It's just been revoked! I mean, Indifference is my middle name!

Indifference may be one of the worst things brought into the world by man, but it may have it's uses. Hitler, one of the world's most hated persons, actually used his indifference to make break-throughs in human studies. His methods were, in fact, inhumane, but his results actually helped a bit in the medical fields. Perhaps some people should be a little more indifferent. Extrapolate a bit and imagine if the Afghani's had been a little more indifferent to the American people, would the twin towers have happened? Had any presidential assassin been more indifferent, how would America had turned out? Perhaps indifference isn't as horrible a thing as some people make it out to be. Maybe if indifference is used in the right area's, the world might actually take a turn for the better.

Indifference truly is the enemy.

Personally, this piece struck a definite and penetrating chord in me. Indifference truly is the enemy. We as human beings need not only to be sensitive to the plight and suffering of others, but we should do what we can to help alleviate it when we can. My heart and my undying admiration goes with all of those that crusade to help others that are subjugated and treated unfairly, no matter what the situation. As civilized people, I feel that we have an obligation to others on a grand scale. I see indifference every day in our country and in pains me. There are many people not only in America, but all over the world that are so absorbed in their own lives and personal comforts that they turn a blind eye to the suffering of others because it inconveniences them or makes them feel uncomfortable. I honestly feel that we should do what we can to assist, even if it is simply making others aware of the injustices and atrocities that take place around us, outside of our immediate spheres.

I find myself thinking often that I personally do not do enough. My aunt Ellen's best friend gave up her entire life here to live with the orphans in Haiti, assisting them with medical needs, food, clothing, and education. I receive her emails and end up in tears after every single one. People like her are all too rare, and I hope with all of my heart that more people join her in her compassionate quest to help alleviate people's pain and suffering. I also hope that I can come to a point in my own life very soon where I can do more and give more to others, especially those that may feel forgotten and abandoned, whether it be in my home country or abroad. Thinking of the author's own harrowing experiences turns my stomach and brings many questions to mind as to how those things could have happened. There are atrocities all around us though, and many continue to go on with people turning a blind eye or simply not being made aware. How can the world let this continue? Politics, money, religion, and power struggles play a never-ending a part. I do agree with Wiesel that indifference can render one inhuman. If we allow ourselves to live that way, with indifference and apathy running throughout our lives, we are not truly living and are cheating not only others, but ourselves out of what should be an integral part of the human experience that we share with others as we live out our lifetimes on this earth.

Vocabulary Discussion of The Perils of Indifference

-METAPHYSICAL
1. pertaining to or of the nature of metaphysics.
2. Philosophy.
a.concerned with abstract thought or subjects, as existence, causality, or truth.
b.concerned with first principles and ultimate grounds, as being, time, or substance.
3.highly abstract, subtle, or abstruse.
Origin: 1375–1425; late ME metaphisicalle < ML metaphysicālis.

-GULAG
1. the system of forced-labor camps in the Soviet Union.
2. a Soviet forced-labor camp.
3. any prison or detention camp, esp. for political prisoners.
Origin: 1970–75; < Russ Gulág, acronym from Glávnoe upravlénie ispravítelʾno-trudovýkh lageréĭ Main Directorate of Corrective Labor Camps

-ETYMOLOGY
1. the derivation of a word.
2. an account of the history of a particular word or element of a word.
3. the study of historical linguistic change, esp. as manifested in individual words.
Origin: 1350–1400; ME < L etymologia < Gk etymología, equiv. to etymológ(os) studying the true meanings and values of words (étymo(s) true + lógos word, reason) + -ia -y

-SS MURDER SQUADS
The German Einsatzgruppen (task groups) were execution squads that went in to places after the Wehrmacht. The squads were composed of kriminal polizei, Gestapo, Waffen SS and SD men. These Einsatzgruppen were responsible for killing over one million Jews.

-WEHRMACHT
Literally "defense force."
The name of the unified armed forces of Germany from 1935 to 1945. It consisted of the Heer (army), the Kriegsmarine (navy) and the Luftwaffe (air force). The Waffen-SS, an initially small paramilitary section of Heinrich Himmler's Allgemeine SS that grew to nearly a million strong during World War II, was not officially part of the Wehrmacht, but subject to OKW, OKH, as well as Field Command. Thus, the Waffen-SS was, de facto, a fourth branch of the Wehrmacht.
Although it is technically incorrect, the word Wehrmacht is often used to refer specifically to the German Army of the Second World War, as opposed to the Kriegsmarine and Luftwaffe.

-APARTHEID
1. (in the Republic of South Africa) a rigid policy of segregation of the nonwhite population.
2. any system or practice that separates people according to race, caste, etc.
Origin: 1945–50; < Afrik, equiv. to apart APART + -heid -HOOD

Sex, Lies, and spin offs

According to the readings, alot of friction between men and women start at the youngest ages of social interaction. Having said that, shouldn't that mean that schools should promote social interaction between little boys and girls. Perhaps if they get comfortable with each other at an early age, it might make it easier for people get married and stay married. This idea might work now, but it would have deffinetly worked a decade or two ago. Back when television and music was a little more "wholesome". Either way, the matter is that breaking the barriers between boys and girls is alot easier if they are broken before they are even built.

Sex, Lies, and Vocabulary

*anecdotes - (ān'ĭk-dōt')
noun
1. A short account of an interesting or humorous incident.
2. pl. an·ec·dotes or an·ec·do·ta (-dō'tə) Secret or hitherto undivulged particulars of history or biography.
[French, from Greek anekdota]

*hierarchical - (hahy-uh-rahr-ki-kuhl)
adjective
1. classified according to various criteria into successive levels or layers; "it has been said that only a hierarchical society with a leisure class at the top can produce works of art"; "in her hierarchical set of values honesty comes first"
[Middle English ierarchie, from Old French, from Medieval Latin hierarchia, from Greek hierarkhiā, rule of a high priest, from hierarkhēs, high priest; see hierarch.]


*analogous - (ə-nāl'ə-gəs)
adjective
1. similar or equivalent in some respects though otherwise dissimilar; "brains and computers are often considered analogous"; "salmon roe is marketed as analogous to caviar"
2. corresponding in function but not in evolutionary origin; "the wings of a bee and those of a hummingbird are analogous"
[From Latin analogus, from Greek analogos, proportionate : ana-, according to; see ana- + logos, proportion; see leg- in Indo-European roots.]

*agonistic - (āg'ə-nĭs'tĭk)
adjective
1. combative; striving to overcome in argument.
2. straining for effect: agonistic humor.
3. of or pertaining to ancient Greek athletic contests.
4. Ethology. pertaining to the range of activities associated with aggressive encounters between members of the same species, including threat, attack, appeasement, or retreat.
[Greek agōnistikós, equiv. to agōnist]

*rapport - (rā-pôr', -pōr')
noun
1. Relationship, especially one of mutual trust or emotional affinity.
[French, from Old French, from raporter, to bring back : re-, re- + aporter, to bring (from Latin apportāre : ad-, ad- + portāre, to carry; see per-2 in Indo-European roots).]

SEX, LIES, AND CONVERSATION

Although I have never been married, I do know what being in a committed relationship is like and having the feeling that my S.O.S doesn't listen to a word I say. It's like talking to a dog you know it's there it hears everything you say but it just doesn't respond. It's not that it can't bark, it just doesn't. *Maybe like a dog men sometimes just don't have a CLUE or maybe they just don't know when to bark* LOL. I do agree that men and women (boys and girls) have diferent ways of communicating and that's all well and good. I just don't understand and maybe someone can answer this question: Why is it that men amd women have the most difficult time communicating (talking) with each other but when it's time to be intimate they are on one-acord? I have had many conversations with the opposite sex and they feel that women sometimes talk too much. I CONCUR. We often do talk too much and a man can't get in a word edge wise. I just hope that one day when I married I remember that yes a man wants to communicate with his wife just not during a movie, football, basketball, or baseball game. Oh yeah and when they are playing the play station!! Anyway, I hope I mad atleast a little bit of since. See you guys in class.

Personal Response to "Sex, Lies, and Conversation"

I did another personal response because nothing else fit!
I can identify with the author when she says that communication between men and women is similar to communication between two different cultures. Women and men are raised to different social expectations and their brains are simply programmed differently. I have had personal experience with the differences in the way men and women communicate, and those differences can cause many problems in relationships.
I was also impressed by the observation that was made about men talking more in public than women do. It is only one example of the social stigmas that still permeate today's society. Although women are now in the workforce and seen as (mostly) equals, there are still unspoken and unwritten rules that rule how (most) people act in public and at home.
Really, the only way to kick this social stigma is to point out the social geniuses who kick society's laws and actually make a difference. No matter your opinion on Hillary Clinton, she was the first serious possible woman President of America. She kicked the stigma of being the "first lady" and of being the woman to stand behind her husband while he pursues his career. Maybe one day she will be the first woman president, and the first spoise of a president to be president!

What Said said.

I actually appreciate this piece. "The blind arrogance of the imperial gaze" poses extreme problems in the countries in the Middle East that are misunderstood and subjugated, and here at home. Anti-Arab propaganda is rampant, sometimes in very subtle ways. Stereotypes are dominant when people consider the Arab world and the countries within, and this, of course, clouds judgment as a whole. These stereotypes as violent, freedom-hating fanatics are not only prevalent in the minds of the masses, but within the government, as Said points out. We tend to superimpose a model of democracy over their countries and ignore their traditions and their true needs as distinct cultures with their own interests in mind. Sadly there are ulterior motives, such as oil, that can drive us to attempt to install governments loyal first to the US and not to the Arab states, and that can also drive us as far as war. Of course benefits can come of a more "democratic government" rather than a military dictatorship, but subjugation and assimilation can never be the answer especially in areas where we are disliked and unwanted. Propaganda will tell you that it is because they hate us for our power and freedom, but this subjugation and oppression goes back thousands of years. For example, consider the Crusades. It is no wonder that we are regarded suspiciously and at times with a more malicious eye. Extreme political turmoil breeds fanaticism and if you look at the problems in their entirety and consider works from authors such as Said, it can really put this in perspective, a new perspective even, from what most Americans are used to.

Stereotypical Arabs know their words.

Begnign: adj.

1. having a kindly disposition; gracious: a benign king.

2. showing or expressive of gentleness or kindness: a benign smile.

3. favorable; propitious: a series of benign omens and configurations in the heavens.

Inculcated: v.

1. to implant by repeated statement or admonition; teach persistently and earnestly (usually fol. by upon or in): to inculcate virtue in the young.

2. to cause or influence (someone) to accept an idea or feeling (usually fol. by with): Socrates inculcated his pupils with the love of truth.

Traduced: v.

1. to speak maliciously and falsely of; slander; defame: to traduce someone's character.

Blandishments: n.

1. Often, blandishments. something, as an action or speech, that tends to flatter, coax, entice, etc.: Our blandishments left him unmoved. We succumbed to the blandishments of tropical living.

STEREOTYPING OF ARABS "VOCABULARY"

IMPERIALISM- (1)has two meanings, one describing an action and the other describing an attitude. Most commonly it is understood in relation to empire building, as the expansion of a nation's authority by territoral conquest establishing economic and political powers in other territorial or nations, and when such encompasses non-contiguous "colonies" or "protectorates" then the term also subsumes colonialism. (2) In its second meaning the term describes the imperialistic attitude of superiority, subordination and dominion over foreign people— a chauvinism and comportment relegating foreign people to a lesser social and or political status.

PROPAGANDA- is a concerted set of messages aimed at influencing the opinions or behaviors of large numbers of people. As opposed to impartially providing information, propaganda in its most basic sense presents information in order to influence its audience. Propaganda often presents facts selectively (thus lying by omission) to encourage a particular synthesis, or gives loaded messages in order to produce an emotional rather than rational response to the information presented. The desired result is a change of the cognitive narrative of the subject in the target audience to further a political agenda.

WOEFULLY- 1. Affected by or full of woe; mournful.
2. Causing or involving woe.
3. Deplorably bad or wretched.

FANATICISM- is an emotion of being filled with excessive, uncritical zeal, particularly for an extreme religious or political cause or in some cases sports, or with an obsessive enthusiasm for a pastime or hobby.

PALATABLE- 1.acceptable or agreeable to the palate or taste; savory: palatable food.
2.acceptable or agreeable to the mind or feelings: palatable ideas.

Critical Spinoff of "Stereotyping of Arabs by the US Ensures Years of Turmoil"

Let me sum of what I have to say in a few short, simple words. If you don't like America, LEAVE. It won't miss you. Edward Said wrote a very biased, one-sided piece that stereotyped Americans as stereotyping bigots. Not all Americans hate Arabs. I, personally have plenty of friends who are Arab and/or Muslim. Edward Said focused on the people that are biased against Arabs and Muslims which slanted his piece in a thoroughly disgusting fashion. And, believe it or not, there were other reasons than just the oil issue for invading Iraq. Whether or not we were right in doing it, we did it out of a "big brother" complex. We felt that Saddam Hussein was a horrible man (which he was) and that if we didn't step in, nobody else would (which was true). Should we have stepped in? That is not for me to decide. I, along with my fellow troops simply followed orders. I was lucky enough to not go to Iraq. However, had I been told to, I would have. Edward Said didn't look at the Iraqis who thank the American troops for being over there and doing what they do. He was a biased person himself. Before he complains about Americans, perhaps he should look in the mirror.

Why I Want A Wife

"My God" is absolutly right. This man wants a wife alright, a Stepherd Wife. This guy sounds just like the men from that movie. It's fine to want or even require specific characteristics in a mate, hell there are people in the world that take care of their mate and children just like the friend wants no questions asked. It's TOTALLY different when the person with all the demands is bringing nothing at all to the table. Going to school is a wonderful thing, hell I'm in school but when a person does nothing to hell the one they are with out they need to be put in check!!!
Brady's friend needs to take the Stepherd Wife movie literally and build a woman because that's the only way he's going get all those qualities in a woman and he's not bringing anything of substance to the table.
I don't know what else to say on this subject!!!

Personally, I found this amusing.

I do still know wives that behave that way and are expected to behave that way... and they are in my family. I understand that Brady is exaggerating to prove her point, but it does hit close to home when I have members of my own family telling me that I am "immature" for not adopting that kind of role. Of course those kinds of expectations are exceedingly sexist, but there are people that still expect their significant other, and it is usually a wife, to act in that manner and be happy about it of all things. I have been a wife and I did some of those things for my husband (cook, clean, make appointments), but he reciprocated by doing some of them for me. It was a partnership, as it should be.

I can appreciate the satire of Brady's piece and see what may be expected of a woman during that time, but in the here and now it really does sound even more ludicrous.

Critical Spinoff of "I Want a Wife"

I will agree with the author that life isn't always fair to women, but there is another side to that. Men (usually) have it easier, but there are husbands that do the same thing that Brady describes a wife doing. There are even (gasp) single fathers who do it all and never complain. Honestly, this story irritated me to no end. Yes, there are some men that expect their wife or wives to do all of this, but that wife decided to marry him. And if she didn't know what he was like before she married him, then perhaps she should have waited more than a month to marry him. Maybe Brady should get a divorce and marry a man that has low self esteem and will cater to her hand and foot, let her cheat on him, and take care of her children while she does it.

HOW TO TAME A WILD TONGUE

As an Mexican American Anzaldua's experiences are not so different from the experiences African Americans having to try finding their place in America. I have often heard it discussed how many different names have been applied to my race of people, (negro, colored, African American, black), and other terms too derrogatory to mention.
"We're going to have to control your tongue." It's interesting that those words were said and how it was in the wrong contence. Anzaldua's tongue was affected by the foriegn objects in her mouth but the context inwhich she was being told about her tongue was to control what she said out of her mouth. It's difficult enough trying to fit in with Americans and speak as Americans do, but not being able to express herself as a Chicano, being made to feel less then compared to other spanish people made it very difficult to even attempt to communicate with other chicano. They didn't know how to go about speaking to one another because of the stereotype that was placed on them. It's amazing how difficult it is for some races of people to feel like they fit in the American culture when in reality everyone here in America (Greeks, Scotish, Irish, Europeans, etc...) are from some where else.

Vocabulary Exploration for "How to Tame a Wild Tongue"

Instead of attempting to translate any of the Spanish in the work, I chose some words that the author used in relation to language and culture.

* intervocalic (ĭn'tər-vō-kāl'ĭk)
–adjective Phonetics.
1.(usually of a consonant) immediately following a vowel and preceding a vowel, as the v in cover or p in occupy, d in idea, etc.
[Origin: 1885–90; inter- + vocalic]

* archaisms (archaic) (är'kē-ĭz'əm, -kā-)
-noun
1. marked by the characteristics of an earlier period; antiquated: an archaic manner; an archaic notion.
2. (of a linguistic form) commonly used in an earlier time but rare in present-day usage except to suggest the older time, as in religious rituals or historical novels. Examples: thou; wast; methinks; forsooth.
[New Latin archaeismus, from Greek arkhaismos, from arkhaios, ancient]

* argot (är'gō, -gət)
-noun
1.a specialized idiomatic vocabulary peculiar to a particular class or group of people, esp. that of an underworld group, devised for private communication and identification: a Restoration play rich in thieves' argot.
2. the special vocabulary and idiom of a particular profession or social group: sociologists' argot.
[Origin: 1855–60; < F, n. deriv. of argoter to quarrel, deriv. L ergō ergo with v. suffix -oter]

* acculturating (acculturation) (ə-kŭl'chə-rā'shən)
1. The modification of the culture of a group or individual as a result of contact with a different culture.
2. The process by which the culture of a particular society is instilled in a human from infancy onward.

*synergy (sĭn'ər-jē)
-noun
1. The interaction of two or more agents or forces so that their combined effect is greater than the sum of their individual effects.
2. Cooperative interaction among groups, especially among the acquired subsidiaries or merged parts of a corporation, that creates an enhanced combined effect.
[From Greek sunergiā, cooperation, from sunergos, working together]

How I felt after reading "how to tame a wild tongue"

Normally, I'm not a huge fan of non-fictional readings and this definitely added a reason why. The story opened up with a girl in a dentist's office that wouldn't quit talking while he was performing his duties. How the author worded the event and the doctor's reaction, I thought the entire story was going in that direction. Unfortunatly, such was not the case. The story took a downward turn in the entertainment area, but skyrocketed in the sociology area. Next thing I know, I've learned several different types of spanish and different phrases from each. I feel I should add reading this artical to my resume, just for it's profound ability to confuse the mess out of the reader. The author really had a tough time concentrating on sticking to a single subject. One moment she's discussing how talking in spanish in school got her punished, next she's explaining the difference in Spanglish and northern spanish. As far as I knew, tex-mex was a snack food, but she definitly altered my perception on a certain crunchy, salty, snack mix.

Personal Response to "How to Tame a Wild Tongue"

It is hard for me, personally to identify with the writer, but I see my mother in this story. My mother was adopted from Turkey, and was never taught anything about her culture. My grandmother, who was born and raised in England, and came to America later in life, raised her as an American. Well, she raised her as "American-like" as she could, having grown up English. When my mother went to school, she spoke with an English accent, just like my grandmother does to this day. So, her teachers put her into a speech therapy class to get rid of her accent, because it was "wrong."
I agree that cultural censorship is an issue, but I don't agree that the English speaking Americans should have to accomodate the Spanish speaking Chicanos. (P. 53 "...as long as I have to accomodate the English speakers rather than having them accomodate me, my tongue will be illegitimate.") In America, majority rules, and English speaking Americans are still the majority. I am of the opinion that if you don't like it, leave. There are plenty of realistic accomodations for people who's first language is Spanish (has anyone had to press "1" for English lately?) and I don't feel that there is anything wrong with the way that things are set up right now.
Is it possible that one day, a majority of Americans will speak Spanish primarily? I think it is. But, again, it comes back to the "majority" issue. The "business" language of the world is English. I think that standard English will always have a place. But I think that soon enough, Americans will all be speaking a bastardized form of English and Spanish as a first language - Spanglish, if you will. However, as an "Anglo" with a Hispanic daughter, I will raise my daughter to speak English first. My daughter will speak Spanish, but it will not be her cultural crutch. She will speak it to stay in touch with who she is, not to separate herself from the rest of society.

Look! Wurds u can lern if u reed furthur!

Gall

1.	impudence; effrontery.

2.	bile, esp. that of an animal.

3.	something bitter or severe.

4.	bitterness of spirit; rancor.

Emigrant
Em"i*grant\, n. One who emigrates, or quits one country or region to settle in another. Syn: Emigrant, Immigrant. Emigrant and emigration have reference to the country from which the migration is made; the correlative words immigrant and immigration have reference to the country into which the migration is made, the former marking the going out from a country, the latter the coming into it.

Our Own Ghosts

Reading and reflecting upon “No Name Woman” prompted me to think about my own family's ghosts, one of which is my paternal grandmother, who haunts me in particular. She is rarely spoken of, and if she is, she's usually remembered graciously as the warm, lamb-like woman that raised my two uncles and my aunt. When she was thirty she gave birth to my father, and from that day forth became a psychosis-ridden shadow of her former self, becoming sicker and sicker until she was institutionalized until the time of her death at around age 55. At one point in time, when my father was an infant, she was kept tethered to the bed so that she would not wander off and harm herself or anyone else. I was able to glean snippets of information here and there, but no one in my family will talk at length about my Grandmother Ruth, or of the true nature of her illnesses. I am often told that I bear a striking resemblance to her though, and that some of my mannerisms are much like hers.

I really do not have cultural differences to reconcile as does the author of the story. Her heritage and familial traditions make her own story difficult and hard to truly understand as a Western thinker. The message that her mother imparts is fairly straightforward, though the details are horrifying and difficult to digest. As children, we all have been told cautionary stories by our caretakers at one point or another, sometimes about our own family members or family friends in order to warn us of the dire consequences of our careless actions. One does have to consider, what if my grandmother had fallen ill at an earlier time when my family still lived in Ireland? Would my family's view of my Grandmother and her illness have changed? In comparison, my family's heritage and the author's are too different. My own family's near silence is not as much of a distant cultural issue. There are gender issues, my grandmother being the matriarch that could no longer be a mother or a wife, but they are subdued in the face of those present in Kingston's story. However, I've still been cautioned by family members to be careful under huge amounts of pressure, as if something was lurking under the surface and could rupture and send me to the hospital in a state much like my Grandmother's.

No Name Woman

Vocabulary Assessment
1. bund- an embackment or an embacked quay, and comes from the Urdu word band, meaning and embankment, levee or dam. "Bund" is pronounced to rhyme with "fund." The term was brought to India by either the Mughals or possibly by the Baghdadi Jews in the early 16th century.

2. loom- a machine or device for weaving thread or yarn into textiles. Looms can range from very small hand-held frames, to large free-standing hand looms, to huge automatic mechanical devices. A loom can also refer to an electrical cable assembly or harness such as a wiring loom.

3. crooked- 1.not straight; bending; curved: a crooked path. -askew; awry: The picture onthe wall seems to be crooked. -deformed: a man with a crooked back. -not straightforward; dishonest. -bent and often raised or moved to one side, as a finger or neck. (of a coin)polygonal: a crooked sixpence.

4. subtle- so slight as to be difficult to detect or describe; elusive. -Characterized by skill or ingenuity; clever.

5. depilatory- a cosmetic preparation used to remove the hair from the skin on the human body.

6. inexorable- capable of being moved by entreaty; pitiful; tender.

No Name Edjucation is more like it...

Here are some that may have boggled your noggins:


1: "The";

1.	(used, esp. before a noun, with a specifying or particularizing effect, as opposed to the indefinite or generalizing force of the indefinite article a or an): the book you gave me; Come into the house.

2.	(used to mark a proper noun, natural phenomenon, ship, building, time, point of the compass, branch of endeavor, or field of study as something well-known or unique): the sun; the Alps; the Queen Elizabeth; the past; the West.

3.	(used with or as part of a title): the Duke of Wellington; the Reverend John Smith.

2: "Prodigal";

1.	wastefully or recklessly extravagant: prodigal expenditure.

2.	giving or yielding profusely; lavish (usually fol. by of or with): prodigal of smiles; prodigal with money.

3.	lavishly abundant; profuse: nature's prodigal resources.

3: "Mien";

1. Bearing or manner, especially as it reveals an inner state of mind: "He was a Vietnam veteran with a haunted mien" (James Traub).
2. An appearance or aspect.

4: "Cuckold";

				a man whose wife committed adultery
verb
1.				be sexually unfaithful to one's partner in marriage; "She cheats on her husband"; "Might her husband be wandering?" [syn: cheat on]

5: "Inexorable";

1. unyielding; unalterable: inexorable truth; inexorable justice.

2.	not to be persuaded, moved, or affected by prayers or entreaties: an inexorable creditor.

6: "Agoraphobia";
1. an abnormal fear of being in crowds, public places, or open areas, sometimes accompanied by anxiety attacks.

Analytical Response to "No Name Woman"

"You must not tell anyone," my mother said, "what I am about to tell you. In China your father had a sister who killed herself. She jumped into the family well. We say that your father has all brothers because it is as if she had never been born."
The story starts out screaming silence and restriction. Kingston's family did not find that the "aunt's" death was enough punishment for her, so they erased her memory permanently. According to Chinese tradition, it is worse to be forgotten than to simply be dead. This story is full of themes, motifs and symbols.
One major theme of this work is the role of Chinese women in their society. Ironically, the male influence is conspicuously absent throughout the story, except as the imagined rapist responsible for the unnamed aunt's shame and subsequent death.
A motif that I found particularly interesting was the ghost motif. According to Kingston, ghosts are contradictory - good and bad, family and foe. Ghosts, although a motif, are ever-changing throughout the story. Warriors, on the other hand, stood for struggle. The irony in the first sentence of this story is that Kingston was told that she must never tell anyone, yet in writing it, she has told everyone. Kingston fought back against the silence that was restricting her, just as the de-feminizing of the women after marriage by cutting their hair restricted them, just as binding the feet of young female children restricted them.

Talking Back (you better not!)

In this short excerpt Of Bell Hooks "talking Back" She painted a clear picture of what NOT to do as a child in the presents of their elders. Hooks expressed the fact that she would sit in a setting where the adults were talking and how it burned her up on the inside to have to just sit and listen " to be seen and not heard". She would often find herself in pain because she just couldn't keep her mouth shut or thoughts to herself, I applaud her for that because she didn't let punishment stop her from being determined to speak her mind. Despite Hooks being in what she felt like was an unfair position she discovered the beauty of adult conversation and being able to voice ones opinion on any subject at any time and that made her feel "empowered". Hooks explained that" if it weren't for the defiants she had toward her parents and other adults she would not have emerged the independent thinker and writer" she is to date.
Knowing the history of my parents and granddparents Hooks reafirmed everything they ever told me and why I was not only told but have respect for the term, "children are only to be seen and not heard". "Talking Back leads to pain and punishments one will never forget".

Talking About "Talking Back"

In “Talking Back”, Bell Hooks expresses a deep envy of her superiors and their freedom to say what they wish by describing her childhood as one where she was raised “to be seen and not heard”; that is, to not speak until spoken to, never voice her opinion and never question what she had been told by her mother. Listening to her describe the world as restricting and stifling her opinion, or “back talk”, as she puts it, gives you a very real feel of oppression. Her image of the world is one of restraint, where she’s not allowed to say anything that others may view as controversial or weird, for fear of being labeled insane, as she tells of how she told her mother that she hoped that she (Hooks) would die first, because she couldn’t bear the thought of living without her. Her mother instantly shoots this down, judging such thoughts as madness.

These restraints only act as an encouragement for Hooks to speak out more. The less she’s allowed to speak, the more she wants to, which she’s finally able to achieve in adulthood through her writing. Sadly, however, she never truly views herself as a writer. Her childhood experiences engrained her with a sense of fear of being stifled and punished for saying something inappropriate, to the point that she reacts to her success as though it never happened at all.

Analytical Response to "Talking Back"

In this excerpt from “Talking Back”, hooks examines oppression of women both in terms of speech and thought stemming from a very young age. She explores this on a personal level, recounting events beginning in childhood and on through adult years. The psychological effects of being stifled were so strong that they even affected her deeply after becoming an established writer.

The title of the piece “Talking Back” works well as she speaks of what she overcame both internally and externally as a young black woman to make herself heard. The phrase “talking back” she explains, “meant speaking as an equal to an authority figure.” The connotations are also to reply belligerently or insolently. Hooks uses this term and transforms it into a term that breaks the accepted norm. It is being heard when one is expected to have no voice, or to conform. She also uses the term “right speech”, which is what is expected of you as a “good woman”. “Right speech” is dictated by the constraints of society and can also be a tool of oppression or suppression, which hooks also explores in this excerpt.

Gender and racial issues are still very relevant today, so the ideas in this piece are important to consider. Hooks brought these issues into the spotlight on a very personal level, making it easier to relate to and easier to understand.

Yakity Yak, don't talk back

This short look into the life of Bell Hooks let's us see just how life of black women was in the 1950's. They could not be very outspoken, or speak very much at all when in the presence of men or important people. Now a-days, they can pretty much say anything they want, when ever they want. African-American women have so many rights today, that they don't know what to do with them all. This simply shows how much we have progressed, as a country, through out these few short years. Most people take these rights for granted in today's society, but the people that were born in Bell Hooks' time, definitely are not taking them for granted.

Vocabulary Discussion of "Talking Back"

-WASP: White Anglo-Saxon Protestant
Denotative Meaning: sociological and cultural ethnonym that originated in the United States.
Connotative Meaning: the same as the denotative meaning, except more specific. bell hooks means "white Anglo-Saxon Protestant women."
Origins: The term originated in reference to White Americans of Anglo-Saxon descent, who were Protestant in religious affiliation. However, the term does not have a precise definition, and can be used to describe greatly differing groups. It initially applied to people with histories in the upper class Northeastern establishment, who were alleged to form a powerful elite. Working class whites in the U.S. are generally not referred to as "WASPs", even if they are Protestants of Anglo-Saxon descent. The word white is redundant, since Anglo-Saxons — whether in the strict or popular sense of the term — are always white.
Meaning/Association: Currently, the definition of WASP has been expanded to mean anyone who is white and Christian. Personally, I see it as another racial slur that needs to be removed from the English language.

-Soliloquy:
Denotative Meaning: an utterance or discourse by a person who is talking to himself or herself or is disregardful of or oblivious to any hearers present.
Connotative Meaning: speech that was disregarded by men (the powerful).
Origins: 1595–1605; < LL sōliloquium a talking to oneself, soliloquy, equiv. to sōli- SOLI-1 + loqu(ī) to speak + -ium -IUM.
Meaning/Association: In the context that the word was written, soliloquy represents the forced silence of not only children but of women. The mothers that enforced the same sexist silence on their children were only doing what they had been brought up to do, almost as if they were punishing their children for what was done to them.

-Lo:
Denotative Meaning: look! see!
Connotative Meaning: When used in the sentence, I think it means the obvious neccessity to break the author's spirit.
Origins: bef. 900; ME; conflation of lo exclamation of surprise, grief, or joy, O! (OE lā; see LA2) and lo, shortened form of loke (OE lōca), impv. of loken to LOOK.
Meaning/Association: In the context "...neccessity LO of breaking my spirit," it would literally mean "the neccessity, see! of breaking my spirit." It is almost a question, as if the parents were saying "Don't you see how important it is to break your spirit?"

-Paucity:
Denotative Meaning: smallness of quantity; scarcity; scantiness.
Connotative Meaning: the scarce amount of feminist writing by black women.
Origins: 1375–1425; late ME paucite < L paucitās fewness, deriv. of paucus few; see -ITY.
Meaning/Association: In the context, the author is disgusted with how black women have been silenced in the feminist movement.

What would you do for a Klondike Bar?

Is the Hokey Pokey really what it's all about?

But really. Learning to Read and Write was written in the 1800s. Do you think a story like that would be viewed differently were it written more recently?

A question for you.

After teaching Freddy the alphabet, do you think his owners should have just let him learn to read and just kept it a secret from the rest of society?

A Question

I'm sure that we have all heard the phrase, "Ignorance is bliss." Do you feel that there are times when it is better not to know?

My question is. Despite his accomplished learning to read and write, besides/other than being a slave, why did Frederick Douglass express the desire to end his life?

Question for "Learning to Read and Write"

Do you think that people who have to work for their education value it more, or is it a coincidence that Douglass sought so fervently to learn? Do we, as Americans, take education for granted? Do you think Douglass was torn between loving and hating education? How do you think Douglass represented Christianity in this story?
*Sorry guys. I couldn't settle on one question!*

Working with "Workers"

Reading “Workers”, I couldn’t help but feel a certain identification with the writer and myself. He lived a relatively privileged life, with opportunities and decisions regularly available to him; I myself having some of those freedoms, although not to the same extent. He goes into great detail about feeling different from the menial worker, the “day-laborer”, mainly as he cannot identify with them, describing them as “disadvantaged.” I share this characteristic, not ever feeling that working a menial job necessary for day-to-day living.

This isn’t to say I haven’t worked, as I would term, “crap jobs.” I worked at a gas station for four years of my life, working my way from third shift cashier to store manager in my first two. I’ve also worked as a “phone person” at a local take-out restaurant, a cashier at an arcade in the mall and a short-lived auto maintenance mechanic. Not once in any of these jobs did I feel that they were permanent careers, as I simply viewed them as a way to pay my expenses as I decided what I wanted to do with my life.

The story itself was very intriguing, as it gives the impression of a man who would be viewed as aristocratic by some. A steady theme throughout the story is that he never felt that he was on the same level as those around him, as he viewed them as disadvantaged or trapped within the confines of their own jobs. He seemed almost envious of them, however, because he found their way of life very simplistic and he felt he would never know that kind of simplicity.

Personal Resonse/Reflection Inspiried By "Workers"

Upon reading “Workers”, I am reminded of the time that I myself did hard labor on a construction site, working in conjunction with the others that were hired on and paid next to nothing, to roof a house under the sweltering Memphis sun in the middle of summer. We worked as a coherent whole, volunteers and also hired immigrant workers, to see this job to completion. I felt a scene of oneness, togetherness with these people that would carry with me in my memory. Of course, this is a different scenario but one of the reasons that I volunteered to take on this hard labor was to show my father that I also knew what real work was like. He is a carpenter and has been for all of his life. At this time I was a young girl in high school, enrapt in my own sense of dandyism. I was obsessed with enriching my own intellect and manner, devouring books, studying languages, and also in my own sense of fashion; a counter culture elegance spurred by my disdain for popular culture and the fashion of that time. In the end of that summer's undertaking, we completed our task and I emerged a little hardened and with a new sense of accomplishment and pride.

Just last year, destitute and desperate for a job, I was hired at dry cleaner's. I was the only Caucasian girl and worked with my boss and his family, all immigrants from Mexico. The were some of the hardest workers that I would ever meet, and always efficient and kind. We made little money, but worked as a unit to ensure daily that all was finished. They always called me “German Girl” because they thought that I had an accent and wouldn't accept the fact that my own family were not immigrants as well. So, I didn't argue and worked with them, now a German (or sometimes Russian) immigrant myself. It was extremely humbling to work with this family. Everyone worked, the mother, the children, sometimes 12 hours a day or more.

While looking up the words “los pobres” that were used by Richard Rodriguez in this selection, I came across the Spanish proverb “La esperanza es el pan de los pobres.” In English this translates to, “Hope is the poor man's bread.” This is such a simple and poignant statement, and it seems as if the author felt this as he labored with the Mexican workers that all arrived and departed together on that truck. Their silence stayed with them as if he could feel that very proverb as he watched them daily. In my own life I have also experienced this under my own circumstances, though a middle class American citizen, having met and labored with immigrant workers and “los pobres”. This allowed me to look upon them with new eyes, and to more fully recognize their plight in a much more conscientious fashion.

I enjoyed this passage by R. Rodriguez. His experiences made him stronger mentally and physically. Just like him I sometimes Don't listen to my parents suggestions and it leads to an unnecessary struggle. In that struggle an "I told you so" enters into the equation; nevertheless a great lesson is the end result. I found that Rodriguez had self-esteem issues. If he hadn't taken on the job at the construction sight he wouldn't have discovered and worked on the problems within. I relate to him, not in the work he did,but in the self-esteem issues he had. If it weren't for my parents teaching me to be proud of who I am, every time someone speaks about how thin I am would devastate me. Rodriguez did a wonderful job of relating to the issues of the youth today and that includes me as well.

Critical Spinoff of "Workers"

I already know that my response to this story is going to generate friction. Fortunately, we are all mature adults that are able to agree to disagree! In my opinion, Richard Rodriguez is approving of illegal immigration to the United States. Many Mexican immigrants came to America illegally, so they don't have the right to ask for the same wages that tax paying Americans receive. Unfortunately, many illegal immigrants continue to work for the low wages; consequently, American employers tend to employ illegal immigrants. Employers have realized that they can hire three illegal immigrants for the price of one legal American citizen. When 4.6% of legal American citizens are unemployed, there is only one way to really solve the problem. The government should be tougher on employers who choose to employ illegal immigrants, and tougher on people who come to America illegally. Even if an illegal immigrant has a child in the United States, they should not be allowed to stay in the United States. The child should be given the choice at the age of eighteen whether or not to become a citizen of the United States, but until then should have to stay with his parents - wherever they are legal citizens!

Her favored mount is... a hog?

I have always liked pigs. “Smarter than dogs,” they say. If allowed to roam and wallow, as sweet as pie. They also have teeth like a pulverizing mortar and pestle, as I would learn while on my way to procuring one of the highest and most honorable titles a kid could receive at Ashton Farms Summer Day Camp, "Pig Riding Champion". It would end up being an experience that I would never forget, or as far as my family was concerned, live down.

It was “summer games” day at Aston Farms, and of course as a rowdy tomboy, I was right in the middle of everything. I had grown very fond of all of the different animals there, and when they announced the pig riding competition I was in the very front row, watching with glee. The boys were all trying to mount the pigs as if they were horses, and then attempting to ride them for as long as they could before slipping to the ground covered in mud in most cases. It was entirely too much fun to just watch. I hopped the fence, ready to go down in hog equestrian history. I quickly jumped on the nearest pig as it was eating and locked my legs around it. It shot off like a bullet, squealing in agitation. I held on as it dashed around in circles, ran headlong into a fence, and then attempted to rub me off against a tree. I held fast, determined to stay on, but was tossed over the pig's head as it came to a sudden stop directly in front of the food bowls. I took a nose-dive into the mud pit, my leg landing directly into the pigs' dish. One of them clamped down onto my leg and I screamed in pain. The camp councilors scrambled over the fence, grabbing me under the arms to help me stand, and were surprised to see me laughing hysterically. "Winner!” one of them yelled as he lifted my arm in the air. I can't remember what I actually won other than bragging rights and a brutal ring-shaped bruise from the pig's teeth. Apparently I was the first girl to win in the 4 years that it had held! Intoxicated by victory, I tried the chicken catching contest, but promptly gave up when I saw the size of the rooster, or more specifically the size of the rooster's burrs. I would settle instead for a nice, scalding, well-deserved shower.

At some time during the following year, the VHS that someone had taken of the entire event would miraculously disappear, but only after I noticed that my father wanted to show it to absolutely anyone that would sit still for long enough. Even without the VHS, my father would retell the story for many years to come, especially as an icebreaker to any male friend that showed even the slightest interest in me. As I have gotten older, I have begun telling the story myself, and now I really wish that I had that VHS that vanished into the void so many years ago.

My First Real Memory

All my life, I’ve had what I normally describe as a brain tumor. It’s a short way to explain what I really have, which is an arachnoid cyst. See the difference? Brain tumor. Simple. Widely known. Arachnoid cyst. What? What is that? Please, tell us more. Well, that’s what this story is about, so here you go.

One of my earliest memories is of riding in my Dad’s burgundy Honda Civic, trying not to scream and focus on something else. I was two years old. My father, who is probably panicking, is driving as fast as he can without placing us both in danger. We ride though every stop sign on the way to the hospital, speeding around anyone not going at least 10 miles over the speed limit. I can’t remember if we ran through stop lights, but I doubt we did because that’s just asking for a car collision. I’m surprised we never got pulled by a police officer, as many driving laws we broke that day.

We finally arrive at the hospital, my father terrified that we’re out of time, my headache getting worse by the minute, to discover that we still have to wait for the neurosurgeon to prepare for surgery. I’m taken to a room and given a shot to knock me out. At this point the pain is so unbearable I can’t stop fighting. It takes three nurses and a doctor to restrain me so the shot can be given properly. I’m told to watch Sesame Street and count to 100, as the drug given to me is so strong I’m already sedated enough to not feel anything. I get as far as 16 before I lose consciousness.

16 hours worth of surgery later, I wake up completely normal; plus a few stitches and a vein I wasn’t born with connected to the inside of my skull. I spend the next few weeks in and out of consciousness, mostly from the physical exhaustion of having my brain push against the inside of my skull for two hours. Or it could be from the constant Sesame Street being shown on the hospital network. I may never know for certain.

It's called a "Death Grip" for a reason.

. This fun story takes place on my uncle's farm up near Hickory, North Carolina. It was in Autumn, when the leaves were turning those nice Autumn-ish colors. My brother and I had arrived very hopeful; our uncle had just gotten a new four-wheeler. Oh the excitement was sprawled across our teenage faces. Little did we know, our uncle had also made us some welcoming dirt mounds for us to jump on the four-wheeler. All around, the area was now perfect for four-wheeling. The farm had two horse pastures, a woodland area with a nice, muddy ground, and now mounds of dirt for us master on this new ATV.

. So, my brother and I took turns exploring the ways of off-roading on this ATV. We would speedily ride up and down these large pastures, tear into the mud spots in the woods, as well as climb a conveniently placed hill in the woods. As the day drew closer to it's end, I awaited my turn on the four-wheeler in my uncle's golf cart. My brother was just making a jump on artificial hills, when he landed wrong and slammed his chin on the handle bars and groin on the seat. Needless to say, he was done for the day. So, being the greedy little miscreant I was; I boarded the ATV and took off on my own little adventure. One that I had done many times that day. I had found a natural bump in the ground in the adjacent pasture to the one with the man made hills that I had taken a liking to. So, I did a few small jumps on it for a while.

. By this point, you would think I had a good feel for riding this man made work horse. My, how wrong that judgment turns out to be. It was almost time to call it a day, when my mother comes out to watch a little bit of the action. My uncle yells to me, "Hey Ryan, show your mom the jump you've been working on". Not one to turn down a prime opportunity to show off, I line up the jump and took off. I thought, "Huh, this is probably the fastest I've gone today", as I was approaching the launch point. I hit the jump and hurdled through the air. Exhilarating didn't being to describe the feeling of getting this much out of a jump. This was undoubtedly the best jump I had achieved all day, even though I was coming to an uncomfortable distance with a barbed wire fence. Upon landing, I instinctively grabbed the brake and squeezed it tightly to slow myself down. Unfortunately, the adrenaline going through me locked my thumb on the throttle. This canceled out the brake and allowed me to show a certain barbed wire fence a bit of affection.

. Passing through the thick chicken wire that made up the lower section of the fence, I noticed my lower body leaving my head where it was. This was because the barbed wire that lined the top of the fence had me by the throat. Darn near doing a back flip; I landed softly in, luck behold, a huge briar patch. Upon landing, I launched back up, as if on a spring board, to check my neck for punctures. Fortunately, the chin strap absorbed most of the barbs leaving neck with a small little rub rash. The briars I landed in did most of the work to my arms, near the biceps. After such a horrific and humbling experience, I did not shed a tear. I simply laughed it off and inquired as to the condition of the four-wheeler.

NEVER TOO SAFE!

Up until now, the pink building was all I knew about school. Both my pre k and my kindergarten years were spent there. But sometime after Christmas, my teachers stopped our playtime at recess every day to point to the huge building on the other side of our schoolyard to tell us that very soon, we would be going to that building for school. I didn’t know whether or not to be happy or sad. I just knew that my cousins went to that school so at least I would be able to see them. I was satisfied with the thought of having my cousins nearby, but nothing could have prepared me, or my family for the events that would change my entire school year.

One day while sitting in class, the phone in Ms. Livingstone’s room rang. That was my first grade teacher. All I heard her say was, “Hello Livingstone’s room.” “Okay, let me pack her up and she’ll be right there.” “Adrienne” she said walking toward me, “Get your things together your mom is coming to get you!” I was excited because it’s not often that I was picked up early from school. As I sat on the outside of the front office waiting for my mom to show up I wondered what special place she was taking me today. For the next few hours, I sat on that wooden bench waiting for my mom who, I would learn later, was busy teaching her class in another county, and had no idea what was taking place.

At the end of the day, my cousin came up to the school to pick up her little sister and me and found that I was sitting on that same wooden bench outside of the office. When she inquired as to why I was sitting there, the office, who had forgotten that I was there, informed her that my mother had called that morning and was supposed to pick me up hours ago. When the office finally looked into the matter, they found that my mom had not made the call to pick me up. There had been some suspicious activity on the playground and that a lady whose identity could not be established had inquired about me earlier in the week. All of this would have been a case of mistaken communication, but my mom who worked nearly 90 minutes away had already suffered through two other frightening events. A couple years earlier, a strange woman tried to grab me by my hand and take me out of a clothing store. I lunged forward and yelled, “NO!” and the woman rang out the door. Not long after that, a man attempted to snatch me from my mother’s hand as we boarded the city bus. This incident at the school was the final straw. The school was not as concerned about the misunderstanding and didn’t find it necessary to increase security or alter the practice of sitting student outside of the office. Despite weeks of protest, recommendation, and accusations from the school that my mom as overreacting, I was
withdrawn from that school and eventually finished the year in a private school.

Interesting Experience

One of the most interesting experiences that I have ever had was also one of the most terrifying. I was eighteen years old, and about to graduate basic training. One of the more insane drill sergeants - I'll call him DS Luke for privacy - hated females. I don't know why, but he did. One afternoon, I was a battle buddy to a fellow basic trainee. Again, for privacy, I will call her PVT Thomas. PVT Thomas had a medical appointment for a hip fracture she had incurred on Warrior Tower. The only staircase that was navigable at the time was the staircase outside of the drill sergeant's office. So, in order to get out of the building, we had to go down the staircase and go through the drill sergeant's office. Needless to say, it was not pleasant to request permission to intrude upon a drill sergeant's space. On this particular day, DS Luke was in an extremely bad mood - even worse than usual. PVT Thomas and I knocked on the drill sergeant door and waited. When DS Luke opened the door, PVT Thomas froze, so I took the initiative and requested permission to speak. DS Luke didn't mind me, but hated PVT Thomas. That happens a lot in the military; even if a soldier is injured through no fault of their own, fellow service members tend to look down on him or her. He granted me permission to speak, and I informed him that PVT Thomas had a medical appointment. I will probably never know for sure why he slammed the door in our face, but I assume it was because she had not spoken for herself. Whatever the reason, PVT Thomas didn't appreciate DS Luke interfering with her medical treatment. So, in the boldest move I have ever seen from a basic trainee, PVT Thomas picked up her crutch and banged on the door. When DS Luke told her to go away, she got even bolder. She told him in very colorful language that she wasn't going anywhere except to her medical appointment. After this outburst, it got very quiet on the other side of the door. I literally thought for a moment that the last thing I heard before I got killed by a rampant drill sergeant was silence. All of a sudden, the door to the drill sergeant's office flew open, and DS Luke came through that door like a bull on steroids.
DS Luke was not small by any definition of the word; at well over six feet tall, he had to have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds at the least. But make no mistake - DS Luke was not fat. DS Luke was built like a bulldog that had been given growth hormones as a puppy. When this man came through the door to the drill sergeant's office, my first instinct was to run like my life depended on it because I was pretty sure that it did. Unfortunately for my fight or flight instinct, I knew that I couldn't leave PVT Thomas alone with this crazy drill sergeant. So, I stayed there at parade rest hoping that whatever happened would be quick. I didn't even bother hoping for painless because it was DS Luke, and I knew better. PVT Thomas wasn't intimidated by DS Luke, because by this point she was really angry. After a few choice words to DS Luke, I guess he had had enough. He swung at her, and had she not ducked at the last minute, he would have demolished her face. Behind the place where PVT Thomas' head had just been was the freezer door to the drill sergeant's refrigerator, and when DS Luke hit that, it bent in the middle badly enough that it would not close again. Then and there, I realized that DS Luke really was out for blood. I grabbed PVT Thomas, and pushed her towards the staircase. I told her to crutch her way up the stairs as quickly as she could. Meanwhile, I stayed there in the stairwell with an insane drill sergeant like I had some neurotic hero complex. It took me all of ten seconds to realize that if I didn't get out of his way, he was going to go through me to get to her. So I did what any sane person would have done, which was just the opposite of what I had done in trying to distract him. I moved. In about three seconds flat he had caught up to PVT Thomas, and was screaming in her face. PVT Thomas was backed in a corner, and looked like she was going to wet herself. For some reason, DS Luke decided that he wanted to kill us with the flagstaff, and he told us not to move.
The moment he turned the corner, I told PVT Thomas to get on my back. I was not about to wait around for death to come knocking at my doorstep! She jumped on, and for whatever reason, she kept her crutches in her hands. As soon as she was on, I made a run for it. I was down the stairs, through the (still open) door to the drill sergeant's office, and out of the building. In my defense, I was running with the weight of two people, and DS Luke was in really good shape. At any rate, before I even got to the end of the building, PVT Thomas was screaming that DS Luke was behind us. Just like in the movies, I turned my head just enough to see him. It was almost like I had to confirm that this crazy person was gaining on me. When the confirmation was made, even though I did not think that it was possible, I started running faster.
By this point, I could see the Alpha Company building, and from the sounds, I could tell that there was a formation there. Now, let me clue you in to the thought that was going through my head at the time; "I'm going to run until my heart bursts, because if the running doesn't kill me, HE WILL." I managed to get within earshot of the formation, and although I was unable to breathe enough to get any attention, PVT Thomas was on my back screaming like a banshee. So, Alpha Company got an extremely odd picture. Here was a 4'11" private with a 5'4" private on her back with crutches flung out like wings. Behind us was a crazy drill sergeant chasing us down with a flagstaff. I don't know if the angels had laced up their Nike's that day, and were running with us, or if we just had extremely awesome karma, but whatever it was I appreciate it. The command sergeant major of the battalion (I will call him CSM Santa for privacy) was outside of Alpha Company at that particular moment. As soon as I saw him, I had a new target. DS Luke was not going to attempt to impale us with the flagstaff when CSM Santa was anywhere near us. While I attempted to catch my breath, PVT Thomas told CSM Santa what had happened, and I just nodded along, still winded. At the end of the day, reports had been taken and DS Luke was in serious trouble. The rest of this story is boring, but I hope that I have entertained you up until this point!

Introduction

Although I don't have any readings or pertinent English topics to blog about today, I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Brook, but what many people don't realize is that my maiden name is "Shields." For anyone who watches Lipstick Jungle they know that Brooke Shields is a famous actress. Although my maiden name was almost identical to the actress', my "Brooke" is spelled without the "e." Spelling my name differently than most people named "Brooke" do reflects my personality in a way. I am eccentric, and I embrace that. I don't do things because that is what most people are doing, and I never really have. My talents are spread across the spectrum. In saying that, I mean that I have many talents, most of which are unrelated to each other. I am looking forward to this semester of English 111, mostly because I sense that this class is going to be the first English class that I have ever taken that actually challenges me to be me. For twelve years, my teachers squeezed what was "me" out of my writing. Now, even though I am told to be myself and to be creative, it is hard to unlearn all of the cookie cutter style of writing that I was taught. In short, I like a challenge and I think I have one with this class!