When it comes to Streetwise verses “Postcards from the Edge”, I feel that the reading prepared me more for the documentary. Streetwise is very straight forward and is something to watch. Listening to the children and what they are going through is just crazy. I feel bad for them, but at the same time, the children have a place to go. One example of what I mean is Tiny. She looks as if she has nowhere to go but later in the documentary, we see her go home to her mother. Her mother loves her dearly, and tries to provide for her, but it easier said than done. Tiny wants too much, like in the makeup scene, and her mother tries so hard to provide the “wants” for her. Tiny brings home money all the time and she will not use it for her “wants”, instead she makes her mother pay.

In “Postcards from the Edge”, the children are somewhat the same. They are all homeless, dealing with money issues, and use the money for items that are not needed. One example from “Postcards from the Edge” is Julie. She tries to bum money for her dog, but others think she will use it for drugs or something. Although it says she has been drug free for quite some time, the people giving the money do not know that.

The characters in “Postcards from the Edge” are different in some ways. Shane went out into the world to escape from the rules of the house, and he earned his high school equivalency diploma. Instead of breaking off completely, he still keeps in touch with his mother and really does love her. In the documentary, the kids do not want a lot to do with their parents at all. They would rather live out on their own than live with their guardian or parents.

In the documentary, it is pretty straight forward; although some parts the viewer can draw his or her own conclusions. I definitely preferred the documentary over the postcards only because I am a visual type of person. Also, I really like the fact that it was them, straight forward, no acting or putting on shows.  The documentary was very real yet I laughed. I laughed because the mother feels that this is a “phase” for Tiny, and I laughed not because the comment was absurd, but I laughed because the mother actually believes this.

The photo essay was nice to look at, but the documentary felt more real. The captions to the pictures were a nice asset and helped me to remember the names. Overall when it comes to my emotions, the documentary hit me a little harder. I feel terrible for the kids, but this could be prevented. All in all it was something to definitely watch and read because this is someone’s life out there and it makes the viewers a little more grateful knowing what we have.

After being assigned to read this essay by Susan Bordo, I find it that she and I have similar disputes on our media and society. Day to day, our media finds ways to make us look better or have the perfect hair like the stars, when in reality, we know that will never happen.

When I was younger, I was one of those “I want to be like Hilary Duff” kind of girl. I wanted to be blonde, flawless, talented, on television, and just perfect. I would try to dye my hair but somehow my Mom always caught me when I was about to do it. Mind you, I was about eleven or so at this point. I would tell everyone that I was going to change my name and such because I really wanted to be just like her.      

Now that I read this article, I can actually say, I am a victim of it, but then again who isn’t? Through my teenage years, I would buy every Teen People, Vogue, Cosmo, People, etc. and I would try to put my hair like the famous girls or try to find the same shirt. That is pretty pathetic right? I mean I was not acting differently, as in snobbish, but I was not dressing like myself. My Mom caught on pretty quickly as to what I was trying to do, and then we had “the talk”. You know the mother daughter talk of, “you’re perfect just the way you are”. Yeah, that conversation went through one ear and out the other.

In my freshman year of high school, everything changed. Going from a coed public elementary school to an all girl Catholic high school, things changed pretty quickly. I wore less make up to school, did not care about how my hair looked, and I concentrated so much more. I still read the magazines, but laughed about the articles that would try to sway young teenagers to believing something that should not be believed. Our teachers would press on us that we are women who are going to make a difference and hold important job positions. They pretty much told us not to believe the garbage coming from the television, movies, magazines, etc. that would change our perceptive on life. After my freshman year of high school, I was not a victim anymore.

Do not get me wrong, I love clothes and the styles coming out, but I do not try to look like a famous star or do the things they do. I do not run out and go get the same dress Hilary Duff was wearing because she wore it. It is not like that anymore but it is sad that the younger generation is going through it, just as I did.

I definitely agree with what Susan is trying to say and she is right as to how our media affects younger teens. Many go through physical and emotional problems, such as bulimia or anorexia, and that is something that will affect them for the rest of their life. And what makes them “think” they have to look like this? The answer to that is media.

It was a warm Thursday morning in July. My Mom had left for work at 7 a.m., while my Dad prepared breakfast. Before the cooking began, he set up the newly furnished kitchen with the cooking items needed. As my Dad was leaning over the sink to clean the previous night’s dishes, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He would always tell us that “dirty dishes make it harder for a professional to cook”. As he stumbled to the living room to catch a breath and a few words, I can still hear the screaming for me to come down. I ran as fast as I could to see what was wrong and he asked for some water. As I came back with the water, my Dad was sitting on the couch clenching his chest.

He stared at me in the most petrified way and I began to cry. I had no idea what to do. As he cried out in agony, words spued out at me, “Go upstairs and get your sister!” I still stood there, motionless as if I did not hear him. I was so scared that if I left to get him, he’d leave me. Quickly I ran up the stairs crying hysterically with words just coming out. I could barely speak and my sister then realized. As she ran down the stairs, I sat at the top of the stairs crying because I have never seen anything so horrific in my life. My sister came down and saw that the diabetes had taken over, and my Daddy died. I was six years old, and I felt so alone.

Now that I am older, and have the option to choose a career, this decision is an easy one for me. I want to help people in the time of need in a way only some can do. I want to be a doctor and save lives so that no one would have to go through what I did. At least doctors can say they tried, I cannot. If I had acted upon instinct, went to get my sister right away, maybe my Dad would still be here. I’m not going to dwell on the past asking the “what if” questions, but one could never tell. Instead I am going to take that horrendous memory and use it to help others.

I miss my Dad dearly and I think about him constantly; his death is the drive I have for succeeding. Whenever I feel like giving up, I think of him, and I try even harder. He has shaped me and driven me to reach my goals; so far I have not failed, and nor do I intend to.

“If you find it in your heart to care for somebody else, you will have succeeded.”- Maya Angelou