In chapters six to ten of “Ender’s Game” by Orson Scott Card, Ender Wiggin must undergo the pressure the government has placed unto him and the underestimation his peers have before he even goes off to his first battle! As shown in the first section, All children born in that time period have a device placed onto them at birth that allows to government to see what the experiment sees, called a monitor. Ender was such. Monitors allow the government to pick out competent potential recruits for the army at a young age, as even Ender is only six. Originally, Ender had his monitor removed, because he was not found to be a genius or a fighter. But once the protective rights the monitor gave him were removed, his talents were almost immediately revealed.
Early on after his monitor is removed, he injures a child his age and sends him to the hospital in self defense. The government, after hearing word of this, approach him and ask him to join the I.F. - the army. After accepting and be sent for training, he immediately stands out to his superiors. In one case, he played a video game created specifically to stimulate training for IF soldiers. In it, he was offered two choices, both of which were traps. However, instead of choosing one, he creates a third, and becomes the first to win the game.
Because of these two events, where he demonstrated his abilities to act independently, react quickly, and access information, he has stood out to the government as a whole and its individuals. It can also be implied that there is some sort of genetic contribution to his capabilities, as most families are limited to having only three children. However, his family was allowed to have a third, Ender, due to the success of the first two, Peter and Valentine.
In conclusion, Ender has the potential of a genius tactician and a master fighter, yet he is capable if cloaking it at anytime, while still processing information from his surroundings.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Garcia Girls Part 3 Blog Post
In “How the Garcia Girls lost their Accents” by Julia Alvarez is a story of four sisters, who experience a traumatizing event that forces them to move from the Dominican Republic to America. However, in the third part of the story, where all the sisters have reverted back to their child state, the nooks and crannies of the actual occurrence is revealed. Each and every part of the event has a symbolic meaning that “foreshadows” the future (which was mentioned earlier in the book).
For example, in the beginning of the part, the innocence of the girls are shown. They have yet been limited in their capabilities, by the laws of the Dominican Republic which disallowed women to do many things. As a result, the girls were never exposed to the truths and sin of the world. In conclusion, the human right removing laws of the Dominican Republic actually preserved the girls innocence.
However, as fate brings them to the Americas, the freedom that America provides overwhelms the girls, and they lose their self control. One becomes the typical teenage mother, while another falls under the classic story of the bulimic girl. The rights that American provides for the girls cannot be handled properly, and they each begin to drift away from their parents. As a result, the girls’ lives begin to fall apart from their ongoing bad choices.
In sum, the girls started off as model children. But when they move to America, their previously limited lives are now able to roam free, and they cannot handle it, and they are torn apart and ruined. The accents they lose are not part of their voice, but their innocence. Through this, it can even be stated that our experiences, in this case the freedom, benefit our knowledge but hash away at our innocence, until we reach a standpoint of maturity. As our lives progress - our knowledge increasing and experiences expanding - we lose our innocence; our carefree ability to just let things pass without making them into a huge deal.
For example, in the beginning of the part, the innocence of the girls are shown. They have yet been limited in their capabilities, by the laws of the Dominican Republic which disallowed women to do many things. As a result, the girls were never exposed to the truths and sin of the world. In conclusion, the human right removing laws of the Dominican Republic actually preserved the girls innocence.
However, as fate brings them to the Americas, the freedom that America provides overwhelms the girls, and they lose their self control. One becomes the typical teenage mother, while another falls under the classic story of the bulimic girl. The rights that American provides for the girls cannot be handled properly, and they each begin to drift away from their parents. As a result, the girls’ lives begin to fall apart from their ongoing bad choices.
In sum, the girls started off as model children. But when they move to America, their previously limited lives are now able to roam free, and they cannot handle it, and they are torn apart and ruined. The accents they lose are not part of their voice, but their innocence. Through this, it can even be stated that our experiences, in this case the freedom, benefit our knowledge but hash away at our innocence, until we reach a standpoint of maturity. As our lives progress - our knowledge increasing and experiences expanding - we lose our innocence; our carefree ability to just let things pass without making them into a huge deal.
Friday, November 12, 2010
The One
The other day, I was discussing relationships with one of my friends. He had recently started dating, but was unsure if his +1 was “the one” for him. They were obviously an odd couple, evident racially and by the fact that they barely knew each other. However, they both seem to really want to make their relationship work, ignoring jeers and insults on the side. But does this make them soulmates, or are they just going through their honeymoon period? Is she really “the one” for him? And how many girls out there are “the one”(s) for any guy?
Are two people really destined to meet? A baby is born every six seconds, and yet everything that happens in their life could have been decided at that very moment. But, hypothetically, their could be two males that are just the same in every way, and they have a soulmate that are also the same as each other. Would it be possible for their destinies to interchange if the four met?
As confusing as my previous statement was/ is, I’m awestruck by the possibilities. If our fate is determined at birth, then we never actually make any of our decisions. Furthermore, we never choose our soulmates, which is just like in medieval times, where the parents would choose the bride/ groom rather than the two themselves.
But if our fate isn’t chosen at birth, then soulmates would never exist. Our fate would not progress until we further made a decision. For example, we would not be destined to marry someone until the day of the wedding. Then “the one” will only be an ideal soulmate, and we date whoever is closest to our personal standards.
So in the end, there are two possibilities. One, we have soulmates, and our fate is determined from the very moment we are concieved, at the cost of your choices being only an illusion provided by destiny. As a result, we would not have matured martially from midieval times. On the other end of the table, destiny doesn’t exist, and people may never find the perfect person for them. There’s just no positive way to think of it...
Are two people really destined to meet? A baby is born every six seconds, and yet everything that happens in their life could have been decided at that very moment. But, hypothetically, their could be two males that are just the same in every way, and they have a soulmate that are also the same as each other. Would it be possible for their destinies to interchange if the four met?
As confusing as my previous statement was/ is, I’m awestruck by the possibilities. If our fate is determined at birth, then we never actually make any of our decisions. Furthermore, we never choose our soulmates, which is just like in medieval times, where the parents would choose the bride/ groom rather than the two themselves.
But if our fate isn’t chosen at birth, then soulmates would never exist. Our fate would not progress until we further made a decision. For example, we would not be destined to marry someone until the day of the wedding. Then “the one” will only be an ideal soulmate, and we date whoever is closest to our personal standards.
So in the end, there are two possibilities. One, we have soulmates, and our fate is determined from the very moment we are concieved, at the cost of your choices being only an illusion provided by destiny. As a result, we would not have matured martially from midieval times. On the other end of the table, destiny doesn’t exist, and people may never find the perfect person for them. There’s just no positive way to think of it...
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Garcia Girls Part 2 Blog Post
In “How the Garcia Girls Lost their Accents”, Julie Alvarez writes of the difficulties four sisters face when they move into the United States. The difference between the Dominican Republic and the United States is evidently indifferent. While in the Dominican Republic, the girls are treated unequal sexually and even just in general, the United States offers a variety of equal rights and government. In comparison to the Dominican Republic, the United States is much safer for the girls.
During their time at the Dominican Republic, especially as shown in the very first vignette, women have much more limited rights than men. In it, Yolanda, one of the sisters, returns to the Dominican Republic. When she arrives, she finds that she cannot even take a bus without a man by her side. She had become so used to American society, that she is culture shocked when she realizes her past limitations.
While she is in America, she experiences an equal lifestyle. She is exposed to the freedom of teenage life, whether this harms or helps her development as a person. For example, in America, Yolanda is able to write about whatever she wants, while her possibilities are limited while she is in the Dominican Republic. Even the mother, would rather live in the United States, where she is free to be something other than a housemaid
Obviously there is a huge difference between the Garcia Girl’s experience in the Dominican Republic than in the United States of America. For one, the Dominican Republic offers much less equality for women and America is built of the logic of equal rights. In addition, the Dominican Republic enforces limited freedom for both men and women alike, due to their political state. As a result, the family that stays in the Dominican Republic have a huge difference in opinion of human right than the ones that go to America. The two nations are evidently very different in both culture and politics.
During their time at the Dominican Republic, especially as shown in the very first vignette, women have much more limited rights than men. In it, Yolanda, one of the sisters, returns to the Dominican Republic. When she arrives, she finds that she cannot even take a bus without a man by her side. She had become so used to American society, that she is culture shocked when she realizes her past limitations.
While she is in America, she experiences an equal lifestyle. She is exposed to the freedom of teenage life, whether this harms or helps her development as a person. For example, in America, Yolanda is able to write about whatever she wants, while her possibilities are limited while she is in the Dominican Republic. Even the mother, would rather live in the United States, where she is free to be something other than a housemaid
Obviously there is a huge difference between the Garcia Girl’s experience in the Dominican Republic than in the United States of America. For one, the Dominican Republic offers much less equality for women and America is built of the logic of equal rights. In addition, the Dominican Republic enforces limited freedom for both men and women alike, due to their political state. As a result, the family that stays in the Dominican Republic have a huge difference in opinion of human right than the ones that go to America. The two nations are evidently very different in both culture and politics.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Part One Analysis
“How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents” Julia Alvarez, the author, unravels the story of four Dominican sisters who, although raised the same, turn out very different. The book is divided into three sections, with Part One being the most recent and Part Three being the least. In Part One, the author uses the plus ones of the the sisters to give background information on them. For example, the youngest girl, Sofia was raised the same as her sisters. However, she becomes the most rebellious, and ends up getting pregnant and running away. Meanwhile, Yolanda, the third sister, has always lived by his parents rules. She has always lived by their rules. However, all the sisters share something in common. They all end up spiralling down in their lives as soon as they leave the support of their father and mother.
In the case of the Sandra, the second sister, she began the purge herself as soon as she went to college. Her bulimic state gets her hospitalized to a point of being “unrecognizable”. She goes into a mental breakdown, which her family becomes ashamed of. During the sessions between her father, mother, and her therapist, her father kept much of his opinion to himself, while her mother could only sob and whine about her daughter. The mother always had a story of each girl that she would tell on the respective girls important days. But after this incident, her mother no longer told the story. She only wished to forget the past.
The oldest daughter, Carla, was the only one who has some form of success in her life. However, she is still dependent on her parents. She is the only one who wants to spend time with them. She is the only one who still bothers invite them to her events, compared to Yolanda who kept trying to hide her poetry recitals.
In general, the girls have proven to be very unsuccessful in independent living. dealing with pregnancy, nervous breakdowns, and just wanting to get away from her parents.
In the case of the Sandra, the second sister, she began the purge herself as soon as she went to college. Her bulimic state gets her hospitalized to a point of being “unrecognizable”. She goes into a mental breakdown, which her family becomes ashamed of. During the sessions between her father, mother, and her therapist, her father kept much of his opinion to himself, while her mother could only sob and whine about her daughter. The mother always had a story of each girl that she would tell on the respective girls important days. But after this incident, her mother no longer told the story. She only wished to forget the past.
The oldest daughter, Carla, was the only one who has some form of success in her life. However, she is still dependent on her parents. She is the only one who wants to spend time with them. She is the only one who still bothers invite them to her events, compared to Yolanda who kept trying to hide her poetry recitals.
In general, the girls have proven to be very unsuccessful in independent living. dealing with pregnancy, nervous breakdowns, and just wanting to get away from her parents.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Reflective Essay - First Quarter
Throughout the quarter, I feel that my writing abilities have improved. This is probably due to the freedom from the prompts, yet the requirement of consistent posting. In the past, I always had trouble following a prompt that included a rubric and word length/ limit. However, I also had difficulty with motivation to put effort into the essay. But being able to the have almost no limits to my writing, but being motivated enough to put in effort, has given me a drive that, I feel, has enhanced my writing capabilities. And throughout this class, my writing has improved by illustrating a more vivid picture to my readers (comparing Who's your Daddy? to Prologue).
In my previous English class, we were provided prompts and a rubric. In most cases this would make the essay easy to write; you just had to stay on topic and check off the requirements you meet. But in my case, I always try to stay creative in my writing. I try to splash in my own style whenever I can. In some of my earlier writing this school year, I was able to express what I felt, which gave my writing a personal feel. In one piece, I stated:
With blogs and posting, I am able to achieve the required writing needs and express my personal touch to my writing. Because blogs can be more informal, I feel more comfortable with writing what I actually think about an issue, instead of putting down what gets me the right grade. And because I am able to do so in this class, I have gotten used to the process that a rough draft just has to be what you want to say, not how you want to say it.
In comparison to my English 9 class, I have much more freedom in my writing. Last year, I was stuck trying to figure out what the teacher wanted me to figure out. But in this class, even outside of blogging, I am able to make my own analysis. And this really helps me when I am assigned to address a personal topic. For example, in my post about the ASTI Constitution, I wrote:
And even when I’m not blogging, and I’m doing a quickwrite, I feel that I improve. Due to the time restraint, I have to get my ideas down in ten minutes, giving me no time for detail. And without detail, I can easily look at my writing and find its flaws. In addition, writing quickly doesn’t give me a chance to think what information to put in or out, making looking back easier because I know exactly what I was thinking.
Another difficulty I faced in writing lies in my means of motivation. Simply put, I’m unable to write when there’s no point. Sure, my grade gets better, but academics have been long removed from my motivations for life - its more like a stepping stone now. But when I post my writing on the internet, people see it. And each comment I get, whether its positive or not, I get excited just to know that someone read my post. And that’s enough motivation for me to keep posting.Also, without motivation, I don’t have the purpose I need to write. Without my drive, my essays usually turn out weak or unpolished. However, with getting feedback much more often, I feel much more driven and inspired to write.
My writing, as with most people, is at its best when I am motivated, free, and challenged. With the prompts made with so much effort, the gray area for the topic so wide, and the feedback so often, I’m able to maintain what I need to keep my drive for writing. As a result of the constant writing, I feel my capabilities as a writer have improved too. I am now able to establish more reliable ethos, connective pathos, and thoughtful logos. Over the course of the first quarter, I have improve in my ability to illustrate an image to my audience.
In my previous English class, we were provided prompts and a rubric. In most cases this would make the essay easy to write; you just had to stay on topic and check off the requirements you meet. But in my case, I always try to stay creative in my writing. I try to splash in my own style whenever I can. In some of my earlier writing this school year, I was able to express what I felt, which gave my writing a personal feel. In one piece, I stated:
“During my earlier years as an obnoxious elementary student, I strived to make an appeal to as many people as possible, whether they are different in terms of age, thought, or sex. This was partly due to my personality, but mostly from my father’s horror stories where if you didn’t fit in, you would be left behind.”And I’m sure that college professors will allow that. Yet my previous writing teachers insisted on following their rules word for word. And I’m just not that type of person. I need prompts that are challenging enough to require thought, yet generic enough for me to bend in my style.
With blogs and posting, I am able to achieve the required writing needs and express my personal touch to my writing. Because blogs can be more informal, I feel more comfortable with writing what I actually think about an issue, instead of putting down what gets me the right grade. And because I am able to do so in this class, I have gotten used to the process that a rough draft just has to be what you want to say, not how you want to say it.
In comparison to my English 9 class, I have much more freedom in my writing. Last year, I was stuck trying to figure out what the teacher wanted me to figure out. But in this class, even outside of blogging, I am able to make my own analysis. And this really helps me when I am assigned to address a personal topic. For example, in my post about the ASTI Constitution, I wrote:
“Whether an insult is just playful, or intentional, they will always hurt. Yet most have given up and just decided to play along. And when the time came to write up the ASTI constitution, the majority didn't want to give up the joking insults that were tossed around day after day. The student body wasn't dedicated to the constitution. With the guidelines just made to impress the staff, the students simply thought of it as a homework assignment rather than a set of rules.”As I was part of making the constitution, I am also responsible for this, and I knew it. But because I feel safe and free in the environment the blogs have provided, I was able to state it, risking any consequences. Writing is a very formal task for me. Everything I have ever written had a formal tone to it. And I have always separated professionalism from personalization. Yet when I post, I feel free the write what I actually think. and that is my style of writing.
And even when I’m not blogging, and I’m doing a quickwrite, I feel that I improve. Due to the time restraint, I have to get my ideas down in ten minutes, giving me no time for detail. And without detail, I can easily look at my writing and find its flaws. In addition, writing quickly doesn’t give me a chance to think what information to put in or out, making looking back easier because I know exactly what I was thinking.
Another difficulty I faced in writing lies in my means of motivation. Simply put, I’m unable to write when there’s no point. Sure, my grade gets better, but academics have been long removed from my motivations for life - its more like a stepping stone now. But when I post my writing on the internet, people see it. And each comment I get, whether its positive or not, I get excited just to know that someone read my post. And that’s enough motivation for me to keep posting.Also, without motivation, I don’t have the purpose I need to write. Without my drive, my essays usually turn out weak or unpolished. However, with getting feedback much more often, I feel much more driven and inspired to write.
My writing, as with most people, is at its best when I am motivated, free, and challenged. With the prompts made with so much effort, the gray area for the topic so wide, and the feedback so often, I’m able to maintain what I need to keep my drive for writing. As a result of the constant writing, I feel my capabilities as a writer have improved too. I am now able to establish more reliable ethos, connective pathos, and thoughtful logos. Over the course of the first quarter, I have improve in my ability to illustrate an image to my audience.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Night Analitical Essay: Elie and his Father
In Elie Wiesel’s “Night”, he explains his horrific experiences as a holocaust survivor. He endures many hardships, like losing his mother and sister forever. However, if it were not for his father’s confidence and support during these times, Elie may have not survived this dark chapter of history. Every time Elie feels he has nothing left to live for, his father encourages him to keep moving forward, in hope of a brighter future. In response, Elie never succumbs to the animosity that other sons and fathers endure, killing each other in the process. Elie and his father constantly keep each other in check, both helping each other survive and suppressing them from killing each other to do so.
Both Elie and his father strive for not only their own survival, but also each others. Even before Wiesel faces the full might of the German concentration camps, he already knew he needed his father. When the two of them first arrive at Birkenau, the assembly is forced to small groups. He states, “My hand shifted on my fathers arm. I had one thought - not to lose him. Not to be left alone. The SS officer gave the order: ‘Form Fives’. Commotion. At all cost we must keep together” (Night 27). Even when he is midway through his teenage years, Elie still has a very close relationship to his father. This relationship, shared by father and son, is further shone as the two confide in each other and do near anything for the other’s survival. Elie and his father’s close friendship keeps the both of them and their morals alive.
As the story progresses, the officers become more harsh as the battlefront moves closer to the camp. The rationing of food drops to less than a piece of bread. And they begin to enjoy the suffering of the prisoners. In one scene, Elie witnesses a son killing his own father for a ration of bread. According to the book, “With remark in his eyes, [the father] drew [the bread] out and put it in his mouth. His eyes gleamed; a smile, like a grimace, lit up his dead face. And was immediately extinguished. A shadow had just loomed up near him. The shadow threw itself upon him. Felled to the ground, stunned with blows, the old man cried: ‘Meir. Meir, my boy! Don’t you recognize me? I’m your father...you’re hurting me...you’re killing your father! I’ve got some bread...for you too...for you too...” (Night 96). Here, he witnesses a situation not too different from his own: son and father; starving; desperate. However, Wiesel is much closer to his father than Meir. He does not fall to the temptations, putting him at risk of his own survival, yet he willingly does so.
When Elie is faced with a similar situation - his father ill with dysentery and no longer being rationed; with no hope for survival - Elie still gives up his daily rations to take care of his father. He states, “For a ration of bread, I managed to change beds with a prisoner in my father’s bunk” (Night 103). Elie is willing to give up a ration of bread just to change beds with a block-mate that bunks with his father. Here not only is he giving up his survival for his father; he is also risking his is own life getting closer to his father’s disease. And even when he is questioned for his generous acts and he feels slightly in question, he immediately feels guilty. In his conversation with his superior, it states, “Listen to my, boy...Here, every man has to fight for himself and not think of anyone else. Even of his father. Here, there are no fathers, no brothers, no friends. Everyone lives and dies for himself alone. I’ll give you a sound piece of advice - don’t give your ration of bread and soup to your old father. There’s nothing you can do for him. And you’re killing yourself. Instead, you ought to be having his ration.’ I listened to him without interrupting. He was right...but I dare not admit it...Only a fraction of a second, but I felt guilty” (Night 105). His superior questions why he would give his own life to a man who would die with or without the sacrifice. He states that Elie should take advantage of the situation and reap his fathers rations and clothes. And even though Elie immediately dismisses the idea, the split second that he thought about it made him feel guilty. Unlike Meir, Elie is completely unwilling to sacrifice his father for even the smallest gain.
Elie’s powerful relationship with his father allows him to not only survive, but to survive with the same humanity he had when he first entered Auschwitz. Elie depends on his father for motivation and support when he feels he is in a hopeless situation, and his father is protected by Elie’s unwavering morality. Both of them have something the other needs, and respectfully, the help each other survive with it. “Night” reflects the importance of a strong friendship, or any other type of relationship.
Both Elie and his father strive for not only their own survival, but also each others. Even before Wiesel faces the full might of the German concentration camps, he already knew he needed his father. When the two of them first arrive at Birkenau, the assembly is forced to small groups. He states, “My hand shifted on my fathers arm. I had one thought - not to lose him. Not to be left alone. The SS officer gave the order: ‘Form Fives’. Commotion. At all cost we must keep together” (Night 27). Even when he is midway through his teenage years, Elie still has a very close relationship to his father. This relationship, shared by father and son, is further shone as the two confide in each other and do near anything for the other’s survival. Elie and his father’s close friendship keeps the both of them and their morals alive.
As the story progresses, the officers become more harsh as the battlefront moves closer to the camp. The rationing of food drops to less than a piece of bread. And they begin to enjoy the suffering of the prisoners. In one scene, Elie witnesses a son killing his own father for a ration of bread. According to the book, “With remark in his eyes, [the father] drew [the bread] out and put it in his mouth. His eyes gleamed; a smile, like a grimace, lit up his dead face. And was immediately extinguished. A shadow had just loomed up near him. The shadow threw itself upon him. Felled to the ground, stunned with blows, the old man cried: ‘Meir. Meir, my boy! Don’t you recognize me? I’m your father...you’re hurting me...you’re killing your father! I’ve got some bread...for you too...for you too...” (Night 96). Here, he witnesses a situation not too different from his own: son and father; starving; desperate. However, Wiesel is much closer to his father than Meir. He does not fall to the temptations, putting him at risk of his own survival, yet he willingly does so.
When Elie is faced with a similar situation - his father ill with dysentery and no longer being rationed; with no hope for survival - Elie still gives up his daily rations to take care of his father. He states, “For a ration of bread, I managed to change beds with a prisoner in my father’s bunk” (Night 103). Elie is willing to give up a ration of bread just to change beds with a block-mate that bunks with his father. Here not only is he giving up his survival for his father; he is also risking his is own life getting closer to his father’s disease. And even when he is questioned for his generous acts and he feels slightly in question, he immediately feels guilty. In his conversation with his superior, it states, “Listen to my, boy...Here, every man has to fight for himself and not think of anyone else. Even of his father. Here, there are no fathers, no brothers, no friends. Everyone lives and dies for himself alone. I’ll give you a sound piece of advice - don’t give your ration of bread and soup to your old father. There’s nothing you can do for him. And you’re killing yourself. Instead, you ought to be having his ration.’ I listened to him without interrupting. He was right...but I dare not admit it...Only a fraction of a second, but I felt guilty” (Night 105). His superior questions why he would give his own life to a man who would die with or without the sacrifice. He states that Elie should take advantage of the situation and reap his fathers rations and clothes. And even though Elie immediately dismisses the idea, the split second that he thought about it made him feel guilty. Unlike Meir, Elie is completely unwilling to sacrifice his father for even the smallest gain.
Elie’s powerful relationship with his father allows him to not only survive, but to survive with the same humanity he had when he first entered Auschwitz. Elie depends on his father for motivation and support when he feels he is in a hopeless situation, and his father is protected by Elie’s unwavering morality. Both of them have something the other needs, and respectfully, the help each other survive with it. “Night” reflects the importance of a strong friendship, or any other type of relationship.
Friday, October 8, 2010
For most, water is a mere basic area of liquid. It is a substance found in almost all other drinks, making it one of the lowest member of the thirst pyramid. However, in the world, there holds a bottle of water so amazing that I have traded my traditional "after school vanilla coke" for just a few sips per week; of its refreshing ice cold taste that I even beg for more.
This water cannot be found in packages like Arrowhead or Smart Water. It cannot be found anywhere except one location. It is housed by a metallic bottle that keeps the cold from escaping. It is accompanied by a block of ice that thaws as you drink it. The cold layer of water that forms around the metallic container chills your hand as you hold it.
But just where can this amazing water be found? Why; the only location that could suit such an amazing taste: Leon's Water Bottle. Everyday, I'll take a small dixie cup for just a sip of it, and I'll trade him a Coke at the end of the week.
At this point, one must be thinking, "Why? Why would someone trade a bottle of soda for a sip of water? It makes no sense." Words cannot describe the errors of this statement, just as words cannot describe the taste of this water.
And so, I can only conclude that this water - this stream straight down from heaven - has given me a new light on water. The simple chemical compound that once bore no taste to me had enlightened me of its delightful taste; its amazing temperature; and its texture. The odorless liquid now possessed an aroma like no other. One that could satisfy a thirst under any circumstances. Whether one was too cold, or too hot, or too hungry, or too full, it was a great compliment to any other taste in competition. And to think that so much - the taste, the texture, and the temperature - could all be put into one small metal container.
This water cannot be found in packages like Arrowhead or Smart Water. It cannot be found anywhere except one location. It is housed by a metallic bottle that keeps the cold from escaping. It is accompanied by a block of ice that thaws as you drink it. The cold layer of water that forms around the metallic container chills your hand as you hold it.
But just where can this amazing water be found? Why; the only location that could suit such an amazing taste: Leon's Water Bottle. Everyday, I'll take a small dixie cup for just a sip of it, and I'll trade him a Coke at the end of the week.
At this point, one must be thinking, "Why? Why would someone trade a bottle of soda for a sip of water? It makes no sense." Words cannot describe the errors of this statement, just as words cannot describe the taste of this water.
And so, I can only conclude that this water - this stream straight down from heaven - has given me a new light on water. The simple chemical compound that once bore no taste to me had enlightened me of its delightful taste; its amazing temperature; and its texture. The odorless liquid now possessed an aroma like no other. One that could satisfy a thirst under any circumstances. Whether one was too cold, or too hot, or too hungry, or too full, it was a great compliment to any other taste in competition. And to think that so much - the taste, the texture, and the temperature - could all be put into one small metal container.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Chapter ??? Edit
A mere work in progress for one of the chapters in the future. In this one, the main character describes his newfound relationship with a colleague and its effect on the relationship between him and John. This chapter is not done and I am just posting it for responses on detail improvement.
Since the previous chapters haven't been posted yet, the main premise is, years after the death of John's mother, his father falls in love again, but John isn't too keen on her.
These stories are not to make fun of John Hamilton, a student at my school. Although the purpose of this blog's title was to, this story isn't. The name John is used simply because that's the name on the blog. Any usages of names of my fellow classmates in the future may be.
I never thought I'd fall in love again. But there was something different about her. Maybe it was the way she waltzed by my marble-slated cubicle during lunch. Or maybe it was her whole-hearted, off-white smile.
I figured John already knew. I had started coming home late; I even talked to her in front of him. But he wasn't always the brightest kid. I remember in the days after his mother died, he stopped walking, as if he never knew how to. He would keep crawling across the wooden tiled hallway, as if she was waiting for him on the other side. For the next week, he didn't want to go out of the apartment, play with his toys, or even watch his favorite T.V. channel: PBS Sprout. And he never seemed to catch my message, probably since he was too busy playing with Pedro, her son.
It was as if they knew each other their whole lives; even though to her and I, they seemed as opposite as night and day. Pedro grew his hair similar to his mother's: down to his shoulders, with a neat trim in the front. Sometimes it seemed even longer when he sat next to John, whose head was reminiscent of a brand new Chia Pet. And aside from just physical appearance, John had grown to be more of a slop.
After Pedro left, his room was a mess! His toys poured all over his floor; The game controller lie on his overworked bed. And his clothes lay on the ground like serviced soldiers after a civil war. The room was reminiscent of a battlefield, soldiers laying over the floor, the terrain completely ruined.
Since the previous chapters haven't been posted yet, the main premise is, years after the death of John's mother, his father falls in love again, but John isn't too keen on her.
These stories are not to make fun of John Hamilton, a student at my school. Although the purpose of this blog's title was to, this story isn't. The name John is used simply because that's the name on the blog. Any usages of names of my fellow classmates in the future may be.
I never thought I'd fall in love again. But there was something different about her. Maybe it was the way she waltzed by my marble-slated cubicle during lunch. Or maybe it was her whole-hearted, off-white smile.
I figured John already knew. I had started coming home late; I even talked to her in front of him. But he wasn't always the brightest kid. I remember in the days after his mother died, he stopped walking, as if he never knew how to. He would keep crawling across the wooden tiled hallway, as if she was waiting for him on the other side. For the next week, he didn't want to go out of the apartment, play with his toys, or even watch his favorite T.V. channel: PBS Sprout. And he never seemed to catch my message, probably since he was too busy playing with Pedro, her son.
It was as if they knew each other their whole lives; even though to her and I, they seemed as opposite as night and day. Pedro grew his hair similar to his mother's: down to his shoulders, with a neat trim in the front. Sometimes it seemed even longer when he sat next to John, whose head was reminiscent of a brand new Chia Pet. And aside from just physical appearance, John had grown to be more of a slop.
After Pedro left, his room was a mess! His toys poured all over his floor; The game controller lie on his overworked bed. And his clothes lay on the ground like serviced soldiers after a civil war. The room was reminiscent of a battlefield, soldiers laying over the floor, the terrain completely ruined.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Qfwfq Entry
The story of Qfwfq, as portrayed in "The Aquatic Uncle", by Italo Calvino, tells of an amphibian who falls in love with a reptile, Lll. Yet, when she meats his great-uncle N'ba N'ga, she falls in love with him. However, this is merely due to Lll's unfaithfulness, but Qfwfq's selfish behavior, also contributed to his social demise. It is his unwillingness to change and hypocrisy that eventually leads to his destiny.
When Qfwfq first introduces his uncle N'ba N'ga, he notes him as stubborn and cruel to his word. He states, "It just wasn't possible to make him accept a reality different from his own" (73). The uncle just didn't seem to be able to understand the advantages of living on land rather than water. However, Qfwfq's hypocritical gestures in the future show that he isn't an amphibian of his word.
Later, Qfwfq allows his fiance, Lll, and his great-uncle to meet. She is enlightened on the advantages of living on water, which ironically, Qfwfq doesn't want to hear. And further into the story, Lll too has chosen water over land, but he does not allow it. In response, Qfwfq uses a large number of insults to the idea. He sarcastically states, "That's a big step forward" (80); "Why you're crazy! Nobody can turn back!" (81); and even "Stop repeating that old fool's nonsense" (81). As a result of these non-scientific comments, she leaves with a simple good-bye. In the beginning of the story, he stated how stubborn his uncle was, yet when the tables turn, Qfwfq does exactly that.
The narrarating Qfwfq, an older incarnation, always starts his stories alone and he ends alone. This is due to his inability to act unselfishly. This has brought him into multiple misadventures, with the Aquatic Uncle being only one of his tragedies. His own personal quarrels have affected him externally, specifically socially. His hypocrisy has provided many obstacles that he chooses to avoid rather than face. His stubbornness has led to him being alone to begin with, and ending up alone at the end of the story.
When Qfwfq first introduces his uncle N'ba N'ga, he notes him as stubborn and cruel to his word. He states, "It just wasn't possible to make him accept a reality different from his own" (73). The uncle just didn't seem to be able to understand the advantages of living on land rather than water. However, Qfwfq's hypocritical gestures in the future show that he isn't an amphibian of his word.
Later, Qfwfq allows his fiance, Lll, and his great-uncle to meet. She is enlightened on the advantages of living on water, which ironically, Qfwfq doesn't want to hear. And further into the story, Lll too has chosen water over land, but he does not allow it. In response, Qfwfq uses a large number of insults to the idea. He sarcastically states, "That's a big step forward" (80); "Why you're crazy! Nobody can turn back!" (81); and even "Stop repeating that old fool's nonsense" (81). As a result of these non-scientific comments, she leaves with a simple good-bye. In the beginning of the story, he stated how stubborn his uncle was, yet when the tables turn, Qfwfq does exactly that.
The narrarating Qfwfq, an older incarnation, always starts his stories alone and he ends alone. This is due to his inability to act unselfishly. This has brought him into multiple misadventures, with the Aquatic Uncle being only one of his tragedies. His own personal quarrels have affected him externally, specifically socially. His hypocrisy has provided many obstacles that he chooses to avoid rather than face. His stubbornness has led to him being alone to begin with, and ending up alone at the end of the story.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Chapter ??? WIP
A mere work in progress for one of the chapters in the future. In this one, the main character describes his newfound relationship with a colleague and its effect on the relationship between him and John. This chapter is not done and I am just posting it for responses on detail improvement.
Since the previous chapters haven't been posted yet, the main premise is, years after the death of John's mother, his father falls in love again, but John isn't too keen on her.
These stories are not to make fun of John Hamilton, a student at my school. Although the purpose of this blog's title was to, this story isn't. The name John is used simply because that's the name on the blog. Any usages of names of my fellow classmates in the future may be.
I never thought I'd fall in love again. But there was something different about her. Maybe it was the way she waltzed by my marble-slated cubicle during lunch. Or maybe it was her whole-hearted, off-white smile.
I figured John already knew. I had started coming home late; I even talked to her in front of him. But he wasn't always the brightest kid. I remember in the days after his mother died, he stopped walking, as if he never knew how to. He would keep crawling across the wooden tiled hallway, as if she was waiting for him on the other side. For the next week, he didn't want to go out of the apartment, play with his toys, or even watch his favorite T.V. show: Dragon Tails. And he never seemed to catch my message, probably since he was too busy playing with Pedro, her son.
It was as if they knew each other their whole lives; even though to her and I, they seemed as opposite as night and day. Pedro grew his hair similar to his mother's: down to his shoulders, with a neat trim in the front. Sometimes it seemed even longer when he sat next to John, whose head was reminiscent of a brand new Chia Pet. And aside from just physical appearance, John had grown to be more of an attention hog...
Since the previous chapters haven't been posted yet, the main premise is, years after the death of John's mother, his father falls in love again, but John isn't too keen on her.
These stories are not to make fun of John Hamilton, a student at my school. Although the purpose of this blog's title was to, this story isn't. The name John is used simply because that's the name on the blog. Any usages of names of my fellow classmates in the future may be.
I never thought I'd fall in love again. But there was something different about her. Maybe it was the way she waltzed by my marble-slated cubicle during lunch. Or maybe it was her whole-hearted, off-white smile.
I figured John already knew. I had started coming home late; I even talked to her in front of him. But he wasn't always the brightest kid. I remember in the days after his mother died, he stopped walking, as if he never knew how to. He would keep crawling across the wooden tiled hallway, as if she was waiting for him on the other side. For the next week, he didn't want to go out of the apartment, play with his toys, or even watch his favorite T.V. show: Dragon Tails. And he never seemed to catch my message, probably since he was too busy playing with Pedro, her son.
It was as if they knew each other their whole lives; even though to her and I, they seemed as opposite as night and day. Pedro grew his hair similar to his mother's: down to his shoulders, with a neat trim in the front. Sometimes it seemed even longer when he sat next to John, whose head was reminiscent of a brand new Chia Pet. And aside from just physical appearance, John had grown to be more of an attention hog...
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Prologue
John just couldn’t put on a smile today. But who could blame him. A funeral is no place to be happy, especially when you’re the husband or son. There she lay, her face at peace; an expression completely different to mine. It all felt so unreal, like a dream, or more of a nightmare. And as the service ended, people began to clear out, except for John and I. We couldn’t move; our feet were entangled by the roots of our grief. After we paid our final respects to her, and she was whisked away by the staff, we were released from our trance, and grimly walked to the civic; one hand holding the keys; the other holding the boy’s.
As we rode home in the old, scratched car, I noticed tears rolling down John’s face. A sniffle came out, followed by a few moans. I was amazed that a mere three-year old boy understood the situation so well. And as the clock neared seven, his eyes began to droop, as if his eyelids became too heavy for him to hold up.
That night, I held him securely beside me on my double king size bed, which felt half empty that evening. But before the night turned to day, he awoke, and recurred to his wailing state. His feet began to shuffle, as if he were learning to walk on air. And I, not sure what to do, brought him to the kitchen, where I pulled out a bottle of breast milk, his last gift from his mother.
Afterwards, he resumed to his deep sleep, tucked into the boundaries of my arms. But I remained unable to sleep. Not insomnia or restlessness, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her: from the day I met her to this very night, where all she left me with was a child. And at that, my eyes closed, my fist unclenched itself, and I too, feel asleep with my dear son, all that was left of my everlong companion.
As we rode home in the old, scratched car, I noticed tears rolling down John’s face. A sniffle came out, followed by a few moans. I was amazed that a mere three-year old boy understood the situation so well. And as the clock neared seven, his eyes began to droop, as if his eyelids became too heavy for him to hold up.
That night, I held him securely beside me on my double king size bed, which felt half empty that evening. But before the night turned to day, he awoke, and recurred to his wailing state. His feet began to shuffle, as if he were learning to walk on air. And I, not sure what to do, brought him to the kitchen, where I pulled out a bottle of breast milk, his last gift from his mother.
Afterwards, he resumed to his deep sleep, tucked into the boundaries of my arms. But I remained unable to sleep. Not insomnia or restlessness, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her: from the day I met her to this very night, where all she left me with was a child. And at that, my eyes closed, my fist unclenched itself, and I too, feel asleep with my dear son, all that was left of my everlong companion.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Abortion Rebuttal
Abortion; artificial, but effective; possibly immoral, yet efficient; is an issue that goes beyond these issues. Whether abortion truly is immoral or unnatural, the matter of the fact is that there will be people who try to get rid of their child with or without a legal abortion. They will try unlicensed abortions or even intentional miscarriages to get rid of it. And that is the issue politicians fight over: not legalizing abortions because their immoral, but to keep Americans from making life threatening decisions.
According to a 2009 survey, “millions of…women who become pregnant die from unlicensed a
bortion risk [such as lack of proper materials, or even unsafe recovery procedures]”. People will try to get rid of their baby whether abortions are legal or not. The risk of illegalizing abortions could be worth millions of lives.
Furthermore, if a baby were brought onto into the world by an unintended pregnancy followed by an unwillingness to receive an abortion will lead to an unwanted child. In most cases, that child will be abandoned; at best, they will be raised without a traditional family life, either with single parents or even only living with one. Whether the ideal is "moral" or "immoral", it is not only the choice of the mother, but this statement is also an opinion. The other side has even stated
Another reason that most fight against an abortion lays in the possible pain the baby deals with. However, keep in mind that abortion usually only occur within the first three months. At that point in time, the baby is barely developing. In addition the pregnancy terminates instantly, so it is impossible for the baby to feel pain.
In conclusion, illegal abortions will not stop people from having them, but will protect lives.
According to a 2009 survey, “millions of…women who become pregnant die from unlicensed a
bortion risk [such as lack of proper materials, or even unsafe recovery procedures]”. People will try to get rid of their baby whether abortions are legal or not. The risk of illegalizing abortions could be worth millions of lives.
Furthermore, if a baby were brought onto into the world by an unintended pregnancy followed by an unwillingness to receive an abortion will lead to an unwanted child. In most cases, that child will be abandoned; at best, they will be raised without a traditional family life, either with single parents or even only living with one. Whether the ideal is "moral" or "immoral", it is not only the choice of the mother, but this statement is also an opinion. The other side has even stated
"Yes, it is the choice and opinion of the mother to receive an abortion. She should choose whether an abortion would be legal or illegal."
Another reason that most fight against an abortion lays in the possible pain the baby deals with. However, keep in mind that abortion usually only occur within the first three months. At that point in time, the baby is barely developing. In addition the pregnancy terminates instantly, so it is impossible for the baby to feel pain.
In conclusion, illegal abortions will not stop people from having them, but will protect lives.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Reflection Over Reflection
Relation to the ASTI Constitution
Within the ASTI Constitution, a set of guidelines that the student body to overwhelm the bullying on campus, we have made rules we have yet to follow.We have become accustom to the joy and pride of being able to put someone else down. This can be completely illustrated by a quote from Max Rohde's Blog:
Without the right attitude when constitution was made, it cannot be seen as an accurate view of the students, whether a view the students wanted the staff to percieve. So it only acts as a smokescreen where teachers beleive we are angels while behind the scenes, bullies can uninterruptedly insult others; to a point where the insults have no longer become stunning to hear and are mere thrown back at the bully, making everyone a bully. The constitution, with all intentions, was originally made to prevent what it has created, a society of tossing insults and accepted bullies.
Within the ASTI Constitution, a set of guidelines that the student body to overwhelm the bullying on campus, we have made rules we have yet to follow.We have become accustom to the joy and pride of being able to put someone else down. This can be completely illustrated by a quote from Max Rohde's Blog:
The feeling of getting teased is pretty bad, though what I believe is worse, is making someone else feel bad. To actually say something that hurts someone else, even if playful, is cruel and demeaning. The way our society is modeled into making fun of our friends(playful or not) is irresponsible, and quite frankly, wrong.Whether an insult is just playful, or intentional, they will always hurt. Yet most have given up and just decided to play along. And when the time came to write up the ASTI constitution, the majority didn't want to give up the joking insults that were tossed around day after day. The student body wasn't dedicated to the constitution. With the guidelines just made to impress the staff, the students simply thought of it as a homework assignment rather than a set of rules.
Without the right attitude when constitution was made, it cannot be seen as an accurate view of the students, whether a view the students wanted the staff to percieve. So it only acts as a smokescreen where teachers beleive we are angels while behind the scenes, bullies can uninterruptedly insult others; to a point where the insults have no longer become stunning to hear and are mere thrown back at the bully, making everyone a bully. The constitution, with all intentions, was originally made to prevent what it has created, a society of tossing insults and accepted bullies.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Who's your daddy
As I waltzed off to lunch today with my regular group, I was shocked at the attitude of some of our fellow ASTians. A war of insults went back and forth between John and Keiland, occassionally from Pedro, and it was as if they only knew one word: son.
Using their artsy skills, they slid the joke into far more than just son. Ranging from, "Sorry, but your going to bed at 7:00 tonight, son" to, " I'll get a number five, and a happy meal for my son here", the insults were endless. And these jokes didn't just happen, today, they happen everyday.
They're completely disrespecting each other, and more importantly, they're disrespecting ME. Isn't that right my sons?
Using their artsy skills, they slid the joke into far more than just son. Ranging from, "Sorry, but your going to bed at 7:00 tonight, son" to, " I'll get a number five, and a happy meal for my son here", the insults were endless. And these jokes didn't just happen, today, they happen everyday.
They're completely disrespecting each other, and more importantly, they're disrespecting ME. Isn't that right my sons?
This burn was in dedication to
John Hamilton, Keiland, and Pedro (A.K.A. my sons)
Thursday, August 19, 2010
‘Just kidding’ and ‘Ganging Up’ from Odd Girl Out by Rachel Simons
Rachel Simons writes about how building alliances not only bring you up, but also tear you down. To her, this method of supporting oneself, or “ganging up”, remains effective only when conflict is outside the group. But when it hits the internal atmosphere of the alliance, people will separate from one another, and the relationship will be lost. Ganging up is only temporary and when problem strikes within it, the alliance is gone.
During my earlier years as an obnoxious elementary student, I strived to make an appeal to as many people as possible, whether they are different in terms of age, thought, or sex. This was partly due to my personality, but mostly from my father’s horror stories where if you didn’t fit in, you would be left behind.
But as I strived to make so many friends, I lost a chance to allow the relationships to grow between me and my peers. And by the time I learned that a friendship is more than just fitting in but growing together as well. As a result, when Junior High hit my generation, I was tossed aside for better and more interesting friends. I felt the very pain I strived so hard to run away from. A newly realized outcast, I became the target of insults and bullying alike.
Feeling rejected, I looked for friendship among the mentally ill, the obese, and the weak; people just like me, except with a legitimate reason for being an outcast. Yet surprisingly, these are some of the most interesting people you will find. Their lifestyles gave them a reason to be generous and caring to others. They were zealous in every shape and form. And though at first I tried to convince myself I wasn’t one of them, when I looked into myself, I discovered no reason why not. And at that, I wondered, why is it that the loners, the outcast, and the ‘picked on’ were the nicest?
In our society, the arrogant and ignorant have become the desired – the goal. Those who are genuinely nice and interesting have become the weak. They have become the target of insults and bullying because they are too genuine and too nice to fight back in any way. And when it comes time to pick a side, most people choose the confident, funny, bully, instead of the student who is too nice to even say anything back. This is our society; where only the liars, cheaters, and bullies survive.
This pattern continues to this very day. But no one stops it, and no one ever tries. Who would? So why would anyone sacrifice their status to protect the outcast? Since anyone who even thinks of doing so, is already one of them.
During my earlier years as an obnoxious elementary student, I strived to make an appeal to as many people as possible, whether they are different in terms of age, thought, or sex. This was partly due to my personality, but mostly from my father’s horror stories where if you didn’t fit in, you would be left behind.
But as I strived to make so many friends, I lost a chance to allow the relationships to grow between me and my peers. And by the time I learned that a friendship is more than just fitting in but growing together as well. As a result, when Junior High hit my generation, I was tossed aside for better and more interesting friends. I felt the very pain I strived so hard to run away from. A newly realized outcast, I became the target of insults and bullying alike.
Feeling rejected, I looked for friendship among the mentally ill, the obese, and the weak; people just like me, except with a legitimate reason for being an outcast. Yet surprisingly, these are some of the most interesting people you will find. Their lifestyles gave them a reason to be generous and caring to others. They were zealous in every shape and form. And though at first I tried to convince myself I wasn’t one of them, when I looked into myself, I discovered no reason why not. And at that, I wondered, why is it that the loners, the outcast, and the ‘picked on’ were the nicest?
In our society, the arrogant and ignorant have become the desired – the goal. Those who are genuinely nice and interesting have become the weak. They have become the target of insults and bullying because they are too genuine and too nice to fight back in any way. And when it comes time to pick a side, most people choose the confident, funny, bully, instead of the student who is too nice to even say anything back. This is our society; where only the liars, cheaters, and bullies survive.
This pattern continues to this very day. But no one stops it, and no one ever tries. Who would? So why would anyone sacrifice their status to protect the outcast? Since anyone who even thinks of doing so, is already one of them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)