This short story is a very short yet complex account of the narrator killing another man. After reading the story through a few times and understanding the plot, I was able to question and manipulate what Poe wrote to construct my own understanding. The first thing that I questioned was the sanity or rather the insanity of the narrator. He questions his sanity himself, so why shouldn’t I as the reader do the same. The mental state of the narrator effects the entire story. It changes the face whether the beating of the heart is real, whether this man’s eye was really evil, and also if this story is even real. As many of criticizers and analyzers of this story have said, the uncertainty of the narrator’s mental state, makes them very unreliable. Just like in real life. A person would not listen to an insane person or believe anything they said, because why? THEY’RE INSANE! And if I have to question if someone is sane or not, gives me reason enough to question everything that they do or say anyway. And though the narrator takes a very careful approach to the way he wants to kill the man, he’s insane for wanting to kill the man over his eye. No person’s eye is that diabolical that it could someone to want to kill them. So this here is enough evidence for me to claim that the narrator is insane, because he should be mentally stable enough to control himself and not let futile things, such as the apperance of someone’s eye to effect him to the point of killing. ANd furthermore, if a person tries to continue to convince someone of something (in this case that the narrator is sane) gives me reason to question it. The more a character in a story or maybe someone in real life, the more I become suspicious of the situation.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Ummmm...yea. This is my short story -_-
Candice put the key in the lock and turned it with urgency. She stepped in her grandma's house and shut the door as fast as she could, trying to keep the gust of wind from coming in with her. She couldn't help but to rest on the back of the door and let out a sigh of relief as she had finally gotten home. She sluggishly stomped the snow off the bottom of her boots and left them on the carpet next to the front door. Candice walked through the living room to the couch, "Hey grandma."
Her little cousins interjected "Hey Bri-Bri".
"Hey y'all", she responded.
My grandma finally said,"Hey baby. I see you didn't call when you got on the bus."
"Yeah, I know. I forgot to cause I was just trying to hurry up and get home", Candice said.
"Aw", her grandma responded, finished with the conversation. Candice trudged over to the couch and plopped down. She rested there for a few minutes, motionless, and eyes closed. When she reopened them, she finally noticed the spectacle on the floor of Christmas lights and scattered branches of the fake tree that her grandma put up every year. She knew then that the day was here. When her grandma hangs lights from both banisters, the landing, puts them in her window, and puts up her Christmas tree all in the same day. She does it every year, with or without someone's help. Her lights are always the first to be up.
Candice helps her grandma with the decorating every year, because she doesn't want to see her do it alone. Candice knows perfectly well that her sixty-nine year old grandma moves around just as good as anyone half her age, but she knows it's always better to have help. She rested there in the same position for a while until she got tired of watching her grandma's behind move in front of the TV every five seconds. Candice got up and walked over to a pile of lights on the floor and untangled them. After that her grandma instructed her to plug the lights to test if they work, not like she already didn't know what to do. But she didn't say anything and did what she was told. The string of white lights lit up a path on the floor and then she unplugged them. Candice continued this process while constantly hearing her grandma say, "don't step on the lights!", to her younger cousins.
All the lights were checked and Candice's grandmother headed outside with delight, delight that Candice did not share. Candice hated the cold, but knew it would take her grandma that much longer to complete the task without her help and she sometimes saw i as some special time with he grandma. They did not speak while they worked, but silently shared the frigid cold weather and the obligation to finish the job before nightfall.
She strapped up with her coat, scarf, and hat. But still no gloves. If she didn't have anything else, she needed her gloves. Her grandma was already outside with a string of lights and her step ladder, hanging lights already. Candice knew that her little cousin Govonna would have gloves. So she asked to borrow hers and then went outside. The little mittens felt so awkward on Candice's hands, because of course they were meant for someone half her size, but she wore them anyway.
Candice let out a big sigh as she bent down to pick up the lights and then pushed through the screen door to the unforgiving cold. That first gust of wind slapped Candice in the face and overtook her senses. She walked down the stairs slowly and stopped when she got to the bottom. She paused thinking to herself that she would have to ignore the weather until the job was done. By the time she was almost done with one banister her hands were as white as the snow that fell from the sky. She saw it as it fell onto her hands but she could not feel it. Her nose was running ferociously and all she could do was wipe it with her borrowed gloves and the sleeves of her coat. She would occasionally peek at her grandmother to see if she was struggling with the weather as much as she was.But all she saw was contentment and peace across her grandmother's face. Candice was baffled. She thought to herself "She doesn't feel how cold it is and why isn't she as cold as me!" But she didn't ask questions, but just kept working. And as Candice kept working she tried to emulate the way her grandmother resisted the weather and was content in her own world. It helped for a little while, but Candice couldn't ignore the way it. They strung lights from the landing, wrapped them around the banister and even put a few bows around.
As they twisted the last bow onto a string from the lights, Candice noticed her grandma walk all the way down the stairs and into the middle of the parking lot. And by this time it was about eight or nine o' clock at night. When she finished tying the bow, she followed her grandmother to wherever she was walking and they both finally stopped when they could see the house in its entirety and had a full view of everything. Too bad they could not see anything. From where they were standing, the house looked the same as before except with little dots all over the place where the lights should be shining.
Candice's grandmother startled her when she hollered "Turn'em on!" to her little cousins in the house.
After a few long moments of anticipation there was a flicker from the lights on one of the banisters, then the entire house lit up from side to side, basement to roof. The dark neighborhood now had a night light, her grandmother's house. Candice's grandmother let a small smirk of satisfaction light across her face and she let out a sigh of relief. Candice was in awe too. she let her eyes drift across the lights from bulb to bulb until she noticed her grandmother looking at her. She turned her head to see her delighted grandmother and her grandma linked her arms with hers. And that was all the thanks that Candice needed.
They stood there for a few more moments, Candice wiped her nose one last time, and they both retreated into the house.
Her little cousins interjected "Hey Bri-Bri".
"Hey y'all", she responded.
My grandma finally said,"Hey baby. I see you didn't call when you got on the bus."
"Yeah, I know. I forgot to cause I was just trying to hurry up and get home", Candice said.
"Aw", her grandma responded, finished with the conversation. Candice trudged over to the couch and plopped down. She rested there for a few minutes, motionless, and eyes closed. When she reopened them, she finally noticed the spectacle on the floor of Christmas lights and scattered branches of the fake tree that her grandma put up every year. She knew then that the day was here. When her grandma hangs lights from both banisters, the landing, puts them in her window, and puts up her Christmas tree all in the same day. She does it every year, with or without someone's help. Her lights are always the first to be up.
Candice helps her grandma with the decorating every year, because she doesn't want to see her do it alone. Candice knows perfectly well that her sixty-nine year old grandma moves around just as good as anyone half her age, but she knows it's always better to have help. She rested there in the same position for a while until she got tired of watching her grandma's behind move in front of the TV every five seconds. Candice got up and walked over to a pile of lights on the floor and untangled them. After that her grandma instructed her to plug the lights to test if they work, not like she already didn't know what to do. But she didn't say anything and did what she was told. The string of white lights lit up a path on the floor and then she unplugged them. Candice continued this process while constantly hearing her grandma say, "don't step on the lights!", to her younger cousins.
All the lights were checked and Candice's grandmother headed outside with delight, delight that Candice did not share. Candice hated the cold, but knew it would take her grandma that much longer to complete the task without her help and she sometimes saw i as some special time with he grandma. They did not speak while they worked, but silently shared the frigid cold weather and the obligation to finish the job before nightfall.
She strapped up with her coat, scarf, and hat. But still no gloves. If she didn't have anything else, she needed her gloves. Her grandma was already outside with a string of lights and her step ladder, hanging lights already. Candice knew that her little cousin Govonna would have gloves. So she asked to borrow hers and then went outside. The little mittens felt so awkward on Candice's hands, because of course they were meant for someone half her size, but she wore them anyway.
Candice let out a big sigh as she bent down to pick up the lights and then pushed through the screen door to the unforgiving cold. That first gust of wind slapped Candice in the face and overtook her senses. She walked down the stairs slowly and stopped when she got to the bottom. She paused thinking to herself that she would have to ignore the weather until the job was done. By the time she was almost done with one banister her hands were as white as the snow that fell from the sky. She saw it as it fell onto her hands but she could not feel it. Her nose was running ferociously and all she could do was wipe it with her borrowed gloves and the sleeves of her coat. She would occasionally peek at her grandmother to see if she was struggling with the weather as much as she was.But all she saw was contentment and peace across her grandmother's face. Candice was baffled. She thought to herself "She doesn't feel how cold it is and why isn't she as cold as me!" But she didn't ask questions, but just kept working. And as Candice kept working she tried to emulate the way her grandmother resisted the weather and was content in her own world. It helped for a little while, but Candice couldn't ignore the way it. They strung lights from the landing, wrapped them around the banister and even put a few bows around.
As they twisted the last bow onto a string from the lights, Candice noticed her grandma walk all the way down the stairs and into the middle of the parking lot. And by this time it was about eight or nine o' clock at night. When she finished tying the bow, she followed her grandmother to wherever she was walking and they both finally stopped when they could see the house in its entirety and had a full view of everything. Too bad they could not see anything. From where they were standing, the house looked the same as before except with little dots all over the place where the lights should be shining.
Candice's grandmother startled her when she hollered "Turn'em on!" to her little cousins in the house.
After a few long moments of anticipation there was a flicker from the lights on one of the banisters, then the entire house lit up from side to side, basement to roof. The dark neighborhood now had a night light, her grandmother's house. Candice's grandmother let a small smirk of satisfaction light across her face and she let out a sigh of relief. Candice was in awe too. she let her eyes drift across the lights from bulb to bulb until she noticed her grandmother looking at her. She turned her head to see her delighted grandmother and her grandma linked her arms with hers. And that was all the thanks that Candice needed.
They stood there for a few more moments, Candice wiped her nose one last time, and they both retreated into the house.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Breaking down "Rolling in the Deep" by Adele
There's a fire starting in my heart, (hurt is entering my heart)
Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark. (Reaching intense agitation, and its revealing something to me)
Finally I can see you crystal clear (I see the real person that you are)
Go ahead and sell me out and I'lllay your ship bare. (Go ahead and do me wrong, and I’ll take away all that you have and leave you without any love, leave you with what you started with)
See how I'll leave, with every piece of you (see how ill break your heart and have you missing me)
don’t underestimate the things that I will do. (Don’t doubt that I will have an effect on you)
Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark. (Reaching intense agitation, and its revealing something to me)
Finally I can see you crystal clear (I see the real person that you are)
Go ahead and sell me out and I'll
See how I'll leave, with every piece of you (see how ill break your heart and have you missing me)
don’t underestimate the things that I will do. (Don’t doubt that I will have an effect on you)
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless (the hurt inside your heart, makes me second guess about trusting you, I’m always on guard and always hold back from you) I can't help feeling
We could of had it all (I always thought I could fix you and make “us” work)
Rolling in the deep (diving deep into love)
You had my heart inside your hand (you had all of my love and the control over my heart)
And you played it to the beat (and u did like you always do, you stayed harsh and your heart stayed callused, not letting me in)
Rolling in the deep (diving deep into love)
You had my heart inside your hand (you had all of my love and the control over my heart)
And you played it to the beat (and u did like you always do, you stayed harsh and your heart stayed callused, not letting me in)
The main idea of the song “Rolling in the Deep” by Adele is that a woman and man are or were in a relationship and how the woman is wishing and hoping that their relationship could have lasted through their hardships. But Adele addresses the man’s mindset of love many times by identifying it with “scars of love”. This phrase refers to the hardships that the man has had in his past relationships with other people. And she says at different parts of the song that they (the scars of love) remind her of them and that they leave her breathless. The scars of love remind her of them, possibly because the same internal problems that he has, came up in their relationship. And when she said “the scars of your love, leave me breathless” it made me think that either his past hurt that made the guy so callused with his feelings, made the woman not want to put her all in the relationship and always kept her holding back from him. “Breathless” makes me think of a person not being able to relax and there is so much tension inside of them.
In the beginning of the song, the mood of the poem is a lot stand-off ish and threatening. She seems a lot less vulnerable at the start of this song. The woman actually threatens the man when she says “See how I'll leave, with every piece of you, don’t underestimate the things that I will do.”She saying right there that even if you break up with me, ill take all of you with me so do not doubt your feelings for me either.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Propaganda and Politics
These two subjects go hand and hand anytime there is an election and people are trying to promote themselves. I have witnessed it numerous times before and it's a tactic that has become apart of a politicians nature. They can't survive without it. But what I hate about political figures using propoganda is that they use it as a 'crutch' so to speak. When they don't have many good things to say about themselves and they can't use their experience alone to advertise themselves to the public, they pull other things out of their competitors' past to ruin them and their platform. It's actually really pathetic. If a person running for a political position has things in their past that need to be exposed,they will come to the light. It's nottheir competitors' job to expose it for them. And if a person's opponents work overtime to try and ruin them, that only shows that the opponents are afraid that the other person might win. This tactic, if used totear someoneelse down, only reeks of fear and jealousy. Politicians should worry about their own campaigns and use propaganda to benefit themselves and not to harm others
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Beat Street
Beat Street is nothing like a movie I've seen before. I've watched some movies about hip hop, but never like this one. One aspect I like about it is that it includes a driven plot of a real story while educating me about the ins and outs of hip hop. For example before watching this move I never knew that the idea of hip-hop not only included sick beats and slick rhymes, but also the artistic styles of graffiti and the back-breaking moves of break dancing. Its all intertwined together and neither can survive without the other. And I really cant decide which aspect of Hip-Hop I like better in this movie. First of all, the graffiti just mesmerizes me because I cant just draw to save my life and the way that Ramo effortlessly drew these murals and how he just dreamed them up in his head. He was a free-lance artist that used the world around him as his canvas and he made it beautiful with every spray. Then the dancing is on a whole other level. My body could never move like that. And even though those dances look outdated, I just cant deny that they were some good dancers. And I cant forget the way that some of the characters experimented with the music and proved how anything could fit together, in some type of arrangement, to make a good sound.
And the one thing that ties all of these characters together is their passion. Whatever it was that they did, it wasn't just a hobby, but it was a definite part of their life that they couldn't survive without. The pride that they had in their artwork, dancing, or music was undeniable. A prime example of this is how Ramo got so excited when he saw a all-white train. He was astounded and determined to be the one to tag it. So yeah. Its been a good movie so far. And I cant wait to finish the movie.
And the one thing that ties all of these characters together is their passion. Whatever it was that they did, it wasn't just a hobby, but it was a definite part of their life that they couldn't survive without. The pride that they had in their artwork, dancing, or music was undeniable. A prime example of this is how Ramo got so excited when he saw a all-white train. He was astounded and determined to be the one to tag it. So yeah. Its been a good movie so far. And I cant wait to finish the movie.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Is Richard all alone with his hunger?
Richard, is without a doubt not alone in his hunger for attention. Lots of people have resorted to the tactics of Richard in our present day world to get attention. This craving for attention can reside inside a child in a big family, a child in a family like Richard's, or in a child with no family at all. All kids want someone to be proud of them, teach them right from wrong, and most importantly to nurture and care about them.
And this hunger is not only present in children but in people of all ages. Anyone is susceptible to feeling lonely and unwanted. Even though children are more prone to this type of feeling than adults, it can happen to anyone. And I think age really doesn't make a difference. Some children act like Richard and some just become very reserved and cold-hearted not wanting to trust anyone. And adults are the same way. They will either act out by tainting their lives with drugs and other dangerous activity or just develop a very callused personality and spirit that will make it hard for anyone to love them again.
And this hunger is not only present in children but in people of all ages. Anyone is susceptible to feeling lonely and unwanted. Even though children are more prone to this type of feeling than adults, it can happen to anyone. And I think age really doesn't make a difference. Some children act like Richard and some just become very reserved and cold-hearted not wanting to trust anyone. And adults are the same way. They will either act out by tainting their lives with drugs and other dangerous activity or just develop a very callused personality and spirit that will make it hard for anyone to love them again.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
My own research on what it means to "be an American"
I read to entries posted on the Internet about different peoples' point of views and opinions on what they think it means to be an American. The first one I read was from the perspective of a first-time deployment soldier, Sgt. Brian White, of the Task Force Marne. This essay was selected from the Constitution Day essay contest held by the Task Force Marne.
Does the king still reign???
Is Dr. Martin Luther King still relevant today? Are the battles that he fought during his time, still being fought for today? Are all of the issues gone? I say of course not! In terms of racism there is either a lot less or people are just a lot more secretive about it. Either way people are a lot more cautious and less bold with their segregating ideas and racist lifestyles due to vital figures like Dr. King that worked tirelessly for the rights of all minorities
Thursday, January 6, 2011
My response to "Children of the Sea" and "This Sacred Soil"
Sooooooooooooo... We've started reading our short stories in class and truthfully I'm kind of excited because short stories always have a lot of underlying meaning and are intended to capture it's readers' attention quickly because it's a short story. The story that has best exhibited this quaility is "the chidren of the Sea" by Edwidge Dannicat. This story was good from start to finish and always kept my attention. These journals between a boy and a girl from Haiti were both riveting and sad. Both of their lives were in turmoil the entire time and hese journals seemed to be their escape and their way to calm down. The difference between the two peoples' backgrounds are very apparent. The guy and girl love each other but show their emotions differently like the boy is very affectionate and always shows it but the girl unknowlingly doesn't show her feelings until almost the last journal between them. And both of them a going through horrible times and lots of their problems symbolize their fear of something they knew nothing about: slavery. Whether they were slaves of their own country or on a boat leading to God knows where, thy were not free.
On the other hand, "This Sacred Soil" was a speech that Chief Seattle said to Govenor Stevens in the 1800's. He talked about how it the Indian people were being wiped out and the "white men" were continuously populating America. And even though it seems like this is supposed to be a sad speech, the courage and overcoming attitude that it gives off iss incredible. It's like Chief Seattle was saying "yes, you may be taking over now but this will always be our land, we will always be here in one form or another, and this land means more to us than it ever will to you."
On the other hand, "This Sacred Soil" was a speech that Chief Seattle said to Govenor Stevens in the 1800's. He talked about how it the Indian people were being wiped out and the "white men" were continuously populating America. And even though it seems like this is supposed to be a sad speech, the courage and overcoming attitude that it gives off iss incredible. It's like Chief Seattle was saying "yes, you may be taking over now but this will always be our land, we will always be here in one form or another, and this land means more to us than it ever will to you."
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