Rondel- Predawn

The earth takes on an eerie glow,

As blackness fades to gray.

To usher in another day,

Although it may be slow.

Some light is cast to make a show,

This light begins to play.

The earth takes on an eerie glow

As blackness fades to gray.

The sun shall start, no longer slow,

And will begin a brand new day.

But now the sun is kept at bay,

The horizon will not let it go.

The earth takes on an eerie glow.

The Old Man and the Sea Essay

The world today is plagued with many hardships that average people must overcome. Whether they are personal or more widely spread, we find a way to live each passing day and make it to the next unharmed, even when the situation seems pessimistic. Any struggles in our daily lives tend to take a huge toll on us, and we must carry all of the baggage left from our experiences. In Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea, an old fisherman named Santiago must face several challenges while he is trying desperately to catch the fish of a lifetime. Throughout the novella, he must use his past knowledge as well as sheer endurance to get past the obstacles that are standing between him and his prized marlin.

Santiago faced his first challenge after he had been out at sea all day and into the first night, at which point his left hand cramped while holding the fishing line. The mood in the boat tenses as he analyzes the situation, and he says to it, "What kind of a hand is that? Cramp if you want. Make yourself into a claw. It will do you no good"(58), but his attempts to coax the hand into functioning were unresponsive. Throughout his lifetime, Santiago had always felt that only his right hand was good to him, and that the left was forever cursed to be the weaker of the two. Now he must trust his good hand to do all of the work against the marlin's determined swimming, and he is worried because he thinks that not even his better half can capture this creature alone. The cramping of Santiago's left hand in his time of need shows how even the removal of the cursed half can be a devastating blow on the task being faced.

For most of the novella, Santiago is on his skiff for a total of four days, which is a very long period of time for a man of his age to be without food, sleep, and barely any water. In fact, "the sun was rising for the third time since he had put to sea when the fish started to circle" (85), and even after the marlin was caught it took another day and a half for Santiago to get back to shore. Despite the extended time at sea, he never once thought about deriving from his devotion of capturing the marlin for his own. His patience and determination to succeed after so many hours of waiting shows that he is not willing to let anything stand in the way of him and his prize, and that his strong will won't let him stray from his task. His optimism is restored once he finally sets his eyes on the fanciful marlin.

Perhaps the most disappointing struggle that Santiago had to deal with was after the marlin's capture, and it was tied to his skiff. The first shark appeared, and although Santiago fought him off as best he could,the aggressive shark still managed to get a bite out of the fish, which left a bloody trail for countless other sharks to follow. He refused to let these creatures get the best of him and the marlin, and so avowed, "[I'll] fight them. I'll fight them until I die" (115). But his lack of energy and weaponry finished him, and the marlin became shark food. His prized marlin had become nothing more than an eighteen foot skeleton and the marlin's spear, which would be worth nothing in the market if he tried to selling it. This is his biggest challenge and disappointment because he spent so many days out at sea for a fish that had been snatched out from under him, and now he has to make up for eighty-eight days of no income. This shows the irony of the marlin because it did allow Santiago to have the pleasure of catching it, but it would not go so far as to be sold to an arrogant and unworthy buyer.

Santiago's challenges throughout the course of the story were often much more life-threatening and critical than the one that average people face, but we can all sympathize with his reactions and feelings towards his struggles. When Santiago's left hand cramped on the line, it symbolized how often the lazier members will give up halfway done and leave the toughest parts to only the strong, who can't always cope. The fact that he was made to suffer four long days out at sea with excruciating pains means more that we all face the daily struggle of living life, and then to have it stripped away in an instant is heartbreaking. These are really just a part of the challenges in life; sometimes we succeed, sometimes we fail, and every once in a while we struggle and fight to get something only to have it taken in the end. Ernest Hemingway is very precise when he takes ordinary problems in the real world and spinning them around to fit into a fictional situation.

Third Quarter Outside Reading Book Review

The Secrets of Peaches by Jodi Lynn Anderson. Harper Collins Publishers, 2006. Genre: Realistic Fiction This sequel to the book Peaches begins right where the first one left off; the last days of summer before Murphy and Leeda start their senior year of high school and Birdie her last year of homeschooling before college. Leeda has just been nominated as Pecan Queen for the annual Thanksgiving parade, and agrees to hold the position reluctantly because of her mother's pleading. Murphy and Rex are still going strong, until Murphy asks him if he would be willing to come with her to NYU if she gets accepted. Birdie is very excited because Enrico has invited her to come spend the New Year with him and his family in Mexico; before she leaves, though, she is starting to see a drastic change take place with her housekeeper and second mother, Poopie, who lived in the same town as Enrico until moving to Georgia to help out on the Darlington Peach Orchard. Birdie initially thinks that it has something to do with homesickness, but then she makes a startling discovery about the relationship between Poopie and Birdie's recently divorced father. "This year, Murphy, Leeda, and Birdie discover that bitter endings can lead to sweet new beginnings . . . and that the orchard that brought them together will always be a part of them— even if they leave it behind." Borders website After reading this book, I think that the author's strongest point in writing is making everything very suspenseful for the reader, especially since so many things are happening in the book over the course of one school year. For example, she has effectively used foreshadowing and allusions to help the reader either understand whats going on or to keep a vital secret from us until the right moment; I like this because then the reader can be surprised right along with the characters when something big happens. The author also wrote from the perspectives of all three girls, and it was nice to see how an event in the eyes of Leeda could be seen differently or hold more importance when it is revisited by Murphy or Birdie. "Poopie was staring at Birdie as if she was frozen. How much had she seen? Did she know about her and Enrico in the shed? Would she tell Birdie's father?" (157) Initially, I had meant to read the original book Peaches by this same author on a recommendation from a classmate, but found myself instead with its sequel. Despite this little mix-up, I still thoroughly enjoyed reading this book, and I certainly am interested in reading the first book to find out how all of these girls met each other. I think that this author has a very intriguing writing style, and she is able to make the reader feel compassion towards the main characters quickly and get us to care about their problems.

My First Love Story

That fateful day started out much the same as any other first day of school would: the sleeping through my alarm clock, the one strand of hair that refuses to lie flat despite superfluous efforts, nearly skipping breakfast just to be sure to catch the bus on time. Yes, definitely a normal day except for one thing; him, sitting one seat back and one seat over on the bus. I couldn't remember having seen him before, so he was either much older than me or a new student. His hair was nearly as dark as mine, and chopped haphazardly so that pieces grazed his jaw line, with forest green eyes that were only dulled because of the bored expression that played across his face. He was positively and most definitely the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. Normally, in this type of situation, I would be so shy and awkward that my next move would have shocked me, but I suddenly got an urge of confidence and plunked down in the seat next to him, bad hair and all. “Mind if I sit here? There really isn't room anywhere else,” I asked, which was a lie, seeing as how the bus was only half full. He just turned his head towards me and nodded, then went back to staring out the window. I probably sounded petulant, but I was determined, suddenly, to make this kid talk to me, as if a higher clout wanted me to. “I’m Charlotte, by the way. Are you new here? I don’t think I've ever seen you before.” He didn't answer, so I was just about to ask again when he turned and said, “Oh, um, Devin. Yeah, I am new here. Are you a freshman, too?” Oh, his name was Devin. How very interesting. And he was a freshman and new, so that means he probably needed some friends. I was practically reeling, already thinking of how he and I could grow into being friends, and then maybe something more. “Um, are you a freshman, too?” he asked again, and I snapped back to reality. “Yeah, I am a freshman. So, since you’re new here, have you made any friends yet?” “Uh, well, not really, no,” Devin stammered, and then quickly looked away from me. I wondered if he was just very shy, or if maybe he thought that I was being too pushy. "Well, if you're ever looking for someone to talk to, you can talk with me about it," I said, hoping that I didn't sound like a desperate person. Surprisingly, though, he turned to look at me fully, and a small smile played across his face that nearly melted me like butter. "Thanks, Charlotte," he said, not a trace of embarrassment this time, and then we both stood up at the exact same time to get off of the bus, which I hadn't even realized had reached the school. Over the next few months, Devin and I really did start to become friends; he had his other friends, and I had mine, so we were really more of an over sized freshman friendship circle. He still gave me chills every time he smiled or looked right at me, but I assumed that he still had no clue that I secretly liked him, even as we entered sophomore year. Then came another day that changed my life forever. Of course, it was February 14th, Valentine's Day, and our whole group was out at Friendly's for ice cream. I still had my short hair, but Devin's was in the in between stage of good long and in need of a haircut. After everyone had ordered, Devin asked me if he could talk to me alone about something. "So, what's up?" I asked once we had retired to a more private booth in the back. He seemed almost nervous and anxious, like the first day we met, and his eyes were more radiant against his skin than ever. "Um, Charlotte? We're good friends, right?" he asked/stated nervously, almost waiting for an answer. He was the picture of humility, and I couldn't help but wonder why. "Well, yea, I would hope so after knowing each other for a year and a half now," I answered jokingly. "Why? What's bothering you?" "It's just that- um...." His voice actually started to shake a little as he talked. "Okay, I'm just gonna say it. Charlotte, will you be my girlfriend?" I sat there, staring at his pleading and beautiful face, the impromptu question still ringing in my ears, completely in shock. My answer, after a good ten seconds of being dumbfounded, was a hysterical "YES! Oh my God, why didn't you say something sooner?", the best hug I had ever and probably will ever give, and the look on every one's faces when we walked back to the table with interlocking fingers. Following that day, Devin and I were practically inseparable, going to movies, parties, late-night snack drives; you name it, we did it about ten times. Our first kiss came at my birthday party, which was combined with our three month anniversary, and every day I saw him could never be a bad one. As our friends dated, broke up, and got back together, we were a permanent couple, lasting through junior and most of senior year. Then prom night came, and my perfect world was shattered. Of course, Devin and I went together, complete with the limousine, the corsage, the pink dress with all kinds of embellishments, and the fancy dinner for two. All during dinner was one of the happiest times of my life, one of the very rare times that Devin and I got to be alone and just talk; but I couldn't help but notice how nervous he seemed despite all the fun we were having. "Devin, are you okay? You seem, different, somehow," I asked just after our desserts arrived. Instead of answering, he just cast his eyes down and shoved a much too large piece of tiramisu into his mouth. "Devin? Honestly, what's up? You can tell me." He chewed the bite slowly, then swallowed and said, with the new found confidence he somehow mustered in these situations, "It's nothing. You'll find out soon enough." After he said this, he reached into his pocket and placed something in a small box on the table to get to his wallet to pay. After dinner, on our way back to the limo to get to prom, Devin suddenly realized that he had left something at the table we were sitting at, that small box; I wondered what could possibly be in it. The parking lot for the restaurant had been packed, so the driver had to go across the street in order to park. When we had crossed over and on the way back, both Devin and I had checked that there weren't any cars coming, but I guess he was just in such a hurry to get whatever it was that he forgot. He made it across just fine, got whatever he left, and was halfway across the street again before I noticed the pickup truck coming from the opposite direction, heading straight for him. "DEVIN, RUN!" I shrilled hysterically, which only made him stop and look at me with a confused countenance. I think he only had time to hear the cacophony of the truck's blaring horn and turn for one second before it crashed into him, sending him flying at least ten feet farther into the road. The truck finally screeched to a halt, but Devin just lay there, completely motionless. "OH MY GOD, NO!" I sobbed, kicking off my heels and sprinting towards him, sitting on the ground next to him with his head in my lap, using my dress as a poultice. He was mumbling something, but all I could make out was the word "love" as I cried and tried to tell him to hang on. He was still clutching the small box like his life depended on it, even though it was really my life that depended on his. The paramedics finally came, and when they lifted him off of me there was a horrible blood stain on my dress where his head had been. My parents came to get me, and I spent the next day between sleeping and sobbing until I could see him in the hospital. After the most horrible night of my life, after seeing for an instant those green eyes I treasured so much wide in true fear, the phone rang. I rolled out of bed to answer it, hoping that it would be good news, but my dad got there first. His face said everything; something was definitely not alright with Devin. "Charlotte, honey," he practically whispered, probably trying not to upset me, " that was the hospital just now. They said that.... due to the way he was hit, the force of the impact was too much for him and- they said he had a ring in his hand when they examined him, they think he was going to give it to you." Pause. "Charlotte, he's gone." "Gone?" I moaned, and then the tacit truth became clear: he was dead, all for a ring that had been meant for me. I started sobbing and cursing and hyperventilating all over again. He wanted to marry me; the love of my life, since the first minute I saw him; those eyes that had been haunting me all night were closed forever. Now, many years later, I have just started to be able to live with the pain of knowing I will never get to see him again, of that irrevocable prom night. I kept everything that I ever had having to do with him: all my pictures of him and I, just him, the cards, notes, other things he wrote me. And I still have my prom dress to this day, blood stain and all, a vivid reminder of the one person in this world who I had ever truly loved. But whenever I think of Devin, instead of the last night we spent together, I prefer to think of my happiest memory of him: the first time I say him on the bus that day, and just tried to be nice.

Second Quarter Outside Reading Book Review

Rebel Angels by Libba Bray. Delacorte Press, 2005 Genre: Historical fiction Rebel Angels, the sequel to Bray's first novel A Great and Terrible Beauty, picks up where the story left off, with Gemma, Felicity, and Ann all at Spence Academy for girls, a few months after Pippa's death. Its Christmastime now, and the girls are going to London to celebrate with their families and all of the interesting new people that they meet, such as Simon Middeton and Ms. McCleethy, the newest addition to the Spence faculty who Gemma doesnt trust in the slightest because of her possible connection to the realms and her latest visions. The girls also run into Ms. Moore, their former teacher who seems to know more than she is tellin about the realms and the Order. As always, Kartik is following Gemma on order from the Rakshana, and their relationship as friends has the potential to turn into something more, leaving Gemma caught between him and Simon, her official courter. Now, to make matters worse, the mgic that Gemma unleashed by smashing the Runes is loose in the realms, and Gemma has to figure out how to bind it before something else does. "The sumptuous companion to the New York Times bestseller A Great and Terrible Beauty teems with Victorian chills and thrills." Book jacket Rebel Angels is written in much the same manner as Bray's previous novel, as a very discriptive and intriguing style, with the constant allure of scandal on every page. You can see the conflicts between Gemma and Ms. Moore, Ms. McCleethy, her friends at times, Kartik, Simon, and even coping with her father's ever-changing addictions. Bray continuously shows the reader that many of the social and emotional problems that we face today are not specific to only this generation, and that they were present long before many percieved them to be in existance. Through Gemma's eyes, we see the world as a sometimes cruel and ironic place, but somehow she can always manage to be able to take charge in tough spots and have the confidence to know that a better time is coming. "Ms. Moore. Ms. Moore is Circe. She has found the Temple. I have failed. I have lost everything." (509) After reading the second part of this trilogy, although the writing style and suspense have been very abundant, I can honestly say that the topic has started to become slightly redundant. I felt like everything that was happening to the girls was turning out too complicated or too intricate to be realistic, even if there hadn't been the prescence of a parallel universe with our own. I have just been noticing that there are several books and series of books that all have some connection to magic or fictional creatures of some sort, and I just feel like I'm getting tired of fantasy, and want to return to actual events or even possible events and not complete fiction.

First Quarter Outside Reading Book Review

A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray. Delacorte Press, 2003. Genre: historical fiction A Great and Terrible Beauty tells the story of sixteen-year-old Gemma Doyle, who is an Englishwoman living in India in 1895. The book begins on her sixteenth birthday in India, the same day that her mother is murdered and she discovers that she has supernatural powers. After her mother's death, she is sent back to England to attend a finishing school, Spence Academy. Here, she learns about many different things that women are supposed to be for their husbands, and also about all of the gossip that girls her age talk about. She soon makes friends, and together they try to solve the mystery of her strange visions and her mother's murder, who turns out to be her former best friend when she attended Spence. "A Victorian boarding school story, a Gothic mansion mystery, a gossipy romp about a clique of girlfriends, and a dark other-worldly fantasy--jumble them all together and you have this complicated and unusual first novel," says Patty Campbell from Amazon.com. After reading this book, I have observed that the writing style is not like any others that I have seen before. For instance, the main character, Gemma, seems to always have a negative attitude about her no matter what she is doing, and this seems to be a very odd tone to choose when writing a book like this. I also noticed that the author goes into very deep topics that most people would think only partain to today's society, such as when she mentions that Ann cuts herself because she needs to reassure herself that she can feel. That overall seems very graphic and not quite what you would expect out of a novel set in the 19th century. "Why do you do that to yourself? Cut yourself the way you do?" There's no answer fo ra good long minute, and I think that perhaps she has fallen asleep after all, but then it comes. Her voice, so soft I have to strain in the dark to hear it, to hear the faint cry she's holding back. "I don't know. Sometimes, I feel nothing, and I'm so afraid. Afraid that I'll stop feeling anything at all. I'll just slip away inside myself." There's a cough and a sniffling sound. "I just need to feel something."(177) Personally, I think that the book is in some ways sort of a different way of telling my life, because I go through the pressures of fitting in with people as a hard thing, too. Just like Gemma, I sometimes feel like no one really understands what I'm going through, but then I remember that I have my friends there to guide me, and I feel much better. I also really am fond of historical fiction books because I think it's interesting to see how history would unfold itself with all of the real drama put back into it, and not just the facts like a history text book would give you.

Value Essay

My Crazy Life Takes A Break

What is value? Is it the price tag that is put on something? All of the moments and memories that we share with our loved ones? Is it historical value or financial value or sentimental value or even moral value? These questions are often proposed when someone is talking about the true value of something, and the only real answer to all of these is that value can be expressed in many different and unique ways, depending on the subject. In short, value itself can sometimes be valueless, think about that.

I waltz over to my jewelry box, with its white paint, various drawers, and a necklace rack, and open the drawer that contains all of my earrings. Here, there is a variety of colors, shapes, and sizes; blues and pinks, studded and those dripping in gems, large silver hoops and chandelier patterns, too. I carefully rifle through the tiny drawer, trying to find the perfect pair to go with my outfit, and then there they are, silver ovals dripping in single and double green gems; they match perfectly.

Whenever I go out to somewhere important, such as school or shopping or a friends house, I always take care in making sure that I do not forget to put on an appropriate pair of earrings. To me, wearing earrings or any other type of jewelry is a must, because I feel that they can give almost any look a polished finish, and that is the basis of my style sense. They always seem to fill up any space left that my hair doesn't in framing my face, and can add either a girly charm or a fiery edge to my look for that day.

My eyes open sleepily, and as I peer over at my clock radio, which reads 9:57am, I immediately know what kind of day today will be, and I can't help but sigh happily to myself as I finally get out of bed. Today is one of those days that doesn't really have a name that would fit it appropriately, but they happen every so often in the late fall and winter months, and they are about as close as I can get to a perfect day, with the temperature a little bit snappy, the skies overcast and a brisk wind blowing. It's on a day like that with nothing to do that I can get away with wearing my most comfortable pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt without worrying about where I have to go or when I have to do something.

I walk carelessly downstairs, and fix myself a breakfast of something sweet that I wouldn't normally have; a muffin or a cinnamon bun usually does the trick. Then, I head to my living room, where I flip channels on the TV until I happen to come across my favorite movie, so I settle in on the couch to watch and relax. Later, I will have to go to my brother's soccer game a few towns away, and afterwards we'll get to go to my favorite country store in the whole world and get hot chocolate. When we get back I will probably have a friend over, and we'll talk about everything under the sun, from gossip to boys to whatever inside jokes we might share, and maybe go sledding if there is enough snow on the ground.

For my life, value consists of both things that have a price tag with a dollar amount and those that happen over time that may have dollar amount items within them. For example, my collection of earrings and other jewelry has some type of overall financial worth, and someone had to pay a sum of money in order for me to have them. But my "perfect day" is really more of an experience that consists of things that have financial value, such as the cinnamon bun, the TV and cable, the hot chocolate from the country store, and the sleds that I might use.

Both my jewelry and my perfect day are important and valuable to me, but for very different reasons. My jewelry collection helps me to take the way that I already feel and look for that day and enhance it just a little to boost my day. On one of my perfect days, however, I am able to go for a whole day without worrying how I look, and can concentrate on doing absolutely nothing important, which are the types of days that I think we all need every once in a while. I believe that by valuing these two very different items equally, I am able to access both sides of who I am; one shows the prim and proper, dress-to-impress stylish side of me, and the other lets a more calm and go-with-the-flow me show through.