As I sat in my cold seat at my desk, I simply stared ahead blankly at the teacher who was lecturing us, only
half-heartedly noting that I was in a trance of wandering thoughts. I was in another dimension of thought;
contemplating on what had taken place within me for the past four or five months. Had this reverse in my life's polarity
really helped me? I noted it to be a mixed blessing. Why had God put me in this funny position anyways? I sometimes felt
so alone in what I was going through. My classmates just can't understand what's been going through me for the past
few months; to them my change in character meant very little or practically nothing. I had already felt completely isolated
once in my life.That feeling of isolation was now coming back, except for now it's of a far greater degree. I sat in deep,
unbound thought.
I steady glare from Mrs. Wertman, given as a warning, broke me out of this trance. I acknowledged my error and
allowed class to proceed. But even though I acknowledged it, that doesn't mean I had to correct it; I put my head down out
of her line of sight and slipped back into deep thought again. I was beginning to feel very humble; the thoughts of
me being the only student in Southridge High School who was deeply involved in New Age spirituality made me wish that I
had not pursued it with such drive. But that was then, and this was now. You cannot just break out of these things and
return to practical worldly thought overnight. I noted that during the past few months, many new social rings had either
been established or collapsed; this was because of my new way of perceiving life, and the actions that I took to comply
with my new views and their assertions. God knows ...
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...begin. Did anyone care at all about what I had just accomplished? about what I had just been given? About what
the writing portrayed? It was advice on how to deal with distant cultures, beliefs and religions; and it made sense in all aspects,
but yet it was not important to anyone. To some, I had sinned.
Now, two weeks later, things are still the same if not worse. The writing that I did was only a success to my distant
friends, no one else. They observed the thoughts and messages that I had received, and were quite impressed and encouraged
me. But this problem has not been resolved, nor do I feel that it will be until I move away to college. I had felt completely
isolated already once in my life. That feeling was now coming back, except for now it's of a far greater degree. I silently
carry this cold, peaceful body onward... Beyond time itself.
A brand new life spreads out in front of me, which has affected me mainly in three
stared back, unable to believe that it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror; and when I became fully convinced
Donald E. Pease, in his article “Author,” suggests that the role of the author was, originally, that of a “cultural attaché” of sorts, defining, exploring, and connecting the thoughts and values of the culture. As the “ New World ” was discovered and explored, it became the job of the author to record and explain the new cultures and concepts that they saw, allowing them in essence to create an entirely new lexicon and way of writing. No longer was the author bound solely to his (or her) own culture; the author now had the power to incorporate several cultures and thoughts into a single work, or simply create an entirely new basis for thought and writing. It was...
Levine, Joseph. "On Leaving Out What It's Like." Consciousness: Psychological and Philosophical Essays. Eds. M. Davies and G. Humphreys. Oxford: Blackwell, 1993.
realise that the path we had chosen was the wrong one, and even though I
It took me on a trip down memory lane, and I started reflecting on the incidents that brought me to this point. There he was, Jesus, my little five year-old cousin who unfortunately had an uncommon disease, Adrenoleukodystrophy, where insulation over the axons breaks down causing a progressive degenerative myelin disorder, leaving infants completely disabled in a range of six months and dying some time after. This was my first introduction to medicine, seeing him weakened daily woke something in me exposing my mind to what my future was going to be like, a mix of empathy, compassion, assistance and desire to know more.
A strong value within almost all the writing was religion, both Native American and Puritan. Most Native American tales are based around a god or a moral expressed by a god. In "Coyote Finishes His Work" Coyote does all his work because the "Old Man Above" wanted him too. Their lives are entirely based on their religion. They speak the language because Coyote said so. They live where they live because Coyote said so. He was their link to their god. "He made the Indians, and put them out in tribes all over the world because Old Man Above wanted the earth to be inhabited all over, not just in one or two places." Not only were the Native Americans very close with their religion, but so were the early settlers. Most of the original Europeans who crossed over were of the Puritan faith. Almost every work makes reference to this religion, from the Constitution to Jonathan Edwards "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." Almost all of the works in Collection Two spoke of the author's religion or adhering to its beliefs. Such as, Jonathan Edwards' "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God", in which he speaks strictly of the Puritan religion. "His anger is great towards them as to those that are actually suffering the executions of the...
...ing my fellow human beings with love I am in turn helping myself with love.
...to have shame." (Tan, 2013) Her mother’s words cause the reader to have an “oh I see” moment and pause before continuing on with the read.
I expected to receive a variety of reactions anywhere from hostility and uncomfortability to acceptance and respect. But I had predicted the major reaction would be discomfort. As previously stated the place where this took place was South Western High School during a school day. I observed the reactions of students as well as teachers as I walked through
A calm crisp breeze circled my body as I sat emerged in my thoughts, hopes, and memories. The rough bark on which I sat reminded me of the rough road many people have traveled, only to end with something no one in human form can contemplate.
I usually don’t feel alone. I had a great deal of friends and a large family. Still, I felt lonely and like my parents didn’t care. Whenever my brother and I visited our father, he would complain to us that my mom owes him a lot of money. He treated us like his messengers and not his children. Same goes for my mother. She was treating us like carriers and not like kids. My parents only care about themselves at the time. My feelings were never taken into consideration...
I've just changed completely from when I first (entered school). I used to take this little African body and force it into this European square peg. And you know, it didn't work. I kept trying to do it and trying to change who I was and tried to fit in. . . . When I finally decided to be the person that I am, I started feeling more comfortable. (Taylor 1995, p. 84).
came to my mind about what I have done in my life that compare to this
Those two central fundamentals reigned and narrowed my perception until my main emotions were that of guilt and