Winter Wonderland?

You slip on ice. You burn your tongue with hot chocolate. You're constantly sick. You can't spend longer than 20 minutes outside without thinking you have hypothermia. You have to spend time with those annoying relatives you avoided for the past 11 months. You have to spend your money buying people gifts, when you may not even have enough money to eat dinner every night. You listen to the same songs you've heard since you were 7, everyday since November. You have snow days, which then cause you to go to school longer in the summer. You anxiously wait for December to come, yet when it's here, you realize its not all is polished up to be. But, yet, somehow Christmas is the "most wonderful time of the year", right? 

Heartbroken

I don’t know why when people get “heartbroken” they call it heartbroken. Our hearts are organs that pump blood, and in no way have any affiliation to our emotional feelings. When you love someone, or have very strong feelings for them, those sparks of interest come from your brain. With that being said, it is physically impossible to say that when someone who means everything to you, leaves you, that you are heartbroken.

Move your fingers around. Now wiggle your toes a bit. If you didn’t have a heart, you wouldn’t be able to do those things. Our hearts pump blood to every part of our bodies, which in return lets them work. They don’t control our emotions. Now sing the ABC’s. Or at least say your name, maybe even get up and take a few steps. These things would be impossible to do without our brains. The brain controls everything in our bodies. It tells us when to do things, and how to do them. It tells us what to say, what to move, even what to think. When we fall in love with somebody, we feel it emotionally and mentally, we feel it in our brains, not our hearts.

Saying you have a broken heart when somebody leaves you would be incorrect. You love people with your brain, so then you would have a broken brain..right? No. When you emotionally lose something, nothing in fact is breaking. You are losing the presence of something in your life, and the emotions that came along with that thing, but nothing is physically breaking. You feel sad when something leaves you that you had strong feelings for, but that is it. Your brain is missing those feelings or actions that were in place when that object was still in your life, but that is all.

Society has established that the heart that runs inside us is the same shape and has the same meaning as the one that people use to symbolize love. When you fall in love with someone, you are falling in love with their personality, which is generated from their brain. Same goes with breakups, or losing a loved one. You are not heartbroken. In fact, those emotions have nothing to do with your heart. Saying that you have a broken heart is not true; in reality, you just have a brain that is missing someone special.

Winning The Lottery

The lottery seems like a good thing to everyone in The United States. If you win the lottery, you get a lot of money. It’s yours, to do whatever with. However, winning the lottery in the short story “The Lottery” isn’t such a lucky thing. One name  is chosen at random and the winner is stoned to death. This has been happening for as long as the citizens can remember, but what will happen in the future? I believe that if the lottery continues to take place, the whole community will revolt, and leave the country destroyed.

If we look into the future of the lottery, I see the stoning stopping, because I assume that everyone will already be dead, that is, everyone besides the leaders.  If citizens don’t like what’s happening to them, it’s their natural instinct to change it. Think about Wisconsin this past year. So many people did not like what Scott Walker was going to do, so they attempted to get rid of him. I expect the families of the people who have been killed by the lottery to get so angry one day, that they go up to the government officials and ask them to stop, and when they say no, they fight. After an intense battle over what will happen, the Government will continue stoning  (that is if any citizens are left alive).

Not many people like to constantly be controlled. No one prays that their freedom will be taken away. So, when the lives of people are in the hands of the someone else, people are obligated to upset about this. The community will rebel because they will eventually realize that the lottery isn’t a good thing at all, and brings nothing positive to anybody.

If you look at Animal Farm, written by George Orwell, you can see that my prediction for the future of The Lottery could very well be true. In Animal Farm, the Pigs control all the other animals, without them having any choice. After a long summer of hard work, the animals decide that they don’t want to work anymore, and rebel against the Pigs. In the end of the book, the Pigs are still in charge, and in all honesty, nothing really changed. Because these books have very similar plot lines, I think that my reasoning is very likely.

The Lottery could have seemed like a tradition that needed  to be done, but soon the people will see the truth. They will notice that the government has been brainwashing them for so long, they will realize that it’s not right, and that they don’t deserve that. But, in the long run, nothing will change. People will still be stoned to death, families will still be heartbroken, and the Government will still control everything.

It was a cold, stormy, Tuesday afternoon when Bill Hutchinson burst through the doors of the City Hall.

“I want to speak with Mr. Summers,” he paused, waiting for an answer, “NOW!”

“Yes..?”Mr. Summers said, approaching Bill from behind a desk.

“The Lottery has gone on way too long. We have lost too many precious lives because of it. And if you think I’m alone on this one? You’re wrong, all these people agree with me,” as speaking, the doors open behind Bill, revealing the whole community standing there.

“Oh, so you all think I’m wrong?” Mr. Summers paused, waiting for an answer, “YOU THINK I’M WRONG? I run this city better than any of you ever could. Ever.”

“I understand you feel that way sir, but nobody else does,” Bill stated.

Right about then, Mr. Summers took out a gun, and shot Bill Hutchinson.  In front of everybody.

“Alright. I killed one. If anybody has anything else to say, I’m sure Mr. Hutchinson would appreciate some company,” he paused, watching to see if anybody moved, “now get along, I’ve got things to do and places to be. “

As the sun set that day, the citizens sat in their houses, and realized, that the lottery would not stop, unless they MADE it stop. 

Casey at the Bat Response

I think that because Casey struck out, he will change greatly. His whole reputation was ruined in that one game, so now he will have to change his ways to once again be the might Casey. He will change because in the poem, if he doesn't like a pitch, he doesn't even go for it. After having this accident happen, I think Casey will be more cautious of striking out, to save him from the embarrassment of losing a game...once again. He will change because reputation is everything to him. Everything. He relates to like Cato in the Hunger Games, all coincided and thinks that he can do everything, but once he fails once, he needs to change otherwise bad things will happen again. 

Unimaginable

Author’s Note: This is the Cause and Effect piece on The Best of Me, by Nicholas Sparks. If you have not read the  book and are planning to do so, just a warning, I spoil the ending!

The unimaginable can always happen. As a nation, we tend to think that nothing bad will happen to us, until it does. Amanda, the main character in Nicholas Spark’s The Best of Me, thought these things too. She always assumed that even if she made mistakes, nothing extremely bad could happen to her. But then, one night, her son gets in a car accident, and is told that there is a rare chance that he would live. However, none of this would have happened if he was never in the car, none of this would ever have happened if just a few simple events changed.

The point of no return for this book was when Amanda’s son got in a car accident. You can’t reverse that. As much as the reader or the characters may want that event to change, it can’t.  Once the car was hit, the mark was left forever. Once the crash was set in stone, the passengers of the cars would be injured from that day on. Once the son was in dangerous health, the story had really started.

Amanda’s son would have never been in the car if it wasn’t for his father. Getting overly intoxicated that night, Frank needed to call his son to drive him home. If he wasn’t a responsible adult like he should have been, their son would have never even been in the car in the first place. Calling the son to come and drive may not have seemed like such a big deal, but in the long run it is what caused the accident.

Though getting in a car accident may have seemed like the end of the world, there were a few positive effects in the result of it. Being very sick, and in need of a replacement heart, Amanda’s son was about to die. Hopes were high to get a donation heart, but reality showed them that it wasn’t very likely. Through torturous days of painful waiting, Amanda’s long lost love from high school died, and his heart was a perfect match. Amanda’s son got her old lovers heart. This would have never happened if not for the car accident.

Thinking that nothing bad could ever happen to you is horrible. Awful things will happen to you, it’s true. However, when they do you have the choice to either be prepared and positive, or negative and not understanding. Even when things go wrong, you have to keep your head up because even through bad things, wonderful things can happen.

Fighting

Author’s Note: This piece was written to explain my knowledge of Conflict/ Resolution.

There is not a single way you can explain the conflicts in the book A Child Called It. Many disturbing things happen, but they all center around one issue, the mother abuses the son. David takes on loads of abuse from his mother. Fighting against his mother, we see a great example of person vs. person conflict, but we also see a struggle with person vs. self, too.  

It’s easy to see how this is an example of person vs. person. The mom is literally fighting the son, by hitting him, kicking him, making him eat poisons substances, and ruining his life, but in this book he is also fighting himself. When somebody is constantly telling you that you are not good enough, you start to believe it. When literally living in Hell, David had to fight against himself to make sure he didn’t let the things his mom was telling him, get to his head.

Getting out of hard situations can be the most difficult thing ever. In David’s case though, he had to sneak his way out, and take risks while doing it. One day when he was at school, he told the teachers what happened, and that got him out of the conflicts with his mother, but how did he resolve the ones with himself? He told himself that even though his mother was telling David those things, they weren’t true. She was lying to make herself feel better. Even though it was a long road, David eventually gained back his confidence.

These two types of conflicts may be hard to find in other novels, yet I found extreme similarities to these problems in the book Speak, by Laurie Halse Anderson. In that book, Melinda was fighting against other people because of popularity issues, her social issues, and her past issues with a boy; much like David was fighting his mom. Also, she was fighting herself because she was sexually assaulted and felt like she was worth nothing. That, once again, sounds like David.

Throughout fighting with other people, and yourself, you gain a lot…but also lose a lot. These conflicts were things that nobody should have to deal with, yet we now know that they can be resolved.

The Dark

Some people are afraid of heights, others may be afraid of pickles, spiders, even spoons, but me? I’m afraid of a little girl. A 5 year old “angel” to her family, but the devil to me and my friends. She may  seem innocent and sweet, but don’t be fooled, this little girl was anything but.

It all started after a day of laser tagging, my four friends (Mandy, Taryn, Shelby, Haylie) and I were relaxing in Haylie’s basement, when it occurred to us that hey, it was 4:30 pm, and we should watch a horror movie. After looking through Netflix movie suggestions, we settled on Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, which is a movie about, well , not being afraid of the dark. We watched the movie with countless jumps and screams from all.

After eating dinner, we decided to go outside and swing on the tire swing. Taryn, who was always afraid of hitting the tree, had agreed to go on the swing. She was, as you can expect, scared and screaming. While all of the attention was on Taryn, I saw Haylie’s neighbor, Sammy, appear out of the woods. She reminded me of a fairy, in  her little shorts and a shirt, shoes and dark brown hair. Her skin was pale, with dark brown eyes. Her face was painted, and she looked like a pirate. Momentarily, the others noticed her, too. She inched closer as the swing came to a stop. “Can I try,” she said, I her voice which was a high sounding pitch. The only thing I remember for a while, was Sammy eyeing down Taryn, saying “wee” , in a monotone voice, obviously making fun of when Taryn was afraid on the swing.

Following the swing, we did some dancing, and some chatting, but then Sammy turned to Haylie – who was obviously her favorite – and asked to see her room.  Shelby, trying to take charge, told Sammy that maybe in a little bit we could go upstairs, but we should maybe just stay outside. A glare was given, followed by a scream, then we took her hand and marched up the stairs.

When we finished taking her to Haylie’s room, she looked up at us, and said “Now come see my room.” After making her ask her mom, a group of five teenagers walked into a five year olds room.  She had the classic room: butterflies, stuffed animals, and only one toy though, a light up wand from Disney. Her door also had a lock on it.  She took us out one by one and showed us how to lock the door, then unlock it. After all the lessons, she turned off the light. The reason behind this was to show us her little spinning light up wand.  After showing us the wand, the kept the lights off. She told us all to get on the bed, and as good people, we climbed up on the bed. Prancing around us, the pulled out all of the night lights, saying “We’re going to turn off these, and unplug these,” then reaching for the blinds, letting in barely any sunlight and saying, “and close these.” By the time she was finished, she had made sure all light was gone.

Being trapped in that room, dark, with her taking light steps  around us on bed for about 3 minutes, Sammy told us all to get up, and then go out of her room. We all stood up to leave, when she stopped Taryn and told her to stay in her room. From the outside, we could hear them fighting over whether the lights should be on or not. Finally, Taryn said that she needed to go to the bathroom, so she could get out of there.

Taryn, being the idiotic person she is, told the little girl that there was no toilet paper in the bathroom. Sammy grabbed Taryn by the hand and pulled her to the master bedroom, where there was a bathroom.   Dragging her around a corner, Sammy pointed to the bathroom and told Taryn that she could “go in there.” As Taryn closed the door, she saw the master bathroom light turn off, then she looked out and Sammy was locking the door. Taryn, like a right-minded person would, asked, “What are you doing?” And the response, from a five year old, in a high pitched voice, “We’re going to play in here.”

Sprinting out of the room, Taryn told us that we should go, because something was not normal about this little girl. Sammy, then back in her room, took me, and told me to give her my phone. Sammy  knew I had phone my , so I had no other choice. She collected the other phones, then made Mandy and I go in a timeout.  Still with no lights on, we were all thinking about the horror movie we had previously watched, and all just assumed that we were not going to make it out alive. Sammy, who had put us (Mandy and I)in the hallway, then left her room to go to the bathroom.

As she returned into her room, from the inside, she put her head through the crack and told Mandy and I that she’d be back for us. With that, we booked it to her room, and then got our friends and left. When we were walking down the stairs, she followed us, and said in the voice that gave us shivers  “Come back and we can play some more.”

Looking back on this story, I know it doesn’t seem that scary. I mean, we took harassment from a five year old. But being locked in a room, with all the lights off, and a girl with pirate makeup pacing around you, it was terrifying. I can’t believe that something is normal about a little kid who likes to be in the dark.  From that day forward, I can still hear her voice screeching in ears, I can feel her cold hands up against mine, I can see her face haunting me in the dark…but only in the dark. 

My Sister's Keeper

Author's Note: This is a piece to help show my understanding for the retelling skill. 

A young girl, who has been giving body parts to her cancer positive sister, suddenly decides that she doesn't want to donate anymore. She hires a lawyer, signs some forms, and fights against her family to get medically emancipated in a court hearing. After getting the rights to her own body, a surprising event leaves one sister dead, and one alive.

Over the summer I went to a church confirmation camp. As part of our itinerary, we had to learn about the Bible, or biblical things for hours at a time. Now, I’ll be the first to say that sitting in church listing to someone preach isn’t always the most interesting thing; but I can say that something our leader told us has stuck with me ever since.  It was a story relating to the Holocaust. He said that the Nazi’s took 30 Jewish infants, who were destine to die, and placed them in one big room. They fed them, read to them, even gave them toys to play with, but there was  a catch. Never, in any condition, could they touch the baby. Not to burp it, not to move it from one place to another, not even to simply hold it. And guess what?  All the babies died. Every last one of them.

That story has always blown my mind; how important touch must be that not  1, not 2, but 30 infants died without it. I get that you can’t live without water, it’s a fact known to everybody. If you go without water for 4 days you are going to die.  The things water does for our body is unbelievable. The water we have in our body helps our organs work, and without your organs working, good luck living (Living Without Water). But, what about touch? Is touch really so important, that you can’t live without it?

Digging deeper into the subject of touch, I figured out that the human touch and stress go hand in hand.  Everyone has stress in their life. For adults, it could be getting a presentation ready for work, yet dropping the kids off at soccer practice, too. For kids, it could be studying your spelling words, and practicing your flash cards in the same week.  For babies, maybe it’s trying to get the toy to make that sound again, or make the food in the bottle go faster. Regardless, we all have stress. And the human touch is scientifically proven to minimize stress hormones, and maximize the “good feelings” that your body wants to put out (The Health Benefits of touch). Everyone needs a stress reliever, and many choose the method of touch. With the babies not being touched, they would have had no way to get the stress to vanish, which then in return could have been a factor in killing them.

Aside from stress, the touching sensation also helps get rid of pain. I know what you’re thinking, how does touching people with your germy hands get rid of health problems?  Not all diseases are just made up out of cells. Many times diseases can cause bruises, aches, and pains (The Health Benefits of touch). Let’s say you’re a baseball player, and the constant swinging of the bat just makes your shoulder swell up. You are going to want someone to give you a massage, to help the swelling go down.  Or maybe when coming down from a jump to try to catch the ball, you land on your shoulder, and it dislocates. The fast and easy “quick fix” for this is someone to pop back in your shoulder, and then continue to massage it to then make it feel better. Health problems are vital to us, many die from them each year, so it’s not surprising that these babies died without touch, as it pertains to health problems.

Stress and pain need touch to heal, but on the flip side, touch is also a very emotional thing. On days when you are just not having it, it always helps to curl up next to someone you love, and just feel them. The warmth from within their skin, warming up you; warming your heart. Touch is an expression of love, and without love, you having nothing. It’s so cliché, the whole “you can’t live without love” thing, but it’s true. The secrets to life are hidden in the clichés. Touch is the way of showing our love. Holding hands, being hugged, and being held are the most important factors of life, and these babies got none of them. They got no love.

Listening to that story the first time, the one about the 30 infants, I just couldn’t imagine living life without touch. We were made to touch, it’s why we have hands and feet. To reach out and touch the world; it’s an important thing, it heals us, relieves us, and shows us love. Touch is amazing, and those infants, even though they only lived for about a month, were being robbed from the most amazing thing in life; touch.

Bibliography

Living Without Water. (n.d.). Retrieved September 11, 2012, from How Stuff Works: http://adventure.howstuffworks.com/survival/wilderness/live-without-food-and-water2.htm

The Health Benefits of touch. (n.d.). Retrieved Sept 12, 2012, from Health and Healing: http://www.beliefnet.com/healthandhealing/getcontent.aspx?cid=13623

Just Ask

“Ask, and it shall be given; seek and ye shall find; Knock, and it shall be opened to you.” –Bible

This quote is pretty straight forward. It clearly states that if you ask, you will get it, if you seek for it, you will find it; and if you knock on something, it will be opened to you. But, this quote isn’t about being greedy, or knowing that no matter what, you can get what you want.  The meaning of this quote is to let you know that when you’re worried, or scared that something won’t turn out your way, you just have to ask. Yes, there will be times that you will get turned down. Things won’t always go your way. But, if you ask for something, and in return you find that you get something else, you were meant to have that.  In the long run, if you ask, you will be given what you need.

I am a strong believer of the quote. Even if you’re not religious, then, don’t look at the quote in a biblical way. You don’t need to think about the power giving you these things as God, they could be about any average person in  the world. Chances are, if you ask, you will find your answer. However, being a Christian, I feel as if this quote is perfect because god will give us the things we need.

At least for me, I know that I have questions on things every day.  I’m always looking for answers to my questions, but sometimes I am scared to know. From experience I have learned that if you just ask, then you will know. And if it’s the answer you were looking for? Great. If not? Then maybe you just have to ask a different question. 

POV 28 year old man

Something strange is going on, and I don’t know how to explain it. It’s something like Romeo and Juliet, forbidden to be together. I love her, wait, but I don’t.  She’s 12 years younger than me, that doesn’t make sense. Yet, I can’t control these emotions. Ever since I went home for Christmas, and came back, I haven’t felt the same way. Something clicked…I fell in love.

The way she flips her hair, the way she smiles at everyone. There’s just an aura around her that makes everything seem perfect. But why can I not feel this connection with anybody my own age, why does she have to be 16? Even more important, why does she have to be dating my brother?

Being out in the real world, with my job and everything, I’ve noticed that age doesn’t really matter. Yeah, we may get frowned upon by others if we feel a connection with a minor, and hey, maybe it is illegal, but why should that be stopping love? I’m silly to think that she would ever love me back. What happens if she marries my brother? I think I love her.

Me, Myself, and I

Author's Note: When originally writing this essay, I planned on it being a analysis on myself. Now, reading it after it's finished, I think it might be more of a Cause & Effect essay. I'm not really sure though. Either way, everything in this essay is completely true, and was written from the heart.

When I was little, one day my parents rearranged the furniture in my bedroom. They thought it would be a good idea to move my bed on to a different wall or something, I don't really know. That night, I stayed up all night and cried, because I was upset that my room had changed. It changed! I never have liked change, never. But just recently, I have figured out why I don't like it. I have been through a lot in my life, and before I didn't think it affected me that much. Now I realize, those traumatic incidents in my past led me to the way I am now, they led me to hating change.

I was never much of a child. At age 6, I had to deal with the pressures of my uncle being murdered. I know, in the end -- that is just a death. But to me, that death brought on so many more obstacles. You should know, that when my uncle died, my cousin and my aunt were staying with us, just to make sure that they weren't too scared from recent issues. So…how exactly did that change me? Before they moved in, I know this sounds rude, but I had a perfect life.  My brother, dad, mom, and I.  We had our pet dog, and lived in a fairly big house in a safe city. Not to mention, we were comfortable in our financial standings, and never really got in much trouble. We had the stereotypical "perfect" life. Then they moved in. I had to change with the fact that now, frankly I wasn't the center of attention in my family.  I would have to adapt to the fact that there would be two more people in our life, our house, they would be in what was ours. And that didn’t appeal to me. Not one bit.

No, having new people come into my life -- and, well,  stay there -- is not the only reason I do not like change. Have you ever had to adapt to something that you didn't want to, then finally once you got used to it, have it change again? That is the story of my life. Once I had gotten used to having my aunt and my cousin live with us, things changed again.  My aunt left, but this time, she left empty handed, letting go of her grip on her daughter -- leaving my cousin there with me. Once again, I had to become accustomed to these changes. I don't think I like change because I know that the second I get used to something, it'll switch up on me again, leaving me confused, worried, and scared.

With new changes already put in place, but never set in stone -- you never know what to expect. So when I got the news that we were going to adopt my cousin, I was mad.  This might come at a little bit of a shock, but I never really wanted a sister. In fact, I was perfectly content with having a cousin. But no, apparently it would be "best for the sake of the family" if we adopted her. Personally, the reason I suspect that I don’t really like change is because I had such a negative outlook on this particular event, and I knew there was nothing I could do about it. Whether I liked it or not, I was going to have a sister, and whether I liked it or not, it was going to happen.

Having such a bad feeling on the things that were changing around me, I categorized everything that was happening in my life as "bad."  It wasn't just the death, moving in, and adopting that was bad -- it was the change that was bad. I was going to have to get used to setting five dinner plates at the table, I was going to have to get used to buying five movie tickets when going to see a movie, I would have to get used to having five people in my family. Things were changing around me, and there was no way of getting out of it, I had to deal with it. I was so scared of the way things could turn out, that I just covered up the change, pretending like it wasn’t there. However, after a while, it started creeping up out of that blanket, and continued to play with my life.

As for me today, I still don’t like change. It doesn’t matter what it is either, it could be even positive change, or change with no affect, but I still don't like it. Like recently, in school, we switched classes for the semester. To most normal people, this wouldn't matter at all -- and if it did, it would be good. Not to me though. Still traumatized from the changing events from previous in my life, I can't fathom of ever thinking change could be a good thing. I'm not saying I like it (being this way) and I'm not saying it's fun, I'm just saying it's me. And I don’t think I'll ever "overcome" my fear of it.

Now when I think about when my parents wanted to rearrange the furniture in my room, I realize why it was such a big deal to me. It wasn't because I was scared of monsters hiding in a different place, or forgetting where I put my toys. But rather because I was worried that things in my life would continue to change, and the choices that were to be made would be out of my hands. Change is something I am going to have to live with. I am not going to try to avoid it, I will just, for now, try to deal with it.

Pins and Needles

Author's Note: After a recent discussion on Haylie's piece (very good, I would check it out) I realized that this could be taken wrong ways. This is NOT TRUE what so ever. In fact there is just a hidden meaning, something that I want to see if you pick up.

I drop it.

Red blood swells up to a drop on the tip of my finger. The scent of the dark sea fills the air. Reaching out, I touch the wall. The cold stone combines with the blood, and just for a second, I can't feel anything. My body goes numb, my life freezes, I feel free.

I pull back.

Blue skies flash across my mind. The sound of young birds chirping brings my mouth to a slight smile. The cracks in my lips spreading out with the more and more I grin. But after a quick second, a black cloud fills my brain. Old memories come flooding back.

I pick it up.

Piercing the tip of my finger, the needle breaks the barrier between skin and blood, outside and in; right and wrong. There's no going back. The pain sends a shiver down my spine, aching my body. After letting the metal tip inside, I pull it out, watching the blood bubble up.

I reach out.

The texture of the dark wall changes from dry to wet, black to red; alive to dead. What used to be there, now taken over from marks of me. I rub my finger around the wall, leaving proof that I was there. Blood moves around underneath my finger, until it dries out. Until it is gone.

I think. 

Pins, and needles cover the floor that used to hold dolls and pillows. Scars cover the fingers that used to be so innocent. Thoughts cover the mind that used to be so care-free.

I know I should stop...but I can't.

Not a Coincidence

Author's Note: For our Poe Project, I wanted to show symbolism in the Masque of the Red Death. I have never written a symbolism essay before, so I apologize on the not- so- well writing skills.

Seven rooms, each one filled with a different color. A clock that chimes every hour, yet at midnight people start to care. A deadly sickness that can kill you within thirty minutes. Edgar Allen Poe definitely grabbed attention of many with the publication of “The Masque of the Red Death”. But, can all of those things just be coincidences? Is this story really that simple? I believe that Poe used many objects to symbol other ones, which will make the story more haunting.

Blue, purple, green, orange, white, and violet: what do these colors all have in common? They are all happier colors, one with meanings like innocence, natural, and love. These six colors are the first rooms in the palace of Prince Prospero’s house. But the seventh, the seventh is black; black and red to be exact. Besides being the colors of the Pewaukee Pirates, these colors are also the ones of death and abandons. Everyone avoids this room. Ironic, that everyone avoids the room of death…because they are trying to avoid death.

Clocks are almost everywhere. In most rooms there are clocks. What is a clock again though? It is something that counts down time. Clocks seem like our way of making sure we know how much time is left. In many people’s minds, a clock also reminds them of life and death, with the clock ticking down the minutes you have left in your life, creepy right. Some might say that it’s a coincidence that the clock is placed there, but I think Poe knew what he was doing.

The rooms of many colors and the clock are all held somewhere, right? A house, ballroom, holding space – whatever you want to call it. But the whole idea of the party place is that they are trying to go there to avoid the red death. Without there being a red death, there would be no need for a corral space for the people to go in.  This house is a complete symbol of avoiding things that you know are coming for you.

With the red death lurking around, people want to be safe, but some can’t. Even though they’re held in a party, with tons of fun, there are things there that are unmentionable. Edgar Allen Poe knew what he was doing when he was writing this piece. He threw things in that make sense at a glance, but even more sense in a second look.

Lily and the Reptiles

 Author's Note: I wrote this, well...I don't really know why. It doesn't really have a meaning to the point -- but it's supposed to symbolize something. I hope you like it.

For as long as I can remember, Lily always wanted a turtle.  Every day, before bed, she would ask her parents for one. Ever since their pet dog ran away, she wanted to fill the hole in her heart with a turtle. But her parents always said no, telling her that she would never get a turtle. After about a month of asking, her parents finally considered it. One afternoon they took Lily to the pet store, so she could look at the turtles. While looking around, Lily saw a Komodo dragon. This got her attention. After leaving the pet store, the whole drive home she started talking less and less about the turtle, and more and more about the Komodo dragon. From this day on, she asked every night for a Komodo dragon, instead of that turtle. Once again, after enough begging, her parents took her to the pet store to buy the Komodo dragon. To Lily's disappointment,  they were not the only family walking through the doors. A little girl, dressed up in a Tinker Bell costume was holding cage, a cage that held a Komodo dragon. Lily ran to the section where they would be, but she was too late. That little girl got the last Komodo dragon. So Lily walked back to the turtles, and looked at them. She stood there for hours watching them play, and finally turned to her daddy, and said "I want this one, I'm positive".

Not a Ruler, But a Dictator

When you think of a pig, the image that comes to mind is probably a pink creature rolling around in the mud. Now think of ruler, a commander, a chief -- a dictator. Your mind is probably figuring an image of tall man in a suit. He probably has a mustache or possibly is smoking a pipe.  These things have nothing in common, right? Well think again. George Orwell, the author of Animal Farm, portrays a telling of the Bolshevik Revolution. But there’s a catch: the important dictators, rulers, leaders…those are pigs.  Napoleon the pig is the ruler of the farm; he is a leader, an enemy, a dictator – much like Joseph Stalin, a man who had great power in the Bolshevik Revolution.

As people, when we are given an opportunity to have power, we take it. Napoleon the pig was served a chance to become a ruler on a silver platter after Mr. Jones, the farmer, left.  Stalin on the other hand gained complete power after Trotsky’s ordered death in 1940 (Joseph Stalin (1879-1953)). In both cases, the previous ruler was kicked out, or expelled from leadership. In Animal Farm Mr. Jones had been rebelled against by the animals: “Jones was expelled, and the Manor Farm was theirs”(39). As for Stalin, he knew he would be in compete power after Trotsky was killed.  For Mr. Jones and Napolean, if they did not get the previous runner of the Farm or the Soviet Union out of power, they would not have dictatorship of their land.

Not only would both of them have no importance if they did not get the previous ruler out of power, but once in power they both changed rules and made others work. Part of Joseph Stalin’s ruling was creating a five year plan. At the looks of things it was supposed to be pretty good – hopefully bringing the country back to a happier place. Having trouble finding the problem? The plan made the residents of the Soviet Union work (Joseph Stalin ). An unfair amount of physical labor was poured onto them.  Whereas, in Animal Farm the animals all had to work on the farm for long hours of the day. Dragging their souls in sacks on their back, the animals all had problems with the rules that were created. In both cases, the workers spent all of their time being slaves, with the tasks leading many into death.

Besides the chance of being able to have power, and the laws they put in effect after they got that power, there is a difference between the characters. I can go right ahead and tell you, yes – one is a pig, and the other is a person, but there’s definitely more behind the difference of these characters. In the end of the revolution in the book Animal Farm, Napolean the pig is still in power. He still rules the farm, in fact he rules the people in the farm, too. However in the real Bolshevik revolution Joesoph Stalin was dead, ending his ruling (Joseph Stalin). I don’t know why George Orwell changed the ending of the character, maybe it was because Joseph Stalin did much more than ruin socalism  (Joseph Stalin (1879-1953)) in the Bolshevik Revolution, and he wanted to portray that. Or maybe it was because he thought it would be a better ending to the story. All I know is that the ending is different.

Pigs and dictators are completely different things. One can talk – the other can’t, ones a person – the other isn’t, yet both of them happen to represent the same thing. Joseph Stalin may be a real life dictator that made life horrible for many, and Napoleon may just be a pig that made other animals work hard on a farm.  But digging deeper, we see that they both kill, they both rule, they both have so many things in common.  They both ran a Revolution.

Bibliography

Joseph Stalin. 2012. 19 March 2012 <http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/biography/stalin.html>.

"Joseph Stalin ." Biography. 30 March 2012 <http://www.biography.com/people/joseph-stalin-9491723>.

"Joseph Stalin (1879-1953)." 1999. PBS.org. 19 March 2012 <http://www.pbs.org/redfiles/bios/all_bio_joseph_stalin.htm>.

Koeller, David. The Bulshevik Revolution . 19 March 2012 <http://www.thenagain.info/webchron/easteurope/octrev.html>.

The End.

Author's Note: I know, I haven't posted in a while, but I am back.:) This essay is a poem analysis for the poem "Where the Sidewalk Ends". Below I have posted a copy of the poem for you all to read! Keep in mind that this is just my interpretation, so nothing is set-in-stone to be the real reason it was written. I hope you all enjoy my 2012 DWA piece. 

Where the Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein may be an old poem written many years ago, whose author happens to be dead, but it is personally my favorite poem ever written.  When I was littler, I thought the poem was about a real sidewalk.  But recently, I have figured that it’s not. It is about so much more; that sidewalk that he talks about, that’s life, but more importantly the end of your life.

If I told you that last night I went outside and the trees were dancing, what would you think? Would you really believe that the trees were tangoing or possibly waltzing? Of course not, trees can’t dance, but we can picture them dancing. These are figurative language devices that help us get an image. So when Shel Silverstein sat down to write this poem, he wasn’t writing about a walk down a sidewalk. 

“There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.”
 

The sidewalk is your time, your journey, your life.  And at some point it’s going to come to a stop. When he talks about the sidewalk ending, right before the street begins – we get the first look into using devices. The street is your after life, either Heaven or Hell or wherever you go after you die and the sidewalk is the moment you die.  When Silverstein mentions the bird resting from its flight, I get a feeling that the bird is a person, one who’s “resting” from their long stressful life on earth. Throughout the whole poem we see how he works figurative language into the piece.

When reading a poem, you don’t only want to look for the meaning used behind the words; you want to read it in the voice that the author is trying to show-- often known as the tone of the piece. If I were to listen to a recording of somebody reading this poem, I would safely bet that they would not be yelling. They probably wouldn’t be laughing, joking around, or reading through with no expression, but instead using a calm voice, a very Morgan Freeman narrating the March of the Penguins style. No matter what poem you’re reading, the only way you will completely comprehend the poem is if you understand the tone that the author is trying to use.

Aside from looking at the figurative language and the tone when analyzing a poem, it is important to find the mood of the piece. In kindergarten you learned that your mood was what you were feeling. You could be happy or sad, sometimes even mad, right? Well when you’re finding the mood of a poem, it’s the exact same thing. The feeling that you get when reading a poem is the mood. When I read “Where the Sidewalk Ends” I feel like there are no worries in the world. It makes dying seem like such a normal thing, not scary at all. As for me, the mood in this piece --even though the topic is such a horrifying thing – is happy.

At a glance, this poem might be about a real sidewalk, maybe even one in the Village of Pewaukee, like what I thought when I was littler. However now I realize that it holds so much more underneath the words.  I realize that the author wants us to feel certain ways when reading his work; I realize that he purposely uses figurative language devices to paint a picture; I realize that this poem isn’t really about a place where the sidewalk ends.

Forgive Me

People. They hurt you, break you, and can even kill you.  They surround you with comfort, and then  rip it away from you.  They can pretend that they care, and a day, month, or even year later tell you the  truth.  They can make you feel great one day, and be on the bottom of the earth the next.  They wrap  their hands around your heart and play with it. Like it's a toy. They think that no matter what they do,  you'll forgive them.  But there has to come a point where you let go of them, right? Wrong. They'll  control  you for so long, that you don't know what you'll do when they're gone. You don’t remember the  person you were before they changed you…for the worse. But that's just the way life goes, because the things that seem so comforting, so gentle, so perfect, aren't. Those things are people.  Those things are you.

Mother to Son Response

When reading the poem "Mother to Son",  illiterate people may get confused. There is a ton of figurative language, like metaphors and similes, but also just strange grammar idiosyncrasies. In the poem, Langston Hughes refers to life.  "Life for me ain't been no crystal stair". Well, obviously life is not a step made out of a shiny rock, but that's not what he means. Hughes wants us to get the point that he is not talking about a staircase. The crystal stair is rich, white-people life. Sorry to say, but in the past white people had better lives. They had free lives, they had worthy lives, they had crystal lives.

When you sit down with your mom to talk about life, chances are she isn't going to scream. She isn't going to yell, but she's going to be firm. She isn't going to start crying either, she'll just be using a firm tone. That's the tone of this piece (ironic, isn't it? How I say tone -- and that magically is the tone). She's talking to her son about life, giving off an inspirational feeling. The mood of this piece makes you feel very inspired, and happy about life. It helps you keep going, and making you feel inspired and to never give up your life.

Strength.

If I asked you to tell me what your favorite word is; what would you say? No I don't mean something like "agenda" or " sassafras" -- more along the lines of an inspiration. Something that has meaning. Think of that word, in your head. The one that keeps you going through the day. I am going to make a pretty safe bet saying that the majority of you would say words like "love" or "believe" or "hope", right? But, why? Why are we thinking of these words, fantasy words, when this is real life? I think that the words we should be thinking of are "trust" "loyalty" and "strength". Yeah, there is love in the future, but there is strength now. I think that rather than focusing on the fairytale words, we should close in on the ones that might actually help us. The ones with meaning, the ones that we should be thinking about.

A Place Called Resource

Author's Note: Hello my fellow students. I was recently looking through my Writer's Notebook in OneNote and came across this piece. I wrote this a long time ago, referring to something that was going on in my life at that time. I didn't want to give away the problem, since it is kind of personal -- but wanted a way to express the feeling of my life. I don't think many of you -- if any -- will find the true meaning of this story.  Katie and Haylie, don't you think it will be interesting to see what others come up with? Leave me a comment telling me what you think this story is about. :) 

People lie.  They meet halfway, to try to make their story connect.  They leave problems behind, and face new ones at their new location.  They sign out of their old life, and walk down the way to a new one.  Pain to others in each step they take. Like the feeling of a sword through your heart…pain.  But, they aren't.  They're happy -- because they chose this path.  This one thing that they want so badly.  Soon, they realize that all it does is suck, and they turn around, and return to their old place. A place called resource.

Find Me

Let's play a game. A game of hide and seek.  You hide, and I'll find you.  That's much how life is. That fake mask of lies that you're hiding behind, I'll eventually unravel the real you.  So go ahead and hide, I'll count to ten. I'll give you your chance to find a great spot, but I'll come running after you. I'll search up and down, and all around looking for that beautiful smile. I'll witness things I've never seen  before. And when I've found you; the truth to your life, we can switch. I can hide, you can count. Come find me.

All That Remains of You

All that remains of you, sits in a little box on my dresser.  I don't dare open that box, because I don't want the memories, but I keep it, because I won't give up.  I keep that small box, that holds you, in my heart.  It's with me wherever I go,  knocking at the back of my head.  Every step I take leads me to a different place.  A place where you're sitting on my shoulder, guiding me around. You tell me what's right, and help me make the difficult decisions. That little box holds so much, yet is so little. That little box hold my past life, the things I used to be. That little box holds things that cam from you, look like you, feel like you; things that are you.

Drilling in Alaska

Drilling; it’s an issue we think about all the time. Covers of magazines fascinate us with National stories of “GULF OIL SPILL.” We’re reminded every time at the pump that we’re struggling with oil prices. Problems date back to 1989 when Exxon^© had a huge oil spill transporting oil back from a foreign country. Drilling from foreign countries is often a dangerous task, and many times we don’t get any profit from bringing oil over. If we were to drill in Alaska, we could remove risk factors of having as major oil spills, and have a bigger chance of gaining some money.  Even though there are many outcome possibilities, I think that drilling in Alaska is a risk we should take.

According to a chart on the DBQ document, in 2025 we are projected to consume 20 million more barrels of oil than what we supply from our own country per day. That’s not just the cost of the barrels we need to make up for, it’s the shipping, the traveling, and the oil. With the US being in debt by over 10 trillion dollars, that’s not money we can spare to spend. In Document C, we read that “It (referring to money gained from the possible drilling in Alaska) is estimated that the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge contains no more than a six month supply of oil at our current consumption rates.” Some might read this and think that it’s not worth while to drill for a possible six month supply, but I say, why not try? Six months is just an estimation, and there could possibly be way more than that in Alaska. And if there’s not, we still got six months out of oil consumption in Alaska. We get six months where we won’t have to pay for the oil from a foreign country; we get six months of a little brake from the pressures of oil.

Not only would the oil in Alaska help with money issues, it would also help use the land to its fullest potential. As of 2010, America uses 22% of all the oil in the world. Out of 25 million barrels used per day, the United States only supplies 10 million of those, only to the states. If we have another possibility to use domestic oil, why would we turn that down? The ANWR is the reason stopping us. They say that it would be a waste of time, energy, money, and it would hurt the environment. Yes, there is wildlife on the ground that is planned to drill on. Yes, there are dangers of disrupting the natural habitat. Yes, there is something we can about it. We could set up reserves away from the drilling site to keep all of the wildlife. They wouldn’t be moved far, just to a safe place.  The animals would adapt and the drilling would be part of a normal day in Alaska.

Drilling in Alaska wouldn’t only be a positive thing in the aspects of economic issues and environmental arguments, but it wouldn’t hurt our social arguments either.  So many people are worried about drilling because they think that it will hurt or affect the ones that live there. As we read in Documents E and D, the Inupiat people believe that drilling in Alaska might not be such a bad thing.  We read that they think that, even though they are native to the land, other people should get the use out of it -- which they already do. As for the people that live in Alaska and are against drilling; I feel that they should think about how they will be ultimately helping themselves, because their oil prices will go down, too.  There isn’t that many people in Alaska, so not too many people would be affected.  Overall, I think that the people of Alaska should be a little more courageous and let them drill in their home land.

The drilling crisis is a big one, and if we don’t do something about it, the whole US could be affected. If the government were to let us drill in Alaska, many – if not all – problems could be fixed.  With our prices so high and being in debt by a lot, we could find one of our solutions to the biggest problem we have faced for many years. Drilling in Alaska might have some problems but in the end of the day, we would benefit from the oil we get in Alaska.

 

Sources:

 "U.S. National Debt Clock : Real Time." U.S. National Debt Clock : Real Time. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 Mar. 2012. <http://www.usdebtclock.org/>.                                    

"Alaska Oil Drilling - GovSpot Issues." GovSpot.com: US government, state government, Congress, government jobs & more.. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 Mar. 2012. <http://www.govspot.com/issues/anwr.htm>.

"Alaska Drilling." Alaska Drilling. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 Mar. 2012. <http://alaskadrilling.org/>.

Because I Can

 Author's Note: I have recently been thinking about life. Not just why we're here and what our purpose is, but I have been thinking about how amazing this life is. I wrote this piece for two reasons. First, because I wanted to portray the feeling I have been having recently. Second, I have been trying some new techniques (word choice). Tell me what you think.

I always swing facing the same way.  I stare at the trees dancing in the wind. I stare at the sun, setting on the horizon a million miles away.  I stare at the little things in life; the birds singing, the flowers blooming, the clouds moving. The little things -- even if it's just for a second -- make up for the big

things. The things behind me.

I don't mind living in an orphanage. I don’t mind at all, but it's taking my life away. What little freedom I used to have was torn from my hands, now forcing me to follow commands and serve others. I cant make my own decisions anymore, I need the help of others to guide me to the right path; or at least that's what they say. I can't possibly be mature enough to make a decision for my own.  The only time left for me is then; when I swing.

 I swing because it makes me feel free. The wind blowing through my hair, soaring above all. I swing because I rise above my problems; leave them on the ground.  I swing because I have the power. I swing because of the memories, the new and the old. I swing because I want to; because I can.

One Step Closer

Your eyes, your hair,

The way you stare,

All brings me one step closer.

The silence, the still,

The never ending thrill,

All brings me one step closer.

Your humor – like one of a clown,

Everything’s better when you’re around,

All brings me one step closer.

Your determination to do what’s right,

Practicing late into the night,

All brings me one step closer.

Your shyness, your worries,

Your fears and your dreams,

All bring me one step closer.

One step closer to finding your heart,

One step closer to the perfect start,

One step closer to everything new,

One step closer to falling for you.