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Tuesday, December 14, 2010

2010-Final Exam

   
     It is fair to say that it is almost impossible to walk a way from a semester and not have learned anything. After 18 weeks every student must have attained some kind of new knowledge or intelligence. Ironically enough, the subject in which I best acquired a firm grasp on in our AP English class this semester is that of the multiple intelligences. There are eight original intelligences. Among these are: kinesthetic, linguistic, logical, interpersonal, intrapersonal, musical, visual/spatial, and naturalistic. Most people have approximately three of these intelligences, but some are naturally gifted with more or all of them. Recognizing our own intelligences may be difficult at times, however, there are recourses available to help us on this journey. Such recourses include reflections, essays, and tests that are made accessible to the public online. I tend to favor in the linguistic, intrapersonal, and musical intelligences. This means I am word, self, and music smart.

    Linguistic intelligence is the ability to use and manipulate words to make a reader or listener better grasp the concept or point that you are trying to convey. Through my poetry I can manipulate, not only my words but my readers as well. I do this by making the reader feel either what I feel/felt, or what I want them to feel. Words flow naturally to me like they have some kind of home or safe heaven hidden in my mind and when they are ready to be found, to be seen by the rest of the world, they make their escape through the tip of my pen. When I write, fiction or non-fiction, I place myself in the specific time and setting in which this particular event(s) has or will occur. I can describe things I have never physically felt or seen using words and I can do it so that the reader or listener will believe it has occurred to me personally. I can also write an essay on a subject matter I have never learned, or take no interest in, and make it a considerably well crafted essay. I do believe I am word smart.

    Intrapersonal intelligence is the intellect that allows you to know yourself. Someone who has conquered this intelligence will know their weaknesses and their strengths. Often these people also keep diaries. I myself am well aware of my limitations and advantages. As a leader in MCJROTC I am encouraged to seek out my weakness and improve them. I am also promoted to know my advantages and use them to the best of my ability in order to ensure proficiency in everything I do. However, I do not keep a diary per se. Rather I have journals upon journals that contain poems, essays, reflections, ad such that I have constructed in my spare time. I suppose these writings could be seen as a diary as they are my vent. They are my anger, impurities, flaws, emotions, and thoughts bleeding themselves onto paper, beseeching my mind for rest. These writings are my understandings of myself and my life. I am self smart.

    In addition to the intelligences listed above, I also consider myself to be musically intelligent. When I hear music, I hear poetry. I hear an event being sung, an artist proclaiming his or her need to be heard. I do not write songs or play an instrument by I can express myself through the writings of other artists. I hear their grief or happiness in the words they use and I understand the moral, the intent of the song they have written. Also, being in MCJROTC and cheerleading has taught me to think in terms of beats. At what beat do we change to alternative beat and transition to the next formation? What note should the second opening stunt hit on? When things get to be too much for me to handle, I put my Ipod on choose music that best describes how I feel or what I am going through at the moment. I am music smart.

    On the contrary, of all the intelligences I have introduced of course there is going to my weaker aspect. Spatial intelligence is not something I am particularly gifted in. This also known as visual intelligence and is the ability to learn from things such as pictures. People who are well off with this intellect may be good at illustrations, mazes, puzzles, graphs, and map reading. It is a common intellect among artists. I cannot say that I fully grasp and under the idea of visual learning because I do not. I need to be heard through writing. All the same, I learn through written material. Images do not speak to me. I am not visually smart.

    Eighteen weeks of school have come and gone and what is left to show of them? Well grades are certainly one thing we can take a look at. Yet it is most accurate to do a self examination. In doing so we should ask ourselves what it is that we learned and why this is of any significance to us. As for me, I learned about the multiple intelligences as well as which intelligences I have a firmer comprehension of and which I do not. I can use this knowledge outside of my English class to better understand the world around me. That being said, nothing we learn within classroom walls is meant to stay encased in the room. I believe everything we are taught has some sort of use in the bigger portrait of the world and life. The information fed to us by our teachers and superiors is not meant to be discarded without any further application of thought. This semester was the beginning of my junior and loaded with new information. However, high school is the beginning of life!

Assignment #20 - My Christmas Story



They kissed goodbye as Lucy struggled for a way to stall. “Promise me you’ll be home for Christmas, Mark. No last minute interventions.” Mark hesitated. He knew he would not return. He was taking this “business” trip so as not to inflict any pain upon his wife as he let go. Still he fumbled for an alternative. “I love you Lucy, but I’m going to miss my flight if I don’t get going.” She handed him his luggage and watched as he was devoured by a crowd of people all awaiting take off. She prayed that by “I love you Lucy” Mark really meant “Of course I’ll be home for Christmas”. But Mark hadn’t told Lucy he’d only bought a one-way. There were a lot of things he hadn’t told her. Like the fact that two weeks ago Mark was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. And three days later when the doctors told him the cancer had progressed too rapidly to treat it, he hid that too. Now he was boarding a one-way to his home town where he planned to die alone. Yet all Lucy knew was that she would be alone in an empty apartment until Mark came home.

Lucy had just returned from work. The phone was ringing and she knew it would Mark. Today was Christmas Eve and he still had not come home. He had called every day that he was away so far and all seemed well but today…today was different. Today Mark sounded weak and tired. Still, Mark reassured her that it was merely bad reception due to the insane whether there. That comforted her…until he continued. “Honey, the snow is piled so thick here; I think I’m going to have to catch another flight.” Lucy felt a tear escape her eye. “Mark!” was all she could manage. “Don’t worry baby. I have to go now but I left something for you with the doorman before I left ok?” They exchanged a sincere “I love you” with each other and hung up. Lucy was so outraged that for a moment she considered leaving whatever Mark had left for her with the doorman. However, at 2:30am Lucy was still tossing and turning. She had to ask.

“Excuse me Javier.” The lobby had been silent up until now. Half startled, Javier wheeled around. Upon seeing Lucy’s familiar face he answered in his usually polite tone, “Yes Madam Lucy? What can I do for you?” She paused a moment before speaking, unsure if she should just turn around and head back to her apartment. “Well Mark said he left something for me the doorman that was on duty before he left. Can you find it for me?” Javier rustled some papers behind the desk before finally slipping a purple envelope into her hands. “Merry Christmas”, was all he said and Lucy retreated back to her empty apartment. For a while she just pressed the envelope into her breasts and curled up in bed to sulk. When she realized the small thing could not bring Mark home, she opened it. What she found, though, was not a Christmas card. Rather she found a short letter folded neatly into quarters. She unfolded it and read:

My beloved Lucy,

Let me start with Merry Christmas. I hope you find some way to enjoy it. I want to apologize as I know it is hard to spend the holidays alone. I am still with you, always, but I am not returning home. Lucy, I have been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer but the doctors did not catch it in time. I’m so sorry baby. Don’t forget that I am here. In the air you breathe and the sun you bathe in, I’m here. The wind that whispers sweet melodies, that’s my love being sent to you on angels wings. My sweet Lucy, as long as you permit me here, I am with you. I’m not saying goodbye because it is not the end. Merry Christmas Lucy! I hope to hear from you soon.

Love Forever,

Mark

Lucy became drenched in her own tears. She started shaking, almost as if her body was surrendering to vicious convulsions. Only one line preserved her consciousness: I hope to hear from you soon. She grabbed the phone and dialed the hotel. Three times the receptionist put Lucy through to Mark’s room ad three times and three times the phone rang endlessly. The receiver fell from Lucy’s hand and hit the floor, still ringing. She reached for the purple envelope and turned it over to see the return address: Heaven. Lucy dropped to her knees silently pleading with God. Then she shrieked with the little amount of oxygen she had allowed herself to take in. “It’s not the end.” She repeated the words she’d read. “Mark said it’s not the end, Lord. Mark said!”




Assignment #19 - Very Short Story


She held her finger up to her lips signaling her younger sister to be quiet. With a short giggle young Sally clasped her hand over her mouth and followed Darleen into the kitchen. Sally was three and Darleen eight. They were going to surprise their parents with breakfast in bed for their anniversary. “Get the eggs,” whispered Darleen, “and be careful!” Sally grabbed the eggs from the fridge and hurried over to Darleen. “Pancake mix,” she requested, and Sally did as asked.  It was 5am and Darleen knew her parents would sleep in as they did every Saturday. Darleen had helped her mom cook a million times before. She placed a skillet over fire and melted butter in it. The eggs cooked fast so she would put those on last. She poured a ladle full of batter into the skillet and then…”Shoot!” she snapped and clutched at her stomach. “What is it?” Sally demanded. “I think I’m going to be sick. Watch the food.” Darleen ran off to the restroom and immediately started puking. The pancake on the stove began to rise. “Uh-oh!” Sally did not know how to use the stove. She was never allowed to touch it but the pancake kept getting bigger and she didn’t know what to do. She pushed a chair up to the stove and threw a cloth over the skillet. She jumped down and ran to Darleen. “Darleen it keeps growing!” Darleen wiped the vomit from her face, “Well turn it off.” Sally froze. Her stomach became weak. Darleen started puking again but this time Sally joined her. Then…a blazing heat swept through the house and the kitchen went up in flames. “Sally what have you done!?” The small child began to cry. “I’m not allowed to use the stove. I can’t work it! I just wanted mommy and daddy to have a good anniversary.” The girls ran out of the house, both of them still sick to their stomachs. “MOM! DAD!” Darleen proclaimed, but they never woke up. All the girls could do was watch as the entire house became engulfed in flames.


Thursday, December 9, 2010

AP US History Essay

Topic 2: Analyze the ways in which British imperial policies between 1763 and 1776 intensified colonials' resistance to British rule and their commitment to republican values.

   
    British imperial ways intensified the colonials’ resistance to British rule and their commitment to republican values in many ways between 1763 and 1176. During this time period, and consequently due to difference in opinion between the British and colonials, several major events occurred. Among these are the Navigation Acts, the Sugar Act, and the Stamp Act. These incidents increased the tension between the parties, therefore making resistance to British rule and loyalty to republicanism a more severe deviation.

    During this time the Navigations Acts was already in place. The purpose of this act was to protect English ships and secure profits to England. This was the British’s way of promoting mercantilism. The colonials did not agree with the theory of mercantilism because the British believed that wealth was restricted and that maintaining good wealth came at the expense of other nations. The development of colonies was becoming more and more popular and each colony had its own commodities to offer. England’s power gave them the advantage to control all commerce and further tax, expand, or limit the possessions. The American colonist never appreciated these laws, however, hell began to break lose amongst the British and the Colonists when the Sugar Act of 1773 was passed.

    American colonists had lived civilly amid the British throughout the begging of the Navigations Act. When the Sugar Act came along, though, it was like a blow to the head; strong enough to cause fury but not strong enough to relieve its victim from consciousness. Taxation became higher and thus cultivated rage and rebellion within the colonists. Molasses and other foreign goods such as sugar, wines, pimiento, and coffee were now being taxed. Markets to which the colonists could sell were reduced which caused disruption in their economy. Not only that, but now it became harder to attain enough currency to purchase British goods. It seemed as though the illegitimate abuse of British power would never end.

    By 1765 people realized we needed to settle these expenses and the Stamp Act was passed. This act called for stamps to placed among certain things as proof that proper tax had been paid for them. All funds accumulated from this were intended to support British soldiers but American colonists would not tolerate a direct internal tax. As time progressed, so did the violence. Riots began to break out until the Declaratory Act of 1766 repealed the Stamp Act.

    It is not uncommon for people to hunger for wealth and power. In fact, it is almost normal human behavior for this occur. Still, did the British take this too far by imposing such acts and laws upon American colonists? The American colonists thought so. It is power by which all governments are run by, but early American history suggests that the power should not remain in its entirety to one person. Conversely, it should be equalized in a system of checks and balances.



Memory Lane

She often runs away from here
And no one knows just where she went
Or even that she’s gone

She sits in class
And scribbles notes
Just like a twisted con

If another person cared enough
To look her in the eyes
Maybe then they’d know
Where her skeleton sits
Is not where her conscience lies

She’s taking another
Involuntary trip
Right down Memory LN.

But Memory Lane
Is not always the same
Sometimes it’s Nightmare Rd.

She hates these trips
But it’s not her choice
Past has summoned her again

Memory grabs her
By the hand
And leads into the arms of Past

She tries to resist
Fights like hell
But Past and Memory kick her ass

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Assignment #18 - Lifes Hostage


It's the way his fist struck the door

Momma leaving with only two of her kids

The way the police showed up before she came back

The stench of regurgitated alcohol on the floor

The way the tear stained my fathers face
Seeming out of place

It's my "brothers" hand at my throat
And the serrated words he used to cut me

It's my "sister" ceasing to exist for 13 years
Then kissing my cheek like she knew me

It's the way I never feared the dark
Or being punished for my mistakes

The way I never needed to sleep in my parents’ bed

It's the persistent tears I never shed

The way I see people, very much alive
That never seem to live

The way I refuse to show emotion
Be it pain or love

It's the way these things go hand and hand
Never escaping Memory

The way Memory puts a gun to me
And tells me who to be