The war museum was definitely very interesting. Their exhibits had many rare memorabilia from war time that made the exhibits much more impressing. Some things did stick out to me as odd, such as the disclaimer around the Nazi exhibit. I wonder if they had to put that up because someone really did get offended by the exhibit. This museum is probably one of the first I've been to that really showed war unbiasedly through everyone's perspectives.
Expanding on our discussions of media changing the perspectives of the people, I couldn't help but notice all the American posters and the news clippings, some of which wouldn't be accepted today. I couldn't help to also put myself in the shoes of the people in that time period and react how they might have to these signs. They made it seem that the enemy was everywhere and that we could talk to no one or else our soldiers may be ambushed in a trap. That must have made the american people paranoid about everything.
The readings for today also jogged my memory back to a creative writing class I took in high school, where my teacher responded to one of the poems that I wrote, which I'll put up at the end, and said that I would have been a dangerous weapon during warfare due to my ability to very powerfully and descriptively convey what I saw. He then went on to explain that many of the writers during war time were killed, which didn't do much to comfort me. I had all but forgotten that conversation, as I had been cramming my brain with more information than it knew what to do with, until I read the passage by Craig and Egan. This also got me thinking about how traumatic it was for the writers of past wartime eras to be writing about what was going on being paranoid that at any moment they may be captured and murdered to be silenced. I couldn't figure out if it was all bravery or just an extreme devotion to their calling that made them keep on writing even with the threat of death.
All the Same
What is wrong with this world today
We’re being put into groups day by day
Punk, Jock, Gangsta, we all the same
But why do you judge us on our outside frame
It has corrupted the world
Because all the guys want the perfect girl
But can’t get them because they stay true to their group
It’s just crazy how low of a level we’ll stoop
Just to do our group good
Starting fights just because you’re in a bad mood
And a person from another group looked at you wrong
The ending sounds like that of a bad song
3 people dead, 2 severely injured, and 1 with a black eye
All of this from the mood of one guy
Families mourn the untimely deaths of their sons
While the survivors now carry guns
Wherever they go…for fear of another fight
Unfortunately all this can’t be changed overnight
It’s too much a part of our society today
We can’t help it…we stereotype people everyday
We can’t see that we are tampering with the balance of chaos and harmony
We need to see that we are all the same in reality
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