Phonation is the term used for the process whereby breath expelled from the lungs is modulated by the larynx to create voiced sound. Describe this process, including in your own words a description of the essential anatomical components and their interaction.
Everyone seems to get so tensed up over school work these days. I really admire that, that your body hits the round red emergency button and goes into Panic Mode so that everything gets done the way it is supposed to be done. But I can’t “just do it” because I have to. I never seem to truly understand the meaning behind things, and the more I try to figure it out, the more nothing ever gets accomplished- all these obligatory technical essays where what you write isn't what you want to write. You would much rather doodle an eye, a million eyes amongst spiralling clouds and sprawling flowers and stick-figure birds or talk about this strangely unsettling thought pinpricking your head and sharpening your slouching spine.
All these deadlines that we bow down to and the 12-1, 2-3, 3-6pm class schedules, little ticking numbers and routines we abide to as we rush off to various classes, waving and saying pretentious “Hi!”s to people we don’t really know and frankly, don’t really give a shit about.
And then there’s the long dreary bus rides to school, wondering why the hell I even have to go to school- One and a half hours of boisterous silence, my hair still wet and sticking to my blinking eyes as I take a seat at the back, next to the shut closed window, my chin resting on my palm and my fingers pressing into the side of my cheek.
I watch the wind outside tickle the morning leaves. The sun unhurriedly takes its time to bloom and burst as it spreads its wings wide open and the warmth fills the inside of the bus with a gush of hot air and it licks our necks and curls around the ankles of our sluggish legs. The balding uncle in a white singlet and khaki pants and blue rubber slippers diagonally across from me scratches his balls contentedly and lets out a loud massive yawn.
All the trees passing me by turn into a blur, a sea of glittery emerald and gold, and then I remember that it doesn’t matter how fast the world spins you around, but how wonderfully you can dance as you kick off your shoes and take in the colours, the shapes and the faces surrounding you; how much fun you can give yourself, even when the music is completely fucked up.