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NameBlockMr. LeeDateFeatures: Observations AssignmentAn important element of storytelling is description, in terms of both character and setting. While an observation is a kind of story on its own, you can use the skills of observation in almost any kind of story, especially a profile.For this assignment, you are going to do two observations; one will be from a location on campus, and the other will be off campus. Which one you do first is up to you. For each, consider the following suggestions.Find a place to sit for a half hour and write down everything you see and hear without filtering or editing. Be as unobtrusive as possible. Don’t interact with other people, whether or not they are in our class. Find a subject and focus your attentions on developing notes or a story on how this one individual (or one item!) is the operative agent in developing the impression of the location that you selected. The story of your location works best if you find a primary subject of that location.You are strongly encouraged to eavesdrop because bits of dialogue may help your piece, but you don’t have to. (You could pretend to be writing something and/or have your ear-buds in to make it look as though you aren’t paying attention.)In thinking about where you might go, consider a place that usually has people to observe and lends itself to having one if not many stories. Thirty minutes isn’t exactly mandatory – there’s no reason to stick around if you’ve got more than enough material and a good idea of what you are going to write after ten minutes – but it’s a pretty good guideline. During this time, you will be taking detailed notes, writing much more than will make it into your final piece. In the polished piece, you should try to find some narrative that holds what you are writing together, but that may not emerge for you right away as you take notes. DUE: For Mon, 11/25 – Notes and rough drafts of both observations, typed, all in one doc in the shared Google folder. You will be using these in class that day.Each of the two drafts you create should be about 500 words in length. You will only choose one of these drafts to turn into final draft, graded and worth approximately 15% of your term 2 grade.Your final draft will be due Tuesday, Dec 3, 11:59 pm on Turn It In.Example One: Boys“She wants to,” the fake blonde (her chestnut brown roots stood out through the bleach like gold in a coal mine) said in a Middle Eastern accent to her dubious friend. “No, seriously, like, she ?so ?wants to.”Sitting in the Quiet Study section of the library, being anything but quiet, the fake blonde tried to convince her doe?eyed friend that the girl she was talking about “definitely wanted to get with him.” Yet the friend remained uncertain, shaking her head from side to side and innocently twirling her necklace around her index finger.“Did you see her on Halloween?” Dark Roots asked. She wore a black T?shirt with a picture of Miley Cyrus smoking a blunt and had a temporary silver tattoo in the shape of a chain running around her shoulder like an arm bad. Suddenly, she stopped speaking and looked up, making a subtle gesture with her eyes toward the tall, slender girl in a Aztec?patterned Patagonia quarter?zip who was approaching the table.“Hi!” she exclaims with her best attempt at a fake smile, visibly not pleased by the visitor’s presence.“Hi babe. I still have the shirt I borrowed from you a while ago. It showed so much skin when I wore it, oops,” she giggled.Dark Roots laughed faintly as the friend glided by them and seated herself at a different table.“I bet she goes to New York City and buys fake stuff on Canal Street,” she whispered. The second girl at table, who had not yet uttered a word, forced a smile.“Wait, are you Jewish?” Dark Roots asked, on a seemingly unrelated note. “Are amajority of Israeli guys hot?”“Here, I’ll show you one I talk to,” the innocent friend said, sliding a white iPhone 6 with apink case across the table.“He looks like he’s freaking 28!”“No, he just has abs. He was on a TV show in 6th grade,” Doe?Eyes proudly stated. Dark Roots opened a bag of Cheetos, fussing with it under her desk until the seal ripped open. She looked at the “No Food or Drinks in the library!” sign, and stuck a flaming orange cheese puff into her mouth.“You know it’s been a year since I kissed someone.” She moved her finger in the air as if doing calculations. “No, more.”“That’s not bad,” her friend tried to assure her.“Yes it is!” she popped another Cheeto into her mouth and shrugged.A girl with thick, curly hair wearing a plaid shirt and round glasses walked up to the table,the pair’s second visitor that block, and asked Dark Roots about the “Miley concert.” “Oh! I forgot to tell you! I flashed?” Dark Roots started to say.“Who did you flash? What does that even mean?” Doe?Eyes asked, intrigued. “I don’t even know who! Miley got me ?so ?excited.”“So many people die at those things, you know.” Hipster said, turning the conversation to a more cynical note. “From stampedes and stuff.”“I know. You have to go with older guys because they’re big and carry you and push you through.”“Yeah, you need like buff guys,” Hipster concurred.“Everyone’s texting me like ‘Oh my god, you went to Miley Cyrus?’ Like ?yes, ?bitches!” Dark Roots said. As the bell rung, she stuffed the last Chetto in her mouth and wiped the orange cheese?dust off her hand, watching the crumbs fall onto the clean blue?gray carpet.Example Two: Waban Starbucks “I can’t accept that, Sorry,” the only barista currently working at the Newton Starbucks told the woman trying to hand him a one hundred dollar bill for her $4.51 drink. Around twenty?five and wearing all black except for a bright green apron, he looked down then back at the woman. She continued to hold her hand out and look around the room. Confused, the barista repeated, “Excuse me ma’am. I can’t accept that large of a bill.”She finally looked up from her latest edition gold iPhone, with a disdainful look.“Why not? I have money for you,” she said, conveniently pointing out that she was paying him for services, as if he could possibly forget he was being paid to deal with this. She held the hundred out farther.“I don’t have enough cash in the trill for change,” he said. The woman sighed. Silently, she pushed her hair behind her large hoop earrings, waiting for him to solve the problem for her.As the line continued to grow, the fed up the barista cleared the flashing $4.51 from the register and said to the woman with a sigh, “You’re all set.”She didn’t move. Just continued to stand and look at him.?With a deep breath, he iterated his former statement, “Ma’am, you are all set.”?Still holding her ridiculous one hundred dollar bill, she gave him an irritated look and went back to her phone as she languidly moved down the counter.?The next customer, a tall man in a suit, was at the counter before the barista had a moment to recover. “Coffee, black.”The barista mustered a smile and responded, “Sure thing. Coming right up! Will that be all?”His mannerly efforts were in vain; the man hardly even made eye contact, and just gave a slight nod followed by an “Mhmm,” as he handed the barista a Starbucks card.A few more negligent customers ordered their drinks, merely reciting their usual orders and practically ignoring the barista. Undoubtedly many of these people had been there before; some had probably ordered from this barista multiple times. A small minority introduced themselves with a hello or finished their order with a thank you. None gave so much as a good evening. Finally one woman and her daughter came to the counter.“One grande caramel iced coffee please. No ice.” “No ice?” The barista repeated back.The woman and her daughter simultaneously gave him a look of confusion and annoyance. “Yes, no ice,” she snapped.“No no, it’s just it’s iced coffee. So it might feel a little funny with no ice.”“I’m telling you my order and that’s what I want, thank you, but I really don’t need your opinion.”“Of course ma’am, sorry.” After taking her money and handing her change with a second apology, the barista shuffled off to just make her drink.The woman looked down to her confused looking daughter with a smile and explained, “He just got a little confused.”Example Three: RMV“…R-51…Counter 9…”“Over here!” Through the hanging cigarette smoke and frustrated sighs comes the beckoning of a girl no older than 18, with short, brown, bobbed hair wearing a floral romper and toting a simple leather handbag; she bears close resemblance to a 50’s model. Though the heavy rain outside has caked everyone else in a silky sheen of muck, she is spotless – out of place. As she peers amongst the crowd, leaning with her sight, she catches a brief glimpse of a boy her age who, unlike her, appears to be less fashion-inclined.“…Y-32…Counter 3…”Having shoved his way through the jumbled mass of strollers, hands, and aggressive phone calls, the silhouette of an adolescent wearing a Watertown High School Raiders jacket, blue jeans, and disheveled Timberland boots comes into view. “B-47” he whispers to her. “You’re B-47.” Both sit down – boy first and girl following suit – in the last two seats available in the RMV lobby.“…H-10…Counter 4…”Little more than a minute passes before the girl asks, “Have you heard anything about Christian?” The boy lends no answer, choosing instead to study the palms of his hands. “Go on then, I know you’re worried too,” she persists. Still no response. Making a last-ditch effort, the girl remarks, “Well, at least I cared enough to ask.” “Listen, I don’t know what to tell you,” the boy finally snaps. “Shit happens.”“…B-46… Counter 1…”“Almost us,” the girl chimes in. “I should be done pretty quickly. I nailed the online test.” “Hey, don’t worry about it. You got this. You just got to remember not to pass a stopped school bus with flashing lights,” the boy chuckles, leaning back from his earlier slumped state. The girl drops her head on the boy’s shoulder and the two lock hands. Time passes.“…B-47… Counter 13…”“Hey, hey, hey, that’s you! Hop up!” the boy wakes the girl from her sleep. Still with her short, brown, bobbed hair, floral romper, and simple leather handbag, the girl makes her way up to the desk. However, she does not shove through the crowd like the boy. People part out of her way. She is still out of place. ................
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