This short story is about a group of friends traveling to florida for spring break. They are all seniors in college who want to go out with a bang. Little did they know that was exactly what they were going to receive. When they arrived to their house one of the rooms had really dull colored yellow wall paper. As the week went on, the creepier it got. Most made it out alive, others will forever remain the house on the dirt road.
Three girls and and four men, driving to Florida to make memories that will last a lifetime. Their last spring break as college students was something that they wanted to hold on to forever. John, the one driving was getting fed up with all of the ghost stories of the house they rented. He shouted and drew the car to a stop at the side of the road. "Will you all shut up? Will you all just shut up for one second? If you don't shut up, we won't go anywhere. As they were driving there they encountered many strange things on the way. In a few minutes they saw a car some distance away on top of a hill, coming slowly as if the occupants were watching them. The road was about ten feet above and they could see only the tops of the trees on the other side of it. Behind the ditch they were sitting in there were more woods, tall and dark and deep. Amanda said she has a gut feeling something will go wrong this week. When they finally arrived to the house on the dirt road that they booked for the week they split up to see the rooms. The girls stayed in one room and immediately Amanda said, I don't like our room a bit. It was a room had a dull colored yellow paper and a funky smell that wouldn't quit, very creepy. John ran upstairs with a smile on his face, happy that they had the crappy room, said “ Damned unfair. Tragic really.” Amanda wasn't feeling right about this place the minute she stepped foot in the house. After getting ready for a night out, the men and Amanda were all in the living room when they heard something banging upstairs. Amanda was the only one who wanted to find out what it was. It came from the girls room. As she was staring into the wallpaper she saw a shadow of a woman trying to escape within the it. Something unnatural, uncanny. “I see her in that long shaded lane, creeping up and down. I see her in those dark grape ' arbors, creeping all around the garden.” she said to herself. Amanda heard a banging of the door and everyone yelling. She ran downstairs to three men with guns. She shouted “You’re the Misfit!” “Yes'm," the man said, smiling slightly as if he were pleased in spite of himself to be known, "but it would have been better for all of you, lady, if you hadn't of reckernized me.” With the little hope she had left seeing all of her guy friends dead on the floor she said, “I know you wouldn't shoot a lady!” And at that the man with the pistol raised the pistol and shot her right in the head.
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My heart was beating so fast I could feel it through my chest. I decided before I did such a horrible, yet right thing, I need to spend time with him and talk to him. Let him know why I’m doing this and how much better off he is. I can’t just come home and kill my dog? We needed to have somewhat of an understanding. I found a spot about a half mile from where I parked where you could see the sunset so perfectly. We walked over, slowly but surely. When he was beside me I could see the limp he had and that he was so tired with every step he took. It killed me inside. Sadly, I could relate. When we got there both of us took a seat on a slanted, flat but sturdy rock to hold the both of us. He laid his head on my lap, it was like my lap was made for his little head. This is exactly where I wanted to be for this, not some cold, fluorescent lighted doctors office that smelled like urine and rubber gloves. The fresh air, the trees whispering and nobody but me and him. Even though me doing this might have made me a criminal in most peoples eyes, but I didn't care because it wasn't like that. My relationship with my dog wasn't abusive in any way what so ever, so me doing this made it a hundred times harder to do, but I was doing what was necessary. I decided with the little time we had to tell him how broken I'll be when he's gone and that he’ll always have a special place in my heart. Also, giving Cheryl nothing to focus on when I would be sent away from her again kills me a little every day. But this wasn't about us, this was about Vicar and that pain he was feeling and how he couldn't even stand on his own paws anymore. We needed to take the selfishness away and put ourselves into his shoes and believe that doing this would ease him from all of his pain immediately. My “Operation Scooby” wasn't too easy this time. How could it be? This is my dog, my friend, my family. Vicar fell asleep as I was talking to him so I slowly moved away from him, walked backwards to get a clear view, but it was hard a shit considering my eyes were drowning in tears. I took a deep breath, cleared my head, and counted back from 3. I pulled the trigger. I hear gun shots as normally as you hear a birds chirping. But this one, this one made me sick to my stomach. I felt as though I was the one getting shot. This was one of the most traumatic experiences in my life and trust me I’ve seen some shit. I walked over to him to see if he was still breathing and let alone, he’s in puppy heaven. Pain gone. In a way, I was jealous, he had a way out. • Blog Post Introduction: The story The Lottery is based on tradition and how it can impact your daily life. The story holds truth to what still happens around the world. The story is about a family living in a small populated village that have to confront a tradition thats been occurring for centuries. Some ask why it still exists and others are all for it. The saddest thing about it is that there is no way around it, because hierarchy always wins. • Literary Analysis: The theme of this particular text would be live every day like it is your last. The text is named “The Lottery” I know personally that I don't think of death when I think lottery, its a metaphor for a way out, because the people who are living in that village everyday think to themselves will it be me next year? They live in fear, the ones who had died already won, its sad but would you rather live in fear or die with peace. Do I agree with how they go about the killing? Absolutely not. Due to the whole black box and black dot connection, it is all on chance, the luck of the draw. Another connection is the black box and the black dot. When you see black, what do you really see? Darkness, or even death. The whole point of the white piece of paper and the black dot is to illiterate the concept of death. • Argumentation: An American tradition today is to stand up, put your hand on heart, take the hat off your head and listen to your National Anthem. There has been a lot of controversy over whether to stand up for the National Anthem or to kneel while the song is performed or played. I personally disagree with kneeling. I respect other opinions but, this is mine. We live in a country that men and women have died for in order for us to even have this “kneeling” controversy. We’re able to bitch about it because we can, and who fought for that? I certainly didn't but I respect the shit out the people who did. Respect is flying out the window faster now then ever before. This country is straying away from tradition and seeing it as something against our people, which is completely false. Like I said before, hierarchy always wins, so with that said, the people who are on national television kneeling on the ground know exactly the type of influence they have on everyday folks like us. I bet half of the people who are kneeling don’t even know why their doing it, and yet they are able to make millions while doing it, that is so wrong in my eyes. There are Veterans homeless and then there are people who don't wanna stand up and they make the big bucks, it is so backwards. The only reason why they do it is because they can, freedom right? That is was pisses me off. I can understand that America hasn’t always been the most accepting when it comes to change, but it is the year 2017, we have change left, right, up and down and that most is good, change is good, tradition is good. The song and the flag don’t hurt you physically and give you bruises, but yet give a representation of almost a celebration into what nation we have become. We are the UNITED States of America. Yes, we all have different opinions but the reason were able to have that is because of that flag. When that song comes on we are united for those few minutes. People really need to stop getting butt hurt about it, because if you really are disgusted with your country that much, you can certainly leave. If not, stand up. • Narration: The period of time when my grandmother was sick, my dads side of the family was right there with us the entire time, even though one person in particular was the absolute devil in my and my family’s eyes. She was my aunt at the time, but only through marriage. This woman tried everything in her power to steal everything my grandmother owned when she passed away, she was manipulative, mean and just down right ugly- inside and out. It’s tradition for the granddaughters to receive the jewelry and split it among each other. In this case, because I was the one who woke up every two hours to check on her, and bathe her, and feed her I felt that I should get first pick. I had nothing against my cousin, I just get a selfish personality when it comes to my nana, I was obsessed with her, I still am. The reason behind all this is because I am all for tradition and especially when it comes to my grandmother, and family, but when I knew for a fact that all my grandmothers valuables, heirlooms and possessions would have been sold for dirty money, I had to put my foot down. Blog Post Introduction:
The story The Yellow Wallpaper is about a husband, a doctor, and a wife, the patient who have moved out of there current home for reconstruction. The home they moved into during that time was very influential on the wife. Her husband john believed that she was very ill, and not just psychically, but mentally. He kept her tucked away in a room with dull, aged, yellow wallpaper. What the wife saw was something more, something deeper that wallpaper. • Literary Analysis: Charlotte Perkins Stetson, January 1892, Took place in New England. The genre of this particular text would be mildly suspenseful, the reasoning behind that is, when I was reading this text I was hoping to visualize what she was seeing when she looked at the wallpaper. And also even question, was she even sick? Or did John lie to keep her locked away. The tone was persistent, she saw what she saw and she wasn't letting anything get in the way from finding truth. There is a lot that was left unsaid in this story because it was told from only her point of view, and her husband John was definitely up to something real creepy and disturbing. The underlying message that you can clearly read in between the lines when she transitioned from john takes care of me to I feel nervous around him. • Argumentation: She was the main focus the entire story, she was the sick one, she was locked away for hours at a time to “get better”. Most of her life has been authored for her already, but by her writing down how she was feeling rather than keeping the feelings jumbled inside she was able to crack a code. The woman behind the wallpaper was her, trying to escape from this dull, sick world. The yellow color wasn't a vibrant alive yellow, but yet the complete opposite. Her escape from he wall could make that sick yellow turn into the sunny beautiful yellow that should be seen. She didn't completely understand that she wasn't sick after all and she even questioned why John had fainted when he saw her actions, but in my perspective it is clear. John has been brainwashing her to believe that she really is ill, when all it is is he’s been keeping a one up on her. That is no way to live, thinking your sick when you’re really not and someone, let alone a physician, telling you you are. She had escaped and John’s nasty gloomy, dar, dull shadow will now and forever be a memory to her. • Narration: Yes absolutely, this can happen on a day to day basis, and can even be second nature for me sometimes. But I’ve learned to know that I am my biggest competitor when it comes to important life decision and that I am the only one putting doubts in my head. When I was about 14 years old I had just moved to a new community and high school. I knew absolutely nobody. It was very intimidating and nerve-wracking at my age. I still remember to this day the end of my first day of high school when my parents picked me up. My mom asked “how was your first day?” I responded with attitude saying “fantastic!” she believed me for a slight second and responded with “really?!” then she looked in the rear view mirror and saw my tears and immediately started to cry with me. I know that my parents are only as happy as their saddest child so I’m guessing the attitude wasn't helping, but I couldn’t help it, I was miserable. I wasn't myself for almost 2 years before I realized that I am where I am and that I needed to move forward with my life and stop lingering in the past. It was time to make friends and memories, not for anyone else but myself. So as hard as the beginning was, the end was something I never though possible. That’s the beauty of not knowing, it makes everything worth while. 1) Writing About What You Don't Know [Categories: Life Choice, Course Reading, Making Connections]: Please copy and paste the following bullet points into your blog post and complete the following:
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Who I am...I am me, and I will only strive to better myself and stand by my morals. I am am old soul with an empathetic heart and a loud mouth. I don't follow a certain path, I live every day with a purpose. I am your average 5'3 Italian with a big heart and even bigger dreams. Archives
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