Convergence Culture

In the Introduction of Henry Jenkins' Convergence Culture, he defines "convergence" as the flow of content across multiple media platforms, the cooperation between multiple media industries, and the migratory behavior of media audiences who would go almost anywhere in search of the kinds of entertainment experiences they wanted. Convergence is a word that manages to describe technological, industrial, cultural, and social changes, depending on who's speaking and what they think they are talking about. In today's society, people expect all forms of technology and media to converge. However, these things are able to co-exist, rather than taking over a means of communication or technology all together. Participatory culture is in contrast of a convergence culture, a culture in which fans and other consumers are invited to actively participate in the creation and circulation of new content. People get to take part and voice their opinions on the changes that occur everyday. This feedback allows producers to understand what consumers do and do not agree with. With his experiences at MIT and publishing other books, Jenkins brings a unique perspective to culture and communication. The intended audience is all users of media, which is ever growing.

Looking and the Gaze

"Through looking we negotiate social relationships and meanings. Looking is a practice much like speaking, writing, or signing. Looking involves learning to interpret and, like other practices, looking involves relationships of power."

We are always looking; looking for admiration, curiosity, and understanding. By looking at all things around us, we learn new things and reduce uncertainty. In "Looking and the Gaze", men are portrayed as the dominant group, who have to power to look and objectify women. While the women are the ones being looked at, they begin to view themselves as objects.
The appearance of a woman is stereotyped as nurturing, emotional, attractive, subjective, and private. The appearance of a man is stereotyped as reasonable, objective, powerful, strong, and public. The various photographs portray women as very feminine and gentle. 
The dualism implicit in the Dürer image of the artist drawing the nude implies subordination of the woman. We do not see nearly as many drawings of nude men, for they hold the power of the looker and are thought to be the ones looking and admiring the women as objects. Again, the women are subordinate to men and therefore seek to please the man by becoming objects of desire.

Technology

I believe technology has a way of both uniting people and fragmenting people. The vast forms of technology and communication in today's society allows people from all over the world to stay connected. This communication permits people to learn more about each other and share their thoughts and experiences with virtually anyone. However, technology takes away from face-to-face communication between people. While people are connecting via technology, they are taking away from the real life conversation they may be having with someone. For example, while out to eat with a group, an individual may be texting a friend or logging onto Twitter. While this may keep this individual in the loop of the technological world and another friend, they are losing valuable time and conversation with the present group. It all depends on how and when technology is used as to whether it is being used to unite or fragment us.

The Purple Van

                It was a regular spring morning. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and the flowers were blooming. Inside our house, chaos was ensuing, as usual, as my mom was trying to get us four kids ready for school in a timely manner. Trying to help out and save my mom some time on the way to school, my dad offered to fill up the purple van with gas. I disliked this van very much. While it got us from Point A to Point B just fine, I felt like I was riding in a Barney-mobile. I never understood why we couldn’t have had something more practical, like silver. As he got into van, he soon realized that we would all be even later than anticipated. He walked back into the house to inform us all that the van would not start.

                My dad handed me the keys and told me to try to start the van. This would seem practical, to have someone else give it a try, if that someone else wasn’t ten years old. My younger brother, Connor, and I ran out to the van. To this day, I do not know why, but Connor was in the back seat, playing Pokémon on his lime green Gameboy, eagerly waiting to go to school. As I sat in the driver seat, I felt like such a grown up, pretending to drive on the freeway and turn corners smoothly. To my surprise, the van started with only one attempt of turning the keys. I did not know whether to run inside and tell my parents I had gotten it started or to continue to daydream of the freedom that came along with driving.

I began to fidget with the unknown gadgets: adjusting the mirrors, rolling down the windows, and cranking up the radio. I did not know what most things did, but I knew I saw my mom move the black lever next to the steering wheel while she drove. I gave this thing a pull, and the next thing I knew, the van began rolling down the driveway. I could not think straight or wrap my head around what was actually happening. While it all happened so fast, it felt like it was all happening in slow motion. I quickly looked back at Connor, whose Pokémon game was still in progress. He then realized we were going downhill and both of us were speechless. I looked forward again; we were getting further and further away from the house. The thought of stepping on one of the pedals in an effort to stop crossed my mind, but I had no idea how to. Before I could even try, the van jolted into our neighbor’s mailbox and came to a stop. I ran to the front door, where my mom had just happened to walk by. With no words able to come out of my mouth, I burst into tears. She looked outside to see the van in the middle of the street.

Neighbors congregated to find out what happened and to make sure everyone was okay. Connor finally looked up from his game and realized he should probably get out of the van. We were both fine, but the van was not so lucky. It had a large, mailbox-imprinted dent in the back and would not start once again.

Needless to say, we were all late to school. 

Eyes

Everybody in my family has brown eyes, except for my younger brother, Connor. Growing up, I always tried to figure out who looked like who in comparison to my parents and what traits we got from each parent. After the discovery of Connor's blue eyes, my older brother, Ryan, and I came to the conclusion that Connor did not belong to either of my parents. This theory sent Connor crawling under the table, crying. It took my parents attempts as numerous as the stars to explain to Connor that he was, in fact, their son, he just had different color eyes. As Connor grew older and a little wiser, he used his blue eyes to his advantage. He figured out that his eyes are like the ocean and the sky, whereas the rest of our brown eyes are like dirt.

The House on Mango Street

Hairs – pg. 6

Everybody in Esperanza’s family has a different type of hair. Her papa’s hair sticks up like a broom. Her own hair is stubborn, rejecting barrettes. Her brother’s, Carlos, hair is thick and straight. Nenny’s hair is slippery and Kiki’s hair is like fur. However, no one in her family’s hair compares to that of her mother’s. Her mother’s hair is pretty and curly. The scent of her hair is comforting, for when she is holding her children, they feel safe.

This writing style of Cisneros gives vivid insight into the family of Esperanza, discussing their hair types. It shows that each member of the family is unique, just as everyone has different hair; they most likely have different interests and personalities, as well. The affection Esperanza has of her mother’s hair presents a close relationship between the mother and her children. Esperanza admires everything about her mother’s hair, especially that the smell of it gives her comfort and a sense of safety.

Meme Ortiz – pg. 21

Meme Ortiz’s real name is Juan. However, everyone calls him Meme, except for his mother. Meme has a big dog and lives in the house that Cathy’s dad built. His dog is big sheepdog with gray eyes. It has two names, a name in English and a name in Spanish. Meme’s house is wooden and slanted. The front contains twenty one steps, which are lopsided, as well. The backyard is mostly dirt and boards which used to be a garage. The tree is the most memorable part of the backyard, with large branches and plenty of squirrels. The dog barks at the bottom of the tree; the tree which is chosen for the First Annual Tarzan Jumping Contest.

The writing style here is very descriptive. A lot of detail is given in order for the reader to be able to visualize the house and dog of Meme Ortiz. The details move throughout the house, where it then leads to the backyard. There is no plot throughout this passage, just descriptions, until the very end. It is not until the last paragraph that we learn that in the backyard is the tree that the children chose for the First Annual Tarzan Jumping Contest. In the process of winning the Tarzan Jumping Contest, Meme broke both of his arms. Cisneros focuses on the vivid details of Meme, his house, and his dog in just about a page of text.

Gil’s Furniture Bought & Sold – pg. 19

Esperanza and Nenny go to a junk store, owned by an old man. They do not have any money to buy anything. Therefore, they are to browse in the dark. In the store are tables, refrigerators, couches, and T.V.s, none of which are in great condition. It is easy to get lost in the store, for everything is stacked on top of one another. Nenny likes to ask the old black man questions. When they are in there, Nenny asks the man what some item is. He responds that it is a music box. The sound of a music box strikes Esperanza’s interest, but to her disappointment, it is only a wooden box, with nothing pretty about it. The owner starts up the music box and lots of things begin to happen. Unbeknown to Esperanza, she has to turn around and pretend that she does not care about the box. She does this so Nenny does not see how stupid she is, that she is so enthralled by the box. Nenny wants the box and asks how much it is, but the man replies that the box is not for sale.

This writing style is descriptive, as well. However, this story gives more than just descriptions of a person or thing. It visualizes a story for the reader. One can picture a dark store with an old man sitting at the counter. The two girls are looking around at all of the various items, knowing they cannot buy much.

Unlike many of the other vignettes, this one contains a plot, tells a story, and has some action. The action, while not very intense, is the process of the girls looking around the store, finding the music box, imagining their interest, and then being rejected of the box. Cisneros gives the reader information about the man, the store, and the two girls who are looking around.

My Dorm Room

    When entering my dorm room, one would find two very different personalities present. My roommate and I have different decorating styles and organization techniques. My desk area contains bright colored storage boxes, several pictures of my friends and family, and is clean, for the most part. The desk of my roommate is cluttered with her school textbooks and assignments. She has one picture of herself and a friend mounted above. Looking at the lofted beds, it is usually fairly easy to distinguish whose is whose. While my bedspread is vibrant and decorative, it is also covered with homemade blankets and several pillows to sleep with. My roommate's bed is pretty plain, with white sheets and a green comforter covering them. One thing that would throw someone off while entering our room at the end of February is the Christmas tree that is still sitting on our windowsill. It is my roommate's Christmas tree, which she has not had the chance to take home yet. While I am a huge fan of Christmas, this is something that bothers me. Another thing that bothers me about my room is my roommate's guitar, that sits by our refrigerator, which has never been opened or played. I am a fairly neat person and prefer my room to tidy, but I have learned to compromise when living with someone else.
    I believe our different decorations explain our personalities well. While I enjoy colorful, vibrant accessories, she sticks to safe, classic colors. It is hard to consider my dorm room "home" because less than half of it expresses who I am as a person.