E-Portfolio

e-portfolio

Welcome to My E-Portfolio!

Greetings! My name is Naomi Watkins and I would like to welcome you to my e-portfolio! I am an undergraduate at The Pennsylvania State University with a major in English and soon-to-be minor in Comparative Literature. With my chosen major and minor I hope to pave the road toward an occupation in teaching. My experience here at Penn State has certainly been a rewarding one. During my time here, I have discovered very much about myself and have realized what kind of person I want to be.

This website is designed to highlight my best work here at Penn State. On the left you will find a compilation of the essays, speeeches, and blogs that I have completed, and will continue to update, during my college career. If you wish to reach me, my contact information is listed as well.

I Believe That I'm Free to be Whoever I Choose to be

                Today in Psychology 212H, we discussed identity status development, and we listened to a couple of This I Believe essays on thisibelieve.org. While both of the essays were very interesting and heart felt, one particular essay was especially interesting to me. It was written by Phyllis Allen in 2005 and was entitled Leaving Identity Issues to Other Folks. In her This I Believe Essay, she describes all of the identity statuses that she went through as times changed. Her story and the tone with which she spoke truly sways the audience to believe that she really does believe that she is free to be whoever she wants to be. In Phyllis’s essay, she proves that she has and always has had the freedom to choose whatever lifestyle and identity that she pleases. Her tone and the originality portrayed in her essay simply fascinated me; this is truly a woman with a voice. 

Leaving Identity Issues to Other Folks

Phyllis Allen - Fort Worth, Texas

As heard on NPR’s All Things Considered, July 11, 2005

Standing in the rain waiting to go up the steps to the balcony of the Grand Theater I gripped Mama’s hand and watched the little blond kids enter the lobby downstairs. It was the ’50s, I was “colored” and this is what I believed: My place was in the balcony of the downtown theater, the back of the bus, and the back steps of the White Dove Barbecue Emporium. When I asked Mama why this was so, she smiled and said, “Baby, people do what they do. What you got to do is be the best that you can be.”

We got our first television in the ’60s and it brought into my living room the German shepherds, snapping at a young girl’s heels. It showed children just like me going to school passing through throngs of screaming, angry folks, chanting words I wasn’t allowed to say. I could no longer be “colored.” We were Negroes now, marching in the streets for our freedom — at least, that’s what the preacher said. I believed that, even though I was scared, I had to be brave and stand up for my rights.

In the ’70s: beat-up jeans, hair like a nappy halo, and my clenched fist raised, I stood on the downtown street shouting. Angry young black men in sleek black leather jackets and berets had sent out a call from the distant shores of Oakland, California. No more non-violence or standing on the front lines quietly while we were being beaten. Simple courtesies like “please” and “thank you” were over. It was official: Huey, H. Rap, and Eldridge said so. I believed in being black and angry.

By the ’80s, fertility gods lined the walls and crammed the display cases of all my friends’ houses. People who’d never been closer to Africa than a Tarzan movie were speaking broken Swahili. The ’80s made us hyphenated: African-American. Swaddled in elaborately woven costumes of flowing design, bright colors, and rich gold I was a pseudo-African, who’d never seen Africa. “It’s your heritage,” is what everybody said. Now, I believed in the elusive promise of the Motherland.

In the ’90s, I was a woman whose skin happened to be brown, chasing the American dream. Everybody said that the dream culminated in stuff. I believed in spending days shopping. Debt? I didn’t care about no stinkin’ debt. It was the ’90s. My 401(k) was in the mid-six figures and I believed in American Express. Then came the crash, and American Express didn’t believe in me nearly as much as I believed in it.

Now, it’s a brand new millennium and the bling-bling, video generation ain’t about me. Everything changed when I turned 50. Along with the wrinkles, softened muscles, and weak eyesight came the confidence that allows me to stick to a very small list of beliefs. I’ll leave those identity issues to other folks. I believe that I’m free to be whoever I choose to be. I believe in being a good friend, lover, and parent so that I can have good friends, lovers, and children. I believe in being a woman — the best that I can be, like my Mama said.

Phyllis Allen has sold yellow pages advertising for 15 years. She spends about half her working hours in her car covering her territory around Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas. When she retires, she hopes to get rid of her car and telephone books and pursue her first passion, writing.

Independently produced for NPR by Jay Allison and Dan Gediman with John Gregory and Viki Merrick. Edited by Ellen Silva.

WHAT DID YOU SAY??

As I was poking around different sites to find something on which I could write my blog entry, I came across this little gem, which I found to be quite clever indeed. As you can see, this print advertises Bose’s Noise Reduction Headphones, and there are quite a few aspects of it which I find interesting. First of all, the picture itself catches the eye. The majority of the photo is just this beautiful waterfall which immediately draws your attention. It’s almost demanding to be noticed. I guess that one could say that the man going down the waterfall draws his attention more, but to each his own. The second thing of which I took notice was the shrinking text. It was pretty imaginative to add shrinking text to signify the “drowning out” of sound. I think that it was a nice little touch and in it’s own way, it strengthens the whole advertisement because it reinforces the idea that the headphones substantially reduce outside noise. The last thing is the most obvious, that poor man rowing to his death. It may seem to be a tad bit morbid, but I think it’s pretty funny. Not funny as in I’m laughing because this poor chump is rowing down a waterfall, but funny because it’s ironic. I imagine this man to be so happy with his cool new headphones, only to have them be the death of him; unless he rows to safety or someone saves him, I guess we’ll never know.  Over all, I think that this advertisement takes quite an effective approach to persuading their audience. They simply get their point across and that’s it, all in good taste. Anymore observations?