nodes and salutation, sometime empathy acknowledgements of my task to provide the bread or that soup they love and consume regularly.

my uniform, its not about me, the beget on my black shirt, or the bread bunch on my white shirt. it represent a bigger idea a company built to serve awesome bread and perfected customer service. "The "S" on super mans chest is the monogram made monolithic...." representing hope and strength.

"Super" by chip Kidd is about super mans costume and the journey from this comical cotton costume to a more dramatic synthetic stern forceful ripped and more manly iconic figure. i was inspired but the look in the eye of superman when he changes from Clark. He is superman but becomes Clark Clint. i feel like a baker and i become my alter egos (sleeper, student, chef student lol).

ironic concoction

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3073/2778673084_5731cd51d3.jpg?v=0

My tattoo i love it.

signs like the stop light or school crossing plaques help to inform us what to do or how fast to go. the question at the bottom of the article asks "what makes a symbol endure?" the bimbo bear is the symbol of Mexican bread and dessert products. a lot of people enjoy bread and whenever i see the white polar bear i think of Delicious tasty carbohydrate filled bread . "glimpse at them for a split second and you know what they mean" kinda like now when ever you see a picture of Obama you imagine his speech yes we can and hope pops right after. what makes a symbol endure, not the actual product the population and its amazing ability to fall head over heels in love with an idea that they need the product being sold.

some symbols inform other symbols are a place holders for a companies, a product or just a person who symbolizes a feeling or an idea.

how many months are you?

"the story of my body" judith ortiz cofer, a tale of a younger mixed Latina from Porto Rico. she talks about her skin, size, and looks. i completely relate to her distress through out her days going through school and moving her home ton to the united states. i really related to her size portion. i wasn't super tall kid but i was super plump. i was active and did sports but I've always had a big belly. my family poked fun at me they would always ask "how many months are you?" i didn't really think of it then i was always hurt but i kept it in. i didn't know what else to say i grew taller i passed through grade school and made it to high school but never lost my stomach, although friends tried to reassure me i still feel like I'm this 6 month prego.

"i didn't consciously think about my size til other people made an issue of it..." i felt "normal" i kept up with the other boys and i even did more then the others. it wasn't till my cousins picked at me and i really took a look at my body and the way the other kids looked. it was difficult to take but i grew and slimmed up and developed self confidence and assurance.

he she said

"you cant be moody, that is for girls," you cant play Chinese jump rope your a boy," "straws are for women", don't do this don't do that, i thought it was a joke. the voice in the article Girl, jamaica kincaid, hammers in directions on how to properly execute each task and when its appropriate. the voice was confusing it wasn't till the third time Reading that i realized the main idea. its not what the "mother voice" is saying its the idea that little girls are act and do certain things, ie to wash clothes or to be lady like, "and not end up that slut so bent on becoming..." like my experiences our "mother" voice wanted to guide us to be what they were taught as children on how to properly depict and portray gender roles.

fluttering captured by the minds eye and the lenses snap shutness

The pole was a heavy iron or lead pipe probably twenty feet long... the pipe, crafted into a flag was raised in Iwo Jima during the war in 1945, inspired the troops to fight on and advance the lines to victory. the diploma, my pipe, propelled me to finish school with a blaze. high school was my war and it took every bit of my strength to get past and conquor the foreign knowledge that stood in my way. with a great cheer at the end of the four years it hit me like a boom i can do this i can start my next years tackling college and blasting my way to the life i want and deserve. the site and emotions i felt that day i raised up lifted in my own amazement i look back at those days leading up to graduation the feverish studying and impossible late nights frantically pursuing this last chance to make my mark i think of those times when i look at my pictures, captured by a cheapo disposable camera it reminds me i can do it i just need to conjure the strength and the will to get it done. "i was surprised by the fifth day they could do this..." their fifth day was my last day of junior year i tasted this nectar, completion and the pride that follows. enthuised, like the soldiers in "Flag Raising On Iwo Jima"by, Joe Roseenthal, i pushed myself and i made it through that gut wrenching years obstacles ( friends and fun) and i pushed ahead i made it an immense pleasure waiting to be called for my stage walk my Flag Raising at Luther Burbank, June 14, 2007 !

i rember the place i was in

edward hopper and the house by the rail roads, oddly familiar i think i can identify my late vw jetta with the house.,"..someone being starrred at someone holding their breath under water, hushed and expectant," the house is truely handsome its said to be disappointed in its glory, i bought a car and with all my heart i was in love but it broke and it sat with out use or reasin and with my own desperate heart i viewed the car lpoking back at me with soften and appologetic features. the poem personofies the house , the arthour, i imagine,had to of felt these emotins themself to capture and view such an iridescent expressions from a house or poem.

And then one day the man just disappears, he left his afternoon shadow moving across the tracks, making its way through the vast darkening fields," edward hirsch, my interpretation for this line describes my feeling of the car as my attachment grew weaker and i finally just let it go. i was so upset with that day i called a tow truck and they gave me $170 for it in total, i was heart boken but i knew it was time to let go but it lingered in my mind ,the afternoon shadonw easing away to the vast darkness, of it being gone and me losing this mechanical automotive creation to dispair and metaphorical human like emotions. i was cuoght staring gawky abandon by my own willed choice.