The Tell-Tale Heart

              Edgar Allen Poe is seriously one of my favorite writers. When you just get a craving for the macabre Edgar Allen Poe has got your fix. The Tell Tale Heart is one of my favorite, but The Raven is one that I literally know by HEART.

             Anyway, in the Tell-Tale Heart the narrator is truly insane. When you have to repeat to people or keep trying to convince them your not insane, your insane. But the narrator is an evil genius, well at least according to him. He murders the old man without a single visible drop of blood. When the police go around asking about the scream, what gets him to confess to what he has done is his madness. I know a lot of people say that it is not really guilt that gets him to confess but I think guilt may have played a tiny role in his confession. After all he actually liked the old man, it was just his evil eye that bothered the narrator. That is why he hesitated each night. Why it took eight days for the narrator to kill the man. All those other nights the man was asleep, the evil eye nowhere to be seen. On the eighth night, though, the evil eye made an appearance and that’s what drove the narrator to commit murder. For in some cultures the only way to get rid of the evil eye is to destroy it. But then after killing the old man the narrator could no longer see the evil eye. He just saw the dead old man and that’s when a little speck of guilt entered the narrators mind. This speck of guilt and the madness was what drove the narrator to confess.

And Now The Falling Stars

            Legends, myths, and just any sort of stories are created and then disappear. Such a story is that of Stardust. When one looks up at the night sky, mesmerized by the stars, and takes the time to just look, you have to make sure to count a hundred falling stars. Then while dreams shelter you from the outside world, stardust appears on your hair, bringing good luck and that which you most desire. Over time though, people have become preoccupied with other things, no longer looking up. No longer taking the time to breathe. Few know the story now and even those that know it, do not believe it.

            A light summer breeze encases around those still weaving through quiet Chicago streets. Curtains turn into waving colorful flags peeking out of open windows.

           With the clock just shy of midnight, while many ready themselves to escape into dreamland, Selene’s night has just begun. She gathers her lawn chair, a small bag that contains some snacks and a light blanket, a flashlight, and her telescope. She makes sure to have her keys, locks her door and walks toward the back of the little garden.

            It is the type of garden that has a certain magical quality to it. It is surrounded by a six foot wall, covered in miles and miles of curling vines. Some look as if they are reaching and waving towards the sky and defying gravity to do as such. Once Selene’s feet touch the watered grass, she smells the always comforting aroma of roses, cosmos, forget-me-nots, lilies, and the damp earth underneath her. The most magical part of the garden was the fact that once in the garden the sky opens up. It is as if you have been transported to another place. There is no evidence of ever being in the city. Millions of stars become visible and the only true light is borrowed from the silvery moon.

            Today the annual Perseids meteor shower will be making an appearance.

            Every year Selene convinces her parents to let her stay up to watch. Every year she falls asleep before her eyes have time to adjust to the night sky and be able to see the falling stars. She had been drinking coffee since the morning. She was becoming quite jittery.

            It was now one o’clock and Selene starts to assemble her telescope. It is nothing fancy. It had been a Christmas present from her eldest sister and she loved it. She does not know how to work it properly, but it would have to do. She prefers to just stare up and see how much her eyes can catch.

            A small movement caught Selene’s eye. The small rose bush rustles as if someone was trying to escape its thorny grasp. She quickly runs to retrieve her flashlight to see what was behind the bush. As soon as she turns on the flashlight a small, dark furry thing jumps out. A small scream starts to build up in her throat but before she has the chance to let it surface she realizes what it is. The neighbor’s cat, Skittles.

          “Skittles, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

           Of course the cat’s only response is to meow.

           It is a beautiful cat. Black fur with small white ear tips. Its eyes the same color of a lemon. It was a very playful cat and Selene always liked to have her around.

           With Skittles curled up on the lawn chair and two o’clock nearing, Selene aims the telescope towards the sky and waits for her eyes to adjust. At first the only thing to be seen is the speckled sky. Stationary stars and the moon. But then the smallest hint of movement and ribbons of light begin to appear. The view is truly spectacular. More and more frequently the stars travel their journey through the dark sky.

            She remembers a story her grandmother had once told her. A story about counting a hundred falling stars. She forgot most of the details, but she begins to count anyway.

            Selene stays up for the whole thing. Coffee had been a great idea even though she was a bit too jumpy.

            As the sun starts to streak the sky with pink, orange, yellow, and blue hues, Skittles and Selene lay nestled on the lawn chair. The chill of a new day wakes them up. The grass is covered in newly formed dew and birds sing their morning songs. She gathers her things, heads for home and collapses on her bed. Sometime between dreams of next year’s Perseids and summer days, shimmering hints of stardust cover her dark, ebony hair.

On The Reservation

Once the sky was filled with owls, fireflies, any other creature that could fly.

The Earth was loved and filled with life.

The ritual drums, every single heart, the owl's wings beat in unison. 

Thump-Thump Thump-Thump.

Every soul was free. Free to sing, free to howl, free to dance around the fire.

But then everything shattered.

There was fighting and shouting.

The earth, and every creature in it, held its breath, awaiting the next step.

They were rendered powerless and were forced to give up their wings.

No longer were they free to choose their song, their home, their dreams.

Now the land on which they stand is stained.

Sorrow holding tight to a corner in their hearts.

They were molded into the "perfect" creature.

The "civilized" creature.

But deep into their souls you can still see

their original, beautiful culture. 

Their hearts still beat in unison with the Earth and Life around them.

Thump-Thump 

Their spirits are immortal.  

             Ahhh Beat Street...yet another reason to look forward to 2nd period. When we first started watching Beat Street I felt........... actually I don't really remember how I felt all I was really thinking was that we were watching a movie and that I had no idea what Beat Street is.

             Well, Beat Street is EPIC. The break-dancing, the music, the graffiti... all of it is just a big pile of epicness. But then which 80's movie isn't? There is something about the 80's that just never ceases to entertain me. Specially if you have a mom like my mom. Someone who is always blasting 80's music and I just can't help but dance around the house with her. With music like this you just can't help but enjoy what the 80's have to offer. Something else that makes Beat Street so amazing is how the smallest things can make you laugh. THE FASHION. So disastrous yet so awesome.

             The only thing is that I can't seem to follow any sort of plot in this movie. It's a bit too all over the place. But I really don't think it matters. It's the type of movie that you can just sit back and enjoy. Can't wait to finish it and then re-watch it over and over.



           ^^^^^ My favorite part... so far.

Hungry For Attention

        Everybody needs attention. The teeniest amount of it can make a huge difference. But if we can't get it we usually go and find it not caring whether its because of something good or bad that we did. Usually it is something negative that we choose to do. Richard decides he wanted to see the curtains burn and although he said he did it out of curiosity, I think deep down he was looking to drive the attention toward himself. And of course he continues his quest to get attention. He kills the kitten. He runs away from the orphanage. He gets drunk and goes along with what the people in the saloon want him to do. Definitely not the best way to try to get attention but nonetheless his mother starts to pay attention to him.

        We need the most attention when we are just little tiny kids. I think that if we don't get attention early on, then that is when we start to crave it and don't care what it takes to get attention, be it bad or good. As little kids we need to feel that there is someone there that cares about us, that play with us, that listen and love us. 

As we grow older I think we don't need as much attention. Sometimes we wish to be left alone. I know I do. As we grow older we still need and desire attention but we are probably smarter in the way we react if we are not receiving what we think is the right amount of attention for us. Some seek the "good" attention in a healthier way.

         I don't think we necessarily need attention to survive but it is something nice to have. Probably something that keeps us sane. 

How Being an Immigrant Shaped My Life

  

After reading “How Being an Immigrant Shaped My Life” by Sonia Pressman Fuentes, there was one part of it that really stood out and that I can relate to.

"The dictionary says that to immigrate is "to come into a new country, region or

environment, especially in order to settle there." The operative word for me in that definition

is new. To immigrate is to come to a new country and to have new experiences. And, like

everything worthwhile in life, to be an immigrant is both a blessing and a curse.

 It's a blessing because it's challenging and exciting to do something new, something

different, something everyone else isn't doing. It's a curse because it's scary to embark on any

new activity. So to be an immigrant is to be continually caught in the tension of the

excitement of being an outsider to a society, and the stigma of being different from those

around you. To be an Immigrant is to constantly reflect on who you are, where you come

from, and how you are different from those around you. When you're an immigrant, you don't

really belong anywhere--and you're never really at home anywhere."

              When I read the part about being an immigrant is both a blessing and a curse I couldn’t help but reflect on this. I never really think of how I feel about being an immigrant. This surely got me thinking.
To me it is a blessing to be an immigrant because there is a sense of adventure. It’s like embarking on a huge, magnificent journey to a whole new place and I get a sense of adrenaline. It’s as if I am an explorer and there is this journey that can impact my life in a way that I could have never imagined. It is a blessing because a challenge is being thrown at you and it’s a challenge that you are willing to take. That you are willing to succeed in. It’s a blessing because you get to experience something that you would have never experienced if you hadn’t immigrated. You get to interact with people that you probably would have never had the chance to. You become multicultural and multilingual, which I think is one of the best parts.( I really love learning new languages.)

             But of course there is the “cursed” part of being an immigrant. Pressman-Fuentes does a good job at naming these curses. I think the first one for me is not being able to adapt well. Having difficulty learning the language. (Although, this is not really a huge problem anymore.) When my family watches home videos I can notice that when I was starting to speak English I would speak with a very thick Mexican accent. It seems to me that it can no longer be noticed but it definitely slips out sometimes. It is a curse because there is this tiny part of me that fears I might forget aspects of my native culture (I think my parents have helped in preserving some of these aspects so I should probably not be worried to loose them.)

            Another part of the paragraphs above that really struck me is; “When you're an immigrant, you don't really belong anywhere--and you're never really at home anywhere” This is true because when the mixture of two cultures are in you and you have embraced both, you don’t really know where you belong. You find yourself confused when it comes to defining “home.” Another reason why I agree with the quote is that I sometimes notice myself randomly saying, “I want to go home” when I am clearly in my house. So is home the place you are living in? The place you were born in? Somewhere else where you have not yet traveled to? or is there no home, am I just a “nomad”?

KING STILL KING!

                Martin Luther King, Jr., I would be willing to bet is someone that every person six years old (if not younger) or older in these United States knows who he was and most likely knows he “ had a dream.”
It is evident that he is still remembered and he will continue to be remembered. Someone who along with other great people fought for their rights will never be forgotten. The era of civil rights movement and the segregation that was the cause of this movement are a great part of the Unites States’ history, a bleak part, but one that truly impacted the course of American history.

                 Could these people have known just how much of an impact they would make? Could they have imagined that their actions would not only inspire their time and people but also future generations? Because of them and what they did, America has become a greater place.

                MLK’s dream has come true. At least for the most part it has. Most are “judged not by the color of their skin but, by the content of their character.” We still experience or see some racism today but definitely not as much or as extreme as it was during his time. The US has definitely come a long way from singing “ If you’re white you’re alright, if you’re brown stick around, if you’re black go back” to praising and singing songs about people like MLK and everyone who fought for their freedom.

                 I have always wondered, and I am sure I am not alone in this, would Martin Luther King be proud of how far the US has come along in the way people are treated? Would something have disappointed him? It is a shame that he is not alive still and cannot see just how much he, along with the other great freedom fighters, have impacted the way many people now live.

This Sacred Soil

            I really enjoyed reading This Sacred Soil by Chief Seattle. While reading I got this sense that many Native Americans were feeling this way. Their land was being invaded and they all seem to have feelings of hopelessness and came to accept their "untimely decay."

            I found it interesting that Seattle said "The white chief says that Big Chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill. This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return." It just goes to show that these people were never fooled. They knew what their "paleface brothers" were doing. They probably choose to cooperate and give up their land instead of risk being massacred. That is why the Big Chief didn’t need their friendship in return. It was as if he said “Since you guys are doing this without any struggle I’ll let you move to your assigned little corner without any harm done to you and don‘t think I‘ll be giving you anything more than that. I don’t care if you dislike me for that.”

             I also liked how even though he was agreeing to the treaty, and his people will move, there are still many whose spirits will be staying and roaming that land. He creates a picture of how unlike the “White Man” the “Red Man” choose to remember their diseased ancestors and they are still “alive” and they will always have a tie to the land they will be giving up. And how the White Man leaves such land were his ancestors are buried and does not regret forgetting it. When he talks about how when they think that they are alone there will be the spirits of this ancestors there, he pretty much is saying, “Even though we have agreed to move, we will never truly leave that place which was rightfully ours.” So in a way they get to keep their land.


P.S. I'm ACTUALLY liking these short stories.

Let me tell you about... Dark Dark Dark

Dark Dark Dark is small (fantastic) band with a very unique sound. When fist hearing their music it was surprising to find that there was something very enjoyable about their sound. Not usually going for music with very folky sound it was something very refreshing to hear than the usual music I hear. 

Their debut album The Snow Magic, being the first one I listened by them holds a special place in my heart (or ears). each song is very different, yet there is a very unique way that ties them all in. The diversity of instruments they use adds to their unique sound. Cellos and accordians ( among with other instruments) are not the most usual instruments  used by a band. Dark makes all these work together. They avoid creating a clashing mess and instead create catchy melodies paired with deep, kind of mistical lyrics. Some of the best songs on this album include; A Cloud Story, Ferment in Dm, Ashes, and well.. seriously every song on this album is just as good as the next one.   

They have recently recorded and flung into the world another album: Wild Go. Now this one i have not heard it in its entirety. But what I've heard so far is just as good ( if not better) as their previous album.

So get up, get ready to sing-along and possibly prance around to the tune of these lively ( yet quite a bit morbid) songs.

Nick and Jay

          Jay and Nick seem to have something in common. They seem satisfied with their lives but still have not exactly reached to being the person that they want to be. They also try to create a friendship that will benefit them and help them reach the person that they want to be or just get a specific thing that they want.

         The reader can clearly see that Jay tries to use this new friendship with Nick to his advantage. He knows that Nick knows Daisy and Jordan explains what Gatsby wants him to do. Gatsby wants Nick to invite Daisy over and that way Gatsby can come over to Nick's house as if he has been doing this for some time. This way he will be reintroducing himself into Daisy's life. Although Gatsby is surrounded by a lot of people I belief he is really lonely and one reason is that he possibly feels that he has lost Daisy. The awkward, almost embarrassed, way in which he first acts around Daisy can be interpreted to be nervousness of having to talk to someone that he has liked for quite sometime but knows that she can't be with him. Nick even tells him, "you're acting like a little boy." And this nervousness is like that nervousness that children have when they start experiencing a crush on someone.

        Nick might also be using Jay for the purpose of becoming something greater than the person that he is. Nick always talks about how he IS a very well-rounded individual, or at least the reader gets to see that he tries to be this person. By going to Gatsby's he is getting to know all sorts of people and making himself known to these people. With this he continues his "quest" to become a great, maybe even famous, person that people will admire or want to get to know. Just like Gatsby. Except without the negative rumors and comments that people talk about him.

          There are signs and other examples that can support the idea that Jay's and Nick's friendship is just something that is meant for them to take advantage of each other in a way that they only care about what each will get from this friendship, for themselves. But there are things that also lead towards a genuine friendship. Gatsby seems to enjoy spending time with Nick and he is always inviting him to go visit someone or just go out on the town.

          Both still have all these secrets that it is hard to make a definite decision whether their friendship is true or if they have an ulterior motive, that may or may not be of good intentions.

Frozen ( Winter Poem )

There is a land

Where the mountains are high

And the sea is vast.

The trees naked,

Except for the cold, sparkling blanket that envelops them.

I ride there sometimes.

The sound of the horse,

Like far away thunder,

galloping somewhere familiar yet so changed.

It's there to escape to.

But this time they follow me

Blending into the white,

like shadows of old nightmares. 

They dance around a beating heart

Wind carrying their whispers through my hair.

Whispers of death that are hard to bear.

Closer to the edge they guide me

The gray sky weeps icy tears.

It knows that I'll fall,

That there will be no one to catch me,

And that I'll never rise again.

Into the black we all plunge.

Darkness taking over.

When I return with them

It always to that land.

That land with the high mountains,

The vast sea,

And the naked trees

that sit by the inky, frozen river.

My spirit joins the others.

 The dead, black river lends it’s reflective surface to our souls.

Sometimes what we see, is not what we wanted to know.

I THANK YOU :D



***Late Night with Jimmy Fallon Thank You Note Music Playing***

             

              I've been thinking about who I was going to thank for this blog but I just couldn't decide on one person or at least two. I can sincerely say that I am thankful for everyone in the class. You guys are really awesome and I always enjoy coming into that classroom (that almost never happens, trust me) and knowing that I will probably laugh a great deal throughout the class period. As we all know having to start school 2nd period is not that fun since most of us have to wake 2-3 hours earlier just to get to school on time. But you guys really make it more bearable and I actually look forward to this class. I am really thankful for you guys. I’m looking forward to the rest of the year. Hopefully we will continue on having fun.

ADVENTURE PLOW!

I was an adventure plow. What is an adventure plow, you ask? Well an adventure plow is one that has traveled all around the world and through out time. One that has been broken and fixed so many times I have lost count of exactly how many.

The earliest memory was when I was one of a kind. Freshly made and out of the farmers workshop. This was in Egypt long ago. I lived in luxury and I was made of gold. The fields that I plowed where rich and fresh, all courtesy of the beautiful Nile.

Years later, I went to a beautiful place called Italy. My life was not as luxuries but I was happy with the family I was staying with. They were very hard working people. A very united family. Very caring and polite.

"Buon Giorno"

"Scusa"

"Grazie"

"Prego"

"Come Stai?"

"Buona Notte"

I enjoyed the work. The earth had a completely different smell from what I was used to. But it was a welcomed difference. During rainy days I would lean on the farm's wall and let the water wash away a day's worth of hard work. The drip-drip-drip of the rain, a pleasing lullaby. 

Next thing I knew I was drifting away on river and into the big unknown sea. 

There I was letting the waves guide me to an unknown place. What I did not expect was that to a monster of the sea I looked like a delicious fish and I was bitten by it. It was all too fast and i had lost one of the most important parts. I thought that was the end of my life. Just after I had accepted the fact that I might not make it any longer, the roar of the waves reached me and i felt myself being delivered onto the shore. I WAS SAFE! I WAS ALIVE! All I had to do was wait, and waited.

In this place I was fixed up and put right to work. The soil wasn't the best to work with. Too many pebbles that felt like a million pins being stuck on me. I was getting old. I couldn't take it anymore. All the abuse was just too much. 

I was given the opportunity to go to a land were they said there might still be hope for me. I decided to go. It was exactly what they said it would be. The farmer's family was just as kind as the one I worked with in Italy. I was happy here, but then there was talk a new, easier to use tool that did the same job I did. I was not expecting this to be true and did not pay much attention to these rumors. But all those rumors were true the new and improved plow received lots of fanfare. I was thrown onto a very dusty ignored corner in the barn.

So here I still am. Covered in dust all that kept me company was the small bugs and mice that felt curious and wanted to see who that sad old plow was.

Over time, I don't know how much time it was, the farm grew quiet. Until the silence was finally broken by a strange sound and some footsteps. That's when the door flew open, a burst of light and wind burst in, and in stepped a man. He had the weirdest clothes on, nothing like the farmer used to wear.

Time and the way of human life had changed quite a lot. When I was brought out into the world once more, there were buildings so high they seemed to touch the clouds.

They took me to a beautifully sculpted building were I was placed in a room that resembled my old Egyptian home. I WAS HOME! So much joy filled me then. People come to see me and hear my story and there is never lack of people who wish to know where this old, adventure plow has been.

CLASS: A NEW DIRECTION?

      2nd period American Lit. There is only one problem: IT'S a second period class. It is too early to think and most of us are still in those early stages of becoming fully awake. But this is one thing that cannot be changed.
    
      This class is one that makes it bearable to come fully awake. The many interesting discussions that go on are very enlightening. They allow many people to voice their opinions and are even challenged to go deeper and expand their reasons. Many of these become entertaining and we have some very good laughs.

      I really like how most of the time we have the choice to voice our opinions. And even though when asked to answer something, its not uncomfortable. Definitely not as much as some math or chem questions would. The amount of homework is not overwhelming so its a relief from other work that takes a bit more time.

     One thing that I wished was part of class was to get more feedback on our writing. I am someone who is very insecure about my writing. I sometimes feel like I might not be using the proper grammar or something. So it would be nice to have some assignment that will be scored and we will be given feedback on it.

    

Let there be slavery???

Domestic violence is the leading cause of injury to women between the ages of 15 and 44 in the United States.

  
      In seventh grade I remember having to go through the Safe Dates program. One of the issues discussed was the person you're dating telling you what to wear, who to hang out with, and pretty much what to do.
      To me this seems like a mild form of slavery. Mild probably not being the right word because women, and some men, suffer through extreme situations. Being told what to wear by your partner will probably be the milder form of ones freedom being taken away. The cases that most of us hear about is women being abused by their partners and some of them even snap and end up killing their partners.
      There are many people who still believe that man rule the household and that the woman does what the man tells her to do. In Spanish there is a word that pretty much describes this, MACHISMO. So if you think about it, this is a type of slavery that many might not think of it being so. But in this situation isn't the man the master and the woman the slave? The woman does as she is told and is punished if she does something wrong. Most women will probably be punished with some sort of sexual abuse. How can a man do this to someone that he is supposed to love? And how can a woman think this is okay?
      I remember watching a show once where the man even called his wife his property. It is just shocking to think about people still believe that a person can be property. I guess it would be ignorant of me to think that this doesn't go on and no one thinks this way. But I am aware that it does. In Africa many young girls are sold into sex slavery and some even by their own families. Living in a society where this sort of thing is rare is what makes us blind to this problem. For a nation that once was into slavery we shouldn't forget why it was abolished and we should all be aware of people that may still be suffering, so that we may be able to help them.
    On the risk of sounding like Public Service Announcement I have to say:
     How can we turn a blind eye to something that is so disgusting, so wrong? Next time you hear about someone being abused or treated like property just think about what you can do. People our own age are suffering through this and if you feel that someone you know is being abused, try to help them realize they have someone to rely on and that they should get help. Remember that this could be happening to anyone and even though this was focused more on women, there many man who also may be going through this.

   Approximately one in five female high school students reports being physically and/or sexually abused by a dating partner

The House of the Seven Gables

       When we hear someone mention the town of Salem we immediately think of witches. It is only natural that we think of this for it was part of one the most talked about parts of history. The first person to be accused of witchcraft and have trial was Bridget Bishop. As many of the other cases she was accused by many that claimed to see her transform into a cat or walk with the Devil. Her trail was on June 2, 1692. Her body was inspected for cuts because many said that she would have these marks because her victims managed to injure her.

       Another interesting case was probably the first case that was caused by someone being mentally insane and not actually possessed by Satan. Dorothy Talbye was this person. She killed her daughter and was therefore executed. Many believed she was possessed but she was still charged like a common criminal.

      Puritans were the people that were doing the persecuting and being persecuted. This religion was one of the first religions to exist in America. Many priests performed exorcisms. These people believed in demonic forces. Some people believe that Puritanism is what has provided a firm  foundation for American democracy. Many think that puritans were a little extreme in the way that they though and worshiped. They believe in absolute sovereignty of God, total depravity of man, and the complete dependence of human beings on divine grace for salvation, and they stress the importance of personal religious experience.

     In Nathaniel Hawthorne's book The House of the Seven Gables he explains that the house was built after an alleged wizard, that had his own home in that spot, was hanged for witchcraft. Hawthorne got the inspiration from the house by the same name located in Salem. It is clear that he used Salem's infamous witch hunt history to start the story of the how the house came about. The House is also known as the Turner-Ingersoll Mansion and it was built in 1668. It is one of the houses from the 17^th that is still standing. It was built with a type of wood brought by the Puritans to New England.

     Although religion is not supposed play a role in government it does have a little influence. Murder, you can say, is prohibited and its is also one of the Ten Commandments. But unlike the Puritan religion where murder automatically would have resulted in the murderer's death, in our society depending on the severity of the murder, each murderer can get a different sentencing. Capital punishment may be given to someone but in some states it is no longer an option.

The Moment I Knew I Was an American...

     Because I was born in Mexico I would never have thought I would feel and be as American as I am today. America is what defines so many of my characteristics. But I can never forget were my past is, because this past is what makes me who I am and helps shape the person that I will become. The American way of life is all I have ever known since I was five years old. So you can imagine how easy it is for me to feel American.


    I would say that a moment in which I truly felt like an American would be when I actually read my first English book all by myself when I was in 1^st or 2^nd grade. The language is such an important part of culture that speaking, reading, writing it makes you feel more of a part of that culture.


    Another moment in which I felt like an American was when I became eager to embrace this other culture, to be part of this huge melting pot that defines the United States. Being able to understand how different cultures interact and how as long as you respect other’s views they will most likely respect yours.


   Part of being an American is being proud of this country and what it has to offer. I always enjoy taking trips and seeing this country’s beautiful sights, from the huge cityscapes to the vast forest/mountainous landscapes. I remember when going to Wisconsin Dells was like the best thing that ever happened.


   I really think that most people would feel American by their first few Thanksgivings. Thanksgiving is a very American holiday. The beginning stages of American history are in this holiday. Even though this part of history is not exactly all sugary and nice it doesn’t change the fact that America is here because of those first people.


    As long as you are ready to embrace this way of life and what it has to offer, you will feel like an American. You may have been born all the way across the world and still feel like an American. Remembering your roots and understanding were your future might be is part of being an American. Being able to keep your original identity and adding new traits to it is being an American.

Talking Back? Really? It's Called Answering Your Question!

I can think of a few times when my “smart” mouth got me in trouble. I am not known as someone who creates much trouble or disobeys (much), but I do have tendency to talk back to my parents (mostly my dad) and maybe, once in a while, to a teacher. I don’t really look at it as talking back but more like being honest and answering their question. I am sure I’m not the only one who thinks this way. Do parents actually ask these questions to get answers? It seems that sometimes when we answer it’s never the answer they want.

            One of the incidents that got me in trouble (more like just a scolding) was when I talked back to my 8^th grade science teacher. I also didn’t help that some of my classmates were encouraging to go on.

            That day our teacher wasn’t really teaching. He was just telling one of his many uninteresting stories. I decided to put my head down. In no way was I going to take a nap. I merely wanted to put my head down. I guess the teacher thought I was taking a nap and called me up on it. He then asked me, and I remember this very clearly: “Is there anything hanged on the wall that says you can sleep in the classroom?” That’s when I “smartly” answered back, “There is nothing that says I can’t.” In my defense he asked a very specific question that asked if there was anything “hanged on the wall” and there really wasn’t. So you see, I was just stating a fact. This was followed by my classmates yelling out, “Treated!” Needless to say it didn’t lessen the trouble that I was in.

            I really didn’t mind getting in trouble because I know that at some level I wasn’t really “talking back” and some will probably agree. I also didn’t mind, well, because I didn’t really like the teacher. I can sincerely say that I did not learn any science-y stuff in 8^th grade and that was the reason why “napping” became the cause of most of the trouble I got in.

SUPER PROCTOR...sort of.

I wouldn’t exactly put John Proctor, of The Crucible, in a Batman suit and start singing the theme song. Na Na Na Na… BATMAN BATMAN! I also wouldn’t call him a stooge.

    I do believe that he is more of a hero. He is at least brave. He stands up for what he believes in, or doesn’t believe in. He also admits to the mistakes that he’s made an decides to not repeat them. I believe that by admitting to one’s mistakes you are actually a better person and most likely more respected than one who does not admit to mistakes that they have done. It also helps that you try to change and avoid making the same mistake. John Proctor does exactly this.

    He did admit to Elizabeth, his wife, that he had an affair and Elizabeth seems to have forgiven him. He refuses to get back with Abigail. Although he doesn’t seem to be well liked by the other villagers he is certainly made out to be liked or at least respected by the reader. I think that the reader respects him because compared to some of the other characters he looks at things in a more realistic point-of-view and isn’t very power-hungry as some of the other villagers are. Specially if he is compared to the Putnams and Parris.

   I can also see why the greedier villagers wouldn’t like him. He sees how these people are and maybe they feel that he will convince others that they don’t have the best interest in mind. With Parris it’s that he wants to keep his position because he knows it is of great power and money. But Parris sees that Proctor might threaten his position. Proctor makes clear that he doesn’t like Parris and I believe that he does see that Parris is a greedy man who wants people to keep on coming to his sermons and is doing it by speaking of how evil they will look in the eyes of God if they do not listen to the “messenger”, which is Parris.

   When the whole witchcraft accusation starts Proctor thinks that they are ridiculous and he knows that they are false since Abigail pretty much told him so. I don’t think he believed it will go as far as his wife, and himself, being accused of witchcraft. He is willing to defend their innocence and the innocence of other who were already condemned. He knew the truth and wanted the truth come out.

   He, along with Hale and Giles Corey, show courage because they show up at the court with evidence and with Mary who knows the accusations were false but in the end decides to change her story once more and ends up accusing Proctor. Proctor does “confess” (and I put this word in quotation marks because there was nothing to confess to, he never used any sort of witchcraft.) But he then refuses to lie and believes that as long as the judge and God see his confession it is enough, there is no need for the whole town to have prove, for shouldn’t a judge’s word be enough proof.

  Unfortunately like most heroes there are not seen as such when they are alive but most likely they are seen as heroes when they are gone. He learns from his mistakes as many of us do throughout our lives. He shows integrity by not giving up on what he believes in and stays true to those believes.

Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God

Faith is the confident belief or trust in the truth or trustworthiness of a person, idea, or thing.- Wikipedia “Faith”

   

     How is it possible that you fear someone who you are supposed to trust? How can you trust someone who instead of forgiving you for a small human mistake will burn, shot, or drown you?
Someone who fears his/her God is someone who does not trust his/her God. To trust someone you must believe that they will lead you through the right path and that they will not harm you, they will understand and be able to give you a second chance.

    To have faith in an angry God, is to have no real faith, for faith is being confident that this God will lead you to your desired destination and not kill at the first sign of sin.

     Edward’s sermon is one that today might be viewed as ridiculous, and to me it certainly is. The idea of making a small mistake and being instantly killed for it is an enormously radical punishment. This type of sermon probably lead people to stay with that religion in order to avoid being in the hands of an angry god. But there must have been those who believed that this was far to unreasonable and decided that their God would never do such things to those who have faith in him. Edward was probably a preacher who wanted everyone to believe in what he believed in and that this way was the only right way.

     Its good to know that a lot of these kinds of believes have died down and that the majority no longer believe in a God that can be this cruel. A God who is cruel is a step behind being evil and apathetic. Many now believe in a forgiving and merciful God.