<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776</id><updated>2011-08-02T18:33:32.209-05:00</updated><category term='A and P'/><category term='Story of an Hour'/><category term='brenf'/><title type='text'>College Writing II @ MSCTC</title><subtitle type='html'>A place to write responses to, and to build interpretations of, literature for College Writing II at Minnesota State Community and Technical College.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Jenn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10976582132364290542</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rqkePxhXV30/SaGuylexqjI/AAAAAAAAAJk/5aEPqth4Ll8/S220/Snapshot_20090120_2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>270</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-5776651560516759842</id><published>2010-03-12T21:06:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T22:17:22.645-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Live Fast Die Young</title><content type='html'>"We Real Cool" by author Gwendolyn Brooks is a simple yet profound poem exploring the mindset of our wayward youth. "We real cool. We left school" (1,2) this is a accurate statement of the mindset felt by the youth. Many kid's do consider themselves cool while displaying unacceptable behavior based on society standards, also the word we as opposed to I is relevant here; because when bad or confused kid's run rampant they are more than likely to be in groups thus allowing their negative energy to feed off each other. "We strike straight"(3,4) is a passage indicating this may be some type of violent gang. This poem speaks volumes on how many kid's feel powerful, even eurphoric running around causing trouble, and also how they feel a sense of physcial invincibility; because of their age they think "nothing can happen to me i'm too young to die" why would one live so reckless unless they truely felt nothing can harm them? What is really important here are the events that take place with  decisions we map out for our lives,mainly the bad decisions. The young people are being destructive and thinking they are having a grand ole time, live for today and damm tomorrow, never once considering the repercussions of their actions. Then one day their world of good times comes crashing down; and it's time to pay your dues, karma comes knocking at the door,the inevitably of such an lifestyle is at your feet.The tragic stories vary but the end result is always the same "We Die soon"(7,8)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-5776651560516759842?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/5776651560516759842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=5776651560516759842&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5776651560516759842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5776651560516759842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/live-fast-die-young.html' title='Live Fast Die Young'/><author><name>Dorian Frost</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02758719358196642583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1846284569796894503</id><published>2010-03-10T12:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T12:09:12.467-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Real Life Connection</title><content type='html'>The poem "My Papa's Waltz" by Theodore Roethke was a poem that really stood out to me.  At first like many other poeple who have read the poem I saw this poem as an abusive relationship between a father and son. The image that you get when the speaker paints the picture of whisky lingering in Papa's breath would make many people think that the father has a drinking problem. The battered knuckles of Papa also make it seem as though he is a hard and harsh man.  Once you look deeper into the poem though you can see that the speaker is just trying to paint an image of his father that he can hold on to.  He is using the smell of whisky as a smell that reminds him of his father. The roughness of the fathers knuckles just shows that he is a really hard working man to support his family. This really reminds me of my own father.  He was a really hard working man to do the best for his family.  He worked in a factory during the day and when he came home he ran the family farm.  His hands were always rough from all the work that his did for us. And for that I appreciate him ever so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1846284569796894503?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1846284569796894503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1846284569796894503&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1846284569796894503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1846284569796894503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/real-life-connection.html' title='Real Life Connection'/><author><name>Bridgette_L</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09386029767952052410</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2523469833144491710</id><published>2010-03-10T11:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T11:37:22.113-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Torn</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A dislike for poetry is unfair. So, I would not say I do not like poetry, but I also would not say I love poetry either. Poems are a short and sweet story that are sometimes understandable to me. A short story limits an authors word choice; crafty words are used to complete the message being sent by the author. Because of these crafty words, I often times come across words I do not know the meaning of which creates confusion to the poem. Sometimes the words make an entire stanza hard for me to decipher. I use a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;thesaurus when I come across these crafty words to help me better understand the story being told.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Poems that do not relate to me or poems that just do not make sense are boring. I tend to loose interest and forget poems with these characteristics."Digging" is an example of a poem I totally did not relate to or understand. When a poem comes along that does make sense and that does relate to my life, I will not just like this poem, but I will love them poem. An example of a poem such as this would be Theodore Roethke's poem "My Papa's Waltz". Memories of my father and I come out of this poem, great memories of dancing with my father. In conclusion, poems for me creates a love/hate relationship; I would not choose to bore myself to death with pointless, confusing poems, but I would love to discover more poems of interest to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2523469833144491710?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2523469833144491710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2523469833144491710&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2523469833144491710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2523469833144491710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/torn.html' title='Torn'/><author><name>KSolway</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01790759338385231650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2736660627882443034</id><published>2010-03-10T11:12:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T11:25:03.993-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Poetry</title><content type='html'>I have read poems before, many times. It wasn't until last week that I realized that some poems have a deeper meaning. I always just read them at face value. I do not really like the poetry we have read so far. I never know if it means what it says or if it has a deeper meaning. It confuses me sometimes, something I am not a fan of. I have not read, nor do I understand, much poetry. I do really like Robert Frost's "The Road Less Taken." I like it after having it explained to me that he doesn't really mean he took the road less taken and that you take the path you take. You never know if the path you took is the one less taken because he can't go back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2736660627882443034?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2736660627882443034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2736660627882443034&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2736660627882443034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2736660627882443034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/poetry.html' title='Poetry'/><author><name>Kendra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09798015329509603049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6593211674320519629</id><published>2010-03-09T23:50:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T23:58:50.986-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Degeneration X</title><content type='html'>Sometimes a generation improves itself based on seeing the faults the previous generation had. In Raymond Carver's "Photograph of My Father in His Twenty-Second Year" the writer continutes his fathers habit of alcohol abuse and maybe even is a worse addict. The writer has the benefit of seeing the way alcohol took so much away from his fathers life and still he allows it to become a problem in his life. He actually is mad at his father not because of this trait that was passed on to him but rather that he "didn't even know the places to fish...(15). The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6593211674320519629?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6593211674320519629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6593211674320519629&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6593211674320519629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6593211674320519629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/degeneration-x.html' title='Degeneration X'/><author><name>corey walkin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12511460408820889328</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-5982550454940681968</id><published>2010-03-09T23:19:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T23:47:10.876-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My thoughts On Poetry</title><content type='html'>Back in the day, I used to truly loathe poetry; I used to read through the poem, motivated by mothing more than the fact that it was a class assignment, and think about nothing more than the how much time I wasted on reading it. I saw no message within the stanzas, and criticized the authors for even thinking that there could even possibly be a message within their work. There was one thing that woke me up to the message that poets send, that one thing is something we call "life".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During my teenage years, I've experienced a lot; love hate, pleasure, pain, and an incredible amount of events what could trigger these feelings. There was one time when I decided to against the conformity of everyone else and wrote a song. There was a sadness I had bottled up, and I simply wanted to let it out the best way I knew how. After that one song, I wrote more and more, and after a few more songs, I truly saw the power of what poetry can do. If you have experienced a traumatic event, and you manage to stumble across another person who just so happens to write a poem about it, you realize that there is someone out there that can relate to your struggle. That someone is also constructing a way of relaying that struggle for a world to understand, poetry can be a powerful tool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in this present day, my opinion on poetry has changed. Whenever I feel the need to vent, or even express creativity, the one thing I used to hate is now the one thing I turn to to express myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-5982550454940681968?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/5982550454940681968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=5982550454940681968&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5982550454940681968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5982550454940681968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-thoughts-on-poetry.html' title='My thoughts On Poetry'/><author><name>ATSwenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11087478610123353393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-438946248069080397</id><published>2010-03-09T23:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T23:19:22.468-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Why poems?</title><content type='html'>Poems are definitely not one of the easiest things to understand. You may think you understand what you need to know from the poem but when talking in class there is so much more to it. In my opinion I think poems are too complicated and maybe a bit overrated. Why not just say what you want instead of beating around the bush and adding more into it that isn’t necessary.&lt;br /&gt;Remember the good old days of Dr. Seuss. They were easy to understand, rhymed a bit and were just fun to read. That’s what all poems should be like. Once they become hard to understand and aren’t being very clear with what they are saying is when I loss all interest. Most of the time I dislike poems even the ones I write myself. It may just be the format and the way they come off most of the time that makes me not care for them a whole lot. I also don’t like that I have to read one poem a few times just to understand it. Why are poems even that great? Maybe to show feelings but that really about it. Otherwise a short and sweet story will do just fine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-438946248069080397?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/438946248069080397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=438946248069080397&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/438946248069080397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/438946248069080397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/why-poems.html' title='Why poems?'/><author><name>Randee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08139892687986971399</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-8272070190157664826</id><published>2010-03-09T23:12:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T23:13:50.755-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflection on Poetry</title><content type='html'>Poetry is a very unique type of writing. It does not always make sense, it does not always rhyme, and it is not always straight forward. Readers interpret poems in different ways and often times it is not the way the writer intends. In a poem, the writer only has so many lines to express the feeling or story they are trying to get across. Each person that reads the same poem could get a different meaning from the poem. Poetry can be hard to understand at times because of the limited stanzas writers can use in poetry. Some are just written in dialogue that is hard to understand. Poems that readers can relate to are going to be more easily understood. I am not very good at discovering meanings of poems, but this poetry section is helping me get better. After breaking down poems into smaller sections and looking closer at them, poetry becomes a lot more interesting. Poems are not always what they seem, which I think is one way poetry is different from other types of writing. The hidden meanings are what make readers think and decide what the writer is trying to portray in their work. Often times poems will not be interpreted the same way by readers, but this is what makes poetry more interesting. Everyone can use their own opinion to decide what each specific poem means to them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-8272070190157664826?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/8272070190157664826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=8272070190157664826&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8272070190157664826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8272070190157664826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/reflection-on-poetry.html' title='Reflection on Poetry'/><author><name>jenna_olson2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15367967337282792339</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1592829455322814169</id><published>2010-03-09T22:54:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T23:40:11.121-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Poetry Blog Casey Laub</title><content type='html'>So far I haven't minded reading poetry as much as I used to. I've honestly only read two poems so far, I only enjoyed one of them. I read My Papa's Waltz and Photograph of My Father In His Twenty Second Year. I liked My Papa's Waltz because after talking about it in class you can see how our society hears whiskey and we immediately assume somthing bad is happening. Then I read Photograph of My Father In His Twenty Second Year and don't know what to think: which is usually what happens when I read poetry. I don't get it there are so many angles you can take on poems. The thing that makes it unnapealling to me is that you never know which angle is the absolute correct one unless the author explains it afterwards. For example in My Papa's Waltz, in class we came to the conclusion that either he was abusive or he just drank casually when he got home from work. Who even knows which one actually happened and caused the poet to write the poem. I think: the poet that writes the poem should have a page after the poem that says what exactly he or she meant just to make it clear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1592829455322814169?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1592829455322814169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1592829455322814169&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1592829455322814169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1592829455322814169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post.html' title='Poetry Blog Casey Laub'/><author><name>claub21</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05837012764063883859</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-8259139296211518863</id><published>2010-03-09T21:38:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T21:44:26.178-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Reaction to Poetry</title><content type='html'>Poetry is something that I am not too familiar with.  This is the first time I have really had to sit down and read poems.  I already see that I was wrong thinking that poetry was primarily rhyming and really created without deep meaning.  From what we have done in class I already understand that there is a lot of information that needs to be uncovered in a very small space.  For me poetry is hard to read and fully understand without classroom discussion.  I catch myself reading the words and thinking very basic much of the time leading to my misinterpretation  of the poem.  I look forward to reading more poetry and seeing what I think about it after I can relate to it a little better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-8259139296211518863?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/8259139296211518863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=8259139296211518863&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8259139296211518863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8259139296211518863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/reaction-to-poetry.html' title='Reaction to Poetry'/><author><name>G.Sondrol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11224503735957321307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AfOqm1cM94/S3TBkxWOW-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/yiw4Xhkzb5c/S220/ME.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-3371399097566451406</id><published>2010-03-09T20:01:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T20:28:21.786-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Poetry is More Than Ryhming Words</title><content type='html'>I was never really interested in poetry before I started this class, but I never really disliked it either. What I've learned about poetry in this class, so far, is that it is much more than just rhyming words together. Poems have so much depth and emotion to them and it's up to the reader to really scope out what the writer is portraying in such few words.&lt;br /&gt;     It's been enjoyable to read the assigned poems and analyze them. They're all so different in nature. Some are straightforward, while others have hidden meanings behind carefully selected words. It's also nice to find a poem in which you can relate to, which can also make it easier to interpret. With many poems, the reader can interpret it in many ways, but only the author will know the true message of their words. This combination of mystery and emotion is what makes poetry so powerful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-3371399097566451406?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/3371399097566451406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=3371399097566451406&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3371399097566451406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3371399097566451406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/poetry-is-more-than-ryhming-words.html' title='Poetry is More Than Ryhming Words'/><author><name>Angell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09295904990915969061</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_biOs2IGoEgQ/S15UwOmSkQI/AAAAAAAAAAc/oPluPIeHuJg/S220/15145_205710618102_678678102_3980606_764189_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1983205874462862004</id><published>2010-03-09T19:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T19:14:04.238-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What I feel about poetry</title><content type='html'>Peotry is a special form of telling a story or a particular time in life. The author may know what the poem means but the reader may misinterpret it in many different ways. For example, the reader may just read the first to stanzas and just assume that the poem is about something because it's mentioned in those first stanzas. This is how our society is these days; we judge the poem and don't look into depth. Poetry can also be a form of music, such as bob dylan. Bob Dylan's songs are mostly based on poems. These are the kind of poems that I'm mostly interested in. I think it's pretty cool when a poem has a different meaning and can be told through reading and listening. Poetry is very different than short stories or novels, because the poets don't have a lot of room to get all there information in and they have to write it all in a certain format. The poetry I mostly dislike is the kind that use really big words that I don't know the meaning of; and that just making interpreting the poem a lot more difficult. The poetry that I can stand would be something that I can relate to, such as sports or family. This would catch my attention and maybe because I can relate to it more, I would read more in depth with it. Overall my thoughts on poetry is that, to understand the poem you have to really read it over and over and think about why the author would say whatever has been said. Personally I like poetry and I think that writing it can be fun at times, but obviously reading most of the more difficult ones can be confusing for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1983205874462862004?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1983205874462862004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1983205874462862004&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1983205874462862004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1983205874462862004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/what-i-feel-about-poetry.html' title='What I feel about poetry'/><author><name>Nick W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05111428274278709256</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-348157234708280015</id><published>2010-03-09T17:39:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T17:55:42.757-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Brennan melts Frost</title><content type='html'>I'm not very good at deciphering poetry and uncovering the hidden meanings about bad childhoods or a secret life a speaker may have had. However, the poems I do love to read are about love, very girly I know. But I think if a poet is great then he should be able to express a love in a few lines that can take writers pages to do so or a singer an entire song. My favorite poem is "Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her" by Christopher Brennan. The poem makes you think about love and has a certain flow to it; while the final few lines truely express his feelings for her. It's one of the few poems that make me smile by just reading it. However, there is an entire collection of poetry by Robert Frost that I dispise. He contridicts what he says and tells lies to the reader. As if reading a poem isn't hard enough. Also the stories of his I have read are lame and pointless. They weren't funny or held some deep emotion that moved me. I think he should of had a day job and stuck to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-348157234708280015?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/348157234708280015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=348157234708280015&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/348157234708280015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/348157234708280015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/03/brennan-melts-frost.html' title='Brennan melts Frost'/><author><name>SamanthaAshley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04522049465016248289</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-7613510279607963808</id><published>2010-02-23T23:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T23:38:43.182-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Doe Season</title><content type='html'>In the short story "Doe Season" Andy is treated differently because she is a girl. Charlie and Mac would not have a questioned her coming if she had been in boy. Andy goes out to fetch firewood and when she returns she says she saw a deer. Macs response was "I bet you really didn't see no deer, did you?"(pg 515). Were she a boy he wouldn't have questioned her. In this story hunting is something the men and boys do so they treat her like she can't do the things they can, like she is less then. The one thing that would have been the same is the shot Andy took to kill the deer. The feelings would have been different. Being a boy, she would not have felt so horrible about killing something and joined in the excitement of shooting her first deer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-7613510279607963808?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/7613510279607963808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=7613510279607963808&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7613510279607963808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7613510279607963808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/doe-season_6969.html' title='Doe Season'/><author><name>Kendra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09798015329509603049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-245397820345243198</id><published>2010-02-23T23:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T23:19:54.518-06:00</updated><title type='text'>All For A Queen</title><content type='html'>John Updike gives the description of a woman's body in a very class way, he was a man of a classic time. In the short story "A&amp;amp;P" Updike displays his writing skills by doing carefully thought out description of a teenage boys thoughts without making it sound like a romance novel. Sammy admires the girl from a far, describing her looks and ending with the simple statment of, "I mean, it was more than pretty" (225). Sammy begins to take more notice of Queenie and thinks of her body in a more respectful and loving way. He describes how her neck looks so stretched out from her shoulders but is quick to say, "The longer her neck was, the more of her there was" (225). It's clear Updike or his characthers don't want to be preceived as a sexist person but one that is appreciative of a woman.  In the end of the short story Sammy does gutsy move and quits his job in an attempt of being Queenie's king but he falls short and learns a life lesson (228). One he has her to thank for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-245397820345243198?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/245397820345243198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=245397820345243198&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/245397820345243198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/245397820345243198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/all-for-queen.html' title='All For A Queen'/><author><name>SamanthaAshley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04522049465016248289</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-995262842841350771</id><published>2010-02-23T22:46:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T23:34:55.925-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No "Andrea", just "Andy"</title><content type='html'>In the short Story "Doe Season", written by David Michael Kaplan. The protagonist of the story, Andy, has her fair share of prejudice to put up with. Not only does she endure the constant badgering of Mac throughout the sroty, who doesn't know any better, she also must put up with the over-inflated, "manly" ego of Charlie Spoon, who &lt;em&gt;should&lt;/em&gt; know better. With all of this in mind, one may realize that there's a possibility that if andy were a boy, the trip might have been a little bit easier on her, then again, it also might have been harder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For being a mature adult, Charlie Spoon sure has a bias toward young, innocent Andy. And he made it quite obvious that he doesn't want her with on the trip. "Charlie spoon was driving. "I don't understand why she's coming," he said to her father. "How old is she anyway -eight?"" (Kaplan, 512) Charlie is obviously bitter about Andy's presence on their guys day out, and Mac feels the same way; he felt the need to tease her the entire trip. ""That's about your size," Mac said to tease her." Kaplan, 512) as she gets a measly day pack handed to her as the men, and boy, get large backpacks. In the other hand, if Andy were a boy, Charlie might be more accepting, maybe even willing to have Andy tag along, and Mac would have a fellow young guy to play around with that is cootie-free. However, since Andy would also be 'one of the guys' She would also need to live up to their rough-and-tough image; Andy would need to prove to the others that he was manly enough to be on this trip. If Andy got as emotional as she did in the end of the story, Charlie, Mac, and maybe even her father, would think that he (andy as a boy) was too emotionally weak to live up to their tough-guy image, and Andy may be rejected even worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way one may look at the situation, there could be prejudice. If Andy were a boy, Charlie Spoon and Mac may me a bit more hesitant to judge a book by its cover, but if Andy fails to live up to their standards, it might just be the same unnacepting situation. Either way, there is that presence of rejection.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-995262842841350771?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/995262842841350771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=995262842841350771&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/995262842841350771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/995262842841350771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/buck-season_7722.html' title='No &quot;Andrea&quot;, just &quot;Andy&quot;'/><author><name>ATSwenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11087478610123353393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-7092752335669819541</id><published>2010-02-23T22:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T22:24:26.716-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Girly girl vs. Tom boy</title><content type='html'>If David Michael &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kaplan&lt;/span&gt; were to make Andy a boy in his short story, “Doe Season,” I believe things would be different for many reasons. Being a girl, Andy has a lot of pressure from her dad’s friend, his son, and her dad as well. She is a daddy’s girl and probably feels more pressure to please him than a boy might feel in her situation. The ocean intimidates Andy and even though her mom was in the water, Andy cannot find the comfort in the area her mom was in. Her father stayed closer to shore and “held his white arms above the waist-deep water as if afraid to get them wet” (514). This is one of the instances that hints at Andy’s stronger bond with her father than her mother. The pressure she feels from her father pushes her to be what she believes he wants her to be. After her father tells Mac and Charlie how good Andy is at spotting deer, there is even more pressure on her to live up to her expectations. Andy tells the boys she has spotted a deer and only “caused them to spend the morning there, cold and expectant, with nothing to show for it” (517). This is another instance building up to Andy finding her true ‘girl’ self. If Andy were a boy, she would not have had the dream about the doe she felt forced to shoot, and she would not have the guilt after shooting the doe that her dad gave her the privilege to shoot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-7092752335669819541?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/7092752335669819541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=7092752335669819541&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7092752335669819541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7092752335669819541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/girly-girl-vs-tom-boy.html' title='Girly girl vs. Tom boy'/><author><name>jenna_olson2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15367967337282792339</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1115122218547543439</id><published>2010-02-23T22:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T22:42:30.069-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Doe Season</title><content type='html'>This story wolud have been different had Andy been a boy based on the way she was treated during the hunting trip. Early on her fathers friend Charlie made it clear that he was not too keen on Andy's presence, enroute to the hunting trip he states "I still don't understand why she's comming"512. Charlie would not have said this if Andy were a boy, also during the trip at some point All the men start teasing Andy making her feel uncomfortable in the process. Charlie starts off by saying "so what are you going to be Andrea a boy or a girl"?517  implying she was a confused little girl and had no business on a hunting trip with a bunch of men. Charlie makes another remark concerning his displeasure of Andy's gender "That's what the woods are about anyway it's where the women don't want to go"517. Centinly none of the comments and teasing would have been made if Andy were a boy because the men would have far more accepting of Andy. What would have been the same in the story is Andy looking up to her father and trying her best to please him throughout the trip like Andy did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1115122218547543439?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1115122218547543439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1115122218547543439&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1115122218547543439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1115122218547543439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/doe-season_23.html' title='Doe Season'/><author><name>Dorian Frost</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02758719358196642583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-4758467083475914258</id><published>2010-02-23T21:52:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T22:07:15.946-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This is Now 'Buck' Season</title><content type='html'>In David Michael &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kaplan's&lt;/span&gt; short story "Doe Season" the protagonist in the story is Andy, a young female on her first deer hunting trip with her father and his friends, Mac and Charlie.  Throughout the story it seems as though Andy struggles with the relationship she has with her father compared to her mother.  The woods in the story are a place that is familiar for Andy and a place that she spends time with her father. On the other hand there is the scene where Andy had visited the ocean, during the visit she is uneasy and this time was when she was with her mother. "That was the first time she'd seen the ocean and it frightened her" (514).  This shows that she was not close to her mother and she was scared of the 'feminine' part of herself as well as pushed her mother away. The story would have been different if Andy was portrayed of a boy because the hunting trip would be seen as more of a right of passage into manhood. Also, if Andy were a boy there would have been little teasing and tormenting from Mac and Charlie.  Such comments that came from Charlie such as "So what are you gonna be, Andrea?  A boy or a girl?" (517) would not happened.  There also would have been more emphasize on the actual masculinity of the hunting trip other then on the feelings that Andy had when she had shot the deer.  Andy as a boy would have needed to prove that he was a man and confirm that he was able to hide his feelings, showing no empathy for the deer's life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-4758467083475914258?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/4758467083475914258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=4758467083475914258&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4758467083475914258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4758467083475914258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/this-is-now-buck-season.html' title='This is Now &apos;Buck&apos; Season'/><author><name>Bridgette_L</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09386029767952052410</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-659859373070381479</id><published>2010-02-23T21:46:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T22:18:40.494-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodness Gracious</title><content type='html'>There are many passages where John Updike conveys wonder in his physical descriptions in "A&amp;amp;P".  Sammy, the narrator, describes one of the young ladies as having a "good tan and a sweet broad soft-looking can with those two crescents of white just under it.(224)" He also uses the terms "chubby berry faces(225)" and "long white prima-donna legs.(225)"  The girl called queenie is wearing a swim suit with the should straps down and he describes what he sees as "this clean bare plane of the top of her chest down from the should bones like the dented sheet of metal tilted in the light. I mean it was more than pretty.(225)" He doesn't stop here. As the story progresses he has more colorful descriptions of the girls physical features. He speaks of "the plump one in plaid, that I liked better from the back--a really sweet can--(227)" One of the girls pulls money out of her swimsuit, as he describes as "having come from between the two smoothest scoops of vanilla(228)."&lt;br /&gt;In this day and age, the way women and girls are portrayed on television and in movies is in such a sexual light that I feel Sammy could get away with his take on the girls physical appearances. He never speaks of wanting to do anything physically to the girls and his comments seem to be very normal for a boy his age. He could have observed the same girls in the same outfits and made some very crass and demeaning comments, as many boys or men might, and this would have changed completely how i viewed Sammy. However, he is a normal boy with normal interests and he handles himself much better than some would in his situation. The passages are very descriptive but not overboard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-659859373070381479?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/659859373070381479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=659859373070381479&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/659859373070381479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/659859373070381479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/goodness-gracious.html' title='Goodness Gracious'/><author><name>corey walkin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12511460408820889328</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-7162429305085838997</id><published>2010-02-23T21:01:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T21:20:04.100-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Doe Season?</title><content type='html'>If Andy were a boy in this story, every character would be a little bit different.  Charlie seems to be upset only at the fact that Andy is a girl.  Because of this he seems to act in a very childish way, making remarks about how the hunt will be disturbed because of her being there.  Andy's father would not have to constantly be defending his daughter and taking shit from the rest of the group.  The most immature character, Mac, I believe would not be making the wise cracks and probably would have held back from making a perverted comment that made Andy somewhat uncomfortable.  Knowing Andy is a girl hunting for her first time made the read a waiting game for something unfortunate to happen to Andy.  I think the only thing that would have remained the same would have been the relationship between Andy and her father.  He seemed to love and care about her very much.  Other than that, I think that the story would have been completely different.  If Andy were a man he would not have had to prove he is a man by shooting a doe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-7162429305085838997?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/7162429305085838997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=7162429305085838997&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7162429305085838997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7162429305085838997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/doe-season.html' title='Doe Season?'/><author><name>G.Sondrol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11224503735957321307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AfOqm1cM94/S3TBkxWOW-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/yiw4Xhkzb5c/S220/ME.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1602867653829871936</id><published>2010-02-23T18:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T18:50:17.458-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Buck Season</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;There is a relation between the title, "Doe Season", and the character, Andy, in this story. Andy seems to be singled out in this story for being female. The title, "Doe Season", is referring to singling out only the female deer just as Andy is singled out by Mac and his father, Charlie Spoon, "She'll just add to the noise and get tired besides" (Kaplan 513). Therefore, Andy as a boy would change the title to "Buck Season". This new title would include each of the males in this story, making it easier for Andy to relate.&lt;br /&gt;Andy's father sticks up for her through out the story. "She can do whatever she likes", Andy's father says as Charlie spoon gets after Andy about her ability to enjoy hunting and fishing (517). As a boy, Andy would be able to enjoy these activities with the approval of Charlie Spoon as well as his son, Mac. She would be able to relate to the other males better, because of this she would be able to stand up for herself more. She would be able to join in on conversations instead of her father always speaking for her. It is easier to be teased when a person is different from the others around them.&lt;br /&gt;The passion Andy has for the shot doe would not stand if she were a boy. "The heat quickened under her touch, becoming warmer and warmer until it was hot enough to burn" (521). This scene is describing Andy's guilt for shooting the dear. A boy version of Andy would not feel guilt for shooting a deer; he would feel pride. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1602867653829871936?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1602867653829871936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1602867653829871936&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1602867653829871936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1602867653829871936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/buck-season_23.html' title='Buck Season'/><author><name>KSolway</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01790759338385231650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-8611955989106168254</id><published>2010-02-23T17:54:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T18:10:45.256-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Buck Season?</title><content type='html'>In the original version of "Doe Season" Andy is thinking about her mother at home washing dishes. "&lt;em&gt;She is there, and we are here&lt;/em&gt;: the thought satisfied Andy" (512). It seems like Andy would much rather be with the guys hunting than be at home with her mother doing "womanly" chores. This gives the impression that Andy may have an internal struggle with gender.&lt;br /&gt;If Andy were a boy in "Doe Season," the story could go one of two ways. Andy would still have an issue with gender identity either way, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kaplan&lt;/span&gt; could have written the story in a way that would have made Andy want to be around his mother more and afraid of the forest. For instance, perhaps Andy would have been swimming in the ocean with his mom, and had a vision of his naked father in the forest. This version would indicate his comfort with femininity, his desire to be a woman, and his fear of masculinity.&lt;br /&gt; Another way &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kaplan&lt;/span&gt; could have written the story if Andy had been a boy would be almost the same storyline. Andy would be more attracted to the idea of the ocean and being around his mother, but still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;afraid&lt;/span&gt; to go swimming with her in the ocean. his father and the other guys many have pushed him to go hunting with them due to the false idea that doing "manly" things will cure a boy of such femininity. however, he is dragged along against his wishes, and he fears the forest as well. It is not beautiful to him like it is to Andrea. This version would indicate his desire to be a woman along with his fear of actually being one, and his lack of desire to be a man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-8611955989106168254?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/8611955989106168254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=8611955989106168254&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8611955989106168254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8611955989106168254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/buck-season.html' title='Buck Season?'/><author><name>Angell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09295904990915969061</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_biOs2IGoEgQ/S15UwOmSkQI/AAAAAAAAAAc/oPluPIeHuJg/S220/15145_205710618102_678678102_3980606_764189_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-7821861074027187298</id><published>2010-02-23T15:01:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T15:19:23.047-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"The Lottery" Question 10</title><content type='html'>When "The Lottery" By Shirley Jackson was published many people were angry towards her about the story.  Many thought that the story was attack on small town american.  Which im my opinion is obviously not the case.  Its true many small town have their own little things they do, that may be weird to outsiders, but around the time that  The Lottery was published nothing like this was happening.  Obviously people are going to feel attacked especially if they come from a small farm town, just becasue the story is set in a small farming village.  Many thought that the story was pointless, and stood no meaning.  This outlook depends on how you look at the story, I didnt think anything like a stoning of an individual was going to happen even with all the symbols in the story.  My first impression was that it was crazy what had happened, and why did it happen.  I was confused as to what the point actually was.  I dont believe Shirley Jackson had any prejudice towards anti-semitism, although the story tells a story in a gruesome sacrifice for the good and plenty of the village.  I dont believe her attention was to judge and be critical of anti-semitism.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-7821861074027187298?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/7821861074027187298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=7821861074027187298&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7821861074027187298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7821861074027187298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/lottery-question-10.html' title='&quot;The Lottery&quot; Question 10'/><author><name>jmacjohnson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07739880453049610716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1787708397510532270</id><published>2010-02-23T14:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T14:59:34.817-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Doe Season or Buck Season"</title><content type='html'>In questing weather the story “Doe Season” would be different if Andy was a boy rather than a girl; I am led to believe that the story would be different. The story might change as soon as the title of the story. If Andy was a boy instead of a girl, who’s to say that the story would not be called “Buck Season” instead of “Doe Season”? The story may also have changed before Andy and her father even began their deer hunting adventure. While driving to the woods Charlie begins questing why Andy is with immediately “I don’t understand why she is coming”, “And target shooting ain’t deer hunting”(512). If Andy was a boy would Charlie be questing why Andy’s father is taking her along, would Charlie be questing Andy’s shooting ability? Granted Charlie might still have questing Andy’s shooting ability if she was a boy, Charlie would not be questing why Andy’s father wants to take her hunting. Also the biggest difference a person might notice if Andy were a boy is the internal conflict Andy has throughout the story in weather she wants to show her feminism side or be more of a tom boy. The general idea of the story would stay the same weather Andy was a boy or is a girl. A father taking their son or daughter on his or her first hunting trip is a ritual that has taken place for many years and will continue to do so in the future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1787708397510532270?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1787708397510532270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1787708397510532270&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1787708397510532270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1787708397510532270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/doe-season-or-buck-season.html' title='&quot;Doe Season or Buck Season&quot;'/><author><name>jeremiah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17487331086466871553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2810986046929732906</id><published>2010-02-22T17:57:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T15:46:50.405-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Doe Season or Deer Season?</title><content type='html'>If Andy was a boy she wouldn't mind doing either of the activities her parents want her to do because when she was asked to go into the sea she just felt like she was obligated because her mom was asking and she was a girl in the story. But if she was a boy and her mom asked her she wouldn't care if it was her mom or her dad that asked her, she would just do it if she wanted to. She would probably love to go hunting because even in the story when she was a girl she wanted to go hunting. But maybe instead of just viewing the landscape and the environment around her while hunting she would be more focused on killing the animal if she was a boy. She probably wouldn't hesitate as much as she did while being pressured to shoot the doe even if her dad was right there telling her what the do. Maybe if she was a boy, her dad wouldn't be pressuring her so much because he just aspects her to know what to do even at that young age. The parents would still want her to do both activities in the story and hunting would still be the main one based on facts about males and females.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2810986046929732906?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2810986046929732906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2810986046929732906&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2810986046929732906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2810986046929732906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/doe-season-or-deer-season.html' title='Doe Season or Deer Season?'/><author><name>Nick W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05111428274278709256</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2133962716068220321</id><published>2010-02-11T23:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T23:52:24.560-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Foreshadowing and The Worn Path</title><content type='html'>~ The beginning of the story "Worn Path" starts with a good description of the time of year that it takes place as well as the surroundings of the main character Phoenix. It takes place in the winter, and knowing this helps to realize that her journey into town could be quite treacherous. the author also states about Phoenix traveling through some woods where its a bit isolated. Being in the woods could become very dangerous with her ailing age and the many wild animals. The author also states Phoenix is traveling with a cane, tapping it everywhere. It says that "she walked slowly in the dark pine shadows moving a little from side to side in her steps wit the balances heaviness and lightness of a pendulum in a grand father clock." The fact that she is very old and very unsteady on her feet and being in the dark pine shadows will make her trip more difficult. She seems to really care and love her grandson to take on such a challenging journey.The very first paragraph gives some good imagery and good foreshadowing of what is to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2133962716068220321?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2133962716068220321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2133962716068220321&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2133962716068220321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2133962716068220321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/foreshadowing-and-worn-path.html' title='Foreshadowing and The Worn Path'/><author><name>FarrenPederson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14608433252848001465</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6020919906600675371</id><published>2010-02-11T22:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T22:33:04.080-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Foreshadowing in disguise</title><content type='html'>In “The Lottery,” foreshadowing is a key element. It is used throughout the whole story, both blatant and slightly hidden at times. The foreshadowing begins when Bobby Martin fills his pockets full of stones. This does not seem to be a big deal off hand because the other boys do the same. Many symbols in the story are large components in the foreshadowing. The black box, used to draw the slips of paper from, for example, is worn and hardly black from being used for so long. We know nothing about the relevance of this box until the conclusion of the story when we find out it has been used for the traditional brutal ‘lottery’ the town holds annually. “Mr. Summers spoke frequently to the villagers about making a new box, but no one like to upset even as much as tradition as was represented by the black box” (444). The villagers may have known how horrid the lottery really was, but no one was brave enough to break the tradition of what has become a norm in their community. Mrs. Hutchinson’s absence at the beginning of the lottery was one of the biggest foreshadowing clues in the story. After she arrives, Mr. Summers announces cheerfully that he had “thought we were going to have to get on without you” (445). This gives us an idea that Tessie plays a role in an upcoming event. Subsequent to Tessie’s husband, Mr. Hutchinson, drawing ‘the winning’ ticket, Tessie objects and claims Mr. Summer’s did not give him enough time to draw. At this point, we began to realize maybe this ‘lottery’ was not about a rewarding prize. Foreshadowing is not always easy to pick out in a story, but often times it is easily recognized after the story concludes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6020919906600675371?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6020919906600675371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6020919906600675371&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6020919906600675371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6020919906600675371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/foreshadowing-in-disguise.html' title='Foreshadowing in disguise'/><author><name>jenna_olson2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15367967337282792339</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1301236226043168497</id><published>2010-02-11T22:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T23:17:35.130-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Was It Really Such a Surprise?</title><content type='html'>Although Shirley Jackson meant for "The Lottery" to have a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;surprising&lt;/span&gt; or ironic conclusion, many passages in the short story foreshadow such a grave ending. The boys that are gathering rocks must be the most obvious clue. Some are more subtle, however.&lt;br /&gt;    Jackson describes the villagers as nervous, quiet, and apprehensive while getting ready to draw names. One would &lt;em&gt;think &lt;/em&gt;the villagers would act excited on such a day. Also, the villagers are drawing slips of paper from a black box, which sits upon a three legged stool. The color black is usually associated with death and darkness, and the three legged stool could perhaps be a symbol of the three branches of government, which further implies that the lottery is much like the law...sometimes it doesn't seem fair, but people do what they're told. It's been around for generations, so it must be there for a reason, right? However, the way Tessie argues that it's not fair and walks up to the box defiantly tells readers that whatever the villagers are drawing for is not something they desire.&lt;br /&gt;   And who better to be carrying the three legged stool than Mr. Graves? His name alone foreshadows death.&lt;br /&gt;   Another clue foreshadows something happening to Tessie at the end of this story. Tessie is chatting with Mrs. Delacroix before going to greet her husband. "She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a farewell and began to make her way through the crowd" (445). The name Delacroix is French, and translates into "of the cross." Tessie is giving her last farewell before she dies, perhaps as a sacrifice for the rest of the villagers' sins.&lt;br /&gt;    There are also some passages in this short story which may foreshadow a future end to the lottery. Many villagers speak of other towns that have ended the lottery, and their own lottery seems less traditional and formal each year. "...at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort...,but years and years ago this part of the ritual had been allowed to lapse" (445). The appearance of the box also fades along with the formality of the tradition. "The black box grew shabbier each year; by now it was no longer completely black but splintered badly along one side to show the original wood color, and in some places faded or stained" (444).&lt;br /&gt;   The only surprising element of the story is that such a horrid tradition has lasted so long in this village.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1301236226043168497?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1301236226043168497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1301236226043168497&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1301236226043168497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1301236226043168497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/was-it-really-such-surprise.html' title='Was It Really Such a Surprise?'/><author><name>Angell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09295904990915969061</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_biOs2IGoEgQ/S15UwOmSkQI/AAAAAAAAAAc/oPluPIeHuJg/S220/15145_205710618102_678678102_3980606_764189_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6832009107320654020</id><published>2010-02-11T22:19:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T22:27:34.447-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hints That Help Reveal</title><content type='html'>In Shirley Jackson's, "The Lottery" there is obvious foreshadowing, the most noticeable comes from the collecting of stones by the children that hints at the shocking ending (443). The lottery seemed to be something everyone was used to which is why they laughed and joked while waiting. They were aware of the grim ending which is why when Mr. Summers said, "Some of you fellows want to give me a hand?" when he needed help with the lottery box the men in the crowd gave hesitation (444). After the foreshadwoing of the stoning there became hints of who was going to be the one to draw the black dotted slip. Mrs. Hutchinson arrived late to the drawing where she said a farewell to her friend Mrs. Delacroix and she made her way through the crowd as she would soon do at the ending of the story (445). Another large foreshadow was when Tessie, Mrs. Hutchinson, repeated, "It's not fair" when her husband's name was called and repeated to be upset and ask for more time to draw (448).  Throughout the story it becomes easy to see what the outcome will be and what person had their named drawn. Jackson does plenty of foreshadowing that slowly helps reveal the final paragraph of the short story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6832009107320654020?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6832009107320654020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6832009107320654020&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6832009107320654020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6832009107320654020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/hints-that-help-reveal.html' title='Hints That Help Reveal'/><author><name>SamanthaAshley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04522049465016248289</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-3052756193740143661</id><published>2010-02-11T22:11:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T22:45:55.597-06:00</updated><title type='text'>War...what is it good for?</title><content type='html'>Native americans used to head buffalo off of a cliff. As long as they got the leaders to fall over the cliff, they knew the rest would follow with no hesitation. People can be the same way. In "The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson the towns follow the tradition of the lottery mostly because it's what the generation ahead of them did. In smaller towns, and older society's, the elders had alot of power because they were respected.&lt;br /&gt;  Respect and tradition can make something that is plain crazy to the ouside world seem normal to those raised in such a manner. Take for instance polygamy, crazy to most people; normal to those raised in such a manner. To some people eating a grub would definately lead to vomiting; to those raised on grubs, it would just be another meal.&lt;br /&gt;  No society, no matter how civilized, is exempt from this. In the United States, all criminals are innocent until proven guilty. This applies for rapist, murders, or even terrorist. However, when American citizens cross over into foreign soil, the value of human life is much less. Men and women not old enough to handle an alcoholic beverage are given the task of deciding who lives and who dies. War is all that is needed to justify this barbaric task. These men and women are judge, jury, and exocutioner. There is no trial, there is not innocent until proven guilty. There is a teenager, an M-16, and a trigger finger. How is this justified?&lt;br /&gt;  America has a superiority complex, the need to police the world. The ten indivuals in Haiti accused of kidnapping are trying to get moved to American soil, with the support of the US government. Trying them here would be the best in the eyes of our government. Reverse the situation and it's not so pretty. If Haitians were in New Orleans trying to take children back home with them, after hurricane Katrina, to their beautiful tropical paradise, this would not be "rescuing" them with would be kidnapping plain and simple. A life is a life is a life. Who has the right to say life on foreign soil is worth anthing less that life on American soil ,and yet most Americans adopt this thinking blindly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-3052756193740143661?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/3052756193740143661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=3052756193740143661&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3052756193740143661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3052756193740143661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/warwhat-is-it-good-for.html' title='War...what is it good for?'/><author><name>corey walkin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12511460408820889328</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-5383279649413174926</id><published>2010-02-11T21:59:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T23:13:14.725-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lottery, You Could See it Coming... If You Tried</title><content type='html'>There are moments that one will run across in "The Lottery" written by Shirley Jackson, that might cause a moment of confusion before reaching the end, simply because the human mind is rigid and and isn't used to thinking in such a manner, until the concept of the lottery becomes obvious in the conclusion. But if one were to keep their mind open (or even read the story twice with a sharper eye), they would notice subtle trinkets of information that explain just how this lottery isn't something people would be excited to win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the reader proceeds nearly halfway through the story there is an excerpt that evokes a different method behind the lottery: ""Horace's not but sixteen yet," Mrs. Dunbar daid regretfully. "Guess I gotta full in for the old man this year"" (Jackson 445). The key word is 'regretfully' in this excerpt; people aren't usually apt to be regretful when drawing for someone else for a lottery. Maybe she isn't the type who wants to take part in a lottery, however, it seems that there are others who feel unwilling to take part as well, such as Mrs. Hutchinson when she states "Theres Don and Eva... Make them take their chance!" (Jackson 447). Many people aren't willing to make sacrifices for a mere acquaintance; if one person has a chance to suffer, they might as well make sure someone else is there to face that chance too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a few more parts within the story that foreshadow what is to come, but in order to catch these, the reader must keep his/her eyes peeled. If one were to analyze word-for-word as they read they might realize that maybe the ending isn't so shocking after all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-5383279649413174926?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/5383279649413174926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=5383279649413174926&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5383279649413174926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5383279649413174926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html' title='The Lottery, You Could See it Coming... If You Tried'/><author><name>ATSwenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11087478610123353393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-4582851254256181008</id><published>2010-02-11T20:50:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T21:15:50.750-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tradition</title><content type='html'>Tradition means a lot to people, however, breaking tradition could mean even more.  "The Lottery" had a very unique and cruel tradition, but still a tradition.  Although the American culture would not stand for this in today's day and age, the individuals in "The Lottery" had grown up with this, it was the norm.  For someone to stand up against a tradition like the lottery held every year would require someone potentially risking their own life.  This is the reason that I think no one has stood up to this act.&lt;br /&gt;When I think of some traditions that are cruel today I immediately thing about the bull fighting that goes on in Mexico.  This is a fairly cruel act in many American's eyes, but is a great Mexican tradition.  It is so much apart of their culture I rarely even think about anyone standing up to it.  For Mexico to lose this tradition would just be awkward.  Traditions have embedded themselves in our cultures and I don't think there is a clear answer on how to justify them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-4582851254256181008?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/4582851254256181008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=4582851254256181008&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4582851254256181008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4582851254256181008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/tradition.html' title='Tradition'/><author><name>G.Sondrol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11224503735957321307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2AfOqm1cM94/S3TBkxWOW-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/yiw4Xhkzb5c/S220/ME.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6160125956263047432</id><published>2010-02-11T20:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T20:28:46.525-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Can only be alive</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There is no way Phoenix Jacksons grandson could be dead in the Short novel ‘A Worn Path’ by Eudora Welty. If he ever where dead why would she ever take the long trip through the woods and into town for his medicine? There could have been many other possibilities why Phoenix Jackson had to go into town and make that trip there for creating the story its self. For instance instead of getting medicine for her grandson what if she where to get something for herself like medicine or a necessity. There are not many if any clues in the story that her grandson is dead however there are clues that do support the idea of him being alive. Even the nurse knows and asks “…How is the boy doing” (Paragraph 81) clearly showing that she knows the whereabouts of Phoenix’s grandson. If he were dead I am sure the nurse wouldn’t even bring up or talk about her grandson but instead ask how she is doing. She even talks about her grandson saying “My little grandson, he sit up there in the house all wrapped up, waiting by himself” (Paragraph 94) and “Every little while his throat begin to close up again, and he not able to swallow” (Paragraph 92). So there for he can only be alive during the time of the story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6160125956263047432?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6160125956263047432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6160125956263047432&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6160125956263047432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6160125956263047432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/can-only-be-alive.html' title='Can only be alive'/><author><name>Randee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08139892687986971399</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-8840404078818428166</id><published>2010-02-11T20:15:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T20:17:20.095-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lottery</title><content type='html'>In the story “The Lottery” the author uses foreshadowing early in the story when the children create a pile of rocks and fill their pockets full of stones; this foreshadows the stories conclusion. Another form of foreshadowing in the story is when Tessie Hutchinson is the one who draws the slip of paper with the black dot on it. The first sign of foreshadowing in the story was when Mrs. Hutchinson forgot all about the lottery and she had to hurry just to make it to the lottery on time.  The author also uses foreshadowing by how Mrs. Hutchinson keeps on saying her husband didn’t have enough time to draw the paper and when Mrs. Hutchinson keeps saying this wasn’t fair. “You didn’t give him time enough to take any paper he wanted.”(Pg.447)  When Mrs. Hutchinson kept on mumbling under her breath that this wasn’t fair and was saying they should re-do the lottery it led me to believe that Mrs. Hutchinson was going to be the person who was going to be winning the lottery. “I Think we ought to start over, I tell you it wasn’t fair. You didn’t give him time to choose. Everybody saw that.”(Pg.448)  “The Lottery” uses foreshadowing to its advantage from the beginning of the story until the conclusion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-8840404078818428166?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/8840404078818428166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=8840404078818428166&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8840404078818428166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8840404078818428166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/lottery_7369.html' title='The Lottery'/><author><name>jeremiah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17487331086466871553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1647378688660688818</id><published>2010-02-11T15:14:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T15:53:44.248-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Path to be Taken</title><content type='html'>Eudora &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Welty&lt;/span&gt; gives a description of Phoenix Jackson's personality in the first paragraph of "A Worn Path". &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Welty&lt;/span&gt; gives the description of Phoenix's "head tied in a red rag...", the red rag symbolizes the obstacles that hold Phoenix back on her journey (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Welty&lt;/span&gt; 502). "She walked slowly in the dark pine shadows..." (502). This statement given by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Welty&lt;/span&gt; shows the strong character of Phoenix Jackson; she is not afraid. Phoenix's strong attitude continues through the story as she accomplishes the obstacles put in front of her. Although she is strong, Phoenix is also tender like "the balanced heaviness and lightness of a grandfather clock" (502). The struggle made for the health of her grandson shows the unselfish and kind heart of Phoenix Jackson.&lt;br /&gt;Being "an old Negro woman" in the 1940's, "a bright frozen day in the early morning" relates to the kine but shady attitude the white man and the nurse express to Phoenix in the story (502). The white man displays his "bright" attitude towards old Phoenix when "he lifted her up" out of the ditch (505). A "frozen" message is sent to Phoenix by the white man as he says to her, "Now you go one home, Granny!" (505). The white man is putting Phoenix down in this statement, making the judgment that she is not strong enough to make it to town. Phoenix does not listen to the white man and continues on her journey "meditative like the chirping of a solitary little bird"  ignoring the obstacles which bring her down (502).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1647378688660688818?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1647378688660688818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1647378688660688818&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1647378688660688818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1647378688660688818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/eudora-welty-gives-description-of.html' title='A Path to be Taken'/><author><name>KSolway</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01790759338385231650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-7881090308840799832</id><published>2010-02-11T15:05:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T17:14:34.849-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lottery</title><content type='html'>Rituals like the lottery in my opinion should not be held anywhere. It promotes and exposes violence to the youth, In paragraph 2 it shows that "The children assembled first, of course"while people who might not have wanted to take part are viciously stoned if they're the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;unfortunate&lt;/span&gt; winner of the lottery.The reason rituals like this continue year after year could be that its a long time ritual of the village as shown in paragraph 5 " The original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago" and also at the end of paragraph 7 "at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort, performed by the official of the lottery"or maybe that the people have no choice but to participate. People may not move to end the lottery possibly fearing something might happen to them or to their families. A somewhat modern day counterpart to the lottery would be the running of the bulls in Spain, where 6 bulls are released onto a street and people try out running them. Every year about 250 people are injured but the ritual still goes on year after year. People continue to still practice rituals that may not seem right to other but they are acustomed to their rituals.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-7881090308840799832?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/7881090308840799832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=7881090308840799832&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7881090308840799832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7881090308840799832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/lottery_11.html' title='The Lottery'/><author><name>faisalm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17728991130225936025</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-3145260446098006113</id><published>2010-02-04T21:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T23:05:52.002-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lottery</title><content type='html'>The lottery is the story of a community becomming desensitized while viewing brutality and death. A fact that is clearly evident at the begining of the story when the children of the villiage proceed to gather stones for excution of lottery victims. Bobby Martin had already stuffed his pockets full of stones and the other boys soon followed his example p.443. This lottery of death was a pratice that had been carried out for gererations a tradition of sorts like the fourth of July except all your neighbors gather around in order to stone you to death. The people were non-chalant on this day of June 27th. "Well now" Mr. Summers "guess we better get started, get this over with so's we can get back to work".  This whole lottery concept is very curious, what is the purpose of the lottery is it such a old tradition that no one really knows why this annual necessity is still carried out. For whatever reason citizensof the community continue with the lottery. there was a mention of another town giving up the lottery and to this old man Warner states "pack of crazy fools." Is the lottery a way to control the population in order to assure provisions were abundant for all? there can be a number of posibilities. Although everyone seems fine with the lotterty when Mrs. Hutchinsons family was summoned everything changed, at the start of the lottery she was joking with her husband "get up there Bill" but then when the time came and her family was picked she no longer saw this event as the traditional lottery but more like the possible death of a loved one, she begins to complain"You didn't give him time enough to take any paper he wanted I saw you it wasn't fair".  Apparently all is well with the lottery until your name is called.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-3145260446098006113?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/3145260446098006113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=3145260446098006113&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3145260446098006113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3145260446098006113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/02/lottery.html' title='The Lottery'/><author><name>Dorian Frost</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02758719358196642583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2674622417858701542</id><published>2010-01-28T15:29:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T15:36:47.480-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rose for Emily</title><content type='html'>Emaily Frierson was not a common traditional house wife fromt he South. Emily was not traditional by far. Emily was a strong women who most respected in her town. there were many menn who lived with her. Most people looked at her as a independent women. she was brought up with well manners. Emily's house was not like any other southerners house.  The African americans servants cooked and shopped for her. The smell from her house was gut wrenching. the town complained about it quit often. Emily normally liked to be alone. She didn't accept anything from anyone not even from her own family. The town stated. " We were sure they were married". ( Emily and Homer Barron). " A Rose for Emily" wouldn't be considered a traditinal in these days and time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2674622417858701542?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2674622417858701542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2674622417858701542&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2674622417858701542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2674622417858701542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/rose-for-emily_28.html' title='A Rose for Emily'/><author><name>shantel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15875218172045972622</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-994537074892273545</id><published>2010-01-26T23:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T23:40:03.223-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Symbol of the South?</title><content type='html'>There are many different ways to view Miss Emily Grierson. She was a victim of the Old South for several reasons, but the number one reason is the way she was brought up by her father. He was the only man she knew how to love because that was the way he wanted it. I believe Miss Emily’s father is the reason she is the independent woman the town knows her as, but the fact that she was not able to let go of her father, or Homer after she killed him, gives the impression she may only have been independent to an extent. She lived in a home by herself with a servant to do her chores and cleaning for her. I disagree with the declaration of Miss Emily being a symbol of the South on the accounts of her not having the traditional ways of women in the South in that time period. Miss Emily did not have the tidy, up kept household that a traditional woman was expected to have. She also did not have the manners of a traditional Southern woman. After sending a letter to Miss Emily in regards to her not paying taxes, the city authorities received no response and had to go to her house. She retorted sternly with, “I have no taxes in Jefferson. Colonel Sartoris explained it to me. Perhaps one of you can gain access to the city records and satisfy yourselves.” (210) Speaking to an authoritative figure this way, let alone a female to a male, in this time period was almost unheard of. Overall, Miss Emily was not comparable to many women of the South in that time period.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-994537074892273545?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/994537074892273545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=994537074892273545&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/994537074892273545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/994537074892273545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/symbol-of-south.html' title='Symbol of the South?'/><author><name>jenna_olson2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15367967337282792339</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2447402004751550</id><published>2010-01-26T23:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T00:22:28.721-06:00</updated><title type='text'>So what's this I hear about a rose for Emily?</title><content type='html'>Told through the eyes of what's understood to be the townsfolk, "A Rose for Emily" can be considered basically a collection of gossip stories accumulated through different periods of Emily's life.  In the first paragraph Faulkner writes, "...our whole town went to her funeral: the men...for a fallen monument, the women...to see the inside of her house..."  Emily was framed up and forced by the people of her town to be the picturesque symbol of the "Old South."  In a way it was as if she was born into this life that was already laid out in front of her step by step; through the eyes of the townsfolk that is.  In paragraph 25 Faulkner voices through the women of the town, "So when she got to be thirty and was still single, we were not pleased exactly." Emily refused to lead the life her local society so strongly thought she ought to have.  She secluded to a private life in her home to get away from her judgmental neighbors.  Consequently too long of a secluded life destroyed her social skills and slowly sent her into a quiet psychotic bliss. She was unable to keep a stable relationship and when it seemed as though the love of her life was going to leave her she, in her state of psychosis, poisoned him and preserved his body to spend with her night after night :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2447402004751550?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2447402004751550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2447402004751550&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2447402004751550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2447402004751550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/so-whats-this-i-hear-about-rose-for.html' title='So what&apos;s this I hear about a rose for Emily?'/><author><name>Andrew Hanson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05604494746967458668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2897252392700117197</id><published>2010-01-26T23:12:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T23:13:22.137-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Insane or Unjust</title><content type='html'>Teachers should let their students interpret ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ by Gilman anyway they see best fit. It takes away their motion of thought when you limit the perspectives someone can have when reading the story. At the end the character has several ghost like qualities involving creeping and the way she responds by whispering in a very soft tone to her husband and his supposed reaction to her is unnoticed like she isn’t even saying anything as it is. (Paragraph 255-267). Feminists view points in the story included wanting to write and visit family members (Paragraphs76-77, 112), although that doesn’t last for very long and she ends up doing as John or Jane say. When putting the ideas of a feminist compatible with a gothic ghost story does not really fit what is going on in the story. At very short times during the story does it ever present the possibility of being either but not enough evidence of one gives the story away for being feminist or gothic. The only way the two can be compatible is by sharing moments in the story with which they could only share a common ground. Other then that the feministic and gothic view cannot be comparable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2897252392700117197?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2897252392700117197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2897252392700117197&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2897252392700117197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2897252392700117197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/insane-or-unjust.html' title='Insane or Unjust'/><author><name>Randee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08139892687986971399</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-909098972746804291</id><published>2010-01-26T23:11:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T23:26:41.494-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Story of an Hour</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Kate Chopin did a great job with writing "The Story of An Hour", even though the story was relatively short, she was able to use imagery sucessfully to get her point across. I believe the story rejects the "postures of femininity", the reasoning behind my statement is that  Mrs.Mallard is relieved to find out that her husband has died. In paragraph ten " she said it over and over under her breath:"Free,free,free". It's as if a big burden has been lifted off of her. As she was standing by the window she say the clouds open up and blue skies appearing. Normal people who are in a commited and loving relationship won't react like that if there spouse died. One could even argue that she may have been trying to get a divorce but back in 1894 women didn't have rights like they do today, so by her passing away she was able to be out of the marraige. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-909098972746804291?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/909098972746804291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=909098972746804291&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/909098972746804291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/909098972746804291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/story-of-hour_2355.html' title='The Story of an Hour'/><author><name>faisalm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17728991130225936025</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-124545154924382588</id><published>2010-01-26T21:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T21:54:16.982-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Any Thing but Tradition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Emily Grierson was anything but traditional.  The traditional woman would have been one who kept a neat home, had perfect manners, and passed traditions down through generations.   Emily did not run her home as a traditional woman in the south would have.  She had her Negro servant who did all of the cooking and also shopping for Emily.  The house was always described in a state of mess throughout the story as well.  There was also the smell that came from the house that the town’s people complained about continuously.  If Emily was a traditional woman she would have wanted to present herself in a manner that was accepted and not offensive, such as the smell.  The way in which Emily treated other people directly is not in the typical thinking of traditional women.  She seems to be a woman who is content to by alone, and not wanting to accept any handouts from others.  When she needed help she was not willing to even reach out to her own family for assistance.  Emily also was not able to pass down any of her beliefs or traditions to any of her own. Even though there was much hope in the relationship between Emily and Homer Barron.  As the town’s people stated, “…we were sure that they were to be married” (213).  Throughout the information that we received from the short story of “A Rose for Emily” there were many things that would not be considered as traditional for women of the time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-124545154924382588?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/124545154924382588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=124545154924382588&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/124545154924382588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/124545154924382588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/any-thing-but-tradition.html' title='Any Thing but Tradition'/><author><name>Bridgette_L</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09386029767952052410</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-3844304885092223398</id><published>2010-01-26T21:51:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T23:02:44.137-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Story of a Wronged Woman</title><content type='html'>Kate Chopin was writing about wronged womanhood in "Story of an Hour." It is the story of a woman who has no rights, and is destined for a lifetime of emotional suffering and longing for freedom. It is quite obvious that she does not find happiness in her marriage, by quotes such as, "And yet she had loved him - sometimes. Often she had not" (198). The author illustrates &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;women's&lt;/span&gt; lifestyles back then when she writes, "There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself" (198). This makes me believe Mrs. Mallard's marriage was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;arranged, giving her no say in who she spends her life with, and giving her no chance at true love. She didn't get to fulfill any life long dreams, and spent her days catering to her husband. "It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long" (199). This also gives the idea that the woman in the story is not able to escape this unhappy marriage. She did not have the legal rights to divorce him, and she had no way out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can also see how the author, Kate Chopin, rejects the postures of femininity in the way that Mrs. Mallard longed for freedom. It was unlike most women to be as happy or relieved as she was to hear of her husband's passing, which is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;illustrated&lt;/span&gt; in the quote, "She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance" (197). She &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;whispers&lt;/span&gt; the words, "Free, free, free" (198). She is finding more of a positive outlook in her husband's death than anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome" (198). We share, with this woman, an hour of hope and a glimpse of what could be her future of happiness...the kind of happiness that every woman deserves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-3844304885092223398?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/3844304885092223398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=3844304885092223398&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3844304885092223398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3844304885092223398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/story-of-wronged-woman.html' title='Story of a Wronged Woman'/><author><name>Angell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09295904990915969061</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_biOs2IGoEgQ/S15UwOmSkQI/AAAAAAAAAAc/oPluPIeHuJg/S220/15145_205710618102_678678102_3980606_764189_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6194252797888841851</id><published>2010-01-26T21:37:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T22:15:32.254-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Story of an Hour</title><content type='html'>Although short, "Story of an Hour" by Kate Chopin portrayed a very well-described message to the readers about just how opressed the women of that particular era actually were, well, after a few times of reading it. Once the gears started turning, and after reading the information regarding the setting of the story, the message sent was quite blunt; women were opressed during this era, and Mrs. Mallard finally got her breath of fresh air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something hit her while looking out that window in paragraph 5. As she looked out upon the scenery, somber and depressed, she began to notice that the shackles of marriage were unlocked from her; she was no longer held down by a more significant figure. Of Course Mr. Mallard wasn't abusive or anything of that nature, but there was such a hierarchy during this time, and since Mr. Mallard was gone, she could live life as she truly wanted. An excerpt from paragraph 14, which states "There would be no one to live for these coming years; she would live for herself." (Chopin, 1894) emphasises this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is much imagery that could be noticed within paragraph 5 that relates to her situation. She is looking out whe window and catching every detail, as well as noticing just how much there is out there. The symbolism of the scenic view out the window also relates to her situation; she's there, to witness the freedom of life, with no opression or boundaries that accompany the hierarchy of men. Of course she was still saddened by the trajedy, but no human is apt to sacrifice freedom for happiness, in some ways, freedom and happiness are conjoined.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6194252797888841851?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6194252797888841851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6194252797888841851&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6194252797888841851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6194252797888841851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/story-of-hour_26.html' title='Story of an Hour'/><author><name>ATSwenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11087478610123353393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-837359421514369798</id><published>2010-01-26T21:09:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T21:29:07.904-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The south was the victim</title><content type='html'>Question number eight of Reading and Reacting for "&lt;u&gt;A Rose for Emily&lt;/u&gt;" suggests that Emily was a victim of the south. I couldn't disagree more. Over and over, Emily bucks the traditions of the south and those around her are forced to cope with her rogue personality. When the town was being set up for mail delivery, it would seem a source of pride to hang your new mailbox and anxiously await your first piece of important mail. To the contrary, Emily refuses to let the town hang a mailbox or numbers by her door (214).  With all the pride that would accompany having a nice house, surely having an odor emanating from it would be taken care of immediately.  Emily's &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;stubbornness&lt;/span&gt; is so well known that the townsmen fear bringing this to her attention. Instead they take care of the problem themselves (211). Again Emily is anything but a southern belle.&lt;br /&gt;  Having a proper burial for ones kin would surely be tradition in the south. It would be an opportunity to bring up all of the deceased great accomplishments, even if there weren't any. This would have been a chance for Emily and her fathers name to be elevated. Again, Emily would have no part of it.  Another tradition of the south was to marry within ones class and maintain "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nobless&lt;/span&gt; oblige" (212). Emily's choice to date Homer, a day laborer was showing she was one to do her own thing and not worry about what society thought about her.&lt;br /&gt;  Surely a woman of this time knew to respect a man, especially a professional. Not Emily, as can be seen by how she treats the druggist; refusing to answer his question even though it was the "law"(213).  Last but not least is the apparent disregard she showed for the minister. Such disregard that "he refused to go back again" (213).&lt;br /&gt;  Emily, over and over, refused to followed the southern traditions laid down by society before her. She made the south a victim of her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-837359421514369798?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/837359421514369798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=837359421514369798&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/837359421514369798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/837359421514369798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/south-was-victim.html' title='The south was the victim'/><author><name>corey walkin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12511460408820889328</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-8746285662267075362</id><published>2010-01-26T19:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T20:06:26.734-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lack Of Socialization?</title><content type='html'>In the story, "A Rose for Emily", it is difficult to tell if Miss Emily &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Grierson&lt;/span&gt; is a victim of chivalry, formal manners, and tradition because she did not do a lot of talking to other people. She did not fully show weather she had all these characteristics, but from some of the context it seems like she did not. When Miss Emily was arguing with the Mayor of Jefferson, she was fairly rude about it. Someone with formal manners would have  just gave in and paid the taxes that they owed.  She was rude to the druggist when he tried to offer a different poison and she did not answer when he told her that they are required to find out what it will be used for. Although Miss Emily did not have formal memories, she kept to the traditions. She refused to pay the taxes because her taxes were remitted some time before, so she thought it should stay that way. If Miss Emily had been more social than she was, it would have showed that she had all these qualities. Miss Emily probably wasn't trying to be rude, she just did not have the social experience that the other people of that time had.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-8746285662267075362?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/8746285662267075362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=8746285662267075362&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8746285662267075362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8746285662267075362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/lack-of-socialization.html' title='Lack Of Socialization?'/><author><name>Megan323</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16243814446508774444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-7409735575326867297</id><published>2010-01-26T19:03:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T19:41:20.919-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Her Own Traditions - A Rose for Emily</title><content type='html'>Emily Grierson was not your average traditional house wife from the south. As a matter of fact she was nothing near traditional. Emily was a strong southern woman who many respected in her town, especially the men who lived there. She was known to be very independent and didn't back down from no one not even the Board of Aldermen. Its quoted in the beginning of passage 7, "she didnt even ask them to sit". That passage was referring to the Board of Aldermen which clearly showed what little respect she had for men. Emily had her own traditions, which meant she did things her own way and gave no explaination to no one. In passage 41, the druggiest is asking her to explain what she needs arsenic for? Its quoted in passage 42, "Miss Emily just stared at him, her head titled back in order to look him eye for eye, until he looked away and went adn got the arsenic and wrapped it up". Emily was very intimidating and feared, thats why she was nothing like the other women in her town. Because back in those days women had no voice and it was clear that Emily did. Emily always kept to herself and always gave people something to talk about. Emily ironically was a lot like her father, very dominant and well respected and was always driving people away. Its stated in passage 28 that Emily's father had driven all the men in Emily's life away. In the story A Rose for Emily, Emily runs nearly a lot of men and women away just like her father.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-7409735575326867297?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/7409735575326867297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=7409735575326867297&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7409735575326867297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7409735575326867297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/her-own-traditions-rose-for-emily.html' title='Her Own Traditions - A Rose for Emily'/><author><name>ChantayDiaz07</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15665538898789100149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1510745611664707595</id><published>2010-01-26T17:58:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T18:15:25.673-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The old south and Emily Grierson</title><content type='html'>~ Emily Grierson really isnt a symbol of the south. She really didn't go with tradition of the house wife who cooks, cleans and caters to their husband. When growing up her father was always shooing the guys that she showed any interest in. She was never really showed how to be respectful to men. She eventualy got set in her own ways and started her own "traditions." She stayed in her own little world and kept to herself. Everyone who was of the old south traditions new she was different and tried to find out all her secrets. The story was not a very good example of someone of the south.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1510745611664707595?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1510745611664707595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1510745611664707595&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1510745611664707595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1510745611664707595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/old-south-and-emily-grierson.html' title='The old south and Emily Grierson'/><author><name>FarrenPederson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14608433252848001465</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-287796546869553437</id><published>2010-01-26T17:44:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T22:18:32.093-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Feminist vs. Ghostly</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;"The Yellow Wallpaper" is no doubt a feminist story, although it does seem to fall into a ghostly story as well.&lt;br /&gt;We know the narrator is sick with postpartum depression throughout the story. John, the narrator's husband,as a physician brings her away in order to cure her. "Personally, I believe that congenial work, with excitement and change, would to me good" the narrator explains&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" &gt; (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" &gt;Gilman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" &gt; 394). Instead, John locks her up in a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" &gt;nursery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" &gt; and orders her to rest. He is doing what seems like to be the best thing for her, but he is not really trying to understand his wife's needs. Taking into consideration the time period, we know that men had much more power than women. John shows us his power in paragraph 133 when he refers to his wife as a "little girl".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" &gt;We find throughout the story that this "cure" is not working so well for our narrator, with the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" &gt;vulgar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" &gt; descriptions of the wallpaper and such. The wallpaper seems to have taken the narrator's identity at the end of the story, creating a ghostly description of herself; "I always lock the door when I creep by daylight" (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" &gt;Gilman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" &gt; 403). Creeping is an activity usually taken on by a ghost.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" &gt;In conclusion, the lack of freedom given to the narrator by her husband John, leads to a ghostly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" &gt;description&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" &gt; of her character.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-287796546869553437?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/287796546869553437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=287796546869553437&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/287796546869553437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/287796546869553437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/feminist-vs-ghostly.html' title='Feminist vs. Ghostly'/><author><name>KSolway</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01790759338385231650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2917341486779373391</id><published>2010-01-26T14:55:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T14:58:45.360-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Story of An Hour</title><content type='html'>In the Story of an Hour, author Kate Chopin may lead a person to believe that Kate used her literature as a way of showing wronged womanhood in the late 19th century. Everyone knows that women did not have the same rights as men did in the late 18th century and into the 19th century. Some women were not given the choice of whom they are to marry. In Story of an Hour Mrs. Mallard was much younger than Mr. Mallard was, and that may lead a person to believe that their marriage could have be arranged.  It’s quoted at the beginning of the 8th paragraph that Mrs. Mallard- “She is young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength”. Another passage from the story where Mrs. Mallard led me to believe that this may have been an arranged marriage is when she is quoted saying “Free, free, free”. Mrs. Mallard was not mistreated in her marriage to Mr. Mallard she just wanted something more and to know what else was out there in the world. Little quotes by Mrs. Mallard throughout the story like- “The notes of a distant song”, “whose eyes were fixed away off yonder”, “she would live for herself” made me believe that she wanted more out of her life. Quotes like the previous ones mentioned led me to believe that the author Kate Chopin used social justice and inequalities in her literature.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2917341486779373391?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2917341486779373391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2917341486779373391&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2917341486779373391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2917341486779373391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/story-of-hour.html' title='The Story of An Hour'/><author><name>jeremiah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17487331086466871553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6593280442895689416</id><published>2010-01-26T14:11:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T14:12:12.493-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pratice Blog</title><content type='html'>Testing... Pratice Blog!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6593280442895689416?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6593280442895689416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6593280442895689416&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6593280442895689416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6593280442895689416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/pratice-blog.html' title='Pratice Blog'/><author><name>jeremiah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17487331086466871553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-3438704578468064857</id><published>2010-01-25T20:13:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T22:56:39.200-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rose For Emily</title><content type='html'>Pondering the question of Miss Emily being a symbol of the old south one may conclude in some aspects she was. For instance it's very apparent in the story how much influance a male figure who happens to be her father has over her life, mainly concerning "all the young men her farther had drivin away" It is possible that Emily truly admired some of the young men, but due to the fact it was considerd improper at that time to disagree with a man her hands were tied. It was common pratice for a husband or father to be in charge of making desicions for the women and it was not considerd an act of oppression thats just the way things were at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand Emily was somewhat of a paradox concerning the virtuous southern women. Emily's periodic interactions with other men was contracdictory to the image of the traditional southern belle, for example when representatives of the aldermen came calling she was not at all hospitable or respectful, this certaintly was not a symbol of southern womenhood. upon them entering  to her home she did not offer a seat to them. And when the authorities politely inquried  about her back taxes stating "Miss Emily. Didn't you get a notice from the sheriff signed by him?" Emily curtly replied "I received a paper yes perhaps he considers himself the sheriff I have no taxes in Jefferson". Also there is the matter of the scandalous affair she carried on with a laborer without the benifit of marriage, this was considered taboo behavior. Emily did what she felt without really caring what people thought of her.In Essence Emily was a victim of traditional southern values for one she was never allowed the luxury of choosing her own mate and she was forced to let her father make important decisions for her that directly effected her existance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-3438704578468064857?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/3438704578468064857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=3438704578468064857&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3438704578468064857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3438704578468064857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/rose-for-emily.html' title='A Rose For Emily'/><author><name>Dorian Frost</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02758719358196642583</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-8041852430117410842</id><published>2010-01-25T19:18:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T19:34:01.889-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Storm- Insecure Relationship</title><content type='html'>Obviously the relationship between Calixta and Bobinot was not totally stable. The reader is bound to figure this out when Alcee was invited into the family's house by Calixta without her even thinking about Bobinot's thoughts on the situation. She let him in because they used to be lovers in the past, and she obviously knew that her husband was not coming home soon because of the storm. Calixta obviously had her husband of the current time on her mind when she quoted- "I got enough to do! An' there's Bobinot with Bibi out in that storm- if he only didn't left Friedheimer's!" That quote is saying that she hopes that her husband does not leave the store and think about coming home because she has other plans to do during the storm that does not involve her husband that obviously does not fulfill her needs. The reader knows that Calixta and her old lover still have feelings for each other as the sleep with each other during the storm and re ignite old feelings they had. This is showing that Calixta just wants to have that feeling of love again, so maybe Bobinot is not showing enough love; as in the beginning of the story they say that he is a simple minded man. Now after the storm is gone and Bobinot and Bibi come back home the weird part is, is that Calixta acts extremely happy, like because of the night spent with her old lover changed her into a different person. She plays it off as nothing happened, knowing that her family will have no idea. The ending of the story bothered me very much because the reader knows that the simple minded husband that went out of his way to get his wife shrimp because he knows she loves it, will never know that his wife has had an affair and she will never tell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-8041852430117410842?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/8041852430117410842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=8041852430117410842&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8041852430117410842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8041852430117410842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/storm-insecure-relationship.html' title='The Storm- Insecure Relationship'/><author><name>Nick W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05111428274278709256</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-8087512448201448081</id><published>2010-01-21T21:40:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T21:40:58.056-06:00</updated><title type='text'>testing</title><content type='html'>testing testing 123&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-8087512448201448081?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/8087512448201448081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=8087512448201448081&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8087512448201448081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8087512448201448081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/testing_21.html' title='testing'/><author><name>corey walkin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12511460408820889328</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1185789809907602178</id><published>2010-01-21T15:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T15:38:23.710-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Testing 1, 2, 3, Testing.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; :)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1185789809907602178?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1185789809907602178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1185789809907602178&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1185789809907602178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1185789809907602178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/testing-1-2-3-testing.html' title='Testing 1, 2, 3, Testing.'/><author><name>SamanthaAshley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04522049465016248289</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6517040002131526572</id><published>2010-01-21T15:13:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T15:13:49.156-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Test</title><content type='html'>Right on&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6517040002131526572?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6517040002131526572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6517040002131526572&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6517040002131526572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6517040002131526572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/test.html' title='Test'/><author><name>Andrew Hanson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05604494746967458668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1132265024058899117</id><published>2010-01-19T16:30:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T16:31:39.473-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Testing</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1132265024058899117?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1132265024058899117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1132265024058899117&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1132265024058899117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1132265024058899117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/testing_19.html' title='Testing'/><author><name>Jenn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10976582132364290542</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rqkePxhXV30/SaGuylexqjI/AAAAAAAAAJk/5aEPqth4Ll8/S220/Snapshot_20090120_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1289081009568983570</id><published>2010-01-19T16:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T16:31:31.822-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Testing</title><content type='html'>This is a practice post. Yay me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1289081009568983570?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1289081009568983570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1289081009568983570&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1289081009568983570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1289081009568983570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/testing.html' title='Testing'/><author><name>Jenn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10976582132364290542</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rqkePxhXV30/SaGuylexqjI/AAAAAAAAAJk/5aEPqth4Ll8/S220/Snapshot_20090120_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-132610838273793644</id><published>2010-01-19T16:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T16:20:32.082-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring 2010</title><content type='html'>Welcome to a new term of 1102! The posts below are from former students. Check them out if you would like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-132610838273793644?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/132610838273793644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=132610838273793644&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/132610838273793644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/132610838273793644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2010/01/spring-2010.html' title='Spring 2010'/><author><name>Jenn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10976582132364290542</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rqkePxhXV30/SaGuylexqjI/AAAAAAAAAJk/5aEPqth4Ll8/S220/Snapshot_20090120_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-4500547606582306799</id><published>2009-04-09T21:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T21:30:34.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flood Effort</title><content type='html'>During the recent flood I have been doing various things to help stop the flood. The area where my house is located was expected to flood pretty badly. Monday we started filling some sand bags around the area. On tuesday we started at 10 a.m. an ended around 6:00 p.m. During this period of time we had a bus of Detroit Lake High School students come down and help us sandbag. It was nice to have so much help because everything worked out more smoothly with more hands. On Friday I went over to my aunts house, who lives in South Moorhead, and helped them sandbag. Thier situation was a lot worse because the river is right behind thier house in parts. We got everything secured at thier house but right as we finished a dyke broke. That was quite scary to see because we didnt know what had happened right away an all we saw were people running away from this area. A fire fighter came over and told us all to be in our cars ready to evacuate, but in the end they fixed the breach so it was ok. I&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-4500547606582306799?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/4500547606582306799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=4500547606582306799&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4500547606582306799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4500547606582306799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/04/flood-effort.html' title='Flood Effort'/><author><name>Court D</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6669271011235324865</id><published>2009-04-07T18:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T18:47:19.960-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flood '09</title><content type='html'>The flood this year has been very chaotic.  When my parents first told me about it I didn't think it was too serious. I realized when they canceled class for two weeks that it must be. My house is located just three blocks away from the river. Thankfully my house is alright, at least for now. My family spent a week at my lake cabin. I would have rather been in town and go to class than at my lake.Thankfully our community has worked together and thousands of people volunteered sandbagging. I don't understand why we haven't built a better dike after the flood in 1997. Hopefully this doesn't happen again this year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6669271011235324865?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6669271011235324865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6669271011235324865&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6669271011235324865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6669271011235324865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/04/flood-09.html' title='Flood &apos;09'/><author><name>Paige</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-3013132479089710935</id><published>2009-04-07T11:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T11:51:25.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'>flood</title><content type='html'>The flood this year has been pretty intense. I am one part of the area of moorhead that had to evacuate my home, but thank goodness I am back in it now. I feel though as if our town probably should have done a littl better job on creating a better system for something like this. It happened in 1997, and there will probably be plenty of more floods in the years to come. The city should think about building a better dike, or do something to help out the city of fargo/moorhead. Just like Grand Forks built those gates, so they are doing just fine. Our community has done so much to try and prevent this flood from getting any worse, and I think everyone has done a great job! hopefully their predictions about another crest is wrong!! cross those fingers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-3013132479089710935?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/3013132479089710935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=3013132479089710935&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3013132479089710935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3013132479089710935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/04/flood.html' title='flood'/><author><name>actor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-5929751546618074594</id><published>2009-04-06T11:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T11:51:08.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Flood of 2009</title><content type='html'>The last couple of weeks have been very hectic around the Fargo-Moorhead area.  It's the time of year where disaster can occur.  It's been 12 years since the last major flood and it's happened again.  I have been out helping in neighborhoods and at the Fargodome and have never seen so many people work together.  There are no words to describe it.  The Fargo-Moorhead area is like a big family.  I recall going to the a church to help and they were turning away volunteers because they had so many.  That is just unreal.  That's a huge credit to all the college students in the area and anyone who helped.  The flood has gotten better, but it's definitely not over!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-5929751546618074594?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/5929751546618074594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=5929751546618074594&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5929751546618074594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5929751546618074594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/04/flood-of-2009.html' title='The Flood of 2009'/><author><name>Justin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-5595284100093288960</id><published>2009-04-06T10:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T10:53:10.532-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We Flood it, It Floods us!</title><content type='html'>Alright, my title my seem confusing, but it makes sense to me and that's all that matters. Read with an open mind and respect for my beliefs. During the last 3 weeks, I didn't fill one sandbag. However, I did work on my days off at Avis-rent-a-car to help Red Cross and FEMA get all there cars they rented from us so they had transportation. I feel pretty good about that. I hadn't seen any of the water until I took a vehicle down to the Moorhead Center Mall for some CNN reporters. It looked pretty crazy, and I was shocked. Being a Biology major, I love this earth and have more respect for nature and all the other organisms in it than I do for the selfish overpopulating humans that live here. All we do is reproduce and since we have the most complex brains we think we are better than everything else. We are constantly destroying what we have and where we live with demolition, deforestation, and pollution without a care in the world that when Mother Nature comes in and ruins a few lives and destroys a city or two it kind of makes me a bit happier inside. I'm not saying that if it were me getting my house flooded that I wouldn't be angry and fighting to save what I have. I am just saying that we deserve disasters caused by Mother Nature. When you think about it, currently it is doing alot less to us with one half ass flood than what we do to it everyday. "Oh lets destroy all this land and build some shit because money is everything and our wilderness is nothing profitable." This flood is telling us that we are taking it too far as a population. I do feel for our community because we are North Dakota and Minnesota. I don't know about all of Minnesota but North Dakota is pretty damn good about not taking things too far and not pushing the limits and quite simply being clean. We must learn from our mistakes and from what Mother Nature tells us. Show some respect people. Nobody knows where we come from. All it is is we evolved a complex brain and money is everything and money buys us things and we love money. So in conclusion, I feel that any natural disaster such and a hurricane or a flood is well deserved by us and we must learn before it is too late. Before we cause our own extinction we have to open our eyes, make some changes, and respect every other living thing like it was your mother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-5595284100093288960?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/5595284100093288960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=5595284100093288960&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5595284100093288960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5595284100093288960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/04/we-flood-it-it-floods-us.html' title='We Flood it, It Floods us!'/><author><name>jase</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2707541987888213044</id><published>2009-04-06T09:40:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T09:53:08.476-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flood 2009</title><content type='html'>What a scary time in our lives.  I didn't live in Fargo for the flood in 1997 so this was a new situation for me, it was kind of crazy everything that was happening around us.  I went to the dome and helped sandbag there and it was amazing to see all the people that were there helping and also I talked to some people that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;weren't&lt;/span&gt; even from Fargo, this one guy said that he was just here helping cause his daughters go to college here. I also met these boys who were probably 12 years old and they were from Rodgers, MN. I think that its amazing the amount of support that the town of Fargo-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Moorhead&lt;/span&gt; received during this time of need.  I knew that the flood was real but for me it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; really hit me till they evacuated &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Meritcare&lt;/span&gt;.  I have always felt secure that I have a job and that working in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;health care&lt;/span&gt; field you will always have people sick and will always have a job.  But when they evacuated the hospital and I no longer had a job to go to that is when the Flood 2009 effected me personally.  Working in a hospital for six years I know that they do not close a hospital unless it is serious and Thursday night when they evacuated &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; when I knew that it was bad.  My home is not effected by the flood but I feel so bad for those people that have lost their homes and they are in my thoughts and prayers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2707541987888213044?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2707541987888213044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2707541987888213044&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2707541987888213044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2707541987888213044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/04/flood-2009_06.html' title='Flood 2009'/><author><name>Jen E</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1817805860449620218</id><published>2009-04-05T15:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T16:08:47.517-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fargo Moorhead Flood of 2009</title><content type='html'>Here we go again, reliving 1997 Flood in the red River Valley. But this time worse then before. I had taken some great pictures from the 1997 flood and was very close to a lot of people living South of Fargo. I drove school bus there for many a years and had gotten very close to the families. My house was located on the north side of Fargo couple of blocks away from Mickelson Field. Where the water was very high every night after being in the bus hauling sandbaggers I would walk  down the alley to 8TH st and look at how high the water was. Being kept busy during that time helped keep my mind clear and my emotions at bay. This time around I used my talents as a bus driver again. After an emergency meeting at the MHD district office. I helped evacuate Eventide nursing home driving in white out conditions and very icy roads delivering the elderly people to different Cities in MN and nursing homes. From then on we hauled sandbaggers, police, guards men, and fire fighters around the city of Moorhead. I was stationed out the district office and was on call for anything that could happen. I thought of same details that the ones in charge over looked and gave my advise to them. Today I am still on call but I am able to do it from my home for just in case things come up. I did Sandbag my ex sister in laws home but we lost the fight against overland flooding and her home is still  under water. To bad beautiful home  to go  to such a waste.  My body and mind are fighting me  my back and legs are feeling more pain then before my mind is mushy hard to concentrate on things that need to be done.I am lucky that my home is not in any danger of water but it could be in danger of losing it sewer and water if the dikes fail. Still have a suitcase packed and I have a safe place to go if needed. My thoughts and prayers go out to those who have lost their homes to the flood waters and hope they can recover from their losses. To all those who helped with the first battle  a big thank you and keep on your toes for the war in not over yet second crest is on it's way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1817805860449620218?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1817805860449620218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1817805860449620218&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1817805860449620218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1817805860449620218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/04/fargo-moorhead-flood-of-2009.html' title='Fargo Moorhead Flood of 2009'/><author><name>Mari Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2481887421527229685</id><published>2009-04-02T23:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T23:18:42.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flood 2009</title><content type='html'>When I first heard about the flood I was almost in denial. There was no way that I thought the FM area would flood like it did. Until one day, I woke up and saw army tucks blocking all the roads to get to my house. I live one street up from the river in south &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;moorhead&lt;/span&gt; so I then began to panic. The next day there was a code red alert for our area. That means we had to move everything from our basement upstairs, pack a bag and get out! Once the national guard came knocking on our door we then had five minutes to grab our stuff and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;immediately&lt;/span&gt; leave. Then I started freaking out. I sat in my basement hoping and praying that this would not be the last time I see it without water in it. I can't believe this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;disaster&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;happened&lt;/span&gt; to everyone in the area. It's amazing to see everyone come together as a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;community&lt;/span&gt; and help. I pray for all of those that were and are being affected by this evil flood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2481887421527229685?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2481887421527229685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2481887421527229685&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2481887421527229685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2481887421527229685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/04/flood-2009.html' title='Flood 2009'/><author><name>abbie</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-4246992719575157563</id><published>2009-04-02T22:34:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T22:42:54.887-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flood Fight '09</title><content type='html'>When I first heard the news on the flood I did not realize how serious it was. I live in a part of south Fargo that is greatly affected by the flood threat, which makes this whole situation very scary and stressful. I went to bed the night before the big flood fight began, not knowing what I would wake up to the next day. When I woke up the next morning and looked out my window I saw tons of buses sitting in front of my home, dropping of hundreds of volunteers and semi load after semi load of sand and sandbags driving past. I was too young to remember the 1997 flood, so it was an absolute shock to see this operation first hand. I spent the next week making sandbags, tossing sandbags and walking the dike overnight to make sure that the pumps were still working and the leaks were under control. My family also had to clear everything out of our home and into a moving truck for time being. Not knowing the outcome of the situation and hearing more and more bad news everyday, such as the crest rising, made for one of the most stressful weeks i've ever gone through. I am happy to say that so far we won the battle and will continue to monitor the river level and dike until the flood is over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-4246992719575157563?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/4246992719575157563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=4246992719575157563&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4246992719575157563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4246992719575157563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/04/flood-fight-09.html' title='Flood Fight &apos;09'/><author><name>Bridgitte L.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-3569477512089376406</id><published>2009-03-29T22:31:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T22:51:40.560-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flood of 09</title><content type='html'>Reality did not hit me until Friday when I drove over Veteran's Memorial Bridge on 10.  You could never see any water when driving over it before and that night I started to cry, the water was to the sides of the bridge.  Oh My God kept going through my mind and I immediately started to pray.   I went to the hotel that night to relax and warm up in the hot tub after sandbagging that night with a friend that was also helping.  I did not realize the hotel was right next to a land built dike, I then began to freak out "why am I here why am I here."  I am glad that I went though if I never would have seen that river I would still probably be in denial.  Seeing all the people that come out to sandbag was incredible, people from the cities who have no family or friends around here still came because they really wanted to help.  Seeing the outreach is amazing.   Even though the river is going down we still have a lot of work ahead of us.  The clean up has not even begun and will take months to do.  People will need to find new homes because theirs have been completely damaged or need new construction to rebuild their home.  In these times some people may not have the money to fix their home.   We all need to stay strong and keep helping others.  I hope everybody stays safe and strong.   I can not wait to start discussing stories again and win this fight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-3569477512089376406?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/3569477512089376406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=3569477512089376406&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3569477512089376406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3569477512089376406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/flood-of-09.html' title='Flood of 09'/><author><name>Sarah K</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-5187009856134718311</id><published>2009-03-27T14:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T14:38:57.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Flood</title><content type='html'>When I first heard about the flood coming and the predictions i wasn't too worried about it. I figured that it would just be little and there would be no need to worry. I started reading the papers and watching the news and saw some of the footage of the flood and how bad it really was. The papers were mentioning evacuation and i was mostly just concerned about the people who were close to the river. I feel such sincerity for them i wish there was more that we could do. I have great respect for those people who have been sandbagging consistantly!! This takes much effort. I didn't begin to worry until i heard that the dam may not hold up, which means the water could reach all the way to west acres shopping center!! I can't believe this is happening again its a reoccurance of 1997 but only WORSE!! How could this be?? I pray that these families who are suffering from the flood are able to be safe and get help and i pray that things don't get as bad as they are predicting. I am thankful to God that our home has not been affected. I hope people remember to be safe and considerate to others by offering help to those who need it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-5187009856134718311?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/5187009856134718311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=5187009856134718311&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5187009856134718311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/5187009856134718311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/flood.html' title='The Flood'/><author><name>RJones</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6045608885923082978</id><published>2009-03-26T16:20:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T16:29:00.803-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fargo Flood 2009</title><content type='html'>Wow.  It's very frightening what is going on here.  From a distance many could see that this winter was going to lead to flooding, but not of this magnitude.  I myself am shocked at how bad things have gotten.  Family members are calling and saying they are being evacuated and it's just sad to hear.  I went sandbagging the other day and it was good to see how many people were there.  I started at the dome and the place was packed with people coming and going.  It really was an inspiring sight.  I really hope that we can keep up with all of the flooding.  This whole situation has really left me feeling just awstruck.  I never thought that stuff like this would happen here, so close to home.  I remember Grand Forks in 1997, but never really thought it would happen again.  I just can't believe the magnitude of this flood.  Everyone I know is being affected by this disaster, whether it be school, work, or other things.  It's just really sad that this is happening and causing so many problems for people.  I really hope it gets under control soon, and does as little damage as possible at this point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6045608885923082978?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6045608885923082978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6045608885923082978&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6045608885923082978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6045608885923082978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/fargo-flood-2009.html' title='Fargo Flood 2009'/><author><name>Matt P.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-169986503930690220</id><published>2009-03-25T20:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T20:56:19.640-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fargo/Moorhead Flood 09'</title><content type='html'>Its the time of season that is thought about often through out the year, and now we are faced once again with mother natures mad waters. Personally this is the first time I have ever had to worry about the flooding problem in the Fargo/Moorhead area. I grew up by the lakes not having to worry about them overflowing.  During this past week I have come to realize a little bit more in depth of how these people feel to have there homes and memory's in jeopardy. The amount of community involvement and physical motivation needed has been nothing short of amazing. The aches that are gained from knowing you have helped others in a time of crisis is priceless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-169986503930690220?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/169986503930690220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=169986503930690220&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/169986503930690220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/169986503930690220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/fargomoorhead-flood-09.html' title='Fargo/Moorhead Flood 09&apos;'/><author><name>Angie Wavra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-92978163317104515</id><published>2009-03-25T17:53:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T18:05:19.277-05:00</updated><title type='text'>F-M Flood</title><content type='html'>The past few days have been quite trying for people in the Fargo-Moorhead area. Having grown up in the western part of North Dakota where it is usually dry and droughts are more common, the flooding here is a new experience. Monday night, a couple friends and I went and sandbagged in North Fargo in the rain and mud. The people there were in good spirits and making jokes and having a fairly good time considering the conditions. The homeowners were very friendly and offered the volunteers chili, hot dish, and apple cider. They also mentioned that college students made the difference in the 1997 flood and would have the same influence for this one. Tuesday night at the FargoDome filling sandbags was also an amazing experience to see all the people working together. Watching all the trucks, bobcats, and forklifts moving around amongst the people was quite the sight. This week has certainly been an inspiration and example of a community coming together as one against a great threat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-92978163317104515?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/92978163317104515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=92978163317104515&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/92978163317104515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/92978163317104515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/f-m-flood.html' title='F-M Flood'/><author><name>Dustin E.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-7241659769052655307</id><published>2009-03-25T10:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T11:44:49.301-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flood 09'</title><content type='html'>The reality of what is coming has hit the residents of the Fargo/Moorhead area. This area knows what its like for raging waters to come rushing in and threaten life as we know it, but every time the waters rise people are filled with fear. Families have made their homes and memories here, and this flood threatens to take it all away. With every volunteer that comes out it gives residents hope of saving all that they have. Some volunteers may be family and friends, but most are absolute strangers. The best thing about this whole situation is people helping people. It doesn't matter if you know anyone or not. It is the fact that one person can help make a difference. The aches and pains from sandbagging are only temporary but the memories of doing a good deed will last for a life time.  Whether the waters do rush in or not, at least the cities of Fargo and Moorhead can say everyone gave it their best shot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-7241659769052655307?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/7241659769052655307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=7241659769052655307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7241659769052655307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7241659769052655307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/flood-09.html' title='Flood 09&apos;'/><author><name>Jacobson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-8865420823205875749</id><published>2009-03-25T06:41:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T06:53:38.241-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More to it Than Shown</title><content type='html'>The flood gets very little coverage of the people underneath. It doesn't just compose &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;sandbaggers&lt;/span&gt;, but the people who bring them refreshment, the people who drive the trucks, and those that sort through the droves coming in. The face of the flood is not a huge house in Rose Creek getting sandbagged like crazy, but the families that rebuilt after 1997 to create new memories who are now seeing them washed away again. It's the people that were safe before but now face eminent water with the crest nearly 6 feet higher. The fight belongs to the woman with brittle bones disease (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;osteogenesis&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;imperfecta&lt;/span&gt;) who can't lift a sandbag, but is doing everything she can to help by making food and signing people in/out. It has the face of the elderly couple who pontoon their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;neighbors&lt;/span&gt; over the river so they can get groceries and their mail but don't ask for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;compensation&lt;/span&gt;. They are the people that are not pictured in the papers because they seem to be singular, whereas the lines of hundreds of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;sandbaggers&lt;/span&gt; make more of a headline, more of a sensational impact. The news seems to have forgotten about these smaller contributions of miracles, and instead is focusing on an important, but much known, topic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-8865420823205875749?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/8865420823205875749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=8865420823205875749&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8865420823205875749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8865420823205875749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/more-to-it-than-shown.html' title='More to it Than Shown'/><author><name>EErickson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-8502590970391644761</id><published>2009-03-24T18:29:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T19:37:10.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flood 2009</title><content type='html'>This is my first flood. I have lived in moorhead for a year and before that I lived in a flood free area. I have heard the phrase, "the flood of 97", and many stories to go along with it. Until you live within a community that is going through a crisis, in this case flooding, you cannot completely understand the situation. This week I have learned so much about flooding and the art of sandbagging. Before I thought a sandbag weighed about 50 pounds and was large like a bag of salt for a water softner. I also thought that when a house was sandbagged they built a super tall wall, like 8 feet tall. I know different, now. On monday I was able to volunteer a few hours of my time to make sandbags at MSCTC. It was enduring work, ecspecially due to the weather. But, it is worth it to know that the effort put in will help a family or more, somewhere. I hope and pray that I will be able to volunteer again before this is over. It is such an amazing feeling to be part of an operation that is so huge. The radio is constantly reporting everything in regards to the flood but today when I drove into an area close to the red river, it blew my mind. I work for a home health care agency and today I had a client that lived out of town. I drove out on University to Wall Street or County Road 20. At first I saw alot of commotion up ahead, and then the river.  The river was massive! It was beyond what I imagined and knowing it will raise alot higher is crazy. Driving into these neighborhoods was mindblowing. There were trucks, buses, and military vehicles along the roads for miles. There were piles of sand in the middle of the highway. It is a relief, in this world, that people come together as they do to get through disasters, like these.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-8502590970391644761?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/8502590970391644761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=8502590970391644761&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8502590970391644761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8502590970391644761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/flood-2009.html' title='Flood 2009'/><author><name>Nicole F</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-208071168500072284</id><published>2009-03-24T10:34:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T11:05:19.777-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The floording in Fargo/Moorhead</title><content type='html'>The past few days has reviewed the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;patriotic&lt;/span&gt; spirit in Americans to me and i will say, it is just amazing. People in these states are willing to help regardless of their age or status, i went down to one of these sandbagging sites to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;volunteer&lt;/span&gt; and what i saw there was just shocking. I saw over 500 hundred people out there including children helping with the sand bagging and the most surprising one was that i saw the executive director of my working place holding a shovel. Though the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;flood&lt;/span&gt; is not a good thing but i think it is actually bringing some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sort&lt;/span&gt; of unity and friendship among the residents in these states. I made some friends who were also students from other colleges and universities. One thing i hope for is that, all the other &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;African&lt;/span&gt; brothers and sisters who are here will learn something from this altitude and try to educate the people back home about unity and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;patriotism&lt;/span&gt;. It will be very had to get people to participate in a work like this for free in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Africa&lt;/span&gt; without expecting any form of payment. To every one who help with this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;flooding&lt;/span&gt; in any way i will say bravo and keep the good work up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-208071168500072284?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/208071168500072284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=208071168500072284&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/208071168500072284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/208071168500072284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/floording-in-fargomoorhead.html' title='The floording in Fargo/Moorhead'/><author><name>M. Quartey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6837854334375692443</id><published>2009-03-22T14:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T14:21:54.757-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog entries 1-4...</title><content type='html'>...are below and have been graded&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6837854334375692443?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6837854334375692443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6837854334375692443&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6837854334375692443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6837854334375692443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-entries-1-4.html' title='Blog entries 1-4...'/><author><name>Jenn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10976582132364290542</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rqkePxhXV30/SaGuylexqjI/AAAAAAAAAJk/5aEPqth4Ll8/S220/Snapshot_20090120_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1759479012811655283</id><published>2009-03-09T23:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T23:26:51.534-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Barbie Doll</title><content type='html'>In poem "Barbie Doll" by Marge Piercy it starts out describing a young girls childhood. The first paragraph describes the barbie doll that the girlchild plays with and that is what shapes a girls image of a perfect looking female. As the girlchild gets older she becomes more self concious and begins to notice that she does resemble that perfect female image. As the girlchild got older the other kids began to tease her about her appearance, so she became so uncomfortable with her body she tried to morph it into what she believed was beautiful. The girl then died of old age and was made up to look like a barbie doll in her casket.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1759479012811655283?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1759479012811655283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1759479012811655283&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1759479012811655283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1759479012811655283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/in-poem-barbie-doll-by-marge-piercy-it.html' title='Barbie Doll'/><author><name>Bridgitte L.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-7174819255945853353</id><published>2009-03-09T16:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T17:32:00.627-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"I wandered lonely as a cloud"</title><content type='html'>In the poem, "I wandered lonely as a cloud", William Wordsworth uses connotative language. In line 3, the word "crowd" is used to describe a large collection of daffodils. The denotation of "crowd" would more commonly be a collection of people that have no relation to one another. In line 6, the daffodils are said to be "Fluttering and dancing in the breeze." The word "dancing" is usually saved for the activity performed by people. Wordsworth uses words such as "crowd" and "dancing" to personify the daffodils. In line 18, the word "wealth" is used to describe the collection of visuals obtained by the narrator. The denotation of "wealth" would be more of monetary gains. Wordsworth's writing style in this poem also uses rhyme at the end of several of the lines of the poem. Wordsworth also uses many words that give the reader a visual imagery of the poem. Words such as golden, shine, twinkle, ten thousand, and sparkling give the reader a good visual picture. Throughout the poem, starting with the title itself, I noticed the alliteration of the "l" sound in nearly every line and often more than once in the same line.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-7174819255945853353?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/7174819255945853353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=7174819255945853353&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7174819255945853353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7174819255945853353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-wandered-lonely-as-cloud_7465.html' title='&quot;I wandered lonely as a cloud&quot;'/><author><name>Dustin E.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-3631103287485949909</id><published>2009-03-09T14:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T14:51:01.053-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"We Real Cool"</title><content type='html'>The word choice in the poem "We Real Cool" is very significant to how the reader perceives the people the speaker is talking about. Gwendolyn Brooks uses short phrases in order to emphasize the groups illiteracy. The group talked about in the poem think they are cool because they break the rules in their society. Brooks uses words like lurk, sin, and gin which all imply the wild life the group is partaking in. The word we is very important in this story. If this had been about just one person maybe they wouldn't have decided to do all the things the group does. The word we symbolizes the strong bond within the group. They are having so much fun breaking all the rules but in the end their lives will stop. In the last stanza Brooks says "We Die soon." (Brooks l. 7-8) The speaker leaves readers to wonder as to whether the group physically dies or if their partying life comes to an end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-3631103287485949909?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/3631103287485949909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=3631103287485949909&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3631103287485949909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3631103287485949909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-real-cool_2087.html' title='&quot;We Real Cool&quot;'/><author><name>Jacobson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-8009860527609258768</id><published>2009-03-09T10:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T10:38:04.658-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Breaking Barbie</title><content type='html'>In the poem "Barbie Doll," in the first line they call her girlchild. The word girlchild is used as negative connotation in that it not only meant she was a female child but that she was a big female for being a young child. They use some literal denotations when they talk about the toys. Those toys are just that, toys for a child. "Then in the magic of puberty," is used in line 5. This is a connotation because it is not literal. Puberty is not a magic act. She just means it is a special time in a child life were their are changes. The second stanza is all really literal, just telling about her mental and physical attributes and how she trys to apologize. Stanza 3 she is "advised to play coy, exhorted to come on hearty, exercise, diet, smile, and wheedle." All denotations, playing coy is to be reserved and not attract attention. Exhorted to come on hearty is a denotation to come on to people in a warm way. Her good nature wore out. Just a literal line saying the goodness in her is tired and worn out. But they say "her good nature wore out like a fan belt" Like a fan belt is a connotation saying that her good nature didn't fray or snap like a belt but it just wore out emotionally and she stopped trying. "So she cut off her nose and her legs and offered them up." This is a denotation because she literaly did cut them off with a knife or something sharp. Reasoning for this is because their is an undertaker who painted cosmetics on. painting being a connotation because he didn't paint them on with a paint brush or roller. He just put her makeup on her quite thick. He also turned-up a putty nose meaning he had to put a putty nose on her. That is how we know she cut her nose of literally. "Dressed in a pink and white nightie. Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said." Their is no connotations in that. "Consummation at last." Denotation meaning literal fulfillment. The last line is the hardest one to determine what it means. "To very woman a happy ending" This is a connotation meaning although their is this bad look at women when they are young, where some get picked on for being ugly, fat, nonathletic, or anything else your peers can find in you to make fun of you for, their is always a light at the end of the tunnel, or a happy ending whether it be getting away from those people, growing out of your ugly stage, surgery, or even death, their is always a happy ending. This is not always true ex specially because death is sometimes the option some take. That in most cases is not something happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-8009860527609258768?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/8009860527609258768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=8009860527609258768&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8009860527609258768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8009860527609258768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/breaking-barbie.html' title='Breaking Barbie'/><author><name>jase</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2156613418684795294</id><published>2009-03-09T10:26:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T11:12:20.573-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I wandered lonely as a cloud</title><content type='html'>The poem, I wandered lonely as a cloud, written by William Wordsworth is full of imagery.  The use of imagery and figures of speech complete this poem.  The first line of the poem, "I wandered lonely as a cloud" (878), is a simile. The author is comparing the narrator with a lonely cloud in the sky.  After finishing the poem and looking back to the first line, I see a man surrounded by nature, alone. Trees, hills, water, foilage, flowers, sky all surround him.  Everywhere you look, beautiful landscape, and no other human being in sight. To me, this signifies peacefulness. The first time I read the poem, tho, I took the word lonely as alone, miserable, seeking company of others, needing comfort, being lost in mind. But, as I look back now, I don't believe that is what the word lonely means at all in this poem.  A cloud floats around in the sky, able to see things that some never will. Another simile in this poem is in the second stanza in the first line, "Continuous as the stars that shine" (879).  This comparison is of the golden daffodils. The word used to describe the amount of daffodils before this comparison were, "a crowd" (878). I do not think this summed up the amount of beautiful dancing flowers by far.  Wordsworth wanted the imagination to stretch and compare them to the amount of stars in sky, when you look up into the sky on a clear night. After the simile the author goes on to explain, "Ten thousand saw I at a glance" (879). I imagine a sea of daffodils and if you walk into them being completly surrounded as far as the eye can see.  The use of the figures of speech in this poem not only put you past the literal meaning of a word but bring out the imagery that is so intense throughout this poem. I can put myself in the place this poem speaks of, by sense of sight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2156613418684795294?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2156613418684795294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2156613418684795294&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2156613418684795294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2156613418684795294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-wandered-lonely-as-cloud_09.html' title='I wandered lonely as a cloud'/><author><name>Nicole F</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6281842475528761653</id><published>2009-03-09T02:32:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T02:40:25.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We Real Cool</title><content type='html'>I thought We Real Cool by Gwendolyn Brooks was a very well thought out poem, and can be related to any teenage person out there. The author talks about how they're a group of friends who have their own 'clique', and think they are the coolest kids in school or where ever, and think that everyone wants to be like them. When in reality high school is like that. Everyone is high school always has the 'clique' or friend they follow and want to be like. If your not with the "cool" crowd your a nobody, and that's what this poem is kind of addressing. I feel that this poem pretty much sums up a day by day of a high school life, and it will keep being like that forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6281842475528761653?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6281842475528761653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6281842475528761653&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6281842475528761653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6281842475528761653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-real-cool_09.html' title='We Real Cool'/><author><name>actor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-1031558595481780273</id><published>2009-03-05T19:46:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T20:02:37.066-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Work of Artifice"</title><content type='html'>In Marge &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Piercys&lt;/span&gt; poem called "Work of Artifice" it starts off using bonsai tree as a metaphor for women using imagery to create the issue has a whole. When &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Piercy&lt;/span&gt; said "its your nature" this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;meant&lt;/span&gt; that it was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;women's&lt;/span&gt; job to be beautiful.  Women had the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;potential&lt;/span&gt; to grow as tall and reach out with open arms just like he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Bunsai&lt;/span&gt; tree, but the men seemed to be holding them back by "pruning" them meaning the guys sculpted and shaped the women how ever they wanted to. It seemed like they were stripped from anything they could and wanted to accomplish. Women could of went out and worked or even voted but it was unseen or heard of for a women to do these kinds of things. I never went through these times, but it plays a great &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;interest&lt;/span&gt; to me, on how things use to be. When Piercy said "domestic and weak" these were the words that was referred to women and still is. I think this story still kind of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;exists&lt;/span&gt; in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;today's&lt;/span&gt; society, when some men still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;expect&lt;/span&gt; the women to stay home and do chores around the house. Although most women are now growing freely there is still that percent out there that are living how things use to be back in the past.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-1031558595481780273?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/1031558595481780273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=1031558595481780273&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1031558595481780273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/1031558595481780273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/work-of-artifice.html' title='&quot;Work of Artifice&quot;'/><author><name>Angie Wavra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-409794464954028551</id><published>2009-03-02T10:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T11:15:04.263-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud</title><content type='html'>Out of all the stories that were supposed to be read today, I wandered as a cloud was my favorite. I liked how the author used metaphors at similes to create imagery. The image of the cloud brings out how carefree wandering is. The plot is extremely simple and easy to understand what is happening. The speaker is compared to a cloud. I think the reason the author did this was because clouds are so far away from everything and that is how they character felt in this story, lonely. Then the character discovers of a field of daffodils by a lake. The daffodils seem to comfort him when he is lonely and cheer him up. The imagery that the speaker used made me picture the daffodils in my head. Overall, I think this story was peaceful and makes you relax. Nature in this poem seemed to calm the character down and make him feel that he is not so alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-409794464954028551?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/409794464954028551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=409794464954028551&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/409794464954028551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/409794464954028551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-wandered-lonely-as-cloud.html' title='I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud'/><author><name>Paige</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-9045545543810227312</id><published>2009-03-02T10:45:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T10:44:00.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Barbie Doll"</title><content type='html'>In the peom "Barbie Doll" the author Marge Piercy used good word choice to make the reader believe whatever they wanted to believe happened to the girl.  In the beginning of the poem the girlchild as Piercy called her was subjected to all things that a little girl is suppose to play with or what society believes they should play with like dolls and make-up.  This girlchild was smart, but it really didn't matter because the words decribe her as being a girl with strong arms and legs and a big nose and fat legs.  These words decribed would make the reader believe that this girlchild didn't look like the barbie dolls that she played with but that she was a little bigger then normal size girl. This poem makes alot of readers go back to their childhood and think about all the times that they were teased for not looking like a barbie doll persay.  Childhood and teenage years are hard on alot of young years these days, because there is a push to look a certain way or you won't be accepted.  Piercy wanted to show readers the extreme of what could happen to someone that is not accepting of their body and wanted the readers to know that this does happen and people do kill themselves or even harm themselves because they feel so lonely inside.  Some readers might have not believed that the girlchild really chopped off her legs and nose but that is what is so great about Piercy's word choice it can make the reader believe either way. Piercy does make clear is that this girlchild did die at the end and she left the reader to wonder was it because she cut her nose and legs off?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-9045545543810227312?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/9045545543810227312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=9045545543810227312&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/9045545543810227312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/9045545543810227312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-stand-here-ironing.html' title='&quot;Barbie Doll&quot;'/><author><name>Jen E</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-4425908163096163699</id><published>2009-03-02T10:23:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T13:09:09.398-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Photograph of My Father in his Twenty-Second Year</title><content type='html'>Was Carver's poem about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;disappointment&lt;/span&gt; and a confession about alcohol? Or was he just angry about not being able to go fishing with his father. This poem has given a person who reads it a picture in one's mind of the father and his display of a day away from his son. The father wanted to be bold and act strong for his family, never giving in which is a sign of weakness. This poem compares to my father who is a bold man never showing emotion except anger. Like the picture of the man, shows a man who uses their hands to make a living, worn and strong hands. Many eyes may have not shown love, they maybe had shown do as I say kind of thing. His eyes were they bloodshot from drinking too much beer? What was the photo trying to say? Alcohol changes lives it separates families and friends. Wonder if the boy even got to go fishing didn't sound like it to me. In the last line Carver wrote that the boy "don't even know the places of fish?"(Line15) An opportunity to spend time together whether on shore or in a boat fishing is a great time to talk or just listen to nature.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-4425908163096163699?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/4425908163096163699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=4425908163096163699&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4425908163096163699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4425908163096163699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/photograph-of-my-father-in-his-twenty_02.html' title='Photograph of My Father in his Twenty-Second Year'/><author><name>Mari Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-4947742988459666215</id><published>2009-03-02T10:13:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T10:22:05.734-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Digging"</title><content type='html'>The young person watching his father from the upstairs window thinks very highly of his father and what his father has done in great excellence.  The young person know that digging up the ground is not really for him but in a way wished they could follow in their father's and grandfather's footsteps of having this special talent.  The father and grandfather yearned for the soil and loved to see the growth of the potatoes and the beauty of the new turf under their feet.  The young person is upstairs writing, that is what makes them happy.  Their male figuers show their work outside but this young person shows it through their writings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-4947742988459666215?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/4947742988459666215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=4947742988459666215&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4947742988459666215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/4947742988459666215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/digging.html' title='&quot;Digging&quot;'/><author><name>Sarah K</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2793832640900796737</id><published>2009-03-01T23:59:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T11:08:32.181-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"We Real Cool"</title><content type='html'>In his poem "We Real Cool" Gwendolyn Brooks uses the denotation "we" in an alliterative form throughout the poem. The speaker uses this denotation"we" to signify a group of friends or gang of students. Indicated from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;begining&lt;/span&gt; of the poem "We real cool/We left school" (Brooks l. 1-2), shows the literal meaning of  "we" and the repetition of that sound. In the first stanza, the speaker uses "We real cool"in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;connotative&lt;/span&gt; way because considering the literal meaning of the word "cool" it signifies something good, calm or pleasant, but in this case, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;the word&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;referred&lt;/span&gt; to the reckless life of teenagers without thinking about the outcome of such lifestyles. For instance, the second stanza of the poem "We Left School" indicates how careless teenagers could be, forgoing their education and leaving school with their friends chilling around without considering the foundation they are laying for themselves. Also, the speaker used the last stanza"We Die soon" in a connotative way to signify how their behavior will affect them individually, but not the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;literal&lt;/span&gt; meaning of dieing soon. Sometimes one might think that, if a group of people do something wrong, they all pay for it or it affects them in similar manner. This is not always the case, some of these people can change and go back to school and some will remain drop outs for life. One can even get pregnant and become a mother or a father unprepared which can shatter their dreams for life. some of these teens even loos their lives through drink driving and all sorts of indecent behaviors. Brooks used this poem to show where groups, gangs and friends can lead us to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2793832640900796737?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2793832640900796737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2793832640900796737&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2793832640900796737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2793832640900796737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-real-cool_01.html' title='&quot;We Real Cool&quot;'/><author><name>M. Quartey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-852442476278635941</id><published>2009-03-01T23:32:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T23:41:32.113-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Photograph of My Father in His Twenty-Second Year</title><content type='html'>The saying "a picture is worth a thousand words" is one of my favorite quotes.  And it relates very well to the poem "Photograph of My Father in HIs Twenty-Second Year" by Raymond Carver.  In this story a young man describes his father and how his personality shines through even in a photograph.  The poen is a great example of how a author's use of language can give a reader great imagery.  Carver uses such descriptive language that you can "see" for yourself what the picture may look like.  The young man notices how his father had this "emabarassed" look on his face while holding his fish in one hand and a beer in the other. The author describes every detail so that the reader feels like they are there with the young man looking at his father photo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-852442476278635941?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/852442476278635941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=852442476278635941&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/852442476278635941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/852442476278635941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/photograph-of-my-father-in-his-twenty.html' title='Photograph of My Father in His Twenty-Second Year'/><author><name>AshleyG.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-3163876849804800500</id><published>2009-03-01T23:26:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T23:38:10.843-06:00</updated><title type='text'>We Real Cool</title><content type='html'>Out of the many poems we were supposed to read today, I like &lt;em&gt;We Real Cool&lt;/em&gt; the best.  Not only is it short and easy to understand, but it also has some meaning behind each word.  As I read this poem, I couldn't help but notice that 'we' is at the end of every sentence except the last one.  I thought this was unique because I believe it to be a story about guys being guys, and most of the time, guys will be guys around other guys.  The only sentence that does not end in 'we' is the last sentence.  I believe this is so because when you die, you die alone.  Also, because I think this poem is about guys being guys, I believe "Die soon" doesn't end in 'we' because it could possibly represent what will happen if you go down the wrong path.  The only person you will hurt is yourself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I thought about while reading this poem is whether or not it goes in chronological order, starting with dropping out of school.  It's almost like a timeline of a guy who is mixed up.  Also, I thought it was interesting how each word was one syllable.  Not only does it make it easy to read, but it makes you think about why the author made it so simple in an English sense.  I almost felt like I was reading a elementary school poem because of the fact every word is so simple.  I kind of thought a little less of the author because I think even I could write a poem like this.  It made me wonder why this poem was so special and got published.  All in all, "We Real Cool" was a simple, good read.  Although I didn't really understand its simple nature, I accepted the fact that it has an underlying message.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-3163876849804800500?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/3163876849804800500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=3163876849804800500&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3163876849804800500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/3163876849804800500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-real-cool.html' title='We Real Cool'/><author><name>Matt P.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-623285540719265180</id><published>2009-03-01T12:57:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T12:57:24.892-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"We"</title><content type='html'>"We Real Cool" is a testament to the teenage psyche- "If I do it with my friends, my actions are justified, and it makes what I am doing less bad." The 'we' emphasis is important to the poem's structure: each line ends with we, so that it feels as though the beginning and end of each sentence is "We real cool We." This is an example of the narrator justifying dropping out of school and drinking because his peers are doing it as well. The ending is also important though because two things happen. One is that the poet's voice seems to switch in- there is no 'we' at the end of the last line, just "Die soon." This acts as a warning to their rebellion and their form of friendship- not only is it short term and frivolous, they will find that if they keep up their behavior, they will find themselves alone and possibly dead from their indulgences. Number two is that that narrator’s and poet’s voice seem to strike harmony, as if the narrator has suddenly grown up as they realize the depth and harm of their actions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-623285540719265180?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/623285540719265180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=623285540719265180&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/623285540719265180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/623285540719265180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/03/we.html' title='&quot;We&quot;'/><author><name>EErickson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-6213912812050043152</id><published>2009-02-26T16:06:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T19:45:59.366-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"I wandered lonely as a cloud"</title><content type='html'>William Wordsworth wrote a poem called "I wandered lonely as a cloud".  I think that when he was growing up he never took time to notice the beauty in nature. Finally taking time to stop for a moment and capture the beauty that was lurking around him it made him open his eyes.  As he was walking in the country there was a cool breeze and as far as he could see was a non ending patch of "golden daffodils" that stretched beside the lake. This story caught my eye because i love daffodils there is something about how they look and smell. Being outdoors is what i enjoy to do on my free time in the summers.  The waves seemed to be dancing with the daffodils. I can relate to that because i grew up on a lake when there is the slightest wind there would be little waves flowing across the water and reaching up to the trees that would surround me.  That memory in his mind has now been preserved just like is has been preserved in my memory.  The scene of the blowing daffodils helped him become not so lonely. His heart is now filled with pleasure when he knows he is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;companied&lt;/span&gt; by daffodils that brought happiness back into his life. I think it took awhile to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;realize&lt;/span&gt; where the beauty of life has been the whole time, when he finally just took the time to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;realize&lt;/span&gt; it has been around him the whole time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-6213912812050043152?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/6213912812050043152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=6213912812050043152&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6213912812050043152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/6213912812050043152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-wandered-lonely-as-cloud.html' title='&quot;I wandered lonely as a cloud&quot;'/><author><name>Angie Wavra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-7771185552865388171</id><published>2009-02-23T03:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T03:09:21.911-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Stand Here Ironing</title><content type='html'>The setting that I got out of this story was happening during the Great Depression when Emily was born. I didn't quite understand the story right away just because it didnt grab my attention, but what I got out of it is that Emily was kind of "slow" in a way. She really didn't understand to much and was always compared. Her mother was a single parent taking care of her children. Their father left because he coulnd't handle all of the situation's that were happening. Emily's mother seemed to be doing the best that she could do for herself and for her children, but there was also emotional connection problems between Emily and her mother. This part was also kind of odd for me to read just because it seemed to jump back and forth with how Emily and her mothers relationship was. It also seemed like Emily wasn't to please with her sister Susan. Everytime Susan would say something to there mother Emily would come back saying that she said it first or she did it first.&lt;br /&gt;       Overall, the story was alright. It kind of took my a little bit to actually get interested in it, but in certain ways you can actually relate to the story, so I liked that a lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-7771185552865388171?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/7771185552865388171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=7771185552865388171&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7771185552865388171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7771185552865388171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-stand-here-ironing_23.html' title='I Stand Here Ironing'/><author><name>actor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-7320705413629993676</id><published>2009-02-21T15:18:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T17:13:23.803-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"I Stand Here Ironing"</title><content type='html'>Considering the setting of this story, Emily was born at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;beginning&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;depression&lt;/span&gt; and to add to her troubles, her father left the mother because he couldn't endure the hardship of those days. This story &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;portrays&lt;/span&gt; the reality of the pains and difficulties single mothers go &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;through&lt;/span&gt; to raise their children. As a teenage mother and and a single parent for that matter, Emily's mother needed to look for a job considering the time period and cater for her daughter which caused the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;separation&lt;/span&gt; between mother and a daughter and also might have lost the bound between them.&lt;br /&gt;Also,the story of the story had a significant effect on Emily's mother, which affected the love and the affection she was supposed to show to her daughter. She was depressed due to her condition and also under estimated her capabilities of catching up with her daughter, she always relied on time thinking that it was to late to undo what she has already done or to be there for Emily.&lt;br /&gt;This affected Emily negatively, considering her looks being different as compared to her sister and the other kids, not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;getting&lt;/span&gt; her mother's attention and also trying to adjust with a new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;daddy&lt;/span&gt; whom she suppose to learn to love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-7320705413629993676?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/7320705413629993676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=7320705413629993676&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7320705413629993676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/7320705413629993676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-stand-here-ironing_21.html' title='&quot;I Stand Here Ironing&quot;'/><author><name>M. Quartey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-2240454460403934326</id><published>2009-02-19T11:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T12:37:46.007-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Stand Here Ironing</title><content type='html'>Emily and her sister represent how different their historical setting has made them. Emily was born at the start of the Great Depression: the father left because he could not find work and "did not want 'share their want.'" She is described as slow, not necessarily stupid but conscientious and over thinking of everything. Emily is pockmarked from a bout of chicken pox, and is also "dark, thin, and foreign-looking." This is used to repeatedly describe her in comparison to Susan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Susan was born five years after Emily, at the start of most of the New Deal efforts. Their difference is highlighted at the end, where the narrator tells us, "her younger sister seemed all that she was not." Susan has the blonde curly hair, dimples, and chubbiness  that endeared her to people and offered her a spot in the world. Susan's Shirley Temple like appearance and quick wit are highlighted again: at entertainment during dinner, at the prestige offered to her, at the ease in which it seems she has so far passed through life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-2240454460403934326?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/2240454460403934326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=2240454460403934326&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2240454460403934326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/2240454460403934326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-stand-here-ironing.html' title='I Stand Here Ironing'/><author><name>EErickson</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7062199108436725776.post-8333876161871211722</id><published>2009-02-13T19:54:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T19:54:27.204-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Doe Season</title><content type='html'>Doe Season is a story that relates to the Minnesotan area.  I myself am not a hunter, but a lot of my friends are so I hear a lot of stories about their hunting adventures.  I like how this story shows that girls can do things guys can do just as good.  It also shows that Andy has courage to actually shoot the deer because she had different thoughts about it.  She didn’t want the deer to end up suffering, in the end it did anyway.  Her dream about the deer was pretty cool I thought.  It showed the pain the deer was going through when the deer’s heart started to burn around Andy’s hand.  It shows how much she loves the outdoors and animals, but she doesn’t like to kill them she realizes.  She has a very strong bond with her father also.  She sticks up for her and lets her take the shot at the deer because she found it and he believes she can shoot it.  She also says she wants to be called Andrea instead of Andy because she realized who she wants to be in life now.  I think this story was easy to understand and comprehend also.  The author explains everything so well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7062199108436725776-8333876161871211722?l=hec1102.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/feeds/8333876161871211722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7062199108436725776&amp;postID=8333876161871211722&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8333876161871211722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7062199108436725776/posts/default/8333876161871211722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hec1102.blogspot.com/2009/02/doe-season_5728.html' title='Doe Season'/><author><name>Justin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
