Licensing and “Up-Purposing” Products

          The fashion industry is full of people who knock each other off or do things that are not so honest and upright with their decisions. One of them being a company who does not have the licensing to sell certain (specific?) products. As a result, shortly after I was hired to represent them , I became aware of these transgressions and was asked to sign a nondisclosure agreement. However, since the company is not printing but buying their product from officially licensees and ‘up-purposing’ or ‘re-furbishing’ these items I thought nothing of it. Also, there are laws which protect them, but the lawyers for these companies could make this a very expensive legal problem for them.

            For example, when working at a trade show and someone asks about our licensing, we can either tell the truth and explain the law, which we can do to the trade show who understands it but cannot do so with the public. For example, a stranger asked me about the licensing and I told him I didn’t need it because the items used were purchased (passive voice) from a licensee, he was enraged because he sells the licenses. I said I don’t need it because I do not print it. I gave him an example. If Polo creates a fabric and sells it, I have the right to make whatever I want out of it, as long as if (concise language, please) I do not sell it as a Polo product. He left infuriated , because this affects his pocket.

Therefore, after that incidence, I was told by my boss to lie, and if anyone asked, say that we did have it. However, I chose to be secretive, and when asked again, chose decided to say that I was not at the liberty to discuss it. Therefore, I lied to cover up what I agreed to in the nondisclosure. I also was secretive and told a white lie, when I told said another someone that I could not discuss it or was not comfortable revealing my source to protect my interest within (in?) the industry. Either way, both ways were used to adhere to the nondisclosure agreement I had signed.

In a way, the agreement also needs to be honored, and secrets and lies used to protect the designer’s interest and mine. Because her financial gains are mine, as I work on commission-based sales. Also, the confidentiality agreement said I could not copy or share her secrets with others in the industry, which to me makes no sense because my eyes can see how the clothing is made (passive voice). However, to be honest, not everyone sees it the same way, and most people, at least the general public, do not know. Therefore, perhaps, in this instance, secrets and lies need to be told to protect the best interest of the company, which is to continue to make goods out of officially licensed products, without having to license the items themselves. Since , it can be a very costly endeavor that could negatively affect their bottom line and mine.

Be proud, identify your work. Original your experience. Good narrative and description. Lack of theory.

Please check language before posting.



Matheus De Paula

PID: 4804428

IDS 3309

Throughout my life , I have heard multiple (many?) secrets and about just as many lies. As time went on the correlation between the two became clear. Most lies told were to protect a secret or confidentiality, either someone else’s or their own. It made me think back to a time when I had to keep a secret, which shall not be shared (passive voice) because till this day it still remains (concise language, please) a secret. The secret was between my friend and I , and it was to be kept from his own parents as well as mine , because God knows what they would have done to us if they found out. I don’t think it was empowering, the secret itself was great, however, keeping it was exhausting and draining and at times dangerous. One time after spring break was over, his parents almost discovered the secret by figuring out that we lied about what we were really doing. We said we were in a certain location and one of their friends saw us at a completely different location place. We were sweating, worried and ended up giving another lie along with a smaller secret. Although we shared a secret and it was a bad one, it was the lesser evil compared to giving up the actual one we were initially hiding. I felt like I was betraying his parents, I felt dishonest, and somewhat ashamed of myself for even committing the secret.

As much as people may think it’s empowering to know something that others don’t it’s really not. It made me really think about life choices I have made , and it made me grow as a person. However , I don’t regret lying to keep the secret safe, it helped me keep my reputation, no one was offended or put in a false light. After a couple of years , his parents admitted their friend didn’t see us they just had a hunch , ; our secrecy led to more lies. So , lies can be used to keep secrets , but it can also be used to infiltrate them. Since we had to lie to avoid giving the secret away , we had to be more secretive about certain things we did. It was just a draining endless cycle that never seemed to end. As time passed , it became easier to not even bring it up, but even now, when the subject is mentioned , (passive voice) we still need to give a little white lie. There is a silver lining in all of this, the one thing I am proud of after all this crazy roller coaster was the discovery of our loyalty my friend and I had for each other. All in all , I’m just glad that no one was hurt throughout this whole (entire?) process because secrecy tens to cause that even if it is unintentional.

Need work on theory and narrative. Not clear on a story. Please check language.

I’ve got a Secret

“Red. My driveway is red.” I said to myself.  Stumbling up the sidewalk, each step getting heavier as I go, I spotted my house out of the corner of my eye. I opened the gate and paused. My quaint yellow house now looks like a blur surrounded by a violent red sea. I knew I was late , so I took a deep breath and began to navigate my way up the driveway. Upon reaching the door, I fumbled around with my keys and finally managed to open it after a couple of tries. I made my way to my room, the only place I could be alone, hitting every piece of furniture on the way and locked my door. Lying on my bed in a trance like a state, I stared at the ceiling which appeared to be spinning. Then suddenly, without notice, like thunder crackling in the sky, there was a knock at my door.

Without even knowing who it was, I was ready to lie. It’s like a switch went off and I was prepared to do and say anything in order (concise language, please) to keep whoever was behind my door from knowing I was drunk. It was the sophomore year of high-school , and my parents didn’t know I drank; at the time, this was a very big (huge?) secret that I had been keeping for a while. My parents had this idea that I was this perfect student that wouldn’t dare go against their wishes. It was high-school , so of course , I drank a little when I would go out, but I had to keep that reputation up because if they ever found out I would be a dead man. So , whenever they would ask me if I drank, I would say no and give excuses. But this time, I took it too far and had a little too much to drink.

I slowly got out of bed and opened the door to find my dad standing there. His eyes, like knives piercing my body, told me that he was not happy. My father is a very old-fashioned man, what he says goes and I clearly remember him telling me not to drink; so , when he asked “Justin, are you okay?” I decided to lie.

“Yeah , dad I’m fi-…* burp *…” I said.

“Are you drunk right now?” he said angrily.

“No dad, I’m not dru-…* gag *.

At this point , I couldn’t hold it in anymore , so I pushed my dad out of the way and everything I had to drink was now on the floor. I tried to lie not once, but twice in order to protect myself and my reputation. What I found the next morning was that my lies had bigger consequences than I thought. My parents weren’t mad that I had been drinking, they were mad (angry?) that I lied to them. What seemed as a harmless lie ended up destroying the reputation I had with my parents and looking back now, it shut off any criticism they would’ve given me that might have prevented this situation from even occurring. I can still remember the feeling of remorse and embarrassment. (Good)

Be proud, identify your work.

Excellent narration. Where is the theory? Again, please check the language.

atehortuadanny08 Secrecy

Growing up with my family always involved some form of secrecy. The most prominent one being hiding who I was and the things I did from them. Looking back at it, it’s nothing more than growing up, teenage rebellion and transition into young adulthood, but a good (right?) amount of the activities I would engage in required keeping them hidden from my entire family. The activities and situations I would partake in would range from trying marijuana, expanding that curiosity to other substances, and sneaking away for weekends to attend concerts and music festivals.

When one thinks of secrecy, it’s usually hiding a deep, dark , terrible secret because it could hurt someone or potentially ruin lives. This wasn’t the case for me, all it came down to was keeping my parents in the dark about what I did in my free time , so I wouldn’t piss them off. I had to result to this because my parents and my family are from an incredibly strict and religious household, one that praises unquestioning loyalty and obedience to one’s elders. So, when my parents said to me “don’t smoke marijuana or go to festivals because that’s what the devil wants , you to do and you will go to hell if you do” I was expected to blindly follow that.

The lies I told, the secrets I kept and the person I was looking out for was all for myself. I was born the black sheep of the family, so when I got to college and had the liberty to try out these new experiences for myself , I took full advantage of that opportunity. I wanted to form my own opinions about them and see for myself what it really was.

At first, I felt a little bit of guilt blatantly disobeying and lying to my parents. More so because the lies I told to keep my activities hidden felt so stupid and petty. I soon realized what I was doing was harmless so that guilt went away quickly. I did feel empowered because these were all things and experiences I was doing from my own accord , because I wanted to do them. Not because someone told me not to. For a long time, I did have to take drastic measures to keep what I was doing from my parents. That meant blocking them and all my extended family on every social network I frequented and would post on because if my family could see what I was doing, then that would absolutely get back to my parents. On the nights I would use substances or go out to a concert or festival that meant putting on eye drops, body spray and sometimes just sleeping sleep over at a friend’s house.

My family insistently kept tabs on me and constantly (continuously?) asked me what I was up to and where I was going, probably because they did have their suspicions and rightfully so. It felt more like an annoyance because in my mind, while I knew I was blatantly disobeying them , I didn’t feel like what I was doing was wrong. I did everything they told me not to do, and I turned out fine. So, it would annoy me that they would keep insisting on asking when we both knew that they would not like the answer.

Be proud, sign your work next time. Please, check details before posting.

Excellent narrative. Good flow. Remember the class: “We live in a transitional era of profound pain and tragic identity quest, but the agony of our age is the labor pain of rebirth.” Theory is important.

Secrecy, confidentiality, and lying – Team 8 – Denise Iglesias

Growing up in a Hispanic household, it’s quite difficult (tricky?) keeping secrets from your family because it always seemed as if everyone knew everything. As I grew older , I realized that there were underlying secrets within my own family that I never grasped until now. I never thought that I would be one to hold secrets from my family to protect them. Going to family reunions every year was always a struggle for me because I was always interrogated (passive voice) with questions about when I was going to have a boyfriend or when I was going to bring a boy home. Little did my family know, that I am bisexual. It’s also a known concept that Hispanics are not very fond of the LGBTQ community because it is a “sin” and “disgusting ”. .” I have kept this secret from my family all my life , when all I have wanted was to be accepted as the person that I am.

A few years ago, I finally had enough courage to tell my mother, the woman that I looked up to, loved, and respected. I started by telling my mom that I am also attracted to girls, and I finally said, “Mom, I am bisexual ”. .” Immediately after I said that , she burst into tears, calling me names such as a disgrace, disgusting, and blamed herself for raising a gay child. She did not speak to me for almost two months. Two months without the woman that I looked up to, loved, and respected. I remember feeling so worthless without my mothers approval , ; I remember feeling so brave to finally open up about the person that I truly am to be let down, I remember feeling like such a disappointment. I always did the best in school, getting A’s on every report card, graduating top of my class, and always staying humble and kind towards others. But the only thing she could ever focus on was the importance and disturbance that I created in her when coming out. She begged me not to tell my father because it would jeopardize their relationship.

When speaking about secrecy, the confidentiality that I had to withhold all my life has been immense, and I regret not doing it sooner. Through this experience, I learned that though there is a relationship between secrecy, lying, and confidentiality, I realized that sometimes through covering the secret and lying, I was hurting myself more than I already was. The truth will always come out, sooner or later. Though I promised confidentiality to myself that I would never tell my mom because I knew she hated it, the seek for approval and want to be accepted by the most influential person in my life won over me. Just like the film “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” says, “we accept the love we think we deserve ”. .” (that’s on page 24 of the book of Stephen Chbosky) and I certainly deserve more than being belittled to someone that I am not.

Excellent. Please check details next time.

Finding Solitude

The age of connectivity and internet stardom has left an entire generation unable to cope with the possibility of loneliness and an insatiable need to be seen and acknowledged. I see myself in his argument, as someone who grew up a computer and introduced to social media at a developing age, I recognize the want I had to connect with friends from far away and be recognized by my peers. Whether it had been the handful of friends on myspace or thousands of friends and followers on Facebook and Instagram.

The thought of not receiving any sort of new information for two straight days was appealing and a much-needed relief, especially after the influx of information (data?) from the previous week. Ignorance truly is bliss. After reading Deresiewicz’s article and watching Ghost in the Shell, I was intrigued with the concept of solitude and saw this as a welcome opportunity to experience solitude and attempt to be one with one’s self. To fully commit and succeed in the black out the night before I begun begin, I deleted every application on my phone that was not necessary and deactivated all alerts and notifications. All social media applications, media streaming services, messengers , and games were deleted. (passive voice)

When I woke up on Saturday, the start of my 48 hours, I picked it up out of force of habit. After lighting it up and not seeing a single banner or notification and eerie (weird?) sense of quietness crept over me. What I took from Deresiewicz’s article is that to engage in solitude is to secure and explore the integrity of one’s self.  I embraced this head on and asked myself what I wanted to do the next 48 hours, what did I want to make of this. I saw it as an opportunity to engage in whatever I wanted to do and explore my thoughts and consciousness. I had 48 hours entirely to myself, a car with a full tank of gas and no set plans or limitations holding me back from exploring the solitude that is me.

In the beginning hours of my solitude at home, I was met (passive voice) with boredom. Deresiewicz mentioned boredom as a part of solitude, a lack of stimulation. I took this boredom and used it to reflect on my thoughts and myself, why was I bored, how it felt to be bored and what I could do about it. Once I tired of my surroundings, I took my car and drove myself to the quiet shores of North Beach. I did this again the next day. What I found in my seclusion was almost like some sort of meditation. In my time alone, sitting on the shore people watching, taking in my surroundings and alone with my thoughts I realized, I didn’t mind spending time by myself because I am a complete and interesting person all on my own. Solitude can be found by those who want to seek it, (passive voice) but it is not for everyone. Few today can cope with it. The intrusion of news in my solitude is something I do take for granted, because I know if I want the intrusion to occur, it will.

Good description. Use of theory. Watch the language.

The End of Solitude

Matheus De Paula

PID: 4804428

IDS 3309

When I first heard about this assignment, I thought it would be nearly impossible to complete it. I myself am a big sports fan, basketball fan to be exact, and I was told (passive voice) not only did I need to give up news but sports as well. To top it all off , it was All-Star weekend! Little did I know I would end up doing this assignment almost accidentally. It started off on a Sunday, and luckily , I had a double shift at work, which means I work from 10 a.m. until 10 p.m. with a thirty-minute break for lunch. That took a big (substantial?) chunk out of the time I needed for the black out. The reason I said almost accidentally is because that I had to restrain myself from looking at Instagram in the morning before work and at night before I went to bed. Twenty-four hours down and it didn’t affect me much. The next day would take much more willpower to prevent myself from seeing anything news related, or so I thought. I went to class, actually had the chance to pay attention since my phone is pretty much full of news everywhere. Went to the gym worked out and played basketball and finished way faster since I didn’t waste time texting. I got home didn’t spend an hour on the toilet, completed a homework that would usually take me hours due to phone distractions in just under an hour. Then after all my productive time was done (passive voice) it started to get to me a little. I had no idea who had won the All-star game, the three-point contest, or the dunk contest. I tried reading , but that didn’t help it was still on the back of my head. I tried going for a run only to imagine insane dunks that could’ve possibly happened. Then I just told myself “tomorrow you can watch all the highlights and put yourself at ease “.  .” Once I told said that to myself I ended up finishing the book, having dinner with my family and going to bed. Overall , I actually liked not being connected to everything , ; it’s a freeing feeling. I had more time in my day, not literally but it sure felt like it, I spent more time with family, I was more productive, I didn’t feel like the news affected how I was feeling. I had the feelings I was supposed to be having for each moment that happened, not changed by any other events going on. I have come to like this new way of knowing things because the news that really matters will get around through word of mouth and it will reach me regardless. So , I shall remain without the news on television, other than my sports of course.

Good narrative. Don’t ‘block’ please. Where is the theory?