tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85750564217285350292024-03-05T09:53:08.603-08:00Just Breathe and Live to Write"I've been making a list of the things they don't teach you at school. They don't teach you how to love somebody. They don't teach you how to be famous. They don't teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don't teach you how to walk away from someone you don't love any longer. They don't teach you how to know what's going on in someone else's mind. They don't teach you what to say to someone who's dying. They don't teach you anything worth knowing."~Neil GaimanChynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-36357593604814307622011-05-16T15:47:00.000-07:002011-05-16T15:47:18.360-07:00Writing Prompt One kind of coming of age experience is feeling loss. I've felt loss quite a few times growing up. One time when I was seven years old and in the second grade i was hit with some drastic news that would change my childhood. It was one day after school and my grandmother had come to pick me and my little sister Victoria up from school. She told me that my dog Tabu was very sick and she couldn't move. My grandparents had Tabu since she was a puppy [ also since i was born]. Tabu was a pitbull and I loved that dog more than anything in the world, would do anything for her. When I got home later that day I recall walking into my hallway and seeing TabuI there on her blanket looking so....normal. So I called out to her and she didn't move, she usually came running to me, but this time she just sat there wagging her tail and whining. I walked over to her and she tried to jump up to give me kisses and she fell back against the wall. My grandmother later called the vet and they came to do a house call, they said that she had a blood clot from her lower back all the way to her legs and she would never walk again. My family couldn't afford to get her one of the doggie wheelchairs for her and we couldn't see her in pain so we had no choice to put her down. But at the moment I didn't know that. My grandmother lied to me and told me that they gave her to this guy that lived next door and he was going to take her to go live with other dogs like her who would all have their own little wheelchairs and she would run and play, do normal dog stuff. But as time went on I kept nagging my grandma to let me go visit her and she broke the news to me that Tabu was dead and that she had died a long time ago. For weeks I couldn't bear to look at her or talk to her because it hurt so much that she could lie to me like that. But now that I'm older i understand that what she did was for the best and i probably would have done the same thing. Tabu will always be in my heart.<br />
-RIP TABU WE LOVE YOU-Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-57654448733280430412011-03-30T18:18:00.000-07:002011-03-30T18:26:30.474-07:00Final Response To "My Papa's Waltz" By Theodore Rothke<p$1><p$1><p$1> <br />
<p$1><p$1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt;"> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> <span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></span></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt;"> <span style="font-size: small;"> Before I begin my response I would just<br />
like to re-post the poem again so that you may follow along with what I am<br />
saying.(Or typing...Whatever you prefer but I'm posting it. Ok!) <o:p></o:p></span></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><em><b><u><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">My Papa's Waltz</span></u></b></em><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;"><o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">The whiskey<br />
on your breath<br />
<br />
Could make a small boy dizzy;<br />
<br />
But <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I hung on like death:<br />
<br />
Such waltzing was not easy.<br />
<br />
We romped until the <br />
<br />
pans<br />
<br />
Slid from the kitchen shelf;<br />
<br />
My mother's <br />
<br />
countenance<br />
<br />
Could not <br />
<br />
unfrown itself.<br />
<br />
The hand that held my wrist<br />
<br />
Was battered on one <br />
<br />
knuckle;<br />
<br />
At every step <br />
<br />
you missed<br />
<br />
My right ear scraped a <br />
<br />
buckle.<br />
<br />
You beat time on my head<br />
<br />
With a palm caked hard by dirt,<br />
<br />
Then <br />
<br />
waltzed <br />
<br />
me off to bed<br />
<br />
Still clinging to your shirt.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> <br />
This is my response to the poem "My Papa's Waltz" which was posted<br />
above. When I read this poem I felt that there were many ways to interpret this<br />
poem, for example most people would like to view it as child abuse, I for one<br />
do not. But! This is simply my own personal opinion about it. I have taken it<br />
upon myself do do some research about the poem So that I know where other<br />
people are coming from and how other people view the poem. I also wanted<br />
to know more about the author to see if that could tell me more. Honestly this<br />
poem is extremely intriguing to me because I can't seem to just automatically<br />
figure it out like I do with most poems.<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> <br />
First things first before I come out with research and findings I would just<br />
like to give my point of view on the poem and my observances because its only<br />
fair to do so. The lines that say "The whiskey on your breath could make a<br />
small boy dizzy"; "My right ear scraped a buckle", and "You<br />
beat time on my head with a palm caked hard by dirt, then waltzed me off to bed<br />
still clinging to your shirt," clearly demonstrate where they would get<br />
that inference of child abuse. <o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> The way that<br />
I see this poem is that the dad had just come home from work because maybe he's<br />
a construction worker. His wife cooked dinner and during dinner he had a few<br />
drinks. After dinner the father went to the kitchen with his son and they<br />
started to waltz the father counting the time of the steps on the child's head<br />
"Dun dun dun-pause-dun dun dun" a classic and common waltz beat.<br />
While the father is moving and their stomping during their waltz they're making<br />
a mess in the Kitchen and the mother who had been working all day to clean the<br />
house and had finally gotten the kitchen perfect was mad because they destroyed<br />
it. The way that I interpreted this poem was that there was no child<br />
abuse therefore a few lines should not imply child abuse. But all people are<br />
entitled to their opinions and I am not trying to 'brainwash' anyone just<br />
simply stating my own point of view.<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> Aside from<br />
that I also wrote a poem response to "My Papa's Waltz". This poem<br />
is from the Mother's point of view on<br />
their waltz. The poem is called "Their Broken Waltz". The poem is<br />
about how the mother was working hard all day and she cooked dinner. The house<br />
was spotless and everything was in its place. They ate dinner, her husband<br />
being a hard working field worker had a few drinks. The dad then took their son<br />
to the kitchen and started dancing and made a mess.<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;">One thing that I found was really interesting, it was a<br />
website. :<br />
<br />
< <a href="http://www.mrbauld.com/exrthkwtz.html"><span style="color: windowtext;">http://www.mrbauld.com/exrthkwtz.html</span></a> ><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The website showed all the voices<br />
and tones for each verse and occasionally a single line alone. I found all of<br />
this interesting because during my search I found it hard to get a straight<br />
answer out of any website. It was hard to find any good research on this poem.<br />
Most websites when I tried to do research on the reason behind the poem only<br />
gave me voices/tones for different parts of the poem.</span></p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div></span></span></p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></span></p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1> </p$1></p$1></p$1></div></span></span></p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></span></p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1> </p$1></p$1></p$1></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1> </p$1></p$1></p$1></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1> </p$1></p$1></p$1></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1> </p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1> </p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><em><b><u><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">Their Broken Waltz</span></u></b></em><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;"><o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">Their Waltz...<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">Their mess. <o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">Pots , pans <o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">Broken plates Spoons, forks, knives<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">All over MY kitchen floor<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">They waltz around like idiots<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">Leaving a messy trail behind them<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">they're not the ones to clean it up so <br />
<br />
they continue thinking no one minds them<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">Their waltz their mess <br />
<br />
they think its funny<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">they waltz upstairs <o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">leaving me to the <br />
<br />
mess<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">But before they go <o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">I give them a look<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">They better know that I'm upset<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;">now is not the time to make a <br />
<br />
mess the house was clean again and<br />
<br />
at its best.<o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> One thing<br />
that I would like to do is refer back to Kamillah's Blog(class 810)post about<br />
the poem My Papa's Waltz. She wrote, "</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">When you're a little kid,<br />
life's your personal amusement park; A fairy tale almost. Its full of<br />
rides, face painting, good food and everything you love. When you're a kid, you<br />
love the tricks and secrets of this 'amusement park' called life. Nothing in<br />
life is bad or wrong-when you're a kid at least. But as you mature into a<br />
teen, life's less like an amusement park and begins to lose it's fairy tale<br />
sparkle. The poem 'My Papa's Waltz' by Theodore Rothke is a prime example of<br />
finding fun or childish ways in a dark and not so friendly situation.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">" I really liked her choice of<br />
words and her analogy to the poem. Although we don't see eye to eye on where<br />
this poem's interpretation I still love her choice of words. <o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> One thing<br />
that I have to say that I've learned about doing a response like this is that<br />
you MUST MUST MUST see all sides of the story. I went out and looked at<br />
different points of view and ripped up the poem this way and that and came to<br />
my own conclusion. Now its your turn so have fun with it!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
[Sorry about how posts are coming out working on fixing them... having computer problems.]</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br />
</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div></span><br />
<p$1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -27pt 0pt 0in;"><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-46760643642549252852011-03-27T11:44:00.000-07:002011-03-30T11:55:25.312-07:00Romeo+Juliet The movie!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidaN7PcQKmZFP-O5LbTOjHF_j5gfGQrMxb3M9Nw16OmNCl8Q875aj565pN6_KDCnp0RbhjicrzQ-QZ5AFqU3eH95YpUiTVggvcv4XWNOzgN15Fk7s8Ak-CB8ucH9krenT1pxd2kVIWVyo/s1600/MV5BMTI2ODc3NDI4OV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwMTY1MjQ5._V1._SY317_CR7%252C0%252C214%252C317_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidaN7PcQKmZFP-O5LbTOjHF_j5gfGQrMxb3M9Nw16OmNCl8Q875aj565pN6_KDCnp0RbhjicrzQ-QZ5AFqU3eH95YpUiTVggvcv4XWNOzgN15Fk7s8Ak-CB8ucH9krenT1pxd2kVIWVyo/s1600/MV5BMTI2ODc3NDI4OV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwMTY1MjQ5._V1._SY317_CR7%252C0%252C214%252C317_.jpg" /></a></div><b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I recently just finished watching the movie Romeo+Juliet starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Claire Danes and John Leguizamo. The movie was a modern version of the original Romeo and Juliet, the lines were altered to make more sense of the Shakespearean speech. I thought that the movie didn't make any sense at all when I first started to watch it, but then as the movie progressed it got really good and easy to understand. </span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> When I watched the movie some of the things that I noticed were that when they did the scene of the street fights it took place at a gas station and they used guns instead of swords. I also noticed that during the movie that Merqutio was gay, I'm not sure of this but that is how he was portrayed to me. </span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I thought that the whole Romeo and Juliet story was amazing but also crazy at the same time because all of this took place in the time lapse of three whole days.</span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Day one was when he met Juliet at the Capulet party, which in this modern movie is portrayed as a costume party. One thing that I noticed about the Capulet party was that compared to the older original version of Romeo and Juliet, Juliet didn't stand out because everyone was wearing costumes and dressed all crazy. Another thing that I noticed was that Juliet was dressed up as an Angel and Tybalt was dressed as a Devil for the costume party. Another thing about day one was that Romeo proposed to Juliet and she said yes.</span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Day two was when Romeo and Juliet went to the Friar and they got married and Juliet was promised to Lord Paris. </span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Day three is when Tybalt gets into a fight with Romeo, Merqutio jumps in and gets killed, Romeo kills Tybalt, Romeo is banished, Juliet takes a sleeping potion, Romeo buys poison when he finds out Juliet is "Dead", Romeo goes to see Juliet one last time, Romeo takes the poison, Juliet wakes up and yells at Romeo, Juliet shoots herself in the head, and they both die. </span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I thought that this movie was great and that it was definitely worth watching. I thought that the characters were well written and that the way the director put a twist on the original movie was pretty cool as well. I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who likes to watch heart warming ,tragically romantic, comedy movies.</span></b><br />
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<b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></b>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-52407793147208127722011-03-23T16:39:00.000-07:002011-03-23T16:39:27.267-07:00Revised Reading response to "My Papa's Waltz" (Draft in progress)<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Before I begin my response I would just like to re-post the poem again so that you may follow along with what I am saying.(Or typing...Whatever you prefer but I'm posting it. Ok!) </span><br />
<div> </div><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong><em><u>My Papa's Waltz</u></em></strong></span><br />
<div id="copy"><span style="color: red;">The whiskey on your breath<br />
Could make a small boy dizzy;<br />
But <br />
<br />
I hung on like death:<br />
Such waltzing was not easy.<br />
We romped until the <br />
pans<br />
Slid from the kitchen shelf;<br />
My mother's <br />
countenance<br />
Could not <br />
unfrown itself.<br />
The hand that held my wrist<br />
Was battered on one <br />
knuckle;<br />
At every step <br />
you missed<br />
My right ear scraped a <br />
buckle.<br />
You beat time on my head<br />
With a palm caked hard by dirt,<br />
Then <br />
waltzed <br />
me off to bed<br />
Still clinging to your shirt.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> This is my response to the poem "My Papa's Waltz" which was posted above. When I read this poem I felt that there were many ways to interpret this poem, for example most people would like to view it as child abuse, I for one do not. But! This is simply my own personal opinion about it. I have taken it upon myself do do some research about the poem So that I know where other people are coming from and how other people view the poem. I also wanted to know more about the author to see if that could tell me more. Honestly this poem is extremely intrigueing to me because I can't seem to just automaticly figure it out like I do with most poems.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> First things first before I come out with research and findings I would just like to give my point of view on the poem and my observances because its only fair to do so.The lines that say "The wiskey on your breath could make a small boy dizzy"; "My right ear scraped a buckle", and "You beat time on my head with a palm caked hard by dirt, then waltzed me off to bed still clinging to your shirt," clearly demonstrate where they would get that inferance. But the way that I see it, like my poems point of view is that the father works hard. He had just come home from work because maybe hes a construction worker, his wife cooked dinner and during dinner he had a few drinks. After dinner the father went to the kitchen with his son and they started to waltz the father counting the time of the steps on the child's head "Dun dun dun-pause-dun dun dun" a classic waltz beat. While the father is moving and their stomping they're making a mess in the Kitchen and the mother who had been working all day to clean the house and had finally gotten the kitchen perfect was mad because they destroyed it. The way that I interpreted this poem was that there was no child abuse therefore a few lines should not imply child abuse. But all people are entitled to their <br />
opinions and I am not tryng to 'brainwash' anyone just simply stating my own point of view.</span></div><div> </div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I also wrote a poem response to "My Papa's Waltz" from the Mother's point of view. The poem is called "Their Broken Waltz".</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> </div><div><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;"><strong><em><u>Their Broken Waltz</u></em></strong></span></div><div><strong><em><u><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana;"></span></u></em></strong> </div><div><span style="color: red;">Their Waltz...Their mess.</span><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red;">Pots,pans</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">Broken <br />
plates</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">Spoons, forks, knives</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">All over </span><p$1><span style="color: red;">MY kitchen <br />
floor</span><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red;">They waltz around like </span><p$1><span style="color: red;">idiots</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">Leaving a <br />
messy trail behind them</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">they're not the ones to clean it up</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">so <br />
they continue thinking no one minds them</span><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red;">Their waltz their mess <br />
they think its funny</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">they waltz upstairs </span><p$1><span style="color: red;">leaving me to the <br />
mess</span><p$1><p$1><span style="color: red;">But before they go</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">I give them a look</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">They <br />
better know</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">that I'm upset</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">now is not the time to make</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">a <br />
mess</span><p$1><span style="color: red;">the house was clean again and<br />
<p$1>at its best.</p$1></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></p$1><span style="color: red;"></span></div><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One thing that I found was really interesting, it was a website. :</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">< <a href="http://www.mrbauld.com/exrthkwtz.html">http://www.mrbauld.com/exrthkwtz.html</a> ></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;">I would hope that you take it upon yourself to click the link.The website showed all the voices and tones for each verse and ocasionally a single line alone. I found all of this interesting because during my search I found it hard to get a straight answer out of any website.</span><br />
<p$1></p$1></span><br />
<div><span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> </div>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-62493851030124821442011-03-09T17:34:00.000-08:002011-03-30T11:48:21.190-07:00Reading Response to "The complete Persepolis" by Marjane Satrapi!<p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLNJYz-uNZLYgT9gjvgUCJ-HOpsHhTLj1O_p9s-ZBCfjmXa1Aif0XjVayK_15O2uwOXN51P8j4qdjbnitTLbdlvrDxHzQVGXLdbsaeZJSTkM30gFRNcvm2mtURGEgtsgZ4E6ZPAhtCbbU/s1600/persepolis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLNJYz-uNZLYgT9gjvgUCJ-HOpsHhTLj1O_p9s-ZBCfjmXa1Aif0XjVayK_15O2uwOXN51P8j4qdjbnitTLbdlvrDxHzQVGXLdbsaeZJSTkM30gFRNcvm2mtURGEgtsgZ4E6ZPAhtCbbU/s320/persepolis.jpg" width="226" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHyehtZ_ucKb3v1VeIsBqC_zPcc24afGznl09A6mppldCQqI6omCPPwU0jcnb0IhRBPkMAW9bEVLxwa0hHE0azkyWMHwxE06K9RfOUhoTN3oCD3M9zqcKj4W9QZqfZmXh9NoBEH8X-Jg/s1600/persepolis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHyehtZ_ucKb3v1VeIsBqC_zPcc24afGznl09A6mppldCQqI6omCPPwU0jcnb0IhRBPkMAW9bEVLxwa0hHE0azkyWMHwxE06K9RfOUhoTN3oCD3M9zqcKj4W9QZqfZmXh9NoBEH8X-Jg/s320/persepolis.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p$1><p$1><p$1> </p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
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<p$1><p$1><p$1> </p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1> </p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1> <b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> I recently just finished reading the book Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi,I think that the book was definitely worth my time to read it. The book put a twist on history which I really liked, this book was like an animated auto-biography about a little girl named Marjane who grew up during the war in Iran. This was the war that started a revolution and forced women and children to wear hooded scarfs.<br />
<p$1> </p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><p$1> The book was about Satarpis unforgettable childhood and coming of age within a large loving family in Tehran during the Islamic Revolution. This was a country that was plagued by political upheaval, their views were very limited and the only way that they could get their point across was by doing demonstrations. Millions of people were killed for either being a communist or for speaking out against the Shah. </p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><p$1> The Shah were the original people who claimed Iran and called it Iran and made it their own land. They didn't have a president like we do in Iran they had dictators so no one really had a say in anything that was done to the laws or what they would see politically in the news, at home, or on their own t.vs. Iran was rich which in turn made it "invite attacks" because of its oil.Oil was the reason for Iran's new found source of wealth and everybody wanted to get their hands on it. So new invasions started happening from the west, from Great Britain in particular. Great Britain wielded a strong influence on the Iranian Economy. They were bombed constantly.</p$1><p$1> </p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><p$1> </p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><p$1> </p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><p$1> </p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><p$1> Marjane Satrapi grew up reading the political views that were "Forbidden" in a sense, her uncle Anoosh was a communist and he was executed along with millions of others for his political views. Her grandfather and her uncle stood up for what they beleived in. Eventually Marjane goes through an epic journey of discovering who she is and where she wants to be. </p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><p$1> She struggles with everyday life as we know it trying to fit in not being arrested and executed. She was forced to hide her true personality in her house in her room, her room seemed to me like it was the only place that she could be free. None the less she still spoke her mind when it came to class she was expelled once for insulting a Nun who had before hand insulted her and her religion.</p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><p$1> </p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><p$1> </p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><p$1> </p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><p$1> I would reccomend this book to any and all who love to read animated tales, Auto-biographys, and a little bit of history mixed all together. I really did learn alot from this book, this book honestly has alot to teach and I still have alot to learn. This book is the kind of book that you never want to put down its that addicting [trust me] .</p$1></span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-67498835636321787152011-02-24T08:06:00.000-08:002011-03-03T13:50:05.134-08:00Poetry response to My Papa's Waltz<p$1>Their Waltz...Their mess.<br />
<p$1><p$1>Pots,pans<br />
<p$1>Broken plates<br />
<p$1>Spoons, forks, knives<br />
<p$1>All over <br />
<p$1>MY kitchen floor<br />
<p$1><p$1>They waltz around like <br />
<p$1>idiots<br />
<p$1>Leaving a messy trail behind them<br />
<p$1>they're not the ones to clean it up<br />
<p$1>so they continue thinking no one minds them<br />
<p$1><p$1>Their waltz their mess they think its funny<br />
<p$1>they waltz upstairs <br />
<p$1>leaving me to the mess<br />
<p$1><p$1>But before they go<br />
<p$1>I give them a look<br />
<p$1>They better know<br />
<p$1>that I'm upset<br />
<p$1>now is not the time to make<br />
<p$1>a mess<br />
<p$1>the house was clean again and<br />
<p$1>at its best.</p$1><br />
<p$1> I wrote this poem from the mothers point of view because many people interpreted it that the little boy in "My Papa's Waltz" was being abused. I can completely understand why and where they would get that infrence from. Here is the original poem. : </p$1><p$1><div id="head"> </div><div>My Papa's Waltz</div><br />
<div id="copy">The whiskey on your breath<br />
Could make a small boy dizzy;<br />
But <br />
I hung on like death:<br />
Such waltzing was not easy.<br />
We romped until the pans<br />
Slid from the kitchen shelf;<br />
My mother's <br />
countenance<br />
Could not unfrown itself.<br />
The hand that held my wrist<br />
Was battered on one knuckle;<br />
At every step <br />
you missed<br />
My right ear scraped a buckle.<br />
You beat time on my head<br />
With a palm caked hard by dirt,<br />
Then waltzed <br />
me off to bed<br />
Still clinging to your shirt.<br />
<br />
The lines that say "The wiskey on your breath could make a small boy dizzy"; "My right ear scraped a buckle", and "You beat time on my head with a palm caked hard by dirt, then waltzed me off to bed still clinging to your shirt," clearly demonstrate where they would get that inferance. But the way that I see it, like my poems point of view is that the father works hard. He had just come home from work because maybe hes a construction worker, his wife cooked dinner and during dinner he had a few drinks. After dinner the father went to the kitchen with his son and they started to waltz the father counting the time of the steps on the child's head "Dun dun dun-pause-dun dun dun" a classic waltz beat. While the father is moving and their stomping they're making a mess in the kitchen and the mother who had been working all day to clean the house and had finally gotten the kitchen perfect was mad because they destroyed it. The way that I interpreted this poem was that there was no child abuse therefore a few lines should not imply child abuse. But all people are entitled to their opinions...</div></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-41589318565833777612011-01-24T14:08:00.000-08:002011-01-24T14:08:11.161-08:00Poem Response to the poem in Class "Please Don't take my Air Jordans" by Reg. E. Gaines<strong><em><u><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">That Kid</span></u></em></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;"><em>That kid... </em></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;"><em>That kid</em> he scary</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;"><em>That kid</em> think he cool</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;"><em>That kid</em> ain't got no real friends</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">its just about looks</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">Deep down I knows that</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">somewhere</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">he good</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">He don't mean what he do</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">he don't really got no choice</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">his <em>mommas</em> on the run</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">his <em>papa's</em> beatin' on him</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;"><em>That kid</em></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">He hurt</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">He hurt real bad</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;"><em>That kid...</em></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">he <em>shot</em> me</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;"><em>That kid...</em></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">He took my shoes</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;"><em>That kid... </em></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">he done kill'd me</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">That kid...</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">He don't <em>care</em></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">cuz..</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;"><em><u>NOW </u></em>he needs a </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">new jacket </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courier New;">to wear</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I wrote my poem from the eyes of the kid that had gotten shot. I interpreted it as the kid who had gotten shot went to the same school as the kid who shot him. Basically this kid is telling how he sees the other kid and how he thinks hes acting. [kinda confusing i know]</span></em></strong>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-25636692786468006562011-01-16T18:36:00.000-08:002011-01-16T18:36:16.404-08:00Wishing You were here [ Important incedent Poem ]<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I cry</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">myself</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">to sleep</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">every night</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">"Why?" I ask...</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">why did you have </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">to go so soon.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">You were always </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">there for me</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">when I </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">needed you</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">Friends for eternity...</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">Where did </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">you </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">go?</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">I just wish </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">you were here</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">Instead of</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">Up there</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">I wish it could</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">be me</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">and not you</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">who had </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">to go.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">I miss you. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">I.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">Wish.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">You.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">Were. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial;">Here.</span></strong>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-4914475638404190672011-01-16T18:29:00.000-08:002011-01-16T18:29:01.254-08:00My poem Response to Waiting for you by Susane Colsanti<strong><span style="color: red; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><em><u>Waiting for you</u></em> by Me</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Anticipation is all I feel.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">I wait for your eyes to </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">lock with mine</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">and see</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">how I really feel.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">You're my other half</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">I don't know how</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">I could ever live without</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">you.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">This is</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Now.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Back then...</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">All I could do</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">was search</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">for something</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">real</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">When what </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">I wanted...</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">what I needed</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Was infront of me all along</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">You are my</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Best Friend.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">You are my </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Hero.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">You always </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Made me laugh.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">You always</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Put a smile on my face.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">I was always </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">waiting for the </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">right guy to come </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">around </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">but...</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Really you</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">were right here</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">all along</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">I never thought </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">That I could love you</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Really love you</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Untill...</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">that night</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">It was prom.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">You asked me to dance.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">I said yes.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Then we left</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">and </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">We went to</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">our usual</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Hangout</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">spot.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">You played our song</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">and we</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">danced under the </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Moonlight</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">That was the night</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">when everything</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">put itself together again</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">The waiting was over</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">and...</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">I fell in love.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">With you.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">All.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Over.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Courier New;">Again.</span></strong>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-74007017720037552372011-01-13T13:57:00.000-08:002011-01-16T18:29:20.324-08:00Poem Response to the poem in Class "What is poetry"<strong><u><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #351c75;">What is poetry? <span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">written by...ME!</span></span></span></u></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Poetry is Life</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Every living thing</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">It depends on how you interpret it</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Poetry comes from the</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Smallest of things...</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">The smallest pebble...</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Or. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">The Smallest seashell</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">found along</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">the beach's shore</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">A single sunset.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Or .</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">A light's glow.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Poetry is your mind.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Whatever you create.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">It's yours to enjoy.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Poetry is..</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;"> A Dream.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Anything.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">You.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Decide.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Poetry is you.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">You are poetry.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Poetry is your </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">personality.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Your personal </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">way of </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Expressing</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Yourself.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Poetry is a release.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">It is a mental release.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Take all of your</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Problems and</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Let them flow away</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Onto a paper.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Your poem.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Poetry is a toy.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">You can play </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">with it!</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Be creative.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">There are </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">No rules.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">No bindings.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">No restrictions.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Poetry.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Is.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;">Life changing.</span></strong>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-18761508051723196652011-01-13T13:21:00.000-08:002011-01-16T18:56:00.692-08:00Response to a Painting/Photo.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBhdJmFXkmGWovCmprdHa1NOPMaF2WhkHLrwOieVHMHpHG2QkIJcVvvs5PvmgvJjEXSmTLpqVCx9zRhJf0B4-y8x1DzvZN55-07_UjRAhdQel8HUCSqtio_0PNxuSnhI_d9O3jDT2eYw/s1600/Andy-Warhol-Marilyn-Monroe-Portrait-Prints-on-canvas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBhdJmFXkmGWovCmprdHa1NOPMaF2WhkHLrwOieVHMHpHG2QkIJcVvvs5PvmgvJjEXSmTLpqVCx9zRhJf0B4-y8x1DzvZN55-07_UjRAhdQel8HUCSqtio_0PNxuSnhI_d9O3jDT2eYw/s320/Andy-Warhol-Marilyn-Monroe-Portrait-Prints-on-canvas.jpg" width="244" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong> <span style="color: black;">I chose a painting of Mairlyn Monroe by Andy Warhol. The reason why I chose Marilyn Monroe is because I think that she's very pretty, also because she is very famous for 'The 7th itch'. Most people know her by the photos of her above a manhole with her dress up. </span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong> My observations of this painting was :</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>She's wearing diamond earings, she is leaning against a wall (Or so she appears to be doing). She's also wearing red lipstick and a strapless red dress. I also noticed that she seemed to be looking at something or someone in a rather flirty way. I thought that the painting was absolutely stunning, even though it is not her best this one is still outstanding.</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong> Some infrences/ interpretations that I made were: </strong></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>She might be posing for a picture [paparazzi], she might be going out with friends, she might be going to a party. She could also be going on a date. Here's the thing about art, alot of people see it in different ways, so it could be interperated in different ways. In my mind there are alot of possiablilties to go with this painting, way too many to count actually.</strong></span>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-10820857806657506482010-11-10T14:20:00.000-08:002011-01-16T18:59:10.384-08:00Media / News Immersion, My Response <strong><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">One social problem that I found was littering and animal abuse. Many people are abusing animals and our environment without even knowing it. One single paper littered on the floor, one small candy wrapper that could have been thrown in the trash. Every small piece of litter destroys a forest, and in turn, the animals in that forest die, when those animals die, we slowly kill our planet, and the balance of life is out of place. I found that the more people littler carelessly and the more people just forget to do the simplest things like throw your trash away, recycle, turn off the light before you leave the room, destroys our planet. The time for action is now, our generation's lives are at risk and we don't have much time before there are no more landfills to fill and no more street space to throw our trash and no room to walk or enjoy a clean clear breath of air. These are some of the things that the teens and kids of our generation will not get to enjoy anymore because people were too careless to throw that one piece of trash in the garbage, or unplug that phone charger when you're away at school or work. Make a change in our world be the first one to stop the killing of our planet, tell your family and friends to throw their trash away, live in a recycling house, shut the light when you leave the room, unplug chargers or electronics when not in use. SAVE OUR PLANET TODAY! ALL IT TAKES IS A SIMPLE ACT OF KINDNESS! I found a song that truely sends out a strong meaning, to listen to it click the link --></span></strong><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3xh6_jhlnU&feature=related"><strong><span style="color: black;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3xh6_jhlnU&feature=related</span></strong></a><strong><span style="color: black;">. The Disney Artists come together to sing this wonderful song, I think they did a fantastic job. Hope you enjoy!</span></strong>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-55583182625225065482010-10-26T17:17:00.000-07:002011-01-16T18:56:31.806-08:00Mother to Son, My reflection. <img height="136" id="il_fi" src="http://www.fotosearch.com/bthumb/UNN/UNN191/u11327080.jpg" width="170" /> <img height="289" id="il_fi" src="http://barcelona.cafebabel.com/public/barcelona/escalier.bmp" width="198" /> <br />
<span style="color: black;"> <strong><span style="font-size: large;">I read the poem "Mother to Son" by Langston Hughes, and I really enjoyed it. I found the deeper meaning within this poem, it's not just any poem, it's not just a mother's words to her son. It's about hardships, this poem tells a life story if you really think about it. </span></strong></span><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"> <em><u>Mother to son, by Langston Hughes</u></em></span></span></strong><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Well, son I tell you:</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">It's had tacks in it,</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">And splinters,</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">And boards torn up,</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">And places with no carpet on the floor--</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Bare.</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">But all the time</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">I'se been a-climbin' on </span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">And turnin' corners, </span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">And sometimes goin' in the dark</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Where there ain't been no light.</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">So boy, don't you turn back.</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Don't you set down on them steps</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Cause you finds it's kinder hard.</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Don't you fall now--</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">For I'se still goin' honey,</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">I'se still climbin' </span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">And life for me ain't been no crystal stair</span></strong></em><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><em> </em>One thing that I noticed about the poem is that it starts off kind of like a conversation and throught the poem you can hear her voice talking to her son, it's firm and strong, yet soft and caring. The mother is giving the son words of wisdom because she's telling him that she had to do the same thing and she never got a break and so to survive in this world he has to keep going.</span></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;"> Some translations that I came up with for words in the poem is for the words: Tacks, Splinters, torn up boards, no carpet, and crystal stair.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;"> For the words Tacks, Splinters, Torn up Boards, and No Carpet I came up with this definition. It could mean that the person proably grew up poor, life wasn't easy for them, had rough patches, damaged, and shows struggle. I came up with this because when I think of something so beaten down so battered this is the first thing that came to mind when I had read this poem.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;"> For the word Crystal Stair, I came up with this definition. It could mean that the person had a easy life, perfect, flawless, may mean the person was born rich. I came up with this because I felt that this meaning best represented this. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;"> Something else that I analyzed about the poem is that, she doesn't want her son to just give up, she wants him to keep pushing on like she did and still is. She's telling him that life isn't perfect and it's going to be rough and you're not always going to be able to stop you're going to have to keep going because time waits for no one.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;"> Some emotions that I noticed in the poem were, that she was stressed, tired, depressed, always busy, she wants a break, worried, lifeless, blank, sometimes there is no emotion.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;"> By the way that the poem is written, grammer wise, I assumed that this was a african american speaking to her son. I assumed this because the poem was written in 1922, and african americans back then used to grow up in poverty, and have such a rough life trying to survive, so I imagined that this would be an african american mother speaking words of wisdom to her son.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"> These are some of the things that I noticed in the boo</span>k.</span></strong>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-83173210627271967052010-10-14T16:18:00.000-07:002011-03-03T13:38:33.188-08:00What I love about Stuart Little!<p$1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><p$1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLirUN2lwbO-di8ZvxfdAruvXNjth6SxHZKuVMX3uhfhPEz7XnkppZQCun_fPk4K5VirT7aeUsu8dCaDocP8zXHhAvDoYNmPQtP2jZQ9zs1Pcic0PgmyIT6Qy10eHz-yxk_e8QU3ba1jC/s1600/stuart-little-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLirUN2lwbO-di8ZvxfdAruvXNjth6SxHZKuVMX3uhfhPEz7XnkppZQCun_fPk4K5VirT7aeUsu8dCaDocP8zXHhAvDoYNmPQtP2jZQ9zs1Pcic0PgmyIT6Qy10eHz-yxk_e8QU3ba1jC/s320/stuart-little-10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p$1><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;"> <b>"</b><b>When Mrs.Fredrick .C. Little's second son arrived, everybody noticed that he was no bigger than a mouse. The truth of the matter was, the baby looked very much like a mouse in every way. He was only about two inches high; and he had a mouse's sharp nose, a mouse's tail, a mouse's whiskers, and the pleasant shy manner manner of a mouse" </b></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<p$1><b><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"> By this description you wouldn't think much of Stuart, I know I didn't. At fist I didn't think much of Stuart at all, actually by the picture above in that first page I thought of Stuart only as an average mouse. But as you read deeper into the book you can come to find out that Stuart is quiet the little pioneer. He goes on many adventures in the film and in the classic children's book. I think that Stuart is a very valiant little mouse, for example take this excerpt from the book:</span></b><br />
<p$1><b><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"> "One day when Mrs.Little was washing out the bathtub after Mr.Little had taken a bath, she lost a ring off her finger and was horrified to discover that it had fallen down the drain. ... "Why don't we send Stuart down after it?" suggested Mr.Little. "How about it Stuart, would you like to try" " </span></b><br />
<p$1><b><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"> I feel like Stuart was kind of like the Little's family tool because since he was small enough he was able to fit in places where the Little's couldn't fit at all. As you continue through the book you'll find that the Little's send Stuart on many "Journeys" as you would put it, he goes underneath the radiator to get the pool ball that had rolled underneath by accident. Another time, Stuart is asked that he hold the key in the piano that won't play right. I feel that all these small actions make Stuart brave because for any little mouse to have to go somewhere which is not dangerous for humans at all, but is somewhat of a battlefield for a mouse is very fearless of him. Stuart could have gotten burned in the radiator, and Stuart could have been hit on the head with that piano key, but Stuart doesn't care because he's brave and he's selfless. Throughout the book you'll come to learn that Stuart Little is more that just a mouse, he's a friend to all.<br />
While I was reading the book one thing I noticed was that Stuart is a very brave, and valiant mouse, he's very selfless and will go out of his way to save his newly found best friend Margalo. As seen in the movie and read in the book, Stuart little goes on this dangerous journey to save his new best friend Margalo. </span></b><br />
<p$1><b><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"> On the way he faces many challenges, for example, when he first starts out Stuart went to his newly found friend the owner of the boat the Wasp. There he was given a small car and when he went to set it up he accidentally hit the invisible button and the start button, Stuart could have gotten run over by that invisible car. </span></b><br />
<p$1><b><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"> Then right after Stuart had gotten his small invisible car he met a very sad man on the road, and Stuart being Stuart wanted to help him out. The man said that one of his teachers was sick and he needed someone to substitute classroom number seven, Stuart said he would do it. Stuart was so small that when he went to substitute the class he could have gotten trampled by his own students. </span></b><br />
<p$1><b><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"> After he's finished substituting the class, Stuart enters this whole new little town and he learns about a girl almost his size who maybe shorter, named Harriet Ames. Stuart is frightened at first and he doesn't want to introduce himself to her but then he overcomes that fear and actually does it. I appreciate that Stuart is not afraid to try something new and no matter what the challenge he’ll always make it through.</span></b></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><p$1><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><p$1><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><b> Stuart goes to dangerous places all the time and is almost never scared. One thing is that Stuart lives with Snowbell the cat and he’s not afraid of him. Stuart is a very confident mouse.</b></span></p$1></div><p$1><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><p$1><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><b> The author created Stuart little in such a way that people all over can relate to him, Stuart can do anything that he puts his mind to. Kids love to read this book as a bedtime story, and adults sometimes love to read the classic as a pastime. Stuart goes on many adventures and I can connect to him because when I was little I would sit at home and watch the movie and read the book. I wanted to do what he did; I wanted to be independent and go out into the world on my own and do what I wanted to do for a change. Stuart got to do all of these things.</b></span></p$1></div><p$1><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><b>Another thing is that Stuart doesn’t let his size get to him; he doesn’t let it define who he is. Stuart is small but mighty at the same time, if I were his size I don’t think that I would be able to do half of the things that he does. Sometimes whenever Stuart would walk on the street or go to buy something people would stop and stare but Stuart ignored them and kept his head high. Stuart uses his size to his advantage and doesn’t really think much of it as a disadvantage. </b></span></div><p$1><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">One thing that I came to find really interesting was the author's reason behind creating the classic childhood book <i><u>Stuart Little. </u></i>This is a question that is most commonly asked, so before the author passed away, he wrote an online letter to all his readers answering many common questions about his book. Many years ago he went to sleep in a railway car, and during the night he had a dream about a boy who acted like a mouse. This is how he came to write the book Stuart Little. </span></b></div><p$1><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"> I would recommend this book to everyone because it's so timeless. This book has been such a joy to read and I just adored it! I hope that anyone who comes to read it enjoys it too.</span></b></div><p$1><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><p$1><i><u></u></i><b><i><u></u></i></b></p$1></div><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-24007449203005512112010-09-28T16:07:00.000-07:002011-03-27T10:28:16.744-07:00Charlotte's Web, My response<p$1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKbifxf0ndqFliVAye3ZymCQ0yDBP0jxwrRecSN3PoFo9T03k7SoPVed00vH_c7DVXbWHmf-3UGAAUInxhiQ3NDVaJPtL2VBzkIgV2JK0TeJcAmN7gCLSgxD7dR0Gz0VBw90pBHQ7oJJsG/s1600/wilbur.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKbifxf0ndqFliVAye3ZymCQ0yDBP0jxwrRecSN3PoFo9T03k7SoPVed00vH_c7DVXbWHmf-3UGAAUInxhiQ3NDVaJPtL2VBzkIgV2JK0TeJcAmN7gCLSgxD7dR0Gz0VBw90pBHQ7oJJsG/s1600/wilbur.gif" /></a></div><p$1><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> <strong> <span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: small;">Something I noticed in the book was that Wilbur was too quick to judge Charlotte. Wilbur fist met Charlotte, well really when he had his first encounter with Charlotte was on page 31. Charlotte tells Wilbur that she had been watching him all day and for quite some time; she really liked him. Charlotte offered to be Wilbur's friend.Although Charlotte made Wilbur wait until the morning to show Wilbur who she was Wilbur was still excited to meet her. He was restless all night constantly waking up but he still waited. For once the barn was quiet. I think that Wilbur was excited because of this mystery figure wanting to be his friend. I know I would have been super excited and super hyper if I was in Wilbur's situation. </span></strong></span><br />
<p$1><strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> The next day on page 35 Charlotte finally introduced herself to Wilbur. She comes off as kind and loving. One thing I noticed about Charlotte's character is that she's always kind and loving to Wilbur throughout the whole book, even to the very moment of her death. She doesn't seem to want to do anyone any harm.Wilbur was happy that he finally got to meet Charlotte and he's happy that he made a new friend. Or so we think, Wilbur actually is processing Charlotte's character through his mind to see if she is 'worthy' of his friendship this is another thing that I noticed about the book.</span></strong><br />
<p$1><strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> When Charlotte introduces herself Wilbur is absolutely fascinated with her. He's fascinated that she's a very tiny grey spider no bigger than the size of a gumdrop. Wilbur is in complete awe of Charlotte and he tells her how beautiful he thinks she is. They're going off really well and having a great time when Charlotte demonstrates to Wilbur how she catches flies in her web and how she traps them to eat them. Wilbur is no longer in awe of her but looking at Charlotte as a blood thirsty creature. Even though that Wilbur dislikes files so much it's almost as if he loathes them he feels sorry for the one that Charlotte is turning into her breakfast. I think that this part of the book really shows Wilbur's innocence and ignorance to the real world and how there are other creatures out there that have to do some pretty gruesome things in order to survive. I personally think that Wilbur should be grateful that Charlotte is not lying to Wilbur and she's not trying to hide her true nature she does what she has to do to survive she has to live too. Wilbur thinks that when Charlotte kills flies and drinks their blood and likes it that, it automatically makes Charlotte a blood thirsty killer. At least in my opinion Charlotte was kind enough to put the fly to sleep before she ate it, it's not like Charlotte chose who she wanted to be or what her diet was. I think that Wilbur was too quick to judge her. </span></strong><br />
<p$1><strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> I think that Wilbur was too quick to judge her because he feels that based on Charlotte's diet and her life style that, that's what makes her who she is. Wilbur is absolutely disgusted by Charlotte's diet. I think that Wilbur should have really thought about his actions before he did them because Wilbur is a pig, literally. Wilbur eats table scraps and garbage and sleeps in a huge pile of cow manure. He shouldn't judge Charlotte like that. I can relate to this situation because in the sixth grade I only started out with two friends and I had to take a chance to gain them first. When I first met my best friend Kamillah I thought that she was weird and out of place but then I thought to myself that's no way to treat people. It's not right to judge people by their appearance it's what's on the inside that counts. I realize this now because I took a chance with Kamillah and she turned out to be a really nice person and now she's one of my closest friends; I'm really happy that I took a chance with Kamillah. Everyone has to take a chance at least every day. Later on in the book Wilbur realizes that Charlotte really wants to be his friend, and that she only wants to help him, because after all Wilbur is a pig and bacon comes from pigs, she truly does not want her friend to be the Zuckerman's next breakfast. Wilbur took a chance and I took a chance sadly Charlotte passed away protecting her babies, my friend however is still very much alive. </span></strong><br />
<p$1><strong><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> This is how I thought that Wilbur was too quick to judge Charlotte, and I was too quick to judge Kamillah.</span> </span></strong></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575056421728535029.post-3581904026220930132010-09-23T17:30:00.000-07:002011-01-16T18:58:05.017-08:00Just an Every day routine<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Just another ordinary day and I come home from school. I throw my books on the floor,greet my grandma,and greet my grandpa. I sit down and have a quick snack.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Courier New;">"How was your day at school?"she asks.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Courier New;">"Fine I guess," I mumble under my breath.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Courier New;">I guess you could say that I'm not the most cheerful person after a long day at school. Especially on Wednesdays when I have SHSAT Prep classes from 4:30 to 7pm. I mean who wants to be bothered by an adult when you come home right? So usually after that I'll start on my homework and halfway through it I'll get bored and pick up my book. So I'll sit there and read for hours on end and my mom will yell at me from the other room telling my to stop reading. I think that I'm the only kid on the planet who's mom tells them to actually STOP reading. Crazy right? Some people think that reading brings families closer together, well that may work for them but not for me, and I'll tell you the truth, reading can also break up families...kinda. It can break up families because when you read you go to your own little world am I right? Right. So most people do not enjoy reading the same as others. I am the only one in my family who loves to read books about vampires, I don't really know why but I find them to be very interesting. Okay, so, I love to read romance/realistic fiction/ fantasy, compared to my family who love to read mystery, and adventure. I mean not that I'm trying to imply that I hate those genres but they're just not my cup of tea. So I read what I like in my own little corner/world while my family is bonding with each other. I guess I'm a loner, which is kind of true because I really do not liked to be bothered when I'm doing something. But, anyway, this is basically how I am when I'm reading, you can say I'm sort of a reading fanatic. If I could I think that I would make a school dedicated to reading, and we would read all day and have book discussions and such. But that's just my opinon on it.</span></strong>Chynnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18312344358680334129noreply@blogger.com0