All posts by Gav

Gaiety

Gaiety (noun)

Definition- joyful or festive activity.

Source: http://www.merriam-webster.com/thesaurus/gaiety

Location: This word was found in the book Beloved by Toni Morrison; located in the 8th line on the 87th page.

Quote: She had never seen Beloved this happy. She had seen her pouty lips open wide with the pleasure of sugar or some piece of news Denver gave her. She had felt warm satisfaction radiating from Beloved’s skin when she listened to her mother talk about the old days. But gaiety she had never seen.

While reading the passage I understood that Beloved was happy but the word gaiety through me off because it made it seem that there was more to her happiness. With research I understand now that it means that she was simply at the highest extent of happiness, a more festive type of feeling. With the understanding of this word it simply made the paragraph a smoother read even though with context clues the definition can be assumed. With the understanding of the word and its definition the paragraph simply took more life and color.

Project 2: Beloved

In the work of Plato: Republic we find a troubling question which relates to the morality of how one actions are perceived.  In the work of Plato we find Socrates playing the devil’s advocate while he tries to explain this concept and meaning to his peers. This question revolved around justice: is it best to do a just act but seem unjust, where one sacrifices his or her own best interest for the best interest of another. This is expressed in the novel Beloved by Toni Morrison where an event, which can arguably be said to be the most significant moment in the entire novel. This event alone single handedly shifted the plot in a direction that was unpredictable and filled with suspense. This moment was when our protagonist, Sethe, faced the most difficult choice of her where she either lets her children endure a life of rape, beatings, torture or worst, or simply prevent her very first creations of life from ever having to face this devastating reality. As we proceed we will analyze the effect of this event not taking place and how other events which are deeply related may have been manipulated with this new reality. 

 

Sethe was portrayed as a strong woman that proved her cleverness and wit many folds over. First we will look at the major and main event that took place which we will focus on. This event is centralized around Sethe when she slaughtered her own child. The novel Beloved states, 

Inside, two boys bled in the sawdust and dirt at the feet of a nigger woman holding a blood – soaked child to her chest with one hand and an infant by the heels in the other. She did not look at them; she simply swung the baby toward the planks. (85) 

This represents the most significant moment where Sethe’s made the most difficult choice where either she lets her children suffer or save them from the inevitable misery. Little did she know that this one event, this one choice may have made her own life even more of a living hell than before. 

 

First we will look at the affect this event had on her children that survived the brutal attack. As the story progressed Sethe’s new home, 124, is plagued by an evil spirit which appeared as a child’s spirit. This spirit, speculated to be the child of Seth’s only successful murder, wreaked havoc and drove Sethe’s two boys away. “…Howard and buglar, had ran away by the time they were thirteen years old – as soon as merely looking in a mirror shattered (that was the signal for Burglar); as soon as two tiny hand prints appeared in the cake (that was it for Howard).” (1) Hypothetically we can imagine that this event had not taken place Sethe may have had an entire family. Even though this may not protect them from the after effects of slavery but the support of two fully grown men over time may prevent a lot of the stress and suffering fending on your own with a vulnerable daughter may elicit. 

Not only driving away her son’s, Sethe’s act of murder later led to the distraction of the forest of love and affection her lover, Paul D, later planted in her life. A life that could of redefined her past troubles and compensated for all her heart aches. For example, 

Sweet, she thought. He must think I can’t bear to hear him say it. That after all I have told him and after telling me how many feet I have, ‘goodbye’ would break me up into pieces. Ain’t that sweet … “So long”, she murmured from the far side of the trees.

After hearing about the tragic act by Stamp Paid, Paul D quickly rejected Sethe. A life that could’ve been filled with a family set on production and growth quickly vanished into thin air. 

 

Next we will look at the entirety of Sethe’s life without the murder. With beloved alive it may have been possible to avoid the torture that was brought to Sethe from the afterlife. This relates to the reincarnated spirit of the baby ghost, Beloved, returning to wreak pure havoc on Sethe’s life. In Denver’s eyes she, 


thought she understood the connection between her mother and Beloved: Sethe was trying to make up for the handsaw; Beloved was making her pay for it. But there would never be an end to that … Beloved, her fat new feet propped on the seat of a chair in front of the one she sat in, her unlined hands resting on her stomach, looked at her. Uncomprehending everything except that Sethe was the woman who took her face away, leaving her crouching in a dark place, forgetting to smile. (141)

Without the murder taken place, Beloved could have possibly made it to 124 with Sethe and her sister Denver. The reality of being a tortured soul by a tortured soul be then cease to exist. This then may have let to the starting point of a strong household where a mother and her children bands together to defend themselves and fight off a cruel world.

 

Over all with the analysis of each event I can conclude that killing Beloved may have been the worst choice Sethe could have made versus letting her live her life’s course in regards to Sethe’s happiness. This does not change the fact that many difficulties still may have been faced and the possibility that the journey to 124 may have failed with another life to sustain. We can also conclude that with the circumstances Sethe’s was presented with at the time of the murder may be viewed as a just act but only appeared to be unjust due to its graphic nature. With further analysis we can say that with Beloved alive Sethe may have lived a happier life, one  which consisted of a husband, Paul D, her daughter Denver alongside with Buglar and Howard and not to mention Sethe’s beloved Beloved; creating a picture perfect family anyone at the time would kill for.

 

 

 

Young Goodman Brown – Project #1

Rewrite

I came out at sunset into the streets of Salem Village where I met my beautiful wife, Faith. At the sight of her I could tell that my presence would please her more then to see me part. As we met, we kissed while the wind played with pink ribbons on her cap, enhancing her beauty which only made the tensions of my departure grow.

“Dearest heart” she whispered, softly and rather sadly, “pr’ythee, put off your journey until sunrise, and sleep in your own bed to-night”. As much as I would rather be with the loving comfort of my wife I most continue on my journey. Continuing she said “A lone woman is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts, that she’s afeard of herself, sometimes. Pray, tarry with me this night, dear husband, of all nights in the year!”

Little did she know how much she did move me, but the call of duty was upon me as I was dedicated to answer and to see what awaited. “My Love and my Faith” Trying my best to bring forth the trust and love she had for me to the surface, “My journey, as thou callest it, forth and back again, must needs be done ‘twixt now and sunrise. What, my sweet, pretty wife, dost thou doubt me already, and we but three months married!”

I stared as she gazed into my eyes, as if she was searching for the hidden truths behind my words. An overwhelming swallow came upon me “Then God bless you!”- I shook suddenly- “and may you find all well, when you come back!” she said.

I smiled uncontrollable at the furry hidden in such a gentle woman that was wrapped with patients and understanding. Faith, as one may call it. “Amen!” I cried. Maybe trying to startle her just the same, but unsuccessfully. “Say thy prayers, dear faith, and go to bed at dusk, and no harm will come to thee” and we parted.

I was now on my way through the forest which was torture at its purest definition. I once had the privilege of company along my journey but I caused my own loneliness. Goody Cloyse and her companion guided me through majority of the woods when suddenly I stopped abruptly and gave in to my own fears to continue on. Driven by fear but once again, going back to this unforeseen location saturated with terror I somehow seem to fly away from the diamonds that had took chase.

Suddenly I came upon what can only be described as a towns meeting but of unusual characteristics. The dammed mingling with the priests, the righteous with the witches and all commanded by a figure ahead. The figure- surrounded by giant burning trees that resembled giant touches- commanded authority and received as the crowd sang in harmony. I was baffled.

“Bring forth the converts!” I froze. Then despite my fears my body moved as if my soul was being taken to what can only be described as an altar ahead, I gave in. As I walked I can see my dead father- I am sure it is- and he calls, beckoning me to advance. “Mother?!” “Is that my mother too” I said softly. Looking ahead I watched this familiar figure that only showed despair, throw out her hand to warm me back but It was far too late for me to heed mother’s warnings. I continued without rethink or even trying to find the will.

 

The minister and good old Deacon Gookin took hold of my arms and led me to the blazing rock. Then appeared the pious teacher of the catechism, my old teacher, along with Martha Carrier, a woman that was known to have accepted the devil’s ring itself. Something was starting that I could not fully comprehend. Confusions took hold of me as I felt the presence of evil. Skimming through the faces at last I found Faith!. “Welcome, my children,” said the dark figure, “to the communion of your race! Ye have found, thus young, your nature and your destiny. My children, look!” A large wind took hold and the crowd turned.

Flashing forth, as it were, in a sheet of flame, the fiend-worshippers were seen; the smile of welcome gleamed darkly on every visage.

The figure in font spoke once again “There are all whom ye have reverenced from youth. Ye deemed them holier than yourselves, and shrank from your own sin, contrasting it with their lives of righteousness, and prayerful aspirations heavenward. Yet, here are they all, in my worshipping assembly! This night it shall be granted you to know their secret deeds” I was only amazed at what was to come. My thoughts were broken as the figure somehow continued to expose the horrors of the towns’ people’s past, only to convince us of our obvious joined evil’s revealing the horrors which would make the righteous scorn.

The silence of my mind was interrupted as the figure announced. “Far more than this! It shall be yours to penetrate, in every bosom, the deep mystery of sin, the fountain of all wicket arts, and which inexhaustibly supplies more evil impulses then human power – than my power, at its utmost! – can make manifest in deeds. And now, my children, look upon each other”

But Faith! Where is Faith? My pale face took sight of my wife the voice said once more “ Lo! There stand, my children!” In one motion, the shape of Evil dipped his hands in liquid that strongly resembled blood to continue laying the mark of baptism upon us. As the hand laid rest, and as my last conscious thoughts vanished I managed to manifest “Faith!, Faith!” I cried, “Look up to Heaven, and resist the Wicked One!”


As bizarre as it may be, I have never dreamed so vividly that my own faith struggles to hold on to my soul. Like a bewildered man I stumbled into town only regaining full awareness as I saw familiar objects and faces. The memories of the event flashed back continuously, tormenting me.

“how can I find my ‘faith’ now!?” I asked unsuccessfully, with only the wind as my reply

Minutes turns into hours, hours into years; life continues. My wife was subject to my own scrutiny where I could not fully explain its origins. I labeled the town as pure hypocrites for matters that were never disclosed. As for myself, I was a vast field where gloom flourished continuously and thrived; Life continued and so did I, everyday making me a bit more weary.

 

 

Essay

In the story Young Goodman Brown we find a man by the name of Goodman Brown who left his newly wedded wife to partake in a journey through the woods that he hoped would have reassure his faith in God. Throughout his journey he was troubled with feelings of concern and worry as he tries to decipher the horrors that laid ahead of him. Only the word of his companions helped him through the walk, clinching onto their promises that he will be unscathed once his destination was reached. Once upon his destination he found himself in sheer awe at the events that his eyes beheld. He was brought to an altar that was laid in front of him where Goodman and his wife was consumed by the powers of the “Dark One”. Whether he hallucinated or not Goodman was never the same for the days to follow.  As strange as it may have seemed, as the story came to its ending we watched Goodman grip to the belief that the town’s people had partook in the Devil’s communion.

Nathaniel Hawthorne, the author of Goodman Brown, writes in the Third Person Limited Omniscient point of view. Through this Hawthorn is limited to the thoughts of others which is only through the view point of the protagonist. With this limited form of narrating, Hawthorne uses imagry to project an idea that can not be express through the protagonist.  In comparison to the original story of Young Goodman Brown, the retelling was written in auto diegetic which is presented through the first person point of view. This point of view is strictly limited to the views of the protagonist as he sees, experiences and thinkings. This means that if it doesnt happen to our protagonist then it is not experience by the reader. Through this imagery can also be used as a powerful technique to expand on ideas that cannot be shown through the experiences of the protagonist. This presents a similarity between both writings of how imagery plays a crucial role in enhancing the quality of both narrating styles.

Through Hawthorne’s writing style we can see that he doesn’t branch off too far into the thoughts of other but uses subtle hints about the scene and the people that are present to project its meaning. This was shown through the imagery of the town’s gathering where Goodman Brown found himself in awe at what was presented before him. The narrator uses the thoughts of Goodman Brown, hints about personalities of the town people and imagery to show the true nature of what was taking place. Initially Hawthorne states “In the interval of silence, he stole forward, until the light glared full upon his face. At one extremity of an open space, hemmed in by the dark wall of the forest, arose a rock, bearing some rude, natural resemblance to either to an altar or a pulpit, and surrounded by four blazing pines
 Among them, quivering to-and-fro, between gloom and splendor, appeared faces that would be seen, the next day, at the council-board of the province, and other which, Sabbath after Sabbath, looked devoutly heavenward, and benignantly over the crowed pews, from the holiest pulpits in the land.” This portion of the story was Goodman’s first exposure to the true nature of what was ahead but through this the narrator draw the reader in with the imagery to project an ominous feeling. The pine trees that were a blaze allowed the reader to take Goodman’s previous thoughts of terror in the woods and solidify them into the concept of the story.

Regarding the rewriting we can see that the narrator used the auto diegetic narrative style. This style is limited to the protagonist himself/herself. Through this the reader is trapped within the protagonist’s feelings, thoughts, actions and what he/she sees. Due to the limitations presented with this style of narrating, I adopted the technique of imagery from Hawthorn’s original of Young Goodman Brown. Through this I expanded on what was said with an image that complimented what was trying to be portrayed. The initial paragraph of the rewrite was constructed to enhance the image of Faith to compliment how difficult it was for Goodman to depart. For example “I came out at sunset into the streets of Salem Village where I met my beautiful wife, Faith. At the sight of her I could tell that my presence would please her more then to see me part. As we met, we kissed while the wind played with pink ribbons on her cap, enhancing her beauty which only made the tensions of my departure grow. “Dearest heart” she whispered, softly and rather sadly, “pr’ythee, put off your journey until sunrise, and sleep in your own bed to-night”. As much as I would rather be with the loving comfort of my wife I most continue on my journey. Continuing she said “A lone woman is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts, that she’s afeard of herself, sometimes. Pray, tarry with me this night, dear husband, of all nights in the year!” This example shows imagery and the auto diegetic narrative working hand in hand to enhance the mood of that single moment. Through this the reader is instilled with the understanding of their passion which also adds for dramatic effect for the finale aka his final experience in the woods.

 

 

 

The Yellow Wallpaper – Review

As strange as a wallpaper may be; this story portrays it perfectly. The Yellow Wallpaper by Chorlotle Parking Gilman talks about a young protagonist whose name was not mentioned.  This story was written in the first person limited point of view which seemed to be the reason behind the nameless character. As the story starts we find a young woman and her husband, John, going to stay at a vacation home he had prepared for them for a three month stay. As great as the vacation sounded the reason behind it made the trip much more important. John’s wife was faced with dramatic nervous issues that interrupted daily activities and also made the smallest and simplest task more difficult. The initial introduction of the new vacation home went well and went according to plan but with one issue. The room John selected for their bedroom happened to be disturbing in the most disturbing of ways. Across the walls lived a dreadfully misprinted yellow wallpaper which demanded grief and depression. John’s wife did not appreciate this but did grew fond of the unusual thing. The story progressed and we now find a woman that was becoming more sick without the knowledge of so. This sickness was by the name of insanity. The patterns on this yellow wallpaper tortured her as her days went on. It was labeled as haunted for the most part and even had its effect on John and his sister, who came to help with house work and his wife. It is still unclear why the wallpaper did have such great influence but as John’s wife believed, there was something beyond comprehension trapped behind its fibers. On the last week of their stay, John found his wife performing the weirdest and most bizarre acts. Crouched down walking along the wallpaper in the most deformed manner, uttering “I am free” quickly made john lose consciousness. Even so, his wife continued her demonic ritual while stepping over the motionless body. What drove her to insanity could have been anything from being in a caged marriage to being possessed by the yellow wallpaper demon. Whatever took toll upon her life, surely made her happier.

Young Goodman Brown

I came out at sunset into the streets of Salem Village where I met my beautiful wife, Faith. At the sight of her I could tell that my presence would please her more then to see me part. As we met, we kissed while the wind played with pink ribbons on her cap, enhancing her beauty which only made the tensions of my departure grow.

“Dearest heart” she whispered, softly and rather sadly, “pr’ythee, put off your journey until sunrise, and sleep in your own bed to-night”. As much as I would rather be with the loving comfort of my wife I most continue on my journey. Continuing she said “A lone woman is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts, that she’s afeard of herself, sometimes. Pray, tarry with me this night, dear husband, of all nights in the year!”

Little did she know how much she did move me, but the call of duty was upon me as I was dedicated to answer and to see what awaited. “My Love and my Faith” Trying my best to bring forth the trust and love she had for me to the surface, “My journey, as thou callest it, forth and back again, must needs be done ‘twixt now and sunrise. What, my sweet, pretty wife, dost thou doubt me already, and we but three months married!”

I stared as she gazed into my eyes, as if she was searching for the hidden truths behind my words. An overwhelming swallow came upon me “Then God bless you!”- I shook suddenly- “and may you find all well, when you come back!” she said.

I smiled uncontrollable at the furry hidden in such a gentle woman that was wrapped with patients and understanding. Faith, as one may call it. “Amen!” I cried. Maybe trying to startle her just the same, but unsuccessfully. “Say thy prayers, dear faith, and go to bed at dusk, and no harm will come to thee” and we parted.

I was now on my way through the forest which was torture at its purest definition. I once had the privilege of company along my journey but I caused my own loneliness. Goody Cloyse and her companion guided me through majority of the woods when suddenly I stopped abruptly and gave in to my own fears to continue on. Driven by fear but once again, going back to this unforeseen location saturated with terror I somehow seem to fly away from the diamonds that had took chase.

Suddenly I came upon what can only be described as a towns meeting but of unusual characteristics. The dammed mingling with the priests, the righteous with the witches and all commanded by a figure ahead. The figure- surrounded by giant burning trees that resembled giant touches- commanded authority and received as the crowd sang in harmony. I was baffled.

“Bring forth the converts!” I froze. Then despite my fears my body moved as if my soul was being taken to what can only be described as an altar ahead, I gave in. As I walked I can see my dead father- I am sure it is- and he calls, beckoning me to advance. “Mother?!” “Is that my mother too” I said softly. Looking ahead I watched this familiar figure that only showed despair, throw out her hand to warm me back but It was far too late for me to heed mother’s warnings. I continued without rethink or even trying to find the will.

 

The minister and good old Deacon Gookin took hold of my arms and led me to the blazing rock. Then appeared the pious teacher of the catechism, my old teacher, along with Martha Carrier, a woman that was known to have accepted the devil’s ring itself. Something was starting that I could not fully comprehend. Confusions took hold of me as I felt the presence of evil. Skimming through the faces at last I found Faith!. “Welcome, my children,” said the dark figure, “to the communion of your race! Ye have found, thus young, your nature and your destiny. My children, look!” A large wind took hold and the crowd turned.

 

Flashing forth, as it were, in a sheet of flame, the fiend-worshippers were seen; the smile of welcome gleamed darkly on every visage.

 

The figure in font spoke once again “There are all whom ye have reverenced from youth. Ye deemed them holier than yourselves, and shrank from your own sin, contrasting it with their lives of righteousness, and prayerful aspirations heavenward. Yet, here are they all, in my worshipping assembly! This night it shall be granted you to know their secret deeds” I was only amazed at what was to come. My thoughts were broken as the figure somehow continued to expose the horrors of the towns’ people’s past, only to convince us of our obvious joined evil’s revealing the horrors which would make the righteous scorn.

 

The silence of my mind was interrupted as the figure announced. “Far more than this! It shall be yours to penetrate, in every bosom, the deep mystery of sin, the fountain of all wicket arts, and which inexhaustibly supplies more evil impulses then human power – than my power, at its utmost! – can make manifest in deeds. And now, my children, look upon each other”

 

But Faith! Where is Faith? My pale face took sight of my wife the voice said once more “ Lo! There stand, my children!” In one motion, the shape of Evil dipped his hands in liquid that strongly resembled blood to continue laying the mark of baptism upon us. As the hand laid rest, and as my last conscious thoughts vanished I managed to manifest “Faith!, Faith!” I cried, “Look up to Heaven, and resist the Wicked One!”


As bizarre as it may be, I have never dreamed so vividly that my own faith struggles to hold on to my soul. Like a bewildered man I stumbled into town only regaining full awareness as I saw familiar objects and faces. The memories of the event flashed back continuously, tormenting me.

“how can I find my ‘faith’ now!?” I asked unsuccessfully, with only the wind as my reply

Minutes turns into hours, hours into years; life continues. My wife was subject to my own scrutiny where I could not fully explain its origins. I labeled the town as pure hypocrites for matters that were never disclosed. As for myself, I was a vast field where gloom flourished continuously and thrived; Life continued and so did I, everyday making me a bit more weary.

 

Scruples

Scruples (Verb)

Scruple — A feeling that stops you from doing something you think is wrong.

Source; Merriam – Webster’s Dictionary

‱ This word was found in paragraph 15 on page 2.
‱ Date of class discussion: Feb 11th 2015.
‱ Title of Handout: Young Goodman Brown.

Passage: “friend,” said the other, exchanging his slow pace for a full stop, “having kept covenant by meeting thee here, it is my purpose now to return whence I came. I have scruples, touching the matter thou wot’st of.”

When reading the story Young Goodman Brown I stumbled across a word that caused some confusion in my understanding of this passage (15). The passage took place in the woods with Goodman Brown and Goody Cory making their way to their destination through a dense woodsy area. While walking through the woods it was said that Goodman had scruples. “..It is my purpose now to return whence I came. I have scruples, touching the matter thou wot’st of.” This gave no meaning to the paragraph due to my lack of knowledge of the nature of its meaning. Upon further research it was found that “scruples” is said to be the feeling you have when something simply does not seem right. This shined light upon the story by giving me the understanding that Goodman Brown was being forced to go along on the trip with Goody Cory. Another term is that he was being peer pressured into acting in a way he would genuinely prefer not to. This also shows readers from the initial portion of the story that what was awaiting them at the end of the story might be more than what they all have anticipated.

Forestall

Forestall (Verb)

Forestall – To Stop (something) from happening to cause (something) to happen at a later time.

– To act before (someone else) in order to prevent something.

Source; Merriam – Webster’s dictionary.

 

  • This word was found in the second paragraph of page 1.
  • Date of class discussion: February 4th 2015.
  • Title of Handout: “The story of An Hour” by Kate Chopin.

 

Passage: “It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband’s friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard’s name leading the list of “killed.” He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.”

Explanation: While reading the passage without the knowledge of the word forestall made the news of the death of Brently Mallard seem unimportant. In the story The Story of An Hour the protagonist by the name of Mrs. Mallard hears the tragic news of her husband’s death and faces many realizations of how her life has been caged due to her marriage. While the story progressed Mrs. Mallard dies from the overwhelming “joy” of seeing her husband alive after accepting the fact that he had died. In the beginning of the story we see the friend of Josephine’s husband Richards which was the first to hear the news. In that section of the story the author states “He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.” Upon discovering the true definition of forestall it was clear how close Richards re4lationship to the family was It showed that he wanted the best for Mrs. Mallard and to be the first to bring the horrific news. It also shows that he did not trust that anyone else would take up the responsibility of passing the news in the most appropriate way possible to the family so he made sure he took the jab upon himself.

A Response to David Streitfeld’s blog

In response to Streitfild’s blog, I must say that I completely agree with his actions and statements. In the story A Rose for Emily we see a woman by the name of Emily Grierson that was raised by her father’s views and teachings which she harshly displayed with great pride in her later years. Even though these lessons caused dramatic set backs in her love life, she refused to change. The story took place in the late 1800’s; a time when freedom was not widely known by the African ethnicity. This now brings up a controversial topic that is still troblesome until this day. The word nigger and it’s use in this text. The word nigger today is deeply frowned upon by countless people in many ways and for diverse reasons. In David Streitfeld’s blog he discussed the use of the word rigger in replacement for the word nigger. Rigger is used to define a person or a company that is highly experienced with lifting or arranging large or very heavy objects. The use of this word makes sense because it basically describes the job description, for the most part, of the African ethnicity of that time in history. The reason it can not be used is simply because it banishes the history of the word all together. This now brings up some interesting thoughts; how do we shield future generations from the use of such a word or should they be shielded at all. Looking at society today we can clearly see how this word is rooted deeply in the entertainment world of music, movies and games to the education of students learning about American History. The thought of shielding this word resembles someone running away from their shadow; you simply can not get away. In my view, changing the word nigger in this text may only create questions and curiousity about the word which defeats the purpose of the intial change. In today’s society the only thing more affective than changing the word nigger to rigger is purely, maturity. This may be more easily said than done, especially towards a younger generation of readers. This is where the maturity of our society, as a whole, has to play it’s roll. This is done by setting an example for future generations which includes unity and understanding for one another that is not only spoken but practiced world wide by each individual.

Discussing “A Jury of Her Peers” and “The Story of An Hour”

In life the most stress is felt when you are faced with sudden experiences that shape the world around you in one instant. In the story The Story of An Hour by Kate Chopin, Mrs Mallard was faced with this same experience. The story starts with the “death” of Mr. Mallard and proceeded with the heart breaking news being told to his sick wife. Through many troubling thoughts Mrs. Mallard came to the acceptance that life was a free flowing stream and the only way to avoid drowning is to simply flow along with it. As a new way of life presented it self Mrs. Mallard realized that as a life ended a new one starts. This thought then became her drive for the years to come. Suddenly, just as fast as her new foundation was build, it was shattered by the sight of the “beloved” husband. Not only was she speechless but also breathless. Mrs. Mallard was not the only one, the story A Jury Of Her Peers By Susan Glaspell  shows how sudden experiences could have extreme rippling affects. This story revolves around the case of an unknown murder where a wife is left in the hot seat. As the story starts, a sheriff by the name of Mr. Peters has the opportunity to work on the case of the murder of a man by the name of Mr. Wright. As the tedious task of clue hunting went on through out the story, the wives that were brought to the seen played the most crucial role. As the story draws to its end, Mrs. Hale, a close friend of Mrs. Wright brought the twisted truth to light which stemmed from a “twisted” altercation between Mr. And Mrs. Wright which may leave her incarcerated.

 

In both cases, it can be said that both women over reacted but was their actions morally justified? Mrs. Mallard reaction to her husbands death may have seems unusual but in her perspective, she was trapped. Once her husband died she was now able to see the steal cage that has been surrounding her life and finally made the attempt to flee when the doors suddenly closed. When it comes to the case of Mrs. Wright, it seemed as if she was not only trapped by an controlling man but forced into a cage that she was simply too large to fit in. After years of mental torture she finally broke free by ending her husbands life. Both women faced struggles in two unique forms but to judge them in a negative fashion does not seem fitting. Instead in my view, they were pushed to take justice in their own hands and should be seen as individuals that finally got to their breaking points.

A Small Section Of My Life

Hey class. I’m not as motivated as the next guy to add too much personal information while knowing this can be publicly viewed, but as far as the things you should know goes. My name is Gavin Young, I was born Brooklyn, N.Y. but raised in Jamaica, W.I. While growing up in Jamaica I acquired my education from Meadowbrook Prep, the equivalent of an elementary school in the United States. I was well disciplined and well behaved while being raised in a family with strong religious beliefs. On my journey throughout the years as a youth I got drawn to many passions which involved Astronomy, Engineering, and ideas of futuristic innovations. This was mainly caused by the exposure to many of my family’s professions and the sharing of thoughts of future goals with the kids in the neighborhood. In the case of my family, I can say it is fairly large with relatives scattered across various countries but as far as close siblings goes, I was raised with my only sister on my mother’s side.

After graduating Meadowbrook, I left Jamaica to expand on my education in the United States where I started Middle School. While there I experience another world that seemed much simpler than the one I knew before. With this perception of my new environment, I excelled academically and later moved on to High School. In the Brooklyn Academy of Science and the Environment High School, also known as BASE, I faced new challenges that pushed me to realize that anything can be done with effort and critical thinking. I later joined a class called Science Research where I was mentored and pushed to write tedious papers which also required a research paper due at the end of my senior year. My research paper was based on religious and superstition while analyzing their correlations. The option to stop was given each year of course, but where is the lesson in giving up? This class later gave me skills I would not have acquired otherwise and I’m grateful I made the choice to stay. With that being said, I view this particular class as my most important decision and high school experience.

Graduating High School gave me a great feeling of accomplishment. Even though I stumbled on many bumps along the way, it was a great experience nonetheless. Even so, I still felt empty inside because I was a part of an environmental school when my passions demanded tech, science and discovery. What made this feeling even more noticeable was my hobbies, which involved countless hours of watching Science programs, Reading Science based book (I recommend reading The Forever War by Joe Haldeman, it shows many possibilities of human innovation that I find fascinating and plausible) and keeping up with tech and scientific breakthroughs while I was stuck checking Ph. levels. My passions which have been manifesting in my mind since I was a young child finally drove me to apply to a college with a strong tech program but convenient enough where I could still be home (Brooklyn). I was later enrolled as a student of The New York City College of Technology, where I currently study Computer Engineering Technology and also where I started my new journey. To be continue