Round Two! Good reads!

 

 All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this group  (October writers).  Everyone is required to comment on at least THREE different pieces of writing.  You must submit comments on Canvas (for each one, include the name of the author and the title of their piece, and then your positive, specific comment )by Friday, November 12 on Canvas .

Remember, comments must be positive, supportive, constructive, and SPECIFIC.  No "Good Job!" comments, unless you follow that with specific things you thought were done well in the piece.  Show them you actually took the time to read and enjoy their work!

"The Definition of Mental Health " by Aaron P

For the common person, the definition of mental illness may only come from how they

are represented by forms of media, ever since the introduction of newspapers all the way up to

recent films and tv shows. Doctors and psychologists are seldom at the forefront of

Media, therefore, the topic of mental health is usually driven by what would cause the most 

Reaction from the viewers. With this, the media often falsely portrays the concept of mental health 

and initiates debates centered around the idea of fear over certain treatments that may be 

beneficial. Now, the question presents itself, and that is what forms of media are responsible for 

these false depictions? Through personal experience and research, movies and books tend to 

portray mental health through crazy and over dramatic scenes meant to encapsulate the audience, 

creating a false stigma, whereas the news and radio shows tend to create argument over the 

legitimacy of certain solutions, further leaving the trust in these solutions up in the air. 

Ever since the beginning of film and media, mental health has been defined or portrayed in a way that produces the best intrigue or effect. It is a common process in the film industry to bend the truth and realism of events in order to create a story that is different and unique. In pursuit of this creativity, the truths of Mental health have been bent and overaggerated to give readers or 

watchers a show. To quantify this effect, researchers and professors from USC’s Annenberg 

initiative record that close to 50% of mental health portrayals in film and television are within 

the context of humor or disparagement. The significance of these findings proves the intent of the

industry’s usage of mental health and perfectly aligns with the common stigma around those who 

suffer from mental illness. Many, including myself, look to forms of media as a guide, looking for 

life lessons and situations I can learn from and take home, therefore it isn’t a surprise that when 

Mental health is looked down upon, or treated in the most severe context, that people would make 

a note to avoid the behavior depicted. 

Media has also made it difficult for many to establish an understanding of various mental 

health issues, by confusing and over exaggerating their conditions. Psychologist Dr. Danny Wedding to the BBC had this to say about books and film, “movies such as The Exorcist (1973) suggest to the public that mental illness is the equivalent of possession by the devil; and movies such as One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975) make the case that psychiatric hospitals are simply prisons in which there is little or no regard for patient rights or welfare.” To someone who may suffer from certain conditions, being referred to as similar to the “possession by the devil,” can have a serious effect on the way they are able to interact with the public, thereby reversing the plans of many who want to fight against mental illness. It is my hope that in the future mental health is treated as more of a serious issue in film and media rather than the way it has in the past.

How we as a society define mental health has a ton of influence from the novel, One Flew 

Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, in which one of the main characters, Randle McMurphy, consistently condemns the treatment and relates it to something similar to an evil scheme. Oftentimes, conflicting viewpoints such as these can cause the audience to lose their trust in what could possibly make a huge impact in their life. Psychiatric hospitals have also been wrongly portrayed and have turned people away from their potential help. An article by U.S today explains, “Those mental institutions resemble a prison more than a place of healing – an image that’s still perpetuated by cinema.” With this in mind, it shows a consistent theme of the media to portray mental health and illness in a dark and controlling manner. Instead of creating confusing and fearful stigmas around treatments, I would hope the media can start more conversations over possible solutions.

    To conclude, there is no denial that media has the strongest influence on culture and 

Society, which is why with certain situations it is important for us to break out of that bubble and 

think for once whether or not there is any truth or credibility to what we see. Defining Mental 

health in a cruel and pessimistic manner as our society has is detrimental to the future of our world, 

and coming together is what we need most. In my experience it has been easy to understand the 

falsehoods in the media's portrayal of mental health, because my siblings have dealt with it their

whole lives. My brother has autism and I can’t even begin to describe the pain I felt when he

would come home with bruises and tears in his eyes thanks to bullies and teachers who wouldn’t 

bat an eye. Because of this I have a first hand experience of the effects that media has had on their 

mental healths, a lot of which coming from a simple misunderstanding and misrepresentation by

the media. A true definition of someone who is mentally ill should not be influenced by outside 

parties, unfortunately stigmas last. If people are given a reason to fear something, they will. If

people are given a reason to be disgusted by something, they will. The world doesn’t operate by 

chance, it is human nature to trust society’s determining authority Figures. Media has choice to 

make with regards to their portrayals, if enough people passionate enough to stand up to stigma

make a change, the media would likely follow the trend and work towards an ideal path to

humanize the definition of mental health.

   

Work Cited

Fawcett, Kirstin. “How Mental Illness Is Misrepresented in the Media.” U.S. News & World Report, U.S. News & World Report, 16 Apr. 2015, 10:51 a.m., health.usnews.com/health-news/health-wellness/articles/2015/04/16/how-mental-illness-is-misrepresented-in-the-media. 

Haider, Arwa. “How Cinema Stigmatises Mental Illness.” BBC Culture, BBC, 27 Aug. 2018, www.bbc.com/culture/article/20180828-how-cinema-stigmatises-mental-illness. 

Kesey, Ken. One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Penguin Putnam, 1992.

USC Annenberg. “Characters with Mental Health Conditions Rarely Seen on TV and in Film.” USC News, 4 June 2019, news.usc.edu/157768/mental-health-conditions-tv-film/. 

"Masquerade " by Avianah B

 

“It never fails, does it,” I say looking at the T.V. Every Monday night since the beginning of October, there’s been a murder. Every Tuesday morning, there’s the same news report, but with a different victim.

“It’s the same this morning too?” I heard my sister ask.

 

“Yeah, same report, but different victim. This time, it was a 20 year old male. They identified him a few minutes ago. They never disclose the names though,” I replied.

“As long as it’s not anyone I know. I do feel bad for the victims' families and loved ones. They must be dealing with so much grief,” My sister sighed, “Just be careful when you’re coming home from work.”

“I will,” I assure her.

 

“And don’t forget to wear your mask this time! I can’t believe you almost got fired because of your carelessness,” She says as she’s leaving to go to work, leaving me to get ready for my own job.

I quickly ate my breakfast, realizing I didn’t have much time before I had to leave, then got dressed, grabbed my mask and headed out the door.

I walked my usual route to work this morning, greeting the neighbors on the way like I normally do. It felt different than normal this time, though. Like someone was following me. I took a quick look around, making sure there were no suspicious characters around me. All I saw was a person walking their dog and the occasional car that would pass by. I thought I had seen a shadow of a person looking at me, but when I looked a second time to check, they were gone.

 

Brushing off the feeling of being watched, I continued on my path to work a little more cautious than before. As I made my way through the door and greeted the workers I ran into with a polite ‘Good morning.’

“Last day before I’m off,” I sigh to myself, then begin my work. I take phone calls and arrange any documents that are needed. Some days it’s not much work and I get to go home early, but on days like today, it feels like there are millions of documents and phone calls for me to take.

After I completed my work for the day, I was able to go home. I dropped off my stuff, greeting my sister, then told her that I was going to head back out.

“Where are you going this time?” My sister asked.

 

“Store, I need something for work and I need to print and make copies of a few documents. I also need to take a picture of one of them for my boss to make sure they like the way it's formatted,” I told her, grabbing the list I wrote from the counter and putting it in my bag.

“You took work home again? You don’t usually get this much, is there something going on in the office?” She asked me.

“I’m the only one in my department right now. The other workers from my department aren’t coming back due to the fact that my company can’t seem to organize the vaccination statuses and COVID tests. They’re still getting sorted out and checked.” I replied.

“They still haven’t taken care of that? I thought it would’ve been done by now,” My sister told me.

“No, my job is very disorganized right now,” I told her. I picked up the box, grabbed the car keys, and walked to the door. “I’ll see you later, sis.”

I put the box in the back of the car and got into the driver's seat. I drove to my destination and got out of the car and reached into the box in the back to get what I needed. I put on my mask before entering the location and taking care of my business. I took the picture I needed, then went back to the car.

“I’m finally done,” I muttered to myself, putting my things away in the box placed in the back. I got into the driver's seat, started the car and drove back home. When I opened the door, I saw my sister still sitting on the couch.

“Hey, I’m home,” I greeted her. “By the way, Happy Birthday! I got you something.” My sister stood up to greet me.

“Hey Samena, I thought you’d forgotten-“ she looked up at me and her face changed from one of excitement to one of horror. “What happened to you?! We need to get you to a hospital-“

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not injured,” I told her.

 

“What do you mean you're not injured? There’s blood on you,” she exclaimed.

 

“Ignore that for now. I have something for you,” I say, pulling out an envelope. She took it from my hands and opened it. She pulled out the folded papers and opened them. She was alarmed by the contents of the pages.

“Why-,” She started, but couldn’t continue. I knew she was processing what she was seeing. “Why do you have pictures of all the victims from the news?”

“You already know the answer to that,” I replied.

 

“I wish I didn’t,” My sister muttered. “Why would you kill them?”

 

“You recognize the names on this list don’t you?” I asked, then continued before she could give an answer, “You hated every single one of them. Said that sometimes, you wished they could just be out of your life. Well, now they are! They will never bother you again.”

She never replied to my explanation. She just stared, then pulled out her phone. I already knew who she was dialing. I let her.

“A killer is in my house right now,” she said. I never interrupted or tried to stop her from completing the call.

“1365 Maple street,” She states. I just stood there and watched as she gave them the information. She hung up the phone.

We stood in silence. She was watching my every move. Most likely to make sure I don’t try to run, but she didn’t need to worry.

 

There was pounding on the door. They were trying to break it down.

 

Because I don’t plan on running.

 

The door was broken. Police began running into the house. My sister tells them I’m the killer, shows them the pictures of each crime scene, the list of names, and the notes recorded.

I know this new guilty pleasure of mine puts others in danger.

 

They cuffed my hands, pushing me towards the door. One officer on each side of me.

 

At least now, others will be safe from me.

I was forced into the police car. One officer stayed in the back with me, making sure I didn’t try anything. The other officer got into the driver's seat and drove off to wherever they took criminals like me.

 

Masquerade.

"My Definition of Love" by Madison P

 

Love: “an intense feeling of deep affection” (via Oxford). Love is the most powerful thing in the whole universe. More powerful than gravity, gamma-ray bursts, and even the hydraulic press in the satisfying Instagram videos, love is ultimately the strongest emotional and physical thing one can have.

 

We all see in movies how powerful the love between two people can be like in The Notebook when they finally find each other after so much time spent apart. This is because love is more than just a word; it is a connection. Saying “I love you” does not bring justice to the extremity of what love truly is. Being in love defines the connection that love places between two forces. Love can be draining and make you feel at your worst and the feeling may fade but when you are truly in love, the feeling will never go away. I never truly understood what people meant when they said “love is like a drug” until I truly fell in love. I am in love with my boyfriend and when I was at my lowest before I met him, I never thought I would feel such passion for anything in my life. Love is so draining but in the best possible way. When I am without my boyfriend I feel incomplete just like when people take a drug and become addicted because being without it doesn’t make life clear for them. You gain an addiction to things because you crave the “high” it gives you which is exactly what love does to you. You fall in love because no matter how much you cope without being with that special thing, you always long to be back in your comfort spot with what you love. My boyfriend brings me so much unworldly happiness that it makes me physically hurt when I ponder the thought of being without him. He is my true love, my true “intense feeling of deep affection,” and my true drug.

 

However, just like a drug, love can drive you mad. Love can make you do extremely irrational things that nobody in their right mind would do, like in Romeo and Juliet when Romeo committed suicide just to be with Juliet. You fight so hard for a person or thing that it drives you to the feeling of standing over the edge of a cliff just to be with it. This is what being in love is. As far as humans go, you spend so much time and energy with another human that your souls attach through what is referred to as “soul ties.” You carry whatever weight the other person

carries and you have the same drive for each other. Many who are religious believe that soul ties only occur through sex, although I believe it just takes time to bind with the other individual. Being in love gains conscious similar interests like favorite movies or music but unconscious passions and wounds. Many say if you love a person you must let them go, but you truly cannot because of the powerful grasp you have on one another. Your souls are indefinitely connected when you are in love and no matter how hard you want to fight to not love someone anymore, you will always hold that unconscious feeling. Scars will fade but never go away.

Being in love with a person, your hobby, and most importantly, life is all the connections that mold who an individual is. Being in love with life entails holding a true passion for the future even when times get rough. You know you have found a love for life when no matter how many times you feel like the universe is going to spontaneously combust and your own failures make life not worth living, you keep going because something is telling you there is a glimmer of hope to hold on to. That “something” is love. Love is so much more than “intense,” it is unforgivingly extraordinary. It is the greatest thing an individual can have because it is so worth fighting for even past the wounds. So what is my overall definition of love? The absolute greatest factor of life that keeps us all pushing for more, even when we don’t know what it is.

"Chilling Valley" by Alannah L

 

 

Halloween was the most celebrated holiday in the city of Chilling Valley, and my favorite time of year. I am up bright and early this morning because my family and I are staying in the most “cursed” vacation house of all, but we know they are all just fraudulent stories. It is rumored to be the scariest, haunted town in America. Unlike everyone else, my family and I don’t believe that this place is truly haunted. As we drive down to Chilling Valley, we start talking about how hilarious and phony these accusations are.

“This is going to be so scary!” my older brother, Liam, sarcastically says, rolling his eyes.

 

My younger sister, Mercedes, can’t contain her laughter while saying, “Yeah, I’m really scared!” We can’t stop laughing and poking fun at the town when my mom shouts to the back, “We are here, hope you're not too scared,” with a smirk and wink.

As we step out of the car, I feel a cold and tingling sensation throughout my body, something I’ve never felt before. I turn around to my family when I say,

“I’m not too sure about this. I'm having second thoughts that maybe we shouldn’t be here.” “Nonsense,” my mom says.

 

“You act like this is real Noah, ” Liam says, as he playfully punches my arm.

 

“Yeah okay. Maybe you're right.” But, honestly, I’m still not sure. Cobwebs dangle from the sides of the house, the shutters are dark and black from the dust it has collected over the years, the door is a big, black ominous entrance into horror. My dad opens the door with a loud SCREECH.

 

“Jeez, what is this? A 1989 horror film?” My dad says.

 

“I wouldn’t put it past me,” I mumble under my breath. I can’t help but think something is off. As we walk into the house, I get another tingling sensation in my arm. I grasp it and my mom says, “Noah, are you feeling alright?”

 

Absolutely not! I want to run out of here, screaming, crying for help.

 

“I don’t like how this place is making me feel, we shouldn’t be here,” is all I say. I guess everyone can tell I am petrified because Liam pushes me and says, “You’re such a crybaby. Why are you acting like this?”

 

“Why aren’t you? This is outrageous! Why are we even here?”

 

“To fulfill our life-long dreams. We’re trying to prove that Chilling Valley is full of lies and rumors. We have dreamed of saying ‘I survived Chilling Valley.’ Can you picture it?” “No ‘cus we’ll all be dead.”

“Whatever,” and Liam rolls his eyes and leaves.

 

I walk over to where my family is sitting and tell them I think I need a shower. “I feel like I just need to wash away this scary, negative energy I’m feeling.” “That’s a great idea!” My mom says, with a quirky smile. “Yeah, go do that you stinker,” my dad chuckles.

“We’ll just be here big brother,” Mercedes calls out as I’m already halfway to the bathroom, which isn’t much better. The bathroom looks like an abandoned washroom with dirty floors,

ripped wallpaper, and half of a mirror. I quickly jump into the shower so that I can get out of this bathroom as quickly as possible. I turn the knob and dirt sputters out the showerhead before I even get some water to come out. Of course, there is no hot water. I let the freezing cold water run through my hair and down my back as I softly close my eyes for a long while. I turn the water off and step down. I dry myself and quickly fix my hair in the mirror before I leave. As I’m walking, my mom shouts, with a genuine and soft voice, “Noah, is that you? How was your shower?”

“Fine.” I walk into the door of a bedroom and not to my surprise, I feel like I’m staying in a Motel. The bedsheets are brown when I’m positive they should be white, and all the furniture is worn out as it has probably been through a flood or something. I put on a faded black sweatshirt and baggy jeans. I turn on the blow dryer and hear someone shout, “Noah, come out here!”

 

I shout back, “okay, hold on.”

 

By now, it’s already about 7 pm, way past sunset in Chilling Valley. I turn off the blow dryer, as my hair is dry now, and I walk out of the bedroom. It is pitch black and I can’t find one light switch.

“Mom? Dad?” I cry out. “Liam? Mercedes?” No answer. The floor creaks loudly, step by step. I’m so scared that the ghost of Chilling Valley took my family. Suddenly, a cold hand grabs my arm as I creep through the darkness, “boo.”

 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” I scream. I am on the verge of tears when my dad flicks on the lights. My family appears from the darkness, giggling. “‘AHHHH’ You screamed like a little girl,” Liam shouts.

“OMG Noah! You’re hilarious!! We got you good!” Mercedes laughs.

 

“Oh I’m sorry Noah, but we just had to get you! You were so scared about Chilling Valley, we just had to bring it to life,” my mom chuckles. “Because we all know the rumors are fake!” “Don’t do that again, PLEASE! You scared me so badly!” I cry.

“No more, we promise,” my family says. We crowd around the worn down dinner table when the lights go out.

“Dad, we said no more,” Mercedes whines.

 

“That wasn’t me though,” my dad says, petrified.

 

“Then who was it?” Liam questions.

 

“I’m sure we just blew a fuse, it’ll be alright,” my mom hoped.

 

Just as I am about to say something, WHAM!

 

“Uh, was that a door?” I asked.

 

With a sinister voice, Liam says, “possibly. Or a ghost,” as Liam grabs me, he ominously says, “Boo.”

“Can you not do that?” I pushed him aside.

 

“Ugh, I’ll go look,” my dad says.

 

I sit impatiently, waiting to hear from my dad. I take a deep breath right before my dad calls out to us and says,

“EVERYONE! HURRY! You have to come see this now!”

 

We jump to our feet and run towards the direction we heard our father’s voice from. As we all

 

crowd around him, Mercedes cries out,

 

“Is that what I think it is?”

 

The rest of us, say in unison, “Yup, that’s a…”

" The Grave Robber" by Ayden G

 

     “What do you think we should name her?” the mother whispered, cradling the baby in her arms. “I’ve been so exhausted lately, that I had forgotten.”

 

With intense concentration, he continued to pace around the bedroom, until suddenly, he stopped and said “Aqua, that will be her name!”

 

Needless to say, she was dumbfounded. “ Out of all the names you could have chosen, you picked… Aqua? Why, I’m not even sure if my ears have ever heard those syllables in my life!”

 

“For her deep blue eyes of course!” he replied, perhaps too confidently.

 

“You do realize that she currently has no eye color right now? For all we know, it could be green by next year!”

 

“But you can’t lie, it sounds strangely charming, does it not?”

 

The winds outside matched her pause. She smiled in concession. “ You always know just the right words to butter me up, don’t you?”

 

“ And you shall always know that I will love you and this child.” the father said.

 

---

And love them he did

 

For Seven Springs and Summers

 

And Falls and Winters

 

Till the draft of war

 

Came to forbid any longer

 

 

 

 

Leaving behind family and his lucky lighter

 

The child alone in the cemetery clasping it

 

Cried out in pain

 

 

 

 

“Father, Father

 

Where have you gone?

 

Your beloved wife and my compassionate mother

 

Were torn ashreds

 

By a single damp letter

 

Leaving me to pick up the tatters.”

 

 

 

 

“It was raining gray that day

 

I remembered the certain way

 

Black umbrellas surrounded us in a daze

 

My mask uncrying; my mother assumed me unfazed

 

And mistook shock for a child with no emotion to portray.”

“Please… forgive me father

 

For I could not understand

 

The phantom weight that I took as a bother

 

Was in fact, your ghostly hand.”

 

---

 

     The mother, now not appearing a day over forty, sighed in desperation. “ Aqua please, for once in your life can you please listen?”

 

Aqua walked away from the wood kitchen table, with clear frustration in her green eyes.

 

“ Listen for what? To hear another one of your lectures on finding myself a ‘gentleman’ like you?”

 

“I only do what is best for you and our family. It seems that you show a remarkable lack of maturity for someone your age.” said the mother, blocking her way.

 

It took all of her willpower to not scream in rage. After Father had died, her mother plummeted into a deep grief, and she became deeply obsessed with making ends meet. As well as educating her daughter.

 

At first, Aqua went along with it. After all, she could never truly forgive herself for not shedding any tears that day. But, as lessons into etiquette grew in frenzy, her patience started to wane with each passing day. From dancing, to the way she opened her mouth, it all seemed a fool's venture. Turns out that this was the day that patience ended, notably her 16th birthday.

 

“ I thought you were better than this Aqua. With your homeschooling nearly complete, you now decide to give up? What would your father say if he were here?”

The young lady’s neck nearly snapped as she turned back, her mother realizing what she had said far too late. “ You would dare say that, while I spend every day working at the tavern and stable? While knowing that your newly vowed ‘husband’ goes around the town’s brothels and never have I seen him once to even visit you?”

 

An uncomfortable silence grows. Finally, the tension is cut with Aqua saying “ I’m sorry. I know you get sick very easily and that's not your fault. I just… need some time alone.”

 

With that finality, Aqua exited their straw house. It was time to talk to her real father.

 

---

 

With its black gates opened

 

The cemetery’s graves beckoned

 

Equipped with her father’s lighter

 

Aqua entered with a confession

 

 

 

 

“Father, I know nought what to do

 

For my mother and I

 

Debt collectors

 

Greedily coming to collect their dues

 

Oh what can I do?”

 

 

 

As usual,

No response came

 

From neither sky or dirt

 

 

 

 

Instead,

 

Death came to claim her mother’s heart

 

After her return from the cemetery’s hearth

 

In the form of the reaper’s fever

 

 

 

 

And was forced

 

Into a most cruel position

 

To seek help

 

From her most hated father

 

---

 

“ So you’re telling me,” the wicked man, dragging each syllable precariously “that I am responsible for this woman?”

 

“You have been responsible for her from the very beginning,” said Aqua, simmering with

 

hatred.

 

With no amount of money enough for medicine, she had no choice but to rely on him. Every second she wasted with this man was another second that could have been spent on saving her mother. And yet, here she was, on the verge of practically begging.

 

“My child, surely you understand why your mother married me in the first place, yes?” “No, I don’t. Why would she begin to even think about marrying a man like you?”

Mocking laughter erupted from him, sending waves of foreshadowing down Aqua’s throat. “It was time you fool, time.”

 

My mind started to unwind, as the cogs inside started to whirl and clang against one another. “ What do you mean time?”

 

“ I mean exactly what I said. For as outspoken as you are, your intellect doesn’t seem to quite match.”

 

Getting up from his chair, he leaned towards Aqua and said “It’s rather simple really. I own nearly everything in this town. And that includes the headstone in which your father lies under.”

 

A gutting realization threatens to tear her apart. She needs to leave now, before he sees exactly what his treatment has done to her.

 

“In exchange for a nice suitable sum of money and her vows to me, your father was allowed to stay buried.”

 

Aqua could not stay no longer. She couldn’t bear to stand within his presence for another second.

 

“ If you leave, you do know what will happen don’t you?”

 

Aqua turned back, one last time, to stare at the man’s eyes. “You are a coward. A greedy coward who destroys everything around him. And I swear to you, on my family’s name and honor, I will get my revenge.”

 

She didn’t need to open the door to know they had taken her mother. She didn’t need to visit the cemetery to know her mother’s headstone was already there. Grabbing her father’s lighter, she set to her work.

---

 

What debt had sought to acquire

 

Was payed back in flame and ashes

 

Surrounded in her own tsunami of fire

 

But a glint in the corner of her eye flashes

 

 

 

 

Behind blue blazing blinds of the estate

 

Was the depiction of her mother’s so called lover

 

And the dowry-

 

The dowry that they had dug with her father and mother

 

Six spiteful feet separating each other

 

 

 

 

There was not a moment's hesitation

 

Her movements never lacking conviction

 

With pickaxe and shovel in hand

 

She left cemetery abound

 

...

 

 

 

 

After the unspeakable deed was done

 

Grave dirt coating her shoulders

 

Emerging with the dirt in pocket

 

No longer would she give herself the cold shoulder

Though with less moral, befitting a cunning pickpocket Rather than just madness to eventually become undone

 

 

While the sun may only besmirch

 

May one day, people look upon her better than wretch improper

 

As the crow watches from its decaying perch

 

Running away; only known as a grave robber