Assignment:
Print out and read Thoreau's essay "Walking" and Stegners essay "Wilderness" (in letter format).
Write an essay comparing and contrasting, with paraphrasing, the two works using quotes from each work. In addition, include a Works Cited page, providing correctly formatted attribution to your sources.
Bring pre-writing or essay draft on Tuesday.
Exercise:
10 most common logical fallacies
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Cardiac Obliteration - Introductions
In 1984, he crossed the United States. At least 10 young women were abducted and raped. He murdered seven. This is her story. (sensational detail)
April was cold that year and the day was overcast, cooling the silver light to shadow even before its rays fell upon the ground. The desert, normally alive in the warm spring air, was still and somber. A world waiting, it seemed, for her next breath. (setting)
You spend years teaching your children how to be safe. They listen and they learn, you hope. “Look both ways before you cross the street.“ “Don’t put your hand on a bare burner.” “Don’t talk to strangers.” Everyday maxims of common sense, lived by rote each day until, one day, they are forgotten. Safety is pushed aside, and danger takes their hand. (narration)
April was cold that year and the day was overcast, cooling the silver light to shadow even before its rays fell upon the ground. The desert, normally alive in the warm spring air, was still and somber. A world waiting, it seemed, for her next breath. (setting)
You spend years teaching your children how to be safe. They listen and they learn, you hope. “Look both ways before you cross the street.“ “Don’t put your hand on a bare burner.” “Don’t talk to strangers.” Everyday maxims of common sense, lived by rote each day until, one day, they are forgotten. Safety is pushed aside, and danger takes their hand. (narration)
Thursday, February 12, 2009
INTRODUCTIONS
Here are my three introductions. I don't know what one I like the best! I know we will be reviewing these in class but here they are!
1. When Jessica was younger, the summer months were her favorite. She would lie in the green grass and make the clouds look like silly shapes with her imagination. She would race her brothers on the hot cement. If she ever tripped and fell, her daddy was always there to pick her up and kiss her skinned knee. That would make everything better. (anecdote)
2. "Don’t cry honey, it’s just a skinned knee,” her father said softly as he scooped her up off the pavement. His strong arms carried her small body inside the house and set her by the couch. The tears still streamed down her cheeks. As his lips met her knee suddenly the crying stopped. All the pain she felt was gone. Her daddy could fix anything. (Quotes)
3. Why is the pavement so hard? Jessica was crying hysterically. Her knee was skinned, a very minor injury. But Jessica was 6 years old. That magnified the pain and severity of her injury. Help was on the way. Her father had come to the rescue. Softly pressing his lips against her knee he asked her if it felt better. She nodded yes. (Question)
4. When people skin their knees, antiseptic and a bandaid is usually needed . The antiseptic is needed to clean out germs and bacteria from the wound. The bandaid is needed to keep germs and bacteria from entering the wound. But when little Jessica skins her knee all she needs is a kiss from her daddy to make it all better. (funnel)
1. When Jessica was younger, the summer months were her favorite. She would lie in the green grass and make the clouds look like silly shapes with her imagination. She would race her brothers on the hot cement. If she ever tripped and fell, her daddy was always there to pick her up and kiss her skinned knee. That would make everything better. (anecdote)
2. "Don’t cry honey, it’s just a skinned knee,” her father said softly as he scooped her up off the pavement. His strong arms carried her small body inside the house and set her by the couch. The tears still streamed down her cheeks. As his lips met her knee suddenly the crying stopped. All the pain she felt was gone. Her daddy could fix anything. (Quotes)
3. Why is the pavement so hard? Jessica was crying hysterically. Her knee was skinned, a very minor injury. But Jessica was 6 years old. That magnified the pain and severity of her injury. Help was on the way. Her father had come to the rescue. Softly pressing his lips against her knee he asked her if it felt better. She nodded yes. (Question)
4. When people skin their knees, antiseptic and a bandaid is usually needed . The antiseptic is needed to clean out germs and bacteria from the wound. The bandaid is needed to keep germs and bacteria from entering the wound. But when little Jessica skins her knee all she needs is a kiss from her daddy to make it all better. (funnel)
To Turn In On Tuesday 3/17
2 copies or your essay draft; 2 copies of your e-tutor report; 2 copies of your completed essay; 3 (identified) introductions to your essay; 2 copies of your essay with each sentence labeled (Simple, Compound, Complex, Compound/Complex).
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
the performance
The performance:
He was just sitting there knowing it was coming, thoughts running through his mind of what he was going to do for a whole minute, he hardly even notices as the teacher asks him from a chair away if he is ready to go. As people turn to listen to his answer looking to embarrassed him as he gives a whimpery reply Yeah sure... He rises from the chair slowly wishing it was over and he was returning to his seat. Pulling his instrument out he moves forward slowly the whole world is resting on his shoulders and he is showing it. He tries all of the crap they tell you to calm you down, the deep breaths, the picture of everyone in their underwear he stops for a second when this idea takes shape in his minds eye. Looking around at a picture of everyone in their underwear isn't exactly appealing to him. He feels what was left of the blood in his face drain to his feet. He feels an imaginary kiss of heat as he sits in the "hot seat" Thinking of a way to forestall what he knows he must do he rises with pain in his eyes
"Right I forgot to say my stuff... he starts.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." the teacher says in his most reassuring tone. "I'll do it anyways." he says in response he knows what he wants to say but the works won't seem to come out.
"Okay what im going to be playing using the force of his will he gets the final words out.
Is a bunch of stuff that just sort of goes together and hopefully sounds okay.
He hears the snickers of the people two rows ahead of him as they joke about his little speech. With a bitterly cruel thought he knows they were being careful to be just loud enough for him to hear their comments but subtle and quite enough for the teacher in his old age to not be able to hear them. He looks at the instrument in his hands alien to him for that second. It almost hurts as the click of his memory of the past weeks of learning this fall back into place. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes he almost wishes he had a god or something to pray to for strength. He feels the eyes of his peers washing over his whole form. Opening his eyes he knows its now or never. As the jittery tempo starts in his mind, the follows to his mouth.
"One and Two and 3 and Four and..." he whispers to himself.
He starts by matching the tempo he is counting to himself with his right hand moving it exactly where it needs to go. He slowly adds his left hand, it coming so naturally he makes him jump a little causing his tempo to falter a little. Shaking his head he gets his tempo back in a hurry accidentally speeding it up a little bit. His feet have decided to take the tempo from his mouth. For a moment he got lost in his beat and it was perfect, just as he had practiced. Then one slip occurred. Unanticipating this he stopped suddenly trying to get the part to work out slowly as the teacher had taught he tries, once, twice, three times. He hears his breath get caught in his throat. The sound that escapes him is an unfamiliar cross between a moan and a sigh. Looking up he starts again slower than before. Resuming the rhythm he had before he improvises around the part he can't do. Thinking it has been long enough he slows to almost a complete stop. Looking up he forget he needed an ending. On the spur of the moment he jumps out at the first thing that comes to mind. Playing it as loud as he can manage the pure sound of it makes him visibly jump. Beginning to raise the applause begins slowly and dies almost as fast as it starts. Keeping his eyes to the floor he lets his feet guide him back to his seat, hoping to fade into the faceless crowd. He lowers himself into his seat and falls back into it. The teacher complements him on a good job improvising when he needed to. Blocking out the rest of the world he closes his eyes and the world around him falls away.
He was just sitting there knowing it was coming, thoughts running through his mind of what he was going to do for a whole minute, he hardly even notices as the teacher asks him from a chair away if he is ready to go. As people turn to listen to his answer looking to embarrassed him as he gives a whimpery reply Yeah sure... He rises from the chair slowly wishing it was over and he was returning to his seat. Pulling his instrument out he moves forward slowly the whole world is resting on his shoulders and he is showing it. He tries all of the crap they tell you to calm you down, the deep breaths, the picture of everyone in their underwear he stops for a second when this idea takes shape in his minds eye. Looking around at a picture of everyone in their underwear isn't exactly appealing to him. He feels what was left of the blood in his face drain to his feet. He feels an imaginary kiss of heat as he sits in the "hot seat" Thinking of a way to forestall what he knows he must do he rises with pain in his eyes
"Right I forgot to say my stuff... he starts.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." the teacher says in his most reassuring tone. "I'll do it anyways." he says in response he knows what he wants to say but the works won't seem to come out.
"Okay what im going to be playing using the force of his will he gets the final words out.
Is a bunch of stuff that just sort of goes together and hopefully sounds okay.
He hears the snickers of the people two rows ahead of him as they joke about his little speech. With a bitterly cruel thought he knows they were being careful to be just loud enough for him to hear their comments but subtle and quite enough for the teacher in his old age to not be able to hear them. He looks at the instrument in his hands alien to him for that second. It almost hurts as the click of his memory of the past weeks of learning this fall back into place. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes he almost wishes he had a god or something to pray to for strength. He feels the eyes of his peers washing over his whole form. Opening his eyes he knows its now or never. As the jittery tempo starts in his mind, the follows to his mouth.
"One and Two and 3 and Four and..." he whispers to himself.
He starts by matching the tempo he is counting to himself with his right hand moving it exactly where it needs to go. He slowly adds his left hand, it coming so naturally he makes him jump a little causing his tempo to falter a little. Shaking his head he gets his tempo back in a hurry accidentally speeding it up a little bit. His feet have decided to take the tempo from his mouth. For a moment he got lost in his beat and it was perfect, just as he had practiced. Then one slip occurred. Unanticipating this he stopped suddenly trying to get the part to work out slowly as the teacher had taught he tries, once, twice, three times. He hears his breath get caught in his throat. The sound that escapes him is an unfamiliar cross between a moan and a sigh. Looking up he starts again slower than before. Resuming the rhythm he had before he improvises around the part he can't do. Thinking it has been long enough he slows to almost a complete stop. Looking up he forget he needed an ending. On the spur of the moment he jumps out at the first thing that comes to mind. Playing it as loud as he can manage the pure sound of it makes him visibly jump. Beginning to raise the applause begins slowly and dies almost as fast as it starts. Keeping his eyes to the floor he lets his feet guide him back to his seat, hoping to fade into the faceless crowd. He lowers himself into his seat and falls back into it. The teacher complements him on a good job improvising when he needed to. Blocking out the rest of the world he closes his eyes and the world around him falls away.
Skinned Knees
Kelly Burns
Dr. James Hepworth
English -101-06
February 10, 2009
Skinned Knees
When Jessica was younger, the summer months were her favorite. She would lie in the green grass and make the clouds look like silly shapes with her imagination. She would race her brothers on the hot cement. If she ever tripped and fell, her daddy was always there to pick her up and kiss her skinned knee. That would make everything better.
She had the most loving family. Her parents loved each other and their kids. Her brothers, although they teased her, loved her infinitely. The only care Jessica ever had to deal with was if she would wake up in time to watch Saturday morning cartoons.
Her childhood was just like anyone else’s. She played at the park, and tried hard to be better than the other neighborhood kids at sports. No matter how much she loved playing games, she loved school tenfold. Her favorite subject was science.
As she grew older and eventually went to high school, science got harder for her. She had to stay up until almost one in the morning every night just to finish her homework. She always did it because getting into a great college and having a great family like her own was always most important to her.
One night, when she was deep in her studies for a mid-term test, a ghastly sound met her ears. Her father and mother were fighting. She thought to herself that her mom probably forgot to pay a bill or something. What happened next made Jessica’s stomach flip-flop.
Screaming. More screaming. The screams escalated into the sound of a dish hitting the wall. Yelling. More yelling. Then she heard a final scream from her mother and all was silent. What happened? She wondered, possible scenarios ran through her mind. She didn’t know what to do.
The front door slammed. She walked out of her room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. Her mother lay in a heap on the floor. She ran over, asphyxiated at the sight. She saw her mother had a black eye and was extremely incoherent.
“MOM!” She frantically cried. If only her brothers were awake, she kept thinking to herself.
Her mom awoke and groaned. Jessica stared in awe at her mother’s battered figure.
“J-… Jessica?” Her mother wheezed out with immense effort. “Go back to bed honey, you have school in the morning.” Jessica stared into her mother’s eyes. She asked herself how she could leave, with her mother in so much pain.
“Go… Go now!” Her mothers said in a firmer voice, bringing herself to her feet. Jessica didn’t know what to do. She obeyed her mother’s orders, on her way back to her room she glanced at her mother one last time before shutting the door.
The next day at school she tried to remember everything she had studied the night before. But when she searched her memory all she saw was the vision of her mother lying on the floor. She wanted to know everything that had happened, and why it had happened.
Jessica was so mad at herself! She had been so preoccupied with school, and her friends that she hadn’t noticed her parent’s relationship falling apart. How could she have been so ignorant? Where had they gone wrong?
Later on at dinner she began to notice things about her family she hadn’t noticed before. Her mother would never look her father in the eyes when they talked. His tone was always harsh and condescending. Her brother’s never wanted to be at the house. How could this have happened? How could she have missed the fact that her family was crumbling around her? The more she thought about it, she realized her parent’s conversations were not as positive as they once were.
It was a somber thought, knowing that her mother was trapped in such an abusive relationship. Jessica was so angry with herself. She tried to get a word in with her mother. She acted as if she was preoccupied, and continued to chop vegetables. Jessica tried to look at her mother’s eyes, but she continued to covert them sheepishly. Why? Jessica wondered.
“What’s the matter kiddo? You didn’t do so well on your science test?” Her father asked her over dinner.
“Well she-“ her mother started.
“Well nobody asked you,” her father snapped back with a glare.
Jessica tried to speak but no words came out. She looked at her mother, who was now staring at her plate of potatoes. Then she looked at her father. Her eyes welled up with tears and she ran from the table. She slammed her bedroom door and buried her face in the pillow.
If only her father had been the man he used to be. She wished so bad that he could come in and take all the pain she felt away. But how could he when we was the main source of it? She thought back to the man who had picked her up off the pavement.
Her father knocked on the door, one… two… three times. Jessica searched for the words to answer him with. She couldn’t speak. It was only then that she realized that skinned knees hurt far less then a broken heart.
Dr. James Hepworth
English -101-06
February 10, 2009
Skinned Knees
When Jessica was younger, the summer months were her favorite. She would lie in the green grass and make the clouds look like silly shapes with her imagination. She would race her brothers on the hot cement. If she ever tripped and fell, her daddy was always there to pick her up and kiss her skinned knee. That would make everything better.
She had the most loving family. Her parents loved each other and their kids. Her brothers, although they teased her, loved her infinitely. The only care Jessica ever had to deal with was if she would wake up in time to watch Saturday morning cartoons.
Her childhood was just like anyone else’s. She played at the park, and tried hard to be better than the other neighborhood kids at sports. No matter how much she loved playing games, she loved school tenfold. Her favorite subject was science.
As she grew older and eventually went to high school, science got harder for her. She had to stay up until almost one in the morning every night just to finish her homework. She always did it because getting into a great college and having a great family like her own was always most important to her.
One night, when she was deep in her studies for a mid-term test, a ghastly sound met her ears. Her father and mother were fighting. She thought to herself that her mom probably forgot to pay a bill or something. What happened next made Jessica’s stomach flip-flop.
Screaming. More screaming. The screams escalated into the sound of a dish hitting the wall. Yelling. More yelling. Then she heard a final scream from her mother and all was silent. What happened? She wondered, possible scenarios ran through her mind. She didn’t know what to do.
The front door slammed. She walked out of her room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. Her mother lay in a heap on the floor. She ran over, asphyxiated at the sight. She saw her mother had a black eye and was extremely incoherent.
“MOM!” She frantically cried. If only her brothers were awake, she kept thinking to herself.
Her mom awoke and groaned. Jessica stared in awe at her mother’s battered figure.
“J-… Jessica?” Her mother wheezed out with immense effort. “Go back to bed honey, you have school in the morning.” Jessica stared into her mother’s eyes. She asked herself how she could leave, with her mother in so much pain.
“Go… Go now!” Her mothers said in a firmer voice, bringing herself to her feet. Jessica didn’t know what to do. She obeyed her mother’s orders, on her way back to her room she glanced at her mother one last time before shutting the door.
The next day at school she tried to remember everything she had studied the night before. But when she searched her memory all she saw was the vision of her mother lying on the floor. She wanted to know everything that had happened, and why it had happened.
Jessica was so mad at herself! She had been so preoccupied with school, and her friends that she hadn’t noticed her parent’s relationship falling apart. How could she have been so ignorant? Where had they gone wrong?
Later on at dinner she began to notice things about her family she hadn’t noticed before. Her mother would never look her father in the eyes when they talked. His tone was always harsh and condescending. Her brother’s never wanted to be at the house. How could this have happened? How could she have missed the fact that her family was crumbling around her? The more she thought about it, she realized her parent’s conversations were not as positive as they once were.
It was a somber thought, knowing that her mother was trapped in such an abusive relationship. Jessica was so angry with herself. She tried to get a word in with her mother. She acted as if she was preoccupied, and continued to chop vegetables. Jessica tried to look at her mother’s eyes, but she continued to covert them sheepishly. Why? Jessica wondered.
“What’s the matter kiddo? You didn’t do so well on your science test?” Her father asked her over dinner.
“Well she-“ her mother started.
“Well nobody asked you,” her father snapped back with a glare.
Jessica tried to speak but no words came out. She looked at her mother, who was now staring at her plate of potatoes. Then she looked at her father. Her eyes welled up with tears and she ran from the table. She slammed her bedroom door and buried her face in the pillow.
If only her father had been the man he used to be. She wished so bad that he could come in and take all the pain she felt away. But how could he when we was the main source of it? She thought back to the man who had picked her up off the pavement.
Her father knocked on the door, one… two… three times. Jessica searched for the words to answer him with. She couldn’t speak. It was only then that she realized that skinned knees hurt far less then a broken heart.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Cardiac Obliteration
April was cold that year and the day was overcast, cooling the silver light to shadow even before its rays fell upon the ground. The desert, normally alive in the warm spring air, was still and somber. Waiting, it seemed, for the world to take its next breath.
She stood in the grass, its brilliant green muted in the gloom, and she pleaded with her mother and father to understand. Countless hours of photographs and makeup and cattle calls had led to this chance to pursue her dream beyond the borders of Las Vegas. Seeing their faces in the audience of fashion reporters, magazine photographers and modeling agents would make her nervous.
She smiled, one dimple appearing and vanishing like a fleeting thought, and swept a stray tendril of long golden brown hair from her face. Seventeen Magazine would make certain she was protected. She would be careful; she wasn’t a child any longer. They could rely on her good judgment to bring her home, safe and sound. She was 18 years old. They had to let her grow up. It was time.
On April Fool’s Day, 1984, her mother and father reminded her to be careful, wished her good luck, and waved as she drove from the quiet suburbs into the raucous city. They would not be there to watch.
But he was there. Watching. Smiling. Plotting.
He met them after the show, paying particular attention to four or five of the models. She, and a few of the other girls, agreed to meet him in front of Caesar’s Palace. She must have been the first to arrive, because the other girls waited for an hour before deciding to abandon this particular quest for fame. They returned to their homes, safe and sound.
He was a photographer. He wanted to hire them. He could make them famous.
He was a liar.
Her mother and father waited late into the dark night and into the early hours of a new day. Before the pale, morning sun had crested the horizon, frantic phone calls were placed. They spoke with friends, teachers, and her boyfriend. All of whom had made the promise as well. She had not been seen.
Her friends and family waited, helpless and impotent in the face of a fear they could not, would not, force themselves to name. One day passed, then two, and their surreal terror and heartbreaking sorrow was barely held in check by thin bonds of hope.
Three days passed, and a brown Camaro was found parked in a dark, secluded area of the McCarran International Airport parking garage. The Nevada plates read, “TOMISH”. Her father had put those plates on himself, before she was handed the keys on her sixteenth birthday, just over a year earlier.
He was placed on the FBI’s 10 Most Wanted list.
Days and days of searching, the lonely desert ringing with the echoes of her name, called endlessly, yielded no prize. She was strong, and smart. She would hold on until help arrived.
Thirteen long days were gone when he was shot by the FBI near a small gas station in New Hampshire; cardiac obliteration.
Still they sought her, in dark caves and by overgrown trails, near muddy shoreline and rocky ditches, in overloaded landfills and salty swamps. They struggled against biting wind and through slicing rain to find her. They each carried a blanket and water; she would be cold and dehydrated when they found her. The offer of help from Psychics was accepted; she was under something blue, she was thirsty.
Weeks turned to months. Mother’s Day. Her Graduation. Father’s Day.
She was found in a ditch, near a Rest Area sign in the Angeles Forest of California. Badly, badly beaten, she appeared to be dead when he left her there, face down and naked. Too weak to raise her head from the soil, she suffocated and died, alone and cold.
Sixteen weeks later, they buried her.
There is an empty wound that stays with each of them; cardiac obliteration.
She stood in the grass, its brilliant green muted in the gloom, and she pleaded with her mother and father to understand. Countless hours of photographs and makeup and cattle calls had led to this chance to pursue her dream beyond the borders of Las Vegas. Seeing their faces in the audience of fashion reporters, magazine photographers and modeling agents would make her nervous.
She smiled, one dimple appearing and vanishing like a fleeting thought, and swept a stray tendril of long golden brown hair from her face. Seventeen Magazine would make certain she was protected. She would be careful; she wasn’t a child any longer. They could rely on her good judgment to bring her home, safe and sound. She was 18 years old. They had to let her grow up. It was time.
On April Fool’s Day, 1984, her mother and father reminded her to be careful, wished her good luck, and waved as she drove from the quiet suburbs into the raucous city. They would not be there to watch.
But he was there. Watching. Smiling. Plotting.
He met them after the show, paying particular attention to four or five of the models. She, and a few of the other girls, agreed to meet him in front of Caesar’s Palace. She must have been the first to arrive, because the other girls waited for an hour before deciding to abandon this particular quest for fame. They returned to their homes, safe and sound.
He was a photographer. He wanted to hire them. He could make them famous.
He was a liar.
Her mother and father waited late into the dark night and into the early hours of a new day. Before the pale, morning sun had crested the horizon, frantic phone calls were placed. They spoke with friends, teachers, and her boyfriend. All of whom had made the promise as well. She had not been seen.
Her friends and family waited, helpless and impotent in the face of a fear they could not, would not, force themselves to name. One day passed, then two, and their surreal terror and heartbreaking sorrow was barely held in check by thin bonds of hope.
Three days passed, and a brown Camaro was found parked in a dark, secluded area of the McCarran International Airport parking garage. The Nevada plates read, “TOMISH”. Her father had put those plates on himself, before she was handed the keys on her sixteenth birthday, just over a year earlier.
He was placed on the FBI’s 10 Most Wanted list.
Days and days of searching, the lonely desert ringing with the echoes of her name, called endlessly, yielded no prize. She was strong, and smart. She would hold on until help arrived.
Thirteen long days were gone when he was shot by the FBI near a small gas station in New Hampshire; cardiac obliteration.
Still they sought her, in dark caves and by overgrown trails, near muddy shoreline and rocky ditches, in overloaded landfills and salty swamps. They struggled against biting wind and through slicing rain to find her. They each carried a blanket and water; she would be cold and dehydrated when they found her. The offer of help from Psychics was accepted; she was under something blue, she was thirsty.
Weeks turned to months. Mother’s Day. Her Graduation. Father’s Day.
She was found in a ditch, near a Rest Area sign in the Angeles Forest of California. Badly, badly beaten, she appeared to be dead when he left her there, face down and naked. Too weak to raise her head from the soil, she suffocated and died, alone and cold.
Sixteen weeks later, they buried her.
There is an empty wound that stays with each of them; cardiac obliteration.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
On Choosing What I Believe
Beliefs are, by nature, absolute and, as such, very few are manifest in my life. There are more fingers on my hands than things I believe. I suppose I fear binding myself to restrictive codes that neither accommodate for the needs of others nor recognize the value in diversity. Yet, I cannot sail through this sea of people, and leave it better in my wake, without these bearings, by which I navigate.
In the midst of anger and hurt, I can choose to hold tightly to the anchor of blame placed with those I find at fault, though I believe that if I am unwilling to extend forgiveness to others, I cannot be forgiven for all the hurt I have caused. And so, I choose to forgive.
In the depths of misery, I can drown in despair though I believe that to deny hope is to disallow the dream of improved circumstances for myself and others. And so, I choose to hope.
Confronted by another’s seemingly unfathomable choice, I can ridicule their morals and customs, though I believe that we all face choices with less than palatable options. And so, I choose to empathize.
Awash in prejudice, I can foster the acceptance of ignorance, though I believe that knowledge can ease the fears born of the unknown, and will yield tolerance. And so, I choose to learn.
Faced with hate, I can forever abandon the author of each callous deed, though I believe that I can love someone in spite of their flaws, and without agreeing with their actions; for this is how I am accepted. And so, I choose to love.
Spouting religion, I can condemn others for not adhering to the tenets of men as fallible as I, though I believe that it is better to have a relationship with God than to be religious. And so, I choose relationship.
My inner compass, momentarily jarred by waves of conflict or distress, will, more often than not, right itself before those around me suffer too much damage. Given time, I rally against the cross-winds of emotion to choose a response that runs contrary to my own selfish, human reactions. Love, forgiveness, hope, empathy, knowledge, relationship, and tolerance serve as the stars by which I chart my course. Should I run aground in the shallows of selfishness, I will endeavor to take a new tack. And choose what I believe.
In the midst of anger and hurt, I can choose to hold tightly to the anchor of blame placed with those I find at fault, though I believe that if I am unwilling to extend forgiveness to others, I cannot be forgiven for all the hurt I have caused. And so, I choose to forgive.
In the depths of misery, I can drown in despair though I believe that to deny hope is to disallow the dream of improved circumstances for myself and others. And so, I choose to hope.
Confronted by another’s seemingly unfathomable choice, I can ridicule their morals and customs, though I believe that we all face choices with less than palatable options. And so, I choose to empathize.
Awash in prejudice, I can foster the acceptance of ignorance, though I believe that knowledge can ease the fears born of the unknown, and will yield tolerance. And so, I choose to learn.
Faced with hate, I can forever abandon the author of each callous deed, though I believe that I can love someone in spite of their flaws, and without agreeing with their actions; for this is how I am accepted. And so, I choose to love.
Spouting religion, I can condemn others for not adhering to the tenets of men as fallible as I, though I believe that it is better to have a relationship with God than to be religious. And so, I choose relationship.
My inner compass, momentarily jarred by waves of conflict or distress, will, more often than not, right itself before those around me suffer too much damage. Given time, I rally against the cross-winds of emotion to choose a response that runs contrary to my own selfish, human reactions. Love, forgiveness, hope, empathy, knowledge, relationship, and tolerance serve as the stars by which I chart my course. Should I run aground in the shallows of selfishness, I will endeavor to take a new tack. And choose what I believe.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Homework.
Sigh, So much homework and here I sit blogging. Anyone know how to use a graphing calculator should help me.
Laura Tanner- Downey
English 101 Section 3
Mr. Jim Hepworth
January 22, 2009
I can say I have believed in many different things since birth, which is because I have learned and grown to know those different things. What I believe is whole hearted and true, something I think everyone should believe. This particular belief of mine follows no matter where you go, I see it in a bum sitting on the side of the street begging for money that I don’t even have. I see it in a small child not knowing how to read. This belief is pure and full of love. I love observing the world around and you can always find something that needs a little attention.
My belief has to do with people around me, and making friendly conversation, not judging there outside, I believe everyone has a tiny piece of good to the world. There is a need for belonging by every person, its called loneliness. Smiles are always wonderful, I’m pretty sure anyone could make me smile. My beliefs are all a part of all my other beliefs; they all mesh into each other, so I couldn’t really just discuss one. My beliefs are what have made me who I am. I work hard to be a caring, loving, gentle, and strong person. My family is important too I believe in family. I have gone over what I believe many times throughout my life, I’m a Risk taker I think risks should be taken. All the mistakes I’ve made so far I do not regret, those mistakes shaped my belief of risk taking and mistakes are to b made for a reason.
I could go on and on about what I believe, but heat if I don’t know everything I believe yet there is so much more than this I haven’t seen yet. And one of my beliefs is that living is only the beginning. I am down to learn new things for all of my living life and after death. I think it’s important to learn so it’s easier for us to adapt and grow as humans. Beliefs are hard to understand everyone changes through time and has new beliefs, old ones and some don’t have any. I believe that we should just all be positive and enjoy what our world has to offer.
English 101 Section 3
Mr. Jim Hepworth
January 22, 2009
I can say I have believed in many different things since birth, which is because I have learned and grown to know those different things. What I believe is whole hearted and true, something I think everyone should believe. This particular belief of mine follows no matter where you go, I see it in a bum sitting on the side of the street begging for money that I don’t even have. I see it in a small child not knowing how to read. This belief is pure and full of love. I love observing the world around and you can always find something that needs a little attention.
My belief has to do with people around me, and making friendly conversation, not judging there outside, I believe everyone has a tiny piece of good to the world. There is a need for belonging by every person, its called loneliness. Smiles are always wonderful, I’m pretty sure anyone could make me smile. My beliefs are all a part of all my other beliefs; they all mesh into each other, so I couldn’t really just discuss one. My beliefs are what have made me who I am. I work hard to be a caring, loving, gentle, and strong person. My family is important too I believe in family. I have gone over what I believe many times throughout my life, I’m a Risk taker I think risks should be taken. All the mistakes I’ve made so far I do not regret, those mistakes shaped my belief of risk taking and mistakes are to b made for a reason.
I could go on and on about what I believe, but heat if I don’t know everything I believe yet there is so much more than this I haven’t seen yet. And one of my beliefs is that living is only the beginning. I am down to learn new things for all of my living life and after death. I think it’s important to learn so it’s easier for us to adapt and grow as humans. Beliefs are hard to understand everyone changes through time and has new beliefs, old ones and some don’t have any. I believe that we should just all be positive and enjoy what our world has to offer.
*Sigh*
I know I promised this last night and class is in like 10 minutes but here's my paper.
Darrin Hume
Dr. James Hepworth
English-101-06
January 27, 2009
My Personal Beliefs
I find it odd that when one is presented with a challenge there are so few who are willing to step up and actually do the work. Yet I know that when presented with a challenge if the task seems to daunting or undesirable that I have he same instinct to push it off, save it for later. Until the moment it's due, those evil words. It fascinates me when a perfectly reasonable person is so willing to ignore common scene in blind devotion to an idea. Call it God, Allah, Zeus, Odin, the list goes on. When what are all these really? Supernatural beings or superficial ideas who control the population thru priests and priestesses, profits and martyrs, texts and whispered words. When they all should just come out and say it. They are the reasoning behind something they don't understand. They use these idols as their explanation to things they don't understand or don't know.
I believe that everything happens for a reason. Though it's not dictated by anything other than your own personal movements. While time flow as a straight line I believe that each person can dictate the rate of the time flow for themselves. When the conscious is submerged under the task at hand I believe that the flow of time bends towards the will of the subconscious mind. This also ties into my belief that the weather is a reflection of the mood we are in. The winds of our mind dictate which way the winds we feel push and pull us. The sunrise and sunset explain our own cycles of rise and rest. Though not always in the same clockwork manner.
I believe that everyone around us has a lesson to teach, though it's not always easy to learn. These lessons are not always of great impact or lifechanging, nor are they just trivial facts that we learn to forget. The swing of a pickax the groan of straining muscles under a hot sun, the sound of metal scraping on rock. A hearty pat on the back and the words "Tómese un descanso y obtener un poco de agua primo." Simple.
I belive that the rules have been laid out in order for exceptions to be made to them. In the perfect world that we always compare our own to, these arbatary rules wouldn't need to exist. But because we arn't living in a perfect world we need to have rules to base our ignoring of them on. Yes, most of us understand that murder is wrong and enslaving a fellow human being isn't cool. But there needs to be situations where these could be okay. If someone does something that is so unacceptable that the only punishment within reason is something like murder the rules must be sidestepped. Even on a day to day basis if your running late to class because you were typing your english paper, or doing your math homework and you speed in your car, you've broken a rule. But for good reason.
Darrin Hume
Dr. James Hepworth
English-101-06
January 27, 2009
My Personal Beliefs
I find it odd that when one is presented with a challenge there are so few who are willing to step up and actually do the work. Yet I know that when presented with a challenge if the task seems to daunting or undesirable that I have he same instinct to push it off, save it for later. Until the moment it's due, those evil words. It fascinates me when a perfectly reasonable person is so willing to ignore common scene in blind devotion to an idea. Call it God, Allah, Zeus, Odin, the list goes on. When what are all these really? Supernatural beings or superficial ideas who control the population thru priests and priestesses, profits and martyrs, texts and whispered words. When they all should just come out and say it. They are the reasoning behind something they don't understand. They use these idols as their explanation to things they don't understand or don't know.
I believe that everything happens for a reason. Though it's not dictated by anything other than your own personal movements. While time flow as a straight line I believe that each person can dictate the rate of the time flow for themselves. When the conscious is submerged under the task at hand I believe that the flow of time bends towards the will of the subconscious mind. This also ties into my belief that the weather is a reflection of the mood we are in. The winds of our mind dictate which way the winds we feel push and pull us. The sunrise and sunset explain our own cycles of rise and rest. Though not always in the same clockwork manner.
I believe that everyone around us has a lesson to teach, though it's not always easy to learn. These lessons are not always of great impact or lifechanging, nor are they just trivial facts that we learn to forget. The swing of a pickax the groan of straining muscles under a hot sun, the sound of metal scraping on rock. A hearty pat on the back and the words "Tómese un descanso y obtener un poco de agua primo." Simple.
I belive that the rules have been laid out in order for exceptions to be made to them. In the perfect world that we always compare our own to, these arbatary rules wouldn't need to exist. But because we arn't living in a perfect world we need to have rules to base our ignoring of them on. Yes, most of us understand that murder is wrong and enslaving a fellow human being isn't cool. But there needs to be situations where these could be okay. If someone does something that is so unacceptable that the only punishment within reason is something like murder the rules must be sidestepped. Even on a day to day basis if your running late to class because you were typing your english paper, or doing your math homework and you speed in your car, you've broken a rule. But for good reason.
This I Believe
Kelly Burns
Dr. James Hepworth
English-101-06
January 27, 2009
This I Believe
Its strange how a person thinks they know every fiber that holds them together, but when asked to name them on a whim, they’re at a loss of words. I find myself not speechless, but that many of my beliefs contradict each other. I expect certain people to follow a set of standards that, I myself could never follow. I am constantly quarreling with my insecurities, yet I expect a lot from the average person.
I believe strongly in the power of the individual, especially those individuals that have the valor to stand up for what is in their heart. This is easier said than done in many instances. I believe in those that have the self-respect to not shrink from threat, challenge, difficulty, or pain. There is a strong admiration in my heart for those who speak up for what is right even if there is opposition.
Essentially, I believe that true love is very hard to find, when lust comes so easily. I think when you find something or someone worthwhile, or even suspect you find it; you should never take it for granted. When there is a connection between two people that is bound together through honesty and selflessness it should be cherished.
More importantly, I believe in keeping an open mind. When you look through the lenses of negative past relationships and situations it stunts your ability to give it your all. Although life throws you curves, I believe you need to keep moving forward. Despite circumstances that may hurt you and leave you doubting the human race, I believe in forgiveness and mercy, because anything that won’t kill you will only make you stronger.
Here is where my conflicting ideologies lie; I believe that people should always treat others how they want to be treated. However, I believe people should listen to their heart, and if it is telling them something other than what they are doing they should follow it. In the process of doing so, other people can get hurt. I know this from firsthand experience. In the end, I do strongly believe we need to take the opportunities presented to us, make the best moral judgment we can make, and never looking back in the past.
Lastly, I believe that life should not be taken too seriously. I strongly believe that laughter is the shortest distance between two people and can fix anything. From a young age I can’t tell you how many times it was nailed into my brain that I only have one life and I can’t mess it up. People told me to take things more seriously. I believe all children should have the opportunity to be children.
Beliefs are what make people who they are. They sort-of glue together your integrity, or lack thereof. Beliefs shape your actions and your general outlook on life. They are one of the most important things in your life for one sole reason; Nobody, whether it is the president or a bum on the street, can take away who you are or what you believe in.
Dr. James Hepworth
English-101-06
January 27, 2009
This I Believe
Its strange how a person thinks they know every fiber that holds them together, but when asked to name them on a whim, they’re at a loss of words. I find myself not speechless, but that many of my beliefs contradict each other. I expect certain people to follow a set of standards that, I myself could never follow. I am constantly quarreling with my insecurities, yet I expect a lot from the average person.
I believe strongly in the power of the individual, especially those individuals that have the valor to stand up for what is in their heart. This is easier said than done in many instances. I believe in those that have the self-respect to not shrink from threat, challenge, difficulty, or pain. There is a strong admiration in my heart for those who speak up for what is right even if there is opposition.
Essentially, I believe that true love is very hard to find, when lust comes so easily. I think when you find something or someone worthwhile, or even suspect you find it; you should never take it for granted. When there is a connection between two people that is bound together through honesty and selflessness it should be cherished.
More importantly, I believe in keeping an open mind. When you look through the lenses of negative past relationships and situations it stunts your ability to give it your all. Although life throws you curves, I believe you need to keep moving forward. Despite circumstances that may hurt you and leave you doubting the human race, I believe in forgiveness and mercy, because anything that won’t kill you will only make you stronger.
Here is where my conflicting ideologies lie; I believe that people should always treat others how they want to be treated. However, I believe people should listen to their heart, and if it is telling them something other than what they are doing they should follow it. In the process of doing so, other people can get hurt. I know this from firsthand experience. In the end, I do strongly believe we need to take the opportunities presented to us, make the best moral judgment we can make, and never looking back in the past.
Lastly, I believe that life should not be taken too seriously. I strongly believe that laughter is the shortest distance between two people and can fix anything. From a young age I can’t tell you how many times it was nailed into my brain that I only have one life and I can’t mess it up. People told me to take things more seriously. I believe all children should have the opportunity to be children.
Beliefs are what make people who they are. They sort-of glue together your integrity, or lack thereof. Beliefs shape your actions and your general outlook on life. They are one of the most important things in your life for one sole reason; Nobody, whether it is the president or a bum on the street, can take away who you are or what you believe in.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Sappy as...
So I'm going to post the poem response to that Emily Dickinson poem cuz I wasn't sure if it was suppose to be here or not.
I'm somebody. Who are you?
A nobody perhaps.
Maybe your somebody special - - it's true.
Open up, let it show.
Be somebody by just being you.
You are special, no matter what.
When you hide it the nobody's win.
Never let nobody win!
I'm somebody. Who are you?
A nobody perhaps.
Maybe your somebody special - - it's true.
Open up, let it show.
Be somebody by just being you.
You are special, no matter what.
When you hide it the nobody's win.
Never let nobody win!
Twenty.
Okay, so here's my twenty beliefs, yes I know that I'm plagiarizing myself. But that's not true, you see I negotiated it with myself to give all the rights to re-produce anything I've written in exchange for some favors. No perverts nothing sexual. I will be posting my belief paper here before the day is out.
Twenty things that I believe in.
I believe that people are always going to be more important than possessions.
I believe that Communism if done right would work.
I believe that if you think hard enough about someone they will make an appearance.
I believe that you have to work hard if you want anything good to happen.
I believe that good things happen to good people.
I believe that karma has a major impact in day to day life.
I believe that ramen noodles is a big part of college life.
I believe that my friends all have something to teach me.
I believe that some people just understand things.
I believe that you should put the needs of others in front of your own.
I believe that the internet is taking over the world.
I believe that Stephen King is an amazing author.
I believe that music has a direct effect on how events play out.
I believe that no matter what happens things will work out for the better.
I believe that chess is how wars should be fought.
I believe that the weather is a reflecting of your mood.
I believe that we must learn from the past.
I believe that driving is a calling.
I believe that movies are magic.
I believe that it's about the journey not the destination.
Twenty things that I believe in.
I believe that people are always going to be more important than possessions.
I believe that Communism if done right would work.
I believe that if you think hard enough about someone they will make an appearance.
I believe that you have to work hard if you want anything good to happen.
I believe that good things happen to good people.
I believe that karma has a major impact in day to day life.
I believe that ramen noodles is a big part of college life.
I believe that my friends all have something to teach me.
I believe that some people just understand things.
I believe that you should put the needs of others in front of your own.
I believe that the internet is taking over the world.
I believe that Stephen King is an amazing author.
I believe that music has a direct effect on how events play out.
I believe that no matter what happens things will work out for the better.
I believe that chess is how wars should be fought.
I believe that the weather is a reflecting of your mood.
I believe that we must learn from the past.
I believe that driving is a calling.
I believe that movies are magic.
I believe that it's about the journey not the destination.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
I believe In by Kelly Burns
I did the best I could considering that topic was sort of vague. I will have my draft posted tomorrow.
I believe in individualism.
I believe in valor.
I believe in personal choice.
I believe in honesty.
I believe in gratuity.
I believe that laughter can fix anything.
I believe that lust comes easy.
I believe that things that hurt me will only make me stronger.
I believe that I will be something great.
I believe that variety is the spice of life.
I believe that all children shouldn’t be faced with reality.
I believe that love is hard to find.
I believe that one should never take relationships for granted
I believe that no gender/race/ religion is dominant over the other.
I believe that everything happens for a reason.
I believe in keeping an open mind.
I believe in a strong sense of purpose.
I believe in forgiveness and mercy.
I believe in moving forward.
I believe in illusions.
I believe in individualism.
I believe in valor.
I believe in personal choice.
I believe in honesty.
I believe in gratuity.
I believe that laughter can fix anything.
I believe that lust comes easy.
I believe that things that hurt me will only make me stronger.
I believe that I will be something great.
I believe that variety is the spice of life.
I believe that all children shouldn’t be faced with reality.
I believe that love is hard to find.
I believe that one should never take relationships for granted
I believe that no gender/race/ religion is dominant over the other.
I believe that everything happens for a reason.
I believe in keeping an open mind.
I believe in a strong sense of purpose.
I believe in forgiveness and mercy.
I believe in moving forward.
I believe in illusions.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Choice by Lisa Jenkins
Beliefs are, by nature, absolute and, as such, very few are manifest in my life. There are more fingers on my hands than things I believe. I suppose I fear binding myself to restrictive codes that will neither accommodate for the needs of others nor recognize the value in diversity. And yet I cannot sail through this sea of people and leave it better, in my wake, without some bearings by which to navigate.
My inner compass, momentarily jarred by waves of conflict or distress, most always rights itself before those around me suffer too much damage. Given time, I rally against the cross-winds of emotion to choose a response that runs contrary to my own selfish, human reactions.
In the midst of anger and hurt, I can hold tightly to the anchor of placed blame though I believe I cannot hope to be forgiven for all the hurt I have caused, if I am unwilling to extend that forgiveness to others. And so I choose to forgive.
In the depths of misery, I can drown in despair though I believe that to deny hope is to disallow the dream of improved circumstances for myself and others. And so I choose to hope.
When confronted by another’s seemingly unfathomable choice, I can ridicule their morals and customs though I believe that we all face choices with less than palatable options. And so I choose to empathize.
Awash in prejudice, I can foster the acceptance of ignorance though I believe that knowledge can ease the fears born of the unknown, and will yield tolerance. And so I choose to learn.
Faced with hate, I can forever abandon the author of each callous deed though I believe that I can love someone in spite of their flaws, and without agreeing with their actions; for this is how I am accepted. And so I choose to love.
Running under the colors of religion, I can condemn others for not adhering to the tenets of fallible men though I believe that it is better to have a relationship with God than to be religious. And so I choose relationship.
Love, forgiveness, hope, empathy, knowledge, relationship, tolerance, and empathy serve as the stars by which I chart my course. Should I run aground in selfishness, I will endeavor to take a new tack. And choose better.
My inner compass, momentarily jarred by waves of conflict or distress, most always rights itself before those around me suffer too much damage. Given time, I rally against the cross-winds of emotion to choose a response that runs contrary to my own selfish, human reactions.
In the midst of anger and hurt, I can hold tightly to the anchor of placed blame though I believe I cannot hope to be forgiven for all the hurt I have caused, if I am unwilling to extend that forgiveness to others. And so I choose to forgive.
In the depths of misery, I can drown in despair though I believe that to deny hope is to disallow the dream of improved circumstances for myself and others. And so I choose to hope.
When confronted by another’s seemingly unfathomable choice, I can ridicule their morals and customs though I believe that we all face choices with less than palatable options. And so I choose to empathize.
Awash in prejudice, I can foster the acceptance of ignorance though I believe that knowledge can ease the fears born of the unknown, and will yield tolerance. And so I choose to learn.
Faced with hate, I can forever abandon the author of each callous deed though I believe that I can love someone in spite of their flaws, and without agreeing with their actions; for this is how I am accepted. And so I choose to love.
Running under the colors of religion, I can condemn others for not adhering to the tenets of fallible men though I believe that it is better to have a relationship with God than to be religious. And so I choose relationship.
Love, forgiveness, hope, empathy, knowledge, relationship, tolerance, and empathy serve as the stars by which I chart my course. Should I run aground in selfishness, I will endeavor to take a new tack. And choose better.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Far From Twenty
I believe in God.
I believe love.
I believe in empathy.
I believe in compassion.
I believe in forgiveness.
I believe in hope.
I believe in choice.
I believe in tolerance.
I believe in knowledge.
I believe love.
I believe in empathy.
I believe in compassion.
I believe in forgiveness.
I believe in hope.
I believe in choice.
I believe in tolerance.
I believe in knowledge.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
I Am Somebody by Lisa Jenkins
Does it matter so much to you,
what shapes the words I speak?
The silences I show this world
tell more of who I am.
The why, the where, the when and how
are nothing more than sound.
The noise shatters and I am heard;
I am somebody, found.
a poem in response to Emily Dickinson's I'm Nobody, Who Are You?
what shapes the words I speak?
The silences I show this world
tell more of who I am.
The why, the where, the when and how
are nothing more than sound.
The noise shatters and I am heard;
I am somebody, found.
a poem in response to Emily Dickinson's I'm Nobody, Who Are You?
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