Archive for September, 2010

Project Proposal

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

Wordle created using text from CNN'S Afghanistan Crossroads Blog

Study the front-page headlines or skim the World section of a newspaper and several words are likely inked on the day’s edition: Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, troops, convoy, military.

Perform a Google News search using the term “Afghanistan” and several of the 26,900 obtainable headlines link to hard news stories offering information on current events in the Middle East: US military deaths in Afghanistan at 1207. NATO sees Afghan city of Heart ready for transition.

The ongoing war in Afghanistan and recently (combat) concluded war in Iraq has dominated mainstream news coverage for nearly a decade.

Many of the news stories I’ve read or viewed thrive around politics or operational details about the wars’ progression.

My digital story aims to shift away from this trend by writing “slice of life” and “reconstruction” feature stories depicting people’s current and past “day to day” experiences with the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. The Fredericksburg area’s proximity to Quantico Marine Corps Base, Fort Belvoir, Naval Support Facility Dahlgren and Fort A.P. Hill situate the region as an “armed forces melting pot,” and I am intrigued by how two large-scale wars in Afghanistan and Iraq have been felt locally by people in and from the Fredericksburg region.

To begin with, I plan to speak with one source, learn about her experiences as someone with a family member deployed to Afghanistan, and share her story in installments through writing, audio, images and video.

As the semester progresses, I hope to consider incorporating additional sources if they are willing to participate. I predict my digital story will primarily entail writing slice of life and reconstruction feature stories and shooting images, audio and video related to my topic.

Ideally, I would like to create a subdomain on my website and build/showcase my project separately there. I envision this separately because I think part of a digital story, especially journalistic in nature, is in its full presentation. I want to use a separate WordPress theme, layout and plugins specifically to enhance and reflect my project content/theme. I would still use my blog.MediaMegan.com subdomain to blog about my process of creating/building the “separate” site, writing and using different tools to tell a story (similar to my past posts/tutorials, from journalistic writing techniques to a “technical” standpoint).

Please help!: Cast Iron Coding Question

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

Has anyone else had issues renewing their CIC subscription for October?  My renewal is due tomorrow, but CIC won’t let me view my registered domains, which I fear I something I need to do in order to pay for the month.

Project Ideas

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

I have two ideas for my digital story:

  1. ZOMBIE MOVIE: I made a zombie movie with my friends a couple years back, and it was pretty cool. Sadly, I don’t have the movie or neither do my friends; we filmed it on a phone and since phones are always updated, we lost the data (because the phone is essentially in the trash). Though it would be fun to try at it, but with more resources  with me.
  2. LETS LEARN HOW TO PLAY GUITAR TOGETHER: Playing guitar was always something I wanted to do, but could not really afford. It was only until recently that I bought one and started to play. I got hooked on it but decided not to bring to college (I thought people would get annoyed if a beginner guitarist was playing in his room a lot)

Hopefully during the week I will pick one and start next week with the videos!

Project Proposal

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

My plan for the remainder of the semester is to blog about my journey and adventures in Spain this summer as well as a continuous blog about my research project in my Economic Analysis class.

I have chosen to blog about my study abroad in Spain this summer because I think studying abroad is an important part of education. Learning from other cultures can help give you a better understanding of your own culture and surroundings. Also through the study abroad experience I am able to get my experiential learning requirement taken care of. This trip was my first time out of the country as well as the first time I traveled alone. I feel like I’ve learned alot from this experience and want to be able to encourage and share it with others.

In my Economic Analysis class we are required to work on a research project throughout the semester. This class is challenging and at the same time we learn a lot of important information about how to conduct economic research as well as learning something through what we are researching. I think that blogging about this project would be very helpful to other economics majors as well as sharing the process and procedures that take place when working on an economics research assignment.

Project Proposal

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

In the last few months, I have taken a big interest in cooking. At the beginning of the summer, I spent some time with my grandma, who is an AMAZING cook. She taught me to make drunk chicken (and introduced me to lemon pepper seasoning – LOVE IT) and we talked a little about cooking in general. I then spent another summer at a camp where we cooked a couple nights a week on a campfire, and in order to keep from eating the same thing every week, I learned a bit about preparing food. The week or two I was at home this summer I spent wishing I knew more about cooking than pancakes and spaghetti.

So here is where my project comes in. I am going to learn to cook. I mean, I know some, obviously, but I want some sort of repertoire of recipes in my brain, and I want to eat some good food this semester – the nest is killing me, and I don’t even want to think about seaco. I have a bunch of recipes I have saved from bettycrocker.com, a couple magazines, and some family/friend recipes. I am going to cook one entree a week and one other dish – an appetizer, a drink, a dessert, etc. I will post where I got the recipe from, take pictures, evaluate, say what I changed when cooking or what I would in the future, and be descriptive as I can in the process. The last two or three weeks I would like to cook my food without using a recipe – therefore using the knowledge and experience I have gained in this process.

I went to the store today and bought food to make Mexican Shepherds Pie and Fresh Peach Salsa – food for week one, care of bettycrocker.com. =]

Audio Story

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

Audio Story!
Camping is fun!

By:
Morgan @ tomatolemonade.org
Stephanie @ blog.gephy.info
Jessica @ blog.jhouck.info

Credits:

banjo

http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=91983

footsteps

http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=23708

owls

http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=64544

final roar

http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=33568

fire sound:

http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=40699

match lighting:

http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=29678

weird growls

http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=23387

Audio Story

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

                                                                 TellTale

1. Intro sound by wolfsinger

2. Footsteps by rutgermuller

3. Faint heartbeat by johnc

Heart Beat.flac http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=93970
CGEffex http://www.freesound.org/usersViewSingle.php?id=1386366

4. smothereddeath.mp3 by Christopher Vernet

5. Clock strikes 4 (Seikosha antique clock ticking and chiming_wav.wav) by gumbomedia

6. Sirens (police siren perpignan.wav) by thfc140491

7. Door Knock.wav by Geoffbarkman

8. (heart beat after 20 min.mp3) by family1st

10. Shriek (ahhh.wav) by a href=”http://www.freesound.org/usersViewSingle.php?id=95609″>UncleSigmund

Poe’s Tell Tale Heart as interpreted by Christopher Vernet, Gretchen Houser, and Lindsay Walker.1. Intro sound by wolfsinger

2. Footsteps by rutgermuller

3. Faint heartbeat by johnc

Heart Beat.flac http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=93970
CGEffex http://www.freesound.org/usersViewSingle.php?id=1386366

4. smothereddeath.mp3 by Christopher Vernet

5. Clock strikes 4 (Seikosha antique clock ticking and chiming_wav.wav) by gumbomedia

6. Sirens (police siren perpignan.wav) by thfc140491

7. Door Knock.wav by Geoffbarkman

8. (heart beat after 20 min.mp3) by family1st

10. Shriek (ahhh.wav) by a href=”http://www.freesound.org/usersViewSingle.php?id=95609″>UncleSigmund

Poe’s Tell Tale Heart as interpreted by Christopher Vernet, Gretchen Houser, and Lindsay Walker.

I thought I’d add the story that inspired our digital story for those of you who haven’t read it :)

The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe

TRUE! nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why WILL you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How then am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily, how calmly, I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain, but, once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture — a pale blue eye with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me my blood ran cold, and so by degrees, very gradually, I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye for ever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded — with what caution — with what foresight, with what dissimulation, I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night about midnight I turned the latch of his door and opened it oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern all closed, closed so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly, very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man’s sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this? And then when my head was well in the room I undid the lantern cautiously — oh, so cautiously — cautiously (for the hinges creaked), I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights, every night just at midnight, but I found the eye always closed, and so it was impossible to do the work, for it was not the old man who vexed me but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he had passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed , to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch’s minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers, of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was opening the door little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea, and perhaps he heard me, for he moved on the bed suddenly as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back — but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness (for the shutters were close fastened through fear of robbers), and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening , and the old man sprang up in the bed, crying out, “Who’s there?”

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed, listening; just as I have done night after night hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

Presently, I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief — oh, no! It was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself, “It is nothing but the wind in the chimney, it is only a mouse crossing the floor,” or, “It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp.” Yes he has been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions ; but he had found all in vain. ALL IN VAIN, because Death in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel, although he neither saw nor heard, to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time very patiently without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little — a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it — you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily — until at length a single dim ray like the thread of the spider shot out from the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye.

It was open, wide, wide open, and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness — all a dull blue with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones, but I could see nothing else of the old man’s face or person, for I had directed the ray as if by instinct precisely upon the damned spot.

And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses? now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well too. It was the beating of the old man’s heart. It increased my fury as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder, every instant. The old man’s terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! — do you mark me well? I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me — the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man’s hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once — once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But for many minutes the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence.

I took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly so cunningly, that no human eye — not even his — could have detected anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out — no stain of any kind — no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that.

When I had made an end of these labours, it was four o’clock — still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, — for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled, — for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search — search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My MANNER had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears; but still they sat, and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct : I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness — until, at length, I found that the noise was NOT within my ears.

No doubt I now grew VERY pale; but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased — and what could I do? It was A LOW, DULL, QUICK SOUND — MUCH SUCH A SOUND AS A WATCH MAKES WHEN ENVELOPED IN COTTON. I gasped for breath, and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly, more vehemently but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why WOULD they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men, but the noise steadily increased. O God! what COULD I do? I foamed — I raved — I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder — louder — louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly , and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! — no, no? They heard! — they suspected! — they KNEW! — they were making a mockery of my horror! — this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! — and now — again — hark! louder! louder! louder! LOUDER! –

“Villains!” I shrieked, “dissemble no more! I admit the deed! — tear up the planks! — here, here! — it is the beating of his hideous heart!”

Start Your Morning Right

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

Good Morning!

Audio credit from Audacity:

jackstrebor

tinyjiro

zerolagtime

rutgermuller

Freqman

stomachache

tomlija

THE_bizniss

heroic

fresco

megamart

RobinHood76

m_O_m

offtheline

RobinHood76

mookie172

phonenosarah

Audio Story

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

Audio Story 1a

An audio story created by Karen and Amy

Sound Story?

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

project done

Our sound story. Ballin’. Remember kids, don’t do drugs.

by Wesley Frank, Kyle Nero, Kevin Hernandez

Credits:

Alarm Clock: http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=14262
Yawning: http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=34783
Footsteps: http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=19292
Pours Cereal: http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=72746
Eats Cereal: http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=32688
Rippy Longstockings: http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=33366
Hip hop drum beat: http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=40849
Other beat: http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=15495
Naw: http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=41630
Awwww Yeah: http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=34528
Door: http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=23168