Sleeping Creativity

A normal, but somehow different Saturday morning. I had grabbed my sketchbook and headed towards the top of the hill at the park.

While sketching, I had noticed the day just seemed...just too grimm and lugubrious. Almost too plain to describe. After a few sketches, I decided to head over to see a few of my art teachers.

The first one I went to go see was one I had known for a good 10 years or so. She seemed different however. She had no smile about her face, no color in her skin, and looked like as if she had seen a ghost.

I tried to get her attention but she just sat there...like a statue. I was confused so i just left.

Next, I went to go see my figure drawing teacher at the Art Center. As I reached her studio, there were no paintings on the wall and some broken glass. I thought, "had someone robbed the artwork?" But who would steal works of students at the Art Center? Stealing teachers work is a reasonable statement, but the students as well?

I finally found the art teacher I was looking for. Her name was Hataya Tubtim, but I never called her by her name, or as "teacher". She was just my teacher.

The look on her face was similar to the other art instructor I had gone to meed earlier, except I was able to get her attention. I asked, "W-what happened? Where are all the drawings, sculptures, and paintings?" She told me in a quiet, and morbid tone, "You know the rumor on creativity ban? Well...it seems to be true at the moment."

I did'nt want to believe her, "What? Thats not true, its just a rumor." I was puzzled, so I ran home quickly since the day was going by and night was falling. I hoped that everything was going to be okay, and hoped for a better tomorrow.


A grimm Sunday morning. For some reason, everything outside seemed color-less. Maybe because it was cloudy, but it was more pale than normal.

The house also seemed quiet and dark. No color, just darkness.

My mother was listening to the radio as it said, "The new "Creative Police" A.K.A the CP, are now on patrol starting today on this new week for a perfect, simple-minded society, where every induvidual shall become the same. No intimidation from others, not now, not anymore."

I was too tired and scared to talk to my mom about it. So i went back up stairs, hoping it was a dream.


A rainy Monday. Maybe the Earth was also shocked and depressed about the ban, that it began to cry and mourn for the loss of creative minds. I had hoped for it to just be a dream but it was too real, however, reality hadn't kicked into my brian just yet.

Once I got to school, I met up with some friends. They were also in quite of a shok as well as I was. My friends are some of the most creative people I know. They are talented in the arts of music, penminship, creative writing, speech, and drawing as well.

We all wanted to do something about it, but we all felt pretty powerless. That day, we went home feeling theres nothing we could do about it. "We're just a bunch of kids...What could we do?"


Tuesday. Art, music, and historical museums were closed, excavated, and limited to their exhibits. Art works of students who have made their art peices to an art gallery were either burned, confiscated, or demolished. Historical art works were confined in a safe where no one will be able to see them or let alone be "inspired" by them. Musical instruments as well were either demolished, or confiscated.

Concert halls and other music holding areas were also to be excavated, and confiscated of every musical article there. Some musicians were lucky enough to hide there instruements and keep them at home.

At school, any classes related to "art" in general were prohibited. Many art, music, and dance teachers lost their jobs and had to go find something new to do. To lose a job in something you enjoy doing is probably one of the worst things that could happen.

My friends and I, kept sketches, musical instruments, dance shoes, and music scores hidden somewhere in our houses. To lose such things would be a heavy stone in hour hearts.

The only thing that seemed to be allowed was choir. However, songs were limited to morbid, depressing opera like songs.

Music was to be only from the voice with no aid from an instrument.

Happiness was slowly withering away. Without creativity, everything seemed boring, plain, and depressing. How could anyone be happy in this world?

Silly Bill Clinton

Megan Kim

Miss. Kim

English 10 per.2

6 October 2009

Before telling his apology speech to the public, Bill Clinton had lied to the news media about his
"relationship" with Monica Lewinksy. He had told them that he had no sexual relations with her at all. He told the public to believe him because he was the president of the United States and that they should believe and trust him because he is their leader. Being the silly man that he is, in his apology speech he admits that he indeed had a relationship with Monica Lewinsky. He said that it was "not appropriate, and in fact wrong". But still he does not admit fully since he still says that his answer was "legally accurate".

The pathos that he uses in his speech are the connective words such as "family" and that "presidents have private lives too". Stating that he was also the same as everyone else. Bill Clinton also had stated that he regrets being misleading towards people and especially his wife. He also says that he was concerned about protecting his family and himself from embarrassment of "his own conduct". The propaganda Technique used here is "plain folks" stating and making it look like as if he was just like everyone else in the "normal" middle class world.
Bill Clinton does not have too much ethos towards me. To believe him in the first place is kind of difficult since he had already lied the first time with a different speach before this one. He also does not fully admit he had a realation with Monica Lewinsky since he says he had said things that were "legally accurate". Mister Bill Clinton should have just told the public the truth in the first place since he had probably lost his trust to a large number of people in the United States. His pathos may have been creative enough to gain some of his people's trust back, but it certainly has not gotten mine at all.

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