View Hannah Alley's profile- 07:30
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A second article of mine published on Maggie Semple Ltd that can be found here: http://maggiesemple.com/peeple-app/ . I review app 'Peeple' that allows you to rate humans from 1-5, discussing its controversial features and more!
- 05:23
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By Hannah Alley
Founded in
2014 by Nicole McCullough and CEO Julia Cordray, the unreleased app Peeple faced widespread criticism when
the company's outrageous plans for the app were announced in September 2015.
For anyone who doesn't know about it, Peeple
is an app that allows you to literally rate people from 1 to 5. Not only can
you rate colleagues, exes and friends like restaurants, but you could write an
unflattering paragraph about them if you wished, and they wouldn't be able to
do a single thing about it. Controversial? I think so.
"Peeple will enhance your online
reputation for access to better quality networks, top job opportunities, and
promote more informed decision making about people," said the company. Co-founders
Julia and Nicole describe the app as “positivity app for positive people”. But did the
developers really think this one through?
As soon as
the potential app hit Twitter and Facebook there was instant uproar. Campaigns
against the controversial app launched, one account on Twitter being '@WeHatePeeple' as it condemned the developers'
plans. A petition on Change.org was also launched to stop the release of the
app and it reached an outstanding 8,138 supporters. Co-founders Julia
and Nicole even received death threats on a daily basis.
Can I say I
blame internet-users for being so angry? Not really. With more than 1 in 3
young people having had experienced cyber-bullying online at some point in
their lives, it seems that Peeple is
just another way for humans to be ridiculed on the internet. You may be allowed
to respond to the negative review of yourself if you are signed up as a user of
Peeple, however it doesn't mean the
review would be deleted. Even worse, this is an awful way for interviewers to
research your name and discover something your ex wrote about you in an angry,
drunken rant.
The good
news? The co-founders of Peeple
seemed to have back-tracked since the national outrage and the app that was
supposed to hit stores in October is now less controversial than previously
announced: "You will NOT be on our platform without your explicit
permission. There is no 48-hour waiting period to remove negative comments.
There is no way to even make negative comments. Simply stated, if you don’t
explicitly say ‘approve recommendation’, it will not be visible on our
platform.”
Although the developers have now altered the app's features, part of me
does wonder if this app will still be problematic. Nicole and Julia preach that
the app promotes positivity, but it crosses my mind if now being able to
approve of a review makes things any better. Would receiving the review
"she's not gr8 at her job, advised not to hire for marketing" in your
inbox, but asked if you'd like to approve of it, make you feel any better about
the comment that's actually been made?
Either way, the company state
that the app isn't evil, and that you'd better be ready because it's coming
soon whether you like it or not.
- 04:20
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My first publish on Maggie Semple Fashion Magazine online blog: http://maggiesemple.com/brighten-up-a-tired-face-beauty/
Beauty post written by Hannah Alley used on Maggie Semple's online blog.
Beauty post written by Hannah Alley used on Maggie Semple's online blog.
- 06:23
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To what extent does Tennyson
represent females in his poems as isolated, trapped and dependent on males?
Written in 2013 by Hannah Alley
I believe that
Tennyson represents females in his poems as isolated, trapped and dependent on
males, through his particular poems: Mariana
and The Lady of Shallot. However, his
poem Godiva contrasts with his other
works and offers a female character who does not conform to my assessment .
Mariana presents the protagonist’s feelings of distance and
disconnection with society as she wallows in her depressive desperation for her
lover to return. Mariana is isolated and lonely throughout the poem. Tennyson
particularly uses syntax and repetition to highlight these ideas: “The day is
dreary”, “I am aweary, I am aweary”. This constant repetitive refrain represents
Mariana’s struggles with daily life and her insecurity while living alone. There
is a lack of independence within her character, as though females need a strong
male to give them balance in their lives. Furthermore, the rhyming of “aweary”
and “dreary” create a tired tone, and the refrain is repeated with only slight
variation, emphasising the duration of Mariana’s isolation; thus the reader is confronted
by a sense of isolation and severe depression.
“Upon the middle
of the night” and “she seem’d to walk forlorn” are particular time references, suggesting
that Mariana actually loses sleep due to the absence of her lover. The use of
third person pronouns creates distance between the reader and the the
protagonist, despite evoking sympathy for her. Finallu, “the slow
clock-ticking” suggests that the protagonist is trapped in unending wait for
her lover. She relies utterly on her lover, the male in her life, and the
passage of time does nothing to lessen her misery; without him, Mariana appears
unable to even leave the range.
- 05:37
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This Lady
Her touch a gentle flutter of butterflies,
Her stare a peaceful drift of dreams,
It flows to your mind and puzzles you,
Is this lady as vacant as she seems?
For I may not ever dare to wonder,
What occurs in the hidden depths of her world,
But one day you’ll look beyond the flourishing face and fair hair,
And discover she’s far different from other girls.
- Hannah Alley
- Hannah Alley
- 04:46
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The ocean
Fresh waves collide ahead,
My toes slide through the moist sand below,
I pick up a piece of seaweed by my leg,
And drop it in the water as I go.
It seemed a shame, such a sunset and a wonderful sea,
But I knew this world would rise on as I said my last words.
I felt the water rising, suffocating my skin,
And up my neck.. This no longer seemed a sin,
I took a final view at the skies above me,
Waters became turbulent.. I could finally rest peacefully.
But just then, gazed down a young man who stopped me in my tracks,
As I sunk downwards I smiled up and him,
And he simply smiled back.
- Hannah Alley
- Hannah Alley
- 04:45
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Obsessed
Chapter 1
It was a fresh start for me here at Wilgreen High. I pushed my way through the large crowds of babbling teens surrounding me, my eyes on the floor as I clutched my books to my chest. What was it like joining an unfamiliar place for the first time, you ask? A place where people had already made their best friends, established their enemies and rooted their sitting areas at lunch? Well, quite frankly it was intimidating. I’m sure you wouldn’t expect me to state anything different. Brushing my dark, limp hair over one ear I reached my class door. At least, that’s what I thought it was. I struggled to pull my rucksack off my back as I was elbowed and shoved by passer-byes. I figured it was best to lean against the wall and let them go by. After all, this was their territory. I was new. I was the unknown face. I let my eyes wander across the busy corridor and peered at three fresh-faced, glowing blondes strut past my existence. It was difficult to not let my eyes glance at their Louis Vuitton hand bags, champagne colours with sparkling jewels lining their edges. My eyes trailed to my dull, packed-to-the-rim rucksack. Little old Jamie. That’s all I was. Just Jamie. Another plain, 17 year old vanilla girl who lacked the spark every popular girl seemed to possess. The only talent I had was putting myself down. It was quite hilarious really. Were my current feelings of self-doubt evident through my facial expression? I sincerely hope not. Shaking the insecurity out of my mind, I frantically unzipped my bag and attempted to seek my timetable. Suddenly, my clammy hands slipped and knowing my luck all of my books and papers fell out of my bag, and scattered to the ground. Within an instant I kneeled to the floor and rushed to gather my papers, feeling my cheeks become hot with embarrassment. That blush of mine that I could never seem to rid. Students shamelessly stepped over and even on my work, when a strange face abruptly appeared at my level. The male kneeled before me, collecting my books and piling them in one as he scrutinised them. “Thank you,” I muttered in an apologetic tone. He nodded, his eyes glued to my books. I hesitated for something to say as I watched him intently. Was he going to say anything? Perhaps he was just as shy as me. “You’re welcome,” he stated. It seemed a forced, delayed response but it was calm and it relaxed me, so it was enough. However I could not help but notice that his eyes met anywhere but mine. And with that, he stood up. I picked up my knees and brought myself to his level. The male was tall, lean and surprisingly muscular. And it was evident that he was avoiding looking at me. Fabulous, I thought. That makes me feel even better. I thought muscular males were the high-school heartbreakers who grabbed the chance to flirt with every girl possible; so what was different about this guy? He finally brought his gaze to meet mine. In an instant, my stomach felt like it was performing the motion of a washing machine; whirling around, making me feel incredibly nauseous. In that moment, I’m sure my eyes widened. I recognised this male’s face. It was cold and structured. His cheekbones poignant, his lips full and a luscious red. His eyes such a dark brown that they were almost black. They were harsh and they cut through me like blades. And with that, the male shoved the pile of books and papers to my chest and turned away as fast as he could. Bewildered, my eyes longed to search for him amongst the crowd, but he was already gone.
Chapter 2
The first day of school was what could only be described as a whirlwind. It went by fast, and yet all that filled my mind was this strange, mysterious yet familiar male that stood before me in the corridor. It was hard to shake his eyes out of my mind. Dark beads staring down at me. I’d pick up my pen to scribble down a few useless words, and yet I was reminded of his face again. A face so pale it resembled that of paper. Cold, chalk-white paper. Crisp yet smooth. So you could say it was that of an unproductive first day at school. Did I make any friends? Apart from a strange, needy, chubby male who sat across me in English, no. He was entertaining at times, and perhaps I could tolerate him when I wasn’t constantly occupied by a re-occuring face every minute, but this boy talked way too much. I assume others would describe him as a babbling fool, and I could agree that he was at times hard to listen to, but at least he was welcoming. He was the only boy who actually made me feel welcome that day. Robert; that was his name. Well, Robby. “I’m Robert, but don’t call me that- call me Robby. Not Robby as in ‘I’m-gonna-steal-your-stuff Robby’,” he chuckled uncontrollably at what he considered his own, humorous words. “Just, Robby,” he said cheerfully, a grin plastered to his face so wide that it looked like someone was pulling either ends of his lips. He held out his hand to me, eyes bright and wide - with what? Excitement? I didn’t know. I made out a small smile, the first I had all day, and we clasped hands and shook. I didn’t care that people may have been looking. Sniggering. I’d rather have Robby as a friend than a snobby popular girl who only cared about which guy she was sleeping with on the weekend. Robby could only be described as freckly and bubbly. His cheeks were pink and bulged, his eyes were squinted and he had crow-lines from where he smiled too much. His hair was so blonde it was almost white. And he was the first friend I made in Wilgreen high. A small smile warmed to my face at the thought and I pushed my body out onto my bed. For me, home definitely is where the heart is. It was the only place where I could be alone with my own thoughts. Gather my feelings and think. Just think. Day dream. About whatever I wanted. My head sunk into my pillow and my legs curled into the warm covers. A sigh of relief escaped my lips and I stared at the plain white ceiling above me. ‘That’s one less day of school out of the way,’ I thought thankfully. Then, there was a knock at my door that sent my body into shock. I jumped, and then laughed as my mother came through. I’m so fragile. Anything could shock me. “Jamie, dinner’s ready,” my mother exclaimed, sitting her work briefcase down on the carpet. “How was school?” she then asked, eyebrows raised as she crossed her arms and leaned her hip against my door frame. “It was OK,” I shrugged, then made half a smile. Mum nodded. “OK’s good, I guess,” she hesitated and smiled back at me, but I could see her trying to find something in my face. Something. Anything. Some sort of feeling or emotion that could tell her more than ‘OK’. But, nothing. What was I going to say? ‘I saw a strange pale guy today who looked familiar and I haven’t stopped thinking about him since’? No. Best not to. Mum shut the door behind her and I rolled over, pulling my phone out of my pocket. The light from the screen blinded my eyes. I squinted tiredly. ‘Two new messages’. I wasn’t the type of girl to receive endless texts 24 hours a day like some other girls, so this was a surprise to me. I slid my thumb across the ‘unlock’ option and opened my first message. Who was the first one from? Robby, of course. He asked for my number the moment we left English class. “Just in case, you know- I need help with English and stuff. What’s your number miss?” he babbled. What an excuse. Reluctantly I gave it to him. And here he was, messaging me only half an hour after I’d returned home from school. I shook my head, smirking to myself at the thought. Then I opened his text. ‘Hey, wots the eng hwk do u kno? Robby (not a robber Robby) x’, it read. I don’t know if Robby’s attempt at slang was also an attempt to impress me, but it definitely hadn’t worked. Yet again I smiled, but it was more of a smirk. At least he was entertaining. Planning to reply later, I pressed ‘back’ and opened my second message. This one was from an unknown number. It read: ‘make sure you get home safe.’ My stomach dropped. Had I read this wrong? I squinted, re-reading the message. My eyebrows frowned and I dropped my phone to the bed. The only way I could describe what I was feeling right now was puzzled. This was the sort of message a girl receives from her stalker on a dramatic TV programme. My hands became clammy and I got up from my bed. I couldn’t shake my thoughts by remaining frozen on my sheets. I began to do laps of my room, pacing up and down slowly. Fiddling with my hair between my fingers, I tried to come up with a possible reason for this baffling text. Nothing. What the hell? I ambled over to my bedroom window and slid it open, longing for fresh air. This one text had caused me to become so stressed at the possible outcomes, that my cheeks were flushing pink and I felt hot and sweaty. I had always been an over-thinker. I leaned my head out of the window and welcomed the cold hair that hit my hot cheeks. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, appreciating the breeze. Then, leaning over the window sill, I gazed down over the town below me. Citizens walking, people talking. A short, stubby man with a mop of black hair throwing his fragile daughter on his shoulders as they laughed blissfully. I smiled. My eyes scanned along until they hit a figure. A familiar figure. I looked closely. The male stood below my house, staring at the ground, his hands in his pockets as he wavered back and forth slowly on his feet. His posture was straight and his body lean and muscular. My fingers clenched on the window sill and I gulped. It was him again. The strange male I encountered earlier at school. I focused on him, remaining silent. Suddenly the male stopped wavering and pulled out his phone from his pocket, he looked at it. Almost straight after, he shoved it back where it came from and turned his head up to look at me. I stood back out of view, shocked and embarrassed. Had he caught me staring at him? I waited a few seconds, varying thoughts rushing through my mind. What the hell was this guy doing here? Then, I stepped forwards and proceeded to look out of my window. He stood, staring up at me. His frame remained as frozen as a statue and his face did not move one bit. That scared me. ‘What do I do now?’ I thought, clenching the wood of the window sill. I stared back at the male and waited for him to look away. He didn’t.
- 04:43
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