War

Author's Note: This is a comparison between the two characters Helen, from Greek mythology, and Bella, from Twilight. Showing the similarities between their love. 

The face that launched one thousand ships or the face that launched the fight between supernatural creatures? Helen, Greek goddess  with undeniable looks, started the heated Trojan war. Men killing for the ownership of one women. Bella, awkward girl next door, caught the eyes and hearts of two men. One being a vampire, Edward, and the other being a werewolf, Jacob. These two women represent the power and movement their love can have.

It’s mainly the power. The power of love and ownership these women’s men look for. Although the time periods are different, the personalities and plot are much alike. Bella and Helen are indecisive women. Helen had an affair while Bella was deciphering between two men. Both women live fictional lives, Bella has love with mystical creatures. While Helen lived in the times of Greek mythology. Then when they finally choose a man a war breaks out.

A few tears and a Memory

Author's Note: This is a creative piece on a girls life and death. I struggled with this piece seeing I didn't want to make it too long and boring. I also struggled with ideas for it, but I needed to achieve dialog and figurative language. 

Being dead is not what it cracks up to be. Some say we diverge to Heaven or Hell. Others say our cold carcasses rot 6 feet under while our souls disintegrate with them. I still have unfinished business. I still have questions. You look back on life and realize, why? Why the pain and suffering? Why the temptation? My life surrounded this question. Why?

I’ll start from the beginning. I was birthed into an unforgiving world; my mother was 17 and pregnant. She was left alone with me and her outlet, Ecstasy. My occurrence brought on more than enough hardships and I’m reminded of this through each day of the rest of my 16 years.

5 years old, a memory much like a tumor. Attached and deadly. I was home alone playing with my favorite and only Barbie. She was all I wanted to be like when I grew up. Bleach blonde hair, skinny, and the whitest of teeth. Comparable to the snow that had just fallen that cold December. Sadly, I turned out to be a fire blazing red head with untamable frizz, while my body formed in to the ghastly shape. Anyways, as I played I could hear my mother’s heels scuffling against the floors outside the black door. I shiver, she’s wearing her yellow pumps. The door flies open to show one of the most repulsive women I’ve ever known. You know exactly where I would get my looks from. I hide patiently behind my bed. She yells for me, I don’t move. Then her purse becomes her choice weapon. I can only endure what comes to me. Struggling makes it worse. I feel like a baseball; hit, thrown, and played around with like a piece of equipment. She takes me in to the bathroom and I become fully submerged in water. The cold sends chills running up my back. My screams are muffled and you can only hear the snickers of my mother above me. I go limp and realize this is the end. Unfortunately, it wasn't.

For some reason my mother kept me alive for as long as possible. As a grew older my education was inexistent and I was too large to do normal tasks. I was useless except for being her punching bag after a long night at the club. When I became old enough to be self-sufficient on the streets of Detroit, I would go cause mischief with a few of my neighbors. Yeah, the place has a bad reputation, but that’s only if you’re part of a gang. I was just the dealer. 

Sadly, I followed in my mother footsteps. Both walking in the path of Ecstasy (except my footprints were a little deeper seeing our weights’ varied). But It wasn’t always the high that kept you coming back. It was the adrenaline of the hand off between dealer and receiver. My mother (when she was partially sober) had explained this to me, but you can’t understand it until you’ve been there. You know the law is broken and your undeniable thirst will be quenched with the contents inside that brown paper bag. Seeing that my dealing skills began to shape at the age of 8 I got pretty good at it. My mom and I actually became more of partners  than family. I gave her the antidote and she gave me the money. Or dinero, as my friend José would say.

“Cow!” He called to me; José had a way with nicknames. Fatty or ginger would have sufficed, but he needed to keep up his reputation. 

“Mex,” I reply sarcastically. As you can see I’m not witty or funny.

“Ha ha, you got my fix?”

“You got my money?” It’s rare to see a girl dealing. Most aren’t smart enough and don’t have guts. This business is a dangerous one. Mex is a pushover so usually I can get more money out of him than the normal customer. He’s a marijuana consumer. Which I always have an adequate amount of. You see, I’m the most diverse dealer in the area. I have ecstasy, cocaine, heroin, meth and marijuana. I’m like the melting pot of drugs.

“Yeah, have you seen Ed lately? I’ve called but I don’t get an answer.”

“You haven’t heard?” I felt like Niagara falls was being held up behind my eyelids, “Ed’s… Gone…  he got involved in a drug bust. It went very wrong and he was killed by a cop.” I try to break the news in the most comforting voice possible. José’s face fell, like me most nights. A fall from a hard punch; his to his heart and mine to my face.

I come home late that night. My mother lays limp on the couch with alcohol in her hand and drool slipping down her cheek. Her miniskirt, yellow pumps, and low cut T-shirt tell the story of her night. I take her glass to the kitchen and her shoes to the closet. I take care of the woman who chooses to torture me on a daily basis. I hear the screams behind me.

“My drink? Where is my drink? Jess, you stupid girl, what have you done with my drink?” The smokers rasp in her voice reminds me of the hate she radiates.

“It was basically gone ma. You don’t need it! Go to sleep.”

“Ahhh!  You can’t do anything right! I know what I need!” As she speaks a shadow emerges from the corner of the room.

“What are you yelling about!?” A deep bellow rings out, “You idiotic women have woken me up!”

“Oh, George. I’m… so sorry! I’ll keep her quiet! She can even leave. I’ll make her leave, is that okay?” My mother’s tone softens and she melts under the presence of the sketchy man. My mouth only drops. Although, he has no reaction to her smooth words. I turn and see my mother get hit. She stands stunned by the impact of his massive fist to her stomach. I scream out and naturally I run to protect her. I block his second back-hand to her face, instead I get hit. His fists were like bowling balls. Gasping and out of screams another punch is thrown, and another, and another. Until my body lies on the floor unconscious, but my soul watches my mother sob on her knees. The so called “George” continuously kicks my lifeless body.

I still resume to ask the question of “why?”. I was never put on this world to accomplish anything. I had fallen under the spell of drugs, hung out with the wrong people, got beat by my own mother, ate too much, and died from a man I’d never met. My life had consisted of pain and essentially, nothing. Is all I will give people are a few tears and a memory? 

Ribbons

Author's Note: Analyses of the short story "Ribbons". 

Beauty is pain. A phrase often used to describe the suffering women go through to achieve a look. America to China, despite cultural differences, have hurt within the definition of beauty. “Ribbons” by Laurence Yep, shows the superficiality of beauty in China. Parents would wrap their little girls feet with satin ribbons to halt the growth of their feet. Paw-Paw, the grandmother of Stacy, felt this torture first hand. She works around her deformity but lives her life in pure embarrassment and with insecurities. A never ending ache. The shoes resembles the cultural differences between Paw-Paw and Stacy, for Paw-Paw they resemble the pain and deformity she goes through. For Stacy, it’s the beauty and the love within her dance.

Although China has beauty through feet America is not much different. Surgeries and processes are applied for the perfect body or facial beauty. Pain and suffering for something so superficial. No one should have to do that for beauty. Beauty should be defined as something from the inside. But it happens all around the world and is a problem unsolvable as long as people are judged on their outer appearance.

“Ribbons”, the name of this short story is what this piece revolves around. The binds of life that can hold you up or pull you down. The title even reflects on the whole piece itself, these ribbons symbolize the bond and respect for cultural differences between Paw-Paw and Stacy. 

Who am I?

I live in a prickly fruit. My limbs, although thin, carry my box like body through the deep waters of the ocean. A figure unexplainable. My curves and pores add much dimension to my build. I would consider myself a total catch. I am the definition of perfection. I am giddy, happy, and forever part of the goofy goober club. My hobbies vary with range. I prefer blowing bubbles but I also enjoy jelly fishing.

My hobbies are fun but they wouldn’t be nearly as gratifying without my best friends. My neighbors/friends differ in contrast; happy, grumpy, strong, and greedy. They are very diverse in color and shape, quite like myself.  I also am a proud owner of the oh so wonderfully glorious snail. He is quite loyal and never responds rudely to my commands. Only with a subtle “Meow”.

Employee of the month every month. A motto used to describe my fry cook ethic. My technique would be nothing without my beloved spatula. Flipping patties is the highlight of my life. Also I take pleasure in working alongside one my closest best friends forever, a squid. My boss on the other hand is very avaricious. He cuts pay often. Most of the time money is short at my residence, but I will never give hope for a better life.

Any who, my shoes are always squeaky clean and my tie is so darn beautiful I get complements everywhere I go. All in all I am a beautifully wonderful glorious sponge. I am Squarepants, Spongbob Squarepants, and I am proud.

Death With a Twist

Author's Note: I am hoping to improve my score on conflict resolution with this piece on "My Sister's Keeper" With very conflicts that form in to unique endings. 

As a cancer patient, life slowly crumbles through your fingers.  Going to college, getting married, having children all become improbable dreams. The Fitzgerald’s know exactly how this works. Suffering from very persistent leukemia, Kate at only 15 had spent the majority of her life in a hospital bed. Only thing that has kept her alive for such an extensive time is her younger sister Anna. But, Anna has decided to be in charge of her body and give her sister what she’s always wanted. This created a large conflict between many of the characters in the book, “My sisters Keeper” By Jody Picoult , and an unique resolution.  

Cancer takes a toll on everyone involved, especially Anna.  She goes against the “right” thing to do and takes her life in to her own hands. Which is obviously frowned open in the Fitzgerald’s household. Resulting in a Person vs. Society conflict. Anna vs. her family; she is sick of being the backbone and done with being poked and prodded. Who can blame her? But, her parents do not understand Anna’s fight and choose to deny her of her needs, creating a large and obvious battle between the two. Also Kate has done the same as Anna; she has gone against her family (Person vs. society). She has chose to take her life in to her own hands. Hands that want to rip up her life and throw it away.

Even though she goes against her family it seems Anna has it all figured out; starting her own lawsuit alone and with no support. But Anna starts to question her own motives. She runs in to person vs. self. Anna starts to doubt her decisions on her lawsuit and whether it is for the best or not. Yes, her sister wants it but will her family hate her forever? Is she wrong for letting her sister die?

Although Anna rethinks her lawsuit she follows through with it. In fact, she ends up winning but death is at hand for Kate. It’s seems a perfect ending is that life spares Kate and she becomes sick-free. Everyone lives happily ever after, right? Not so much. Instead a twist takes place. Anna goes brain dead from a tragic car crash. Organs and all were donated to Kate, giving her a necessary transplant to go to college and start a life. All conflicts resolved with an obviously bittersweet resolution.  A very surprising, uncommon one at that.

Maybe surprising and uncommon but not as rare in the books  “Get Well Soon” by Julie Halpern and “The Art of Racing in the Rain” by Garth Stein. All have resolutions that end with trades and  all have conflicts that persist through the whole book. “Get Well Soon” a young girl, Anna, is sent to a mental hospital and each day prays to leave, until she meets the unexpected “love of her life”. Conflicts consisting alike with “My Sister’s Keeper”. This lovesick girl’s wishes come true and she leaves the hospital but without her acquired boy. Bittersweet is how I would define it. Bitter, heartbroken. Sweet, leaves the place that causes her agony. A Trade. Only “The Art of Racing in the Rain” is quite similar. Conflicts, although changing throughout the book, are none stop with person vs. self, person vs. society, and person vs. person.  Denny, Father and ex-race car driver, loses his wife to cancer and loses his daughter to a lawsuit. His money is gone and all that’s left is his loyal pooch Enzo. This resolution ends with the death of his best friend, Enzo, but his dreams of testing cars and having his daughter back are remarkably fulfilled. Again, a trade.  All depressing conflicts and bittersweet endings.

Kate’s life changes in the aggressive collision of two cars, Denny’s with a phone call, and Anna’s with a change of mind. Conflicts relating to resolution and resolution to conflict, especially in “My Sister’s Keeper” with conflicts that turn enormously during the resolution. Every part works together to make similar yet different twists on each book. Improbable dreams turn in to reality!   

Friendly Racism

 Author's Note: Mrs.Hanson's Class was given a writing piece called "After you my dear Alphonse" about the sensitivity of racism to analyze and think about the moral of the story. 

 ‘“After you, my dear Alphonse,”  “No, after you, my dear Alphonse,”’ Equal out looks on race are obviously shown through the this text by the two little boys in the story “After you my dear Alphonse” by Shirley Jackson. Showing that without a influence by a parent, teacher, or towns people children don’t notice the difference  between black or white. A child often shows more respect or gratitude then even an Adult of more than twice his age. Shown very much in this piece.

   Mrs. Wilson gradually becomes more and more racist through a subtle way. Using assumptions and stereotypes to offend poor little Boyd. Boyd family is normal, two children, scrawny father, stay at home mother, and money is not a problem at their home. Although, Mrs.Wilson thinks complete opposite  because of their skin color. She doesn’t realize that their two families are much of the same, though her unnatural friendliness and assumptions lead otherwise. I think the moral in this story is to show that treating a different race in a different way than you would treat your own is just as bad rudely criticizing them. Author Shirley Jackson demonstrated this beautifully. 

A clean, Well-lighted Place response.

Author's Note: My classmates and I were instructed to read and answer one of the question referring to the short story “A clean, Well-lighted Place”. I chose to answer the question "Write a brief analysis of the two waiters.  What do they represent about life? What does the café symbolize?" The is my response...
 

Two waiters were used in the story “A clean, Well-lighted Place” The youngest of the two became rude and inconsiderate to the old man. Representing evil within the café. Which the café could be interpreted as life or the world. While the older of the two waiters was patient and easygoing representing the good in the world. Both treating the old man, who could be depicted as struggles and challenges in life, in very different ways.