So I've come across yet another boring article, but since I can relate to the main arguement within the article I thought I'd blog about it anyway. The article argued that art therapy is a stress reliever....Yes. If you couldn't tell from my last post, I am rather stressed. This year just has not been good for me, but I made a promise at the very beginning of my junior year that I intend on staying true to, 'I am going to make it through this year if it kills me.' I'm not dead yet. I am an artistic person, I just love art. Looking at it, making it, if art is somehow involved I just can't go wrong. Last year I took honors drawing and became very close with other students who love art just as much as I do, and made a lasting friendship with my art teacher Mr. Crawford. This year I had to make the tough decision of retaking his honors art class, or going into AP english and taking a ceramics class. English is another passion of mine, and I went with AP, and do not regret that decision. But my junior year has seemed void of happiness, like something was missing. I'm stressed all the time, and just not the same. I stop by Mr. Crawfors room nearly everyday when I have lunch or spare time, and last week he noticed that something was wrong with me. He asked me on a scale of 1-10 how I was feeling, I admitted to being somewhere around a 3. Instantly he had a diagnosis. He said it was because I wasn't creating art. I was stiffling a passion that I loved, stiffling something that was a part of who I was. Art was a form of expression, and without it everything just stayed inside, compressed. We talked other reasons also, but that really stuck with me. That Friday night I got home from gymnastics, and thought. I thought about all that I had to do, all the teachers and coaches who I had to somehow impress, thought about the parents I had to make proud, I thought about all the friends who were trying to spend time with me, and then I thought about myself, and for the first time in a long time, I got out my paints. It was around 11 when I started and 1 when I finished. I had SATs the next day but I didn't care, that was just another test, just another score or grade, just another attempt to proe myself to others, but that canvas with paint on it was me, the essance of an indidual. That night I slept. No tossing or turning, no racing thoughts, no overdosing on cold medicine was needed, I just slept; at peace. SATs came and went, and I don't think I would have gotten through them had I not sat down for two hours and painted. So, getting back to the article, art is a damn good stress reliever.
"Using Art Therapy For Amazing Stress relief" used logos and ethos. Ethos because the author spoke of personal experiences with art therapy, and logos because they included statistics of people who said art therapy reduced their stress levels.
to read article >>> Art Therapy Stress Relief <<<
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Have Girls Really Grown More Violent?
Teenage girls are psycho, trust me, I know from experience. I've seen many a television show that has exposed the horrific capabilities of teenage angst. In high school the thing to fear is no longer jocks or bullies, but a teenage girl who is eager to tear anyone or anything apart. I am a teenage girl, and while I do not like to classify myself with the stereotype, I'll admit that I can see that there is a forming trend in female violence. Us girls are just plain viscous I guess. Girls are going through a tough adjustment though, so it's not always their fault. Puberty is rough, there's all sorts of chemicals and adjustments, you can barely even think straight. And this is obvious; girls aren't thinking straight. The spike in violence could easily be accounted for the 'living in the moment' mentality. Girls, as well as boys, make rash, sudden decisions with little or no thought about the consequences. They do the first thing that pops into mind, but keep in mind the adolescent mind is a chaotic thing.
I get it, the teenage years are such hard times to go through, for me it certainly hasn't been an enjoyable experience. It's hard because you are coming to a vital part of your life, starting on the path of self discovery, breaking away from being a part of your parents identity and becoming your own person. People expect things from you, and a lot of pressure can be placed on you to live up to their expectations; to please everyone, believe me I understand. It's enough to make you feel crazy sometimes, to make you feel helpless, overwhelmed, I know it all too well. My head often feels like pressure is just building inside of it, just expanding and expanding to the point of near bursting, but that's just those teenage hormones I suppose. You want to please everyone, so you put yourself through hell, smiling the whole way through it, just hoping someone will finally be appeased, but you can only bend so much before you break. At one point you're going to realize that you can never live up to everyone's expectations, and you're going to let some people down. And as hard as that is, it's a part of life. Stop living for everyone else, stop putting so much pressure on yourself, don't bend to the point of breaking, because when you break who knows what you'll do, probably something that similar to those teenage girls on the tv shows. Some pressure is good but when it gets to the point that you're making yourself sick, to the point when you sleep for 3 hours on A GOOD night, or to the point when you feel as if you're head is going to explode and you're going to break down, then you need to learn to stop caring about other's opinions of you. I'm learning this now the hard way, I don't want to be another statistic. Not another girl who has cracked under pressure, acted on impulse and ruined her life.
The article "Have Girls Really Grown More Violent" was booooooring. Heavy on logos, using a lot of statistics that both shocked me, and sent shivers down my spine. It was a short article though, so I extended it with an emotional rsponse. There wasn't a whole lot of pathos, but I'm just good at pulling pathos out of things where it isn't really intended to be there.
to read this article (which I don't recomend)>>>Girls...Violence <<<
I get it, the teenage years are such hard times to go through, for me it certainly hasn't been an enjoyable experience. It's hard because you are coming to a vital part of your life, starting on the path of self discovery, breaking away from being a part of your parents identity and becoming your own person. People expect things from you, and a lot of pressure can be placed on you to live up to their expectations; to please everyone, believe me I understand. It's enough to make you feel crazy sometimes, to make you feel helpless, overwhelmed, I know it all too well. My head often feels like pressure is just building inside of it, just expanding and expanding to the point of near bursting, but that's just those teenage hormones I suppose. You want to please everyone, so you put yourself through hell, smiling the whole way through it, just hoping someone will finally be appeased, but you can only bend so much before you break. At one point you're going to realize that you can never live up to everyone's expectations, and you're going to let some people down. And as hard as that is, it's a part of life. Stop living for everyone else, stop putting so much pressure on yourself, don't bend to the point of breaking, because when you break who knows what you'll do, probably something that similar to those teenage girls on the tv shows. Some pressure is good but when it gets to the point that you're making yourself sick, to the point when you sleep for 3 hours on A GOOD night, or to the point when you feel as if you're head is going to explode and you're going to break down, then you need to learn to stop caring about other's opinions of you. I'm learning this now the hard way, I don't want to be another statistic. Not another girl who has cracked under pressure, acted on impulse and ruined her life.
The article "Have Girls Really Grown More Violent" was booooooring. Heavy on logos, using a lot of statistics that both shocked me, and sent shivers down my spine. It was a short article though, so I extended it with an emotional rsponse. There wasn't a whole lot of pathos, but I'm just good at pulling pathos out of things where it isn't really intended to be there.
to read this article (which I don't recomend)>>>Girls...Violence <<<
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Texas Parents Fight School Over Son's Locks
Hahahahahah, schools are just ridiculous sometimes. A PRE-KINDERGARTEN class in Balch Springs, Texas suspended a four year old boy for having his hair too long. Taylor, formally known as' tater tot', had this to say "They kicked me out that place, I miss my friends." Apparently his long locks which fell just above his eyes and his shirt collar are a violation of school dress code. Last year a school in the same district sent home a elementary student for wearing black skinny jeans...his parents chose to homeschool him soon after. "According to the district dress code, boys' hair must be kept out of the eyes and cannot extend below the bottom of earlobes or over the collar of a dress shirt. Fads in hairstyles 'designed to attract attention to the individual or to disrupt the orderly conduct of the classroom or campus is not permitted,' the policy states." He's a four year old, long hair for him isn't really an act of rebellion. Stop suspending the poor boy, he misses his friends! :(
The author of "Texas Parents Battle School Over Son's Locks" used humor to show the ridiculousness of this whole mess. No the parents shouldn't be making a deal about something so simple a a haircut could fix, but at the same time the school should chillax a little. I found myself LOL'ing at the stupidity of the whole situation. Entertaining article, some pathos. LET THE LOCKS GROW FREELY!
To read more on article>>>Parents Fight School <<<
The author of "Texas Parents Battle School Over Son's Locks" used humor to show the ridiculousness of this whole mess. No the parents shouldn't be making a deal about something so simple a a haircut could fix, but at the same time the school should chillax a little. I found myself LOL'ing at the stupidity of the whole situation. Entertaining article, some pathos. LET THE LOCKS GROW FREELY!
To read more on article>>>Parents Fight School <<<
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
My Memoirs
So the memoirs I chose to read are The Tender Bar by J. R. Moehringer, and My Lobotomy by Howard Dully. I hate pausing and writing these dumb index cards...no offense. but I'm already a lousy reader, this is just making it even harder for me. I started The Tender Bar before we got the project, and I was really enjoying it! But when I found out we had to do those index cards throughout the whole book I did NOT want to go back and reread those pages....I'm a slow reader, and it's a big book. So I started My Lobotomy and I'm about 50 pages into it. I like reading the books but it's hard doing these cards. They'll be the death of me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!...........The End
Monday, January 16, 2012
PALESTINIAN MAN TO SERVE FIVE LIFE SENTENCES FOR GRUESOME FOGEL FAMILY SLAYING
They had names; Ehud, Ruth. Yoav, Elad, and Haddas.
It's enough to bring tears to my eyes. It's enough to make me feel sick to my stomach. It's enough to trigger a rant on a blog. But it's never enough to make me act, which is always enough to make me disgusted with that fact, and with myself.
They were men, but just barely. There were two of them. Two monsters. Amjad and Hakim were their names. They were Palestinian, but that doesn't matter now. Remorseless monsters; and I have no pitty for them.
One family. Five were happy, five loved each other, and five were alive, but now five are dead. One father stabbed to death. One mother shot while running away. One 11 year old daughter stabbed in the throat. One 4 year old son stabbed in the heart. One 3 month old baby girl, stabbed while sleeping in her crib. They were Israeli, but that doesn't matter now. One dead family; and I hurt desperately for them.
They saw the children first, saw them through the window outside. With knives wielded, they invaded the home, and ended two short lives. They saw the parents next. They were not as fragile. They were not as weak. They put up a fight, but a knife and a gun were unfair advantages. Their lives ended within minutes of their children's. The monsters ran, filled with fear of capture. They hid and waited. They then regained confidence, went back with pride. Walking around the bodies, smiling, creeping through the defiled home with haughty laughs and victorious snarls. It was then that they discovered their final victim. Perhaps she had woken. Perhaps she had cried, wanting milk or attention. Perhaps she was scared. Perhaps she cried when the knife went through her back. Perhaps she screamed. Perhaps she died quickly. Perhaps she didn't. She may have done many things, but nothing she did saved her from the monsters. Their hearts were so hard, the cries of an infant could not soften them. This child had a name, she had a life, she had a future, but the monsters did not care. Little Haddas should have feared monsters under her bed or in her closet, not monsters that were once of her own kind, not the monsters that were once men.
So often we hear stories like this, and we (of course) are saddened. But that sadness fades. We pout and say how awful, but deep down we are rejoicing. Breathing a sigh of relief that it happened to some other family on the other side of the world; not to us. In time, most likely days or hours even minutes, we forget. We forget until another tragedy comes and reminds us once again how lucky we are, how human we are, but we always seem to forget. We don't give victims faces or names, we don't want to know or want feel for them on a personal level, but this response only natural. We want to protect ourselves from pain. But they do have faces, and they do have names, even though we don't like to acknowledge that. I feel for them. Some will say I feel too much, and I'm that is true, but I don't ever want to stop feeling. I don't want to sit idly by and cry for how far man has fallen, but then wipe my eyes and forget. I want to change. I want change the core of man. I don't want to become the monster.
I want so many things, but if only I had the strength to act.
They had names.
>>>http://www.theblaze.com/stories/palestinian-man-to-serve-five-life-sentences-for-gruesome-fogel-family-slaying/ <<<
It's enough to bring tears to my eyes. It's enough to make me feel sick to my stomach. It's enough to trigger a rant on a blog. But it's never enough to make me act, which is always enough to make me disgusted with that fact, and with myself.
They were men, but just barely. There were two of them. Two monsters. Amjad and Hakim were their names. They were Palestinian, but that doesn't matter now. Remorseless monsters; and I have no pitty for them.
One family. Five were happy, five loved each other, and five were alive, but now five are dead. One father stabbed to death. One mother shot while running away. One 11 year old daughter stabbed in the throat. One 4 year old son stabbed in the heart. One 3 month old baby girl, stabbed while sleeping in her crib. They were Israeli, but that doesn't matter now. One dead family; and I hurt desperately for them.
They saw the children first, saw them through the window outside. With knives wielded, they invaded the home, and ended two short lives. They saw the parents next. They were not as fragile. They were not as weak. They put up a fight, but a knife and a gun were unfair advantages. Their lives ended within minutes of their children's. The monsters ran, filled with fear of capture. They hid and waited. They then regained confidence, went back with pride. Walking around the bodies, smiling, creeping through the defiled home with haughty laughs and victorious snarls. It was then that they discovered their final victim. Perhaps she had woken. Perhaps she had cried, wanting milk or attention. Perhaps she was scared. Perhaps she cried when the knife went through her back. Perhaps she screamed. Perhaps she died quickly. Perhaps she didn't. She may have done many things, but nothing she did saved her from the monsters. Their hearts were so hard, the cries of an infant could not soften them. This child had a name, she had a life, she had a future, but the monsters did not care. Little Haddas should have feared monsters under her bed or in her closet, not monsters that were once of her own kind, not the monsters that were once men.
So often we hear stories like this, and we (of course) are saddened. But that sadness fades. We pout and say how awful, but deep down we are rejoicing. Breathing a sigh of relief that it happened to some other family on the other side of the world; not to us. In time, most likely days or hours even minutes, we forget. We forget until another tragedy comes and reminds us once again how lucky we are, how human we are, but we always seem to forget. We don't give victims faces or names, we don't want to know or want feel for them on a personal level, but this response only natural. We want to protect ourselves from pain. But they do have faces, and they do have names, even though we don't like to acknowledge that. I feel for them. Some will say I feel too much, and I'm that is true, but I don't ever want to stop feeling. I don't want to sit idly by and cry for how far man has fallen, but then wipe my eyes and forget. I want to change. I want change the core of man. I don't want to become the monster.
I want so many things, but if only I had the strength to act.
They had names.
>>>http://www.theblaze.com/stories/palestinian-man-to-serve-five-life-sentences-for-gruesome-fogel-family-slaying/ <<<
Sunday, January 15, 2012
How Dry We Aren't
Is this the age of prohibition? ......Clearly not, but try telling that to Bloomberg. His idealistic dreams of a healthy, drug and alcohol free New York are just down right unrealistic. This is unfortunate, but it's the truth. Much like one of our previous presidents from the past, who sought to cleanse the nation of drunkenness over 100 years ago. Theodore Roosevelt, the father of prohibition. "Enter Roosevelt. Fearless and bullheaded, the new commissioner vowed to enforce the law, both to root out bribery in the Police Department and also to reunite families on Sundays. He gave speeches envisioning hard-working men picnicking with wives and children. He anticipated a drop in drunk and disorderly arrests (then the city’s highest arrest category) and a decline in Monday hospital visits. He expected that wages saved from saloons would help feed families and pay the rent." Of course, as you well know, this did not happen. Instead of abiding by all these excessive laws, the citizens found ways around them. Speakeasies, bribes for 'blind eyes', and deals done in dark, damp allies. His crackdown backfired. In New York, Roosevelt never won the popular vote again. Bloomberg (who's politics are laughable might I add) should learn the lesson others have learned in the past, "Never take a beer away from a New Yorker."
"How Dry We Aren't" by Richard Zacks is a interesting and comedic testament to the average New Yorker's passion for the drink, and how this passion can be seen throughout history. The author begins with bloomberg, but transitions into Roosevelt within the 3rd paragraph, and mainly centered on him. I did not expect this but in the very end he was able to make an interesting connection. He clearly thinks there is a lot we can learn from our past. This article is mostly based on logos (as most of it is factually based), but there is obviously some pathos. He uses "we" throughout the article and in the title, and speaks of the New Yorker spirit, and is obviously very passionate about the subject. Now don't get me wrong, I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to aim for a healthier and happier city. In fact if there was a way to have an alcohol-less society (or at least a society that knows how to drink without taking advantage of it) I'd be all for it, but you can't just make people change their lives. You can't force them. The harder you push, the harder they'll push back. I think Bloomberg is being a little too ambitious, this is not a mayor's job. The people have to change on their own, but in order to do that, they have to want to change.
To Read More>>> How Dry We Aren't <<<
+
+
"How Dry We Aren't" by Richard Zacks is a interesting and comedic testament to the average New Yorker's passion for the drink, and how this passion can be seen throughout history. The author begins with bloomberg, but transitions into Roosevelt within the 3rd paragraph, and mainly centered on him. I did not expect this but in the very end he was able to make an interesting connection. He clearly thinks there is a lot we can learn from our past. This article is mostly based on logos (as most of it is factually based), but there is obviously some pathos. He uses "we" throughout the article and in the title, and speaks of the New Yorker spirit, and is obviously very passionate about the subject. Now don't get me wrong, I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to aim for a healthier and happier city. In fact if there was a way to have an alcohol-less society (or at least a society that knows how to drink without taking advantage of it) I'd be all for it, but you can't just make people change their lives. You can't force them. The harder you push, the harder they'll push back. I think Bloomberg is being a little too ambitious, this is not a mayor's job. The people have to change on their own, but in order to do that, they have to want to change.
To Read More>>> How Dry We Aren't <<<
+
+
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Bald Barbie?
She's beautiful, she's smart, she's been everything from a doctor to an astronaut; for a toy, she has accomplished more than most. Everyone knows the name Barbie. She's an iconic symbol of childhood and all things girly. When you hear her name, you get a mental image of the pretty girl with straight blond hair, blue eyes, and long loooooong legs. Other than her "beauty" there's another special quality the doll possesses that continues to captivate the hearts and minds of children and adults all over the world....she can do anything. She's been a vet, a teacher, a ballerina, a singer, an artist, a scientist, and a NASCAR driver. She's been just about everything under the sun, it seems like this doll has no limits. She does what most dream of doing. But of all these great and daring things, there is one thing the iconic Barbie has yet to be: sick. Harnessing the power of facebook, two proactive adults have started a movement to get Barbie to attempt what could be her biggest feat yet: going bald for cancer. The group was made Christmas Eve, and by Christmas day, they had 20,000 fans. "The women say making a bald Barbie available for everyone would provide a huge platform to raise awareness for children with cancer."
Everyone knows the name. The author of the article "Bald Barbie" was very straight forward. She had a point, but did not end up stating her own opinion. The article was a little dry, but short so I didn't give up like I have (many times) before. She included some logos when she spoke of the people who started the facebook page. "Friends Rebecca Sypin and Jane Bingham, who live on opposite coasts but have both been affected by the disease, hatched the idea to use Barbie for the movement because she‘s such a popular children’s toy. Bingham has lost her hair due to chemotherapy treatments to treat lymphoma. Sypin’s 12-year-old daughter, Kin Inich, also lost her hair this year in her own battle with leukemia." They have contacted the manufactures of Barbie who have stated that they don't take suggestions from outside sources......I believe it would be a great idea for the company. They could sell these barbies and donate half of the profits to cancer research for children. I'm sure plenty of people would buy these dolls just simply because of the cause (maybe even the boys!). I think bald Barbie would be a great thing for the company, the children, and the public. So not only can Barbie give us an outlet for our dreams, she can also give us hope.
To Read More on Article>>>Bald Barbie <<<<
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Joan of Arc: Enduring Power
We all know the story. A girl of sixteen claims to hear the voices of God and his angels, cuts off all her hair, throws on some armor, picks up a sword, and rides off to lead the french armies against England. We know how that ends....crispy. The life of Joan is remarkable; her death tragic, just like so many other figures in history, but what sets her apart? What about this woman immortalizes her eyes, and burns in our memories? She was an undistinguished peasant, a nobody, who became a heroine that Christians, feminists, historians, and french nationalists revere. "The least likely of military leaders, Joan of Arc changed the course of the Hundred Years’ War and of history." At sixteen she left, to lead an army, unskilled in the craft of battle with nothing but mysterious voices guiding her. "Her voices have been diagnosed retroactively as symptoms of schizophrenia, epilepsy, even tuberculosis." If these voices were the repercussions of some disease, I hope I come down with whatever she got. She made a difference, she went against the grain; she was a hero, and she was also a teenage girl. "In the aftermath of combat she didn’t celebrate victory but mourned the casualties; her men remembered her on her knees weeping as she held the head of a dying enemy soldier, urging him to confess his sins. Her courage outstripped that of seasoned men at arms; her tears flowed as readily as any other teenage girl’s." Although her voices eventually lead to her demise, I believe they were a blessing, not only to the people of France, but the whole world. Before she was burned at the stake by the english who believed her voices were of the devil, Joan refuses to denounce the divinity of the whispers. She died with conviction; conviction that she had lived out her purpose here on earth. Were her voices of reality or an altered reality, we will never know, but I'm content not knowing. " Like the author of this article, I believe "stories we understand are stories we forget."
Kathryn Harrison intertwined logos and pathos within this article so that each strongly complimented the other. At the end of the Article in italics it says that Kathryn is writing a biography on the life of Joan Arc, so she is obviously very knowledgeable about the subject. Her writing makes it very clear she is passionate about the subject and is trying to pass on some of that passion to the reader. She made a five minute history lesson fun and interesting! "We don’t need narratives that rationalize human experience so much as those that enlarge it with the breath of mystery. For as long as we look to heroes for inspiration, to leaders whose vision lifts them above our limited perspective, who cherish their values above their earthly lives, the story of Joan of Arc will remain one we remember, and celebrate."
To Read More>>> Joan of Arc <<<
Kathryn Harrison intertwined logos and pathos within this article so that each strongly complimented the other. At the end of the Article in italics it says that Kathryn is writing a biography on the life of Joan Arc, so she is obviously very knowledgeable about the subject. Her writing makes it very clear she is passionate about the subject and is trying to pass on some of that passion to the reader. She made a five minute history lesson fun and interesting! "We don’t need narratives that rationalize human experience so much as those that enlarge it with the breath of mystery. For as long as we look to heroes for inspiration, to leaders whose vision lifts them above our limited perspective, who cherish their values above their earthly lives, the story of Joan of Arc will remain one we remember, and celebrate."
To Read More>>> Joan of Arc <<<
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Want A New You? Change Your Name.
What's in a name? A lot apparently. Alena Simone, author of "Want a New You? Change Your Name" used to go by Alena Vilenkin. It was not a big change, she simply changed her father's hand me down name to her mother's maiden name, but this small change changed her life and identity. She "poured her best self into her new name." She was transformed from an unlikeable, lazy person who was careful to always avoid the frightening terrain where her true ambitions lied, into a vivacious, charismatic singer who started her own band. "Then I changed my name and it changed me. In my new incarnation as Alina Simone, I had no reputation, no history of unmet expectations, nothing to lose." Your name is a part of who you are, and changing that name is a possible way of reinventing yourself, starting over, and discovering the true (perhaps more confident!) you!
This article by Alina Simone certainly made me question my own name, my untapped potential, and she made me question my identity. We all have things we would like to change about ourselves, some more so than others, but few are really willing to let go of their identities and start fresh. Maybe we feel like that would be quitting or giving up, a sign of weakness, or perhaps we are content with the people we already are. I'm content, I see no use in changing the person thats life has spent 16 long years shaping me to be......but if I do change my name, I just might have to steal my brother's! Dakota has such a nice ring to it!
to read more on article>>> change your name <<<
This article by Alina Simone certainly made me question my own name, my untapped potential, and she made me question my identity. We all have things we would like to change about ourselves, some more so than others, but few are really willing to let go of their identities and start fresh. Maybe we feel like that would be quitting or giving up, a sign of weakness, or perhaps we are content with the people we already are. I'm content, I see no use in changing the person thats life has spent 16 long years shaping me to be......but if I do change my name, I just might have to steal my brother's! Dakota has such a nice ring to it!
to read more on article>>> change your name <<<
Hailing The Wrong Taxi
In New York, the power of the taxi cab is irrefutable. 13,237 cabs currently sail the asphalt sea we call the city. But the truth is people, taxis discriminate!!!! ....What? Did I just say that? Well, no...I didn't say that, those who uphold The Americans With Disabilities Act did. Apparently, "Wheelchair users have long been deprived of a quintessential New York City experience: riding in a taxi." .....Oh my, never ridden in a taxi? Poor baby! Taxis are unaccesable to those in wheelchairs, so the Governer and Mayor of New York recently announced that they would be putting out 2,000 taxis on the street that were handicap accesable, "setting aside up to $54 million in subsidies and loans to retrofit vehicles for wheelchair use or buy new wheelchair-accessible vehicles." I'm not trying to offend anyone, but to me this just seems silly. The plan is well intentioned, but rather than improving access for the disabled, it will require taxpayers and the taxi industry to foot the bill for taxis that will in all likelihood "rarely be used by the target ridership". A more sensible alternative would be to set up "a small fleet" of wheelchair-accessible cabs that disabled passengers could call upon, through a centralized dispatch system, at any time of day or night, as part of the region’s mass transit system. "Putting thousands of accessible cabs on the road looks good in theory, but how it will work in practice is a different matter. Quite possibly, the result will be further irritation — not enhanced mobility — for disabled New Yorkers." The idea looks good on paper, but in reality, it's just simply makes no sense.
After reading Matthew Daus' "Hailing The Wrong Taxi" I can't help but feel like people in general are so hung up about riding in a cab. This article was mostly logos. It caught my attention when it mentioned the rights of those in wheelchairs, it made me think of The Catbird Seat we read in our composition books. Overall I agree with the author, it's hard not to, he makes a very good case.
to read more on this article>>> Wrong Taxi <<<
After reading Matthew Daus' "Hailing The Wrong Taxi" I can't help but feel like people in general are so hung up about riding in a cab. This article was mostly logos. It caught my attention when it mentioned the rights of those in wheelchairs, it made me think of The Catbird Seat we read in our composition books. Overall I agree with the author, it's hard not to, he makes a very good case.
to read more on this article>>> Wrong Taxi <<<
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Bless Me Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya Chapters: 17-End
I've come to the end, but reluctantly I came. I have dreaded this last and final blog post since the beginning of break. Maybe it's because I'm lazy, or too preoccupied with other things, but I've been done for some time now and have been pushing this off to the last possible moment. I did like the book, I like what it had to say and I can barely close the book because of all the pages I have folded and marked which is a good sign. However it is not my favorite book, but it's a school book anyway, so I wasn't expecting it to be. My other posts have seemed painfully long, so I'll make this short and simple.
Within these last final chapters Antonio really comes to term with his faith and with himself. He begins to make his own decisions, deciding what was right, what was wrong, and what to believe in. Antonio started the long journey of becoming a man, and he recognizes that the summer he spends with his uncles was the last summer he was still a true child. Antonio has so many questions, and looks to the God of the church to answer his questions. Why is life unfair? Why does evil exist? Why did Narciso die and Tenorio live? Antonio is so eager to receive communion and gain God's wisdom, understanding, and finally find some answers, but when the time comes, he is left with silence. "Sometimes, in moments of great anxiety and disappointment, I wondered if God was alive anymore, or if he had ever been." Antonio develops more of a conscience and moral awareness, he realizes life is unfair. "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me!" Ultima aids Antonio on his journey into manhood, "Life is full of sadness when a boy grows to be a man. But as you grow into manhood you must not despair of life, but gather strength to sustain you." Life for Antonio is changing, and Ultima teaches him to embrace that change. When Ultima dies, Antonio must look at it through her perspective and embrace it. He also learns to embrace the harmony of life, and Antonio makes peace with his identity when he accepts both his Luna and Marez heritages. Death is just another change, and Antonio realizes that although change can bring grief, it can also bring wisdom and understanding. Understanding is also another important theme within the book. Antonio's conversation with his father showed the Marez in a different and surprising light, one full of insight. "We fear evil only because we do not understand it.....Understanding comes with life, as a man grows he sees life and death, he is happy and sad, he works, plays, meets people-sometime it takes a life time to acquire understanding, because in the end understanding simply means having sympathy for people." Like I've said before, this is a coming of age book. When children put away childish things and use the wisdom they have acquired from life and those around them to make decisions on how they should live their life. Antonio is changing, and learning to embrace the change.
LET'S CHECK OUT MY PREDICTIONS!
Within these last final chapters Antonio really comes to term with his faith and with himself. He begins to make his own decisions, deciding what was right, what was wrong, and what to believe in. Antonio started the long journey of becoming a man, and he recognizes that the summer he spends with his uncles was the last summer he was still a true child. Antonio has so many questions, and looks to the God of the church to answer his questions. Why is life unfair? Why does evil exist? Why did Narciso die and Tenorio live? Antonio is so eager to receive communion and gain God's wisdom, understanding, and finally find some answers, but when the time comes, he is left with silence. "Sometimes, in moments of great anxiety and disappointment, I wondered if God was alive anymore, or if he had ever been." Antonio develops more of a conscience and moral awareness, he realizes life is unfair. "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me!" Ultima aids Antonio on his journey into manhood, "Life is full of sadness when a boy grows to be a man. But as you grow into manhood you must not despair of life, but gather strength to sustain you." Life for Antonio is changing, and Ultima teaches him to embrace that change. When Ultima dies, Antonio must look at it through her perspective and embrace it. He also learns to embrace the harmony of life, and Antonio makes peace with his identity when he accepts both his Luna and Marez heritages. Death is just another change, and Antonio realizes that although change can bring grief, it can also bring wisdom and understanding. Understanding is also another important theme within the book. Antonio's conversation with his father showed the Marez in a different and surprising light, one full of insight. "We fear evil only because we do not understand it.....Understanding comes with life, as a man grows he sees life and death, he is happy and sad, he works, plays, meets people-sometime it takes a life time to acquire understanding, because in the end understanding simply means having sympathy for people." Like I've said before, this is a coming of age book. When children put away childish things and use the wisdom they have acquired from life and those around them to make decisions on how they should live their life. Antonio is changing, and learning to embrace the change.
LET'S CHECK OUT MY PREDICTIONS!
1.Ultima is going to die. Plain and simple. 2. I feel like something tragic is going to happen to his brothers. Maybe the war changed them, maybe their family is not the same, maybe they go crazy or get hurt or whatever.
4. Tenorio is going to die/be killed, but not before he harms/kills another character. 5. The river will flood....duh.
|
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)