As I shuffled into the classroom, I knew that Mr. Van Camp would never believe me. I looked at my scuffed shoes and mumbled, " My homework is not done, Sir. I do have a good excuse though."
Mr. Van Camp scowled as he looked up from the papers he was marking. "This is not the first time your homework has not been completed. Perhaps," he suggested, "it's time to speak with your parents."
"Please, you have no idea what will happen to me if you phone my home," I moaned.
"Well, let's hear your excuse. It better be good."
"I was walking to school like usual when I saw a UFO!" I exclaimed
Mr. Van Camp laughed, "Are you sure your mom didn't put something in your cornflakes?"
"She usually does but not today!"
"All right what happened next?" sighed Van Camp
"The UFO beamed me up!" I shouted "all of the sudden I was in a real life UFO spaceship!"
"Take a seat, I hope your embarassed"
I stood my ground, "Then all the sudden there was aliens everywhere!"
"Ok wonderful but I have a class to teach sit down." Mr Van Camp began writing on his chalk board "Todays lesson is..."
"They gave me candy and we toured the universe!" I shouted happily
Van Camp turned around and laughed, "get out of my class.."
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Dead Poets Society
The movie "Dead Poets Society" is a film based upon the power of the arts. This movie was created in 1989, by Peter Weir. Throughout this film the protagonists gradually embrace the world and recede from the internals of their shells. This change brings a new perspective to their eyes, but this new perspective also brings several dilemmas. The students actions cause a massive ripple effect and ultimately result in the tragic death of a friend. Fingers are pointed and opinions are made, tears are shed and life will never be the same for those who attended Welton Academy. Three key themes are quietly revealed in this film. The powers of conformity, built upon the foundations of poetry, and chasing dreams in which you most desire.
Conformity is a powerful act, over thought by the students in Welton Academy. The students create a poetic group that is more so passed down by their English teacher John Keating. This group allows the students the ability to express their deepest emotions in the most poetic ways possible. The students use this as a scapegoat to run from their controlled lives. Unfortunately this act of conformity goes against school rules as the students leave the school grounds at sleeping hours. Initially this results in no problems what so ever, but eventually the truth is revealed and these meetings become a lot less secret. Ultimately this results in the schools enragement, the firing of Mr Keating and the drastic and harsh suicide of a student. Such a harmless act of coming together to express emotion, becomes the basis of the worst time period in those students lives.
Poetry is a vast river full of emotion, it allows one to dip their feet in its bountiful purity and feel the cool freedom flow between their toes. The students who form the Dead Poets Society realize this and use it to stand up for their passions in life. Mr Keating taught these students to think and feel for themselves, and taught them the true meanings of poetry. This completely opens his students eyes that now live for themselves and not for what their parents want them to be. Poetry allowed the students to be their own person and chase their own dreams and not the dreams of their parents. This did not obviously go well with the students in the group for their parents took them by the reigns. But the short span of time that they lived that freedom, those students finally tasted its sweetness. Before everything they believed in came down before them in a horrifically swift fashion. Those students did what their heart desired, but this came at all toll and blackened their existence.
Loneliness is quietly portraid throughout Peter Weirs film. Its the frosted bitterness that almost every character in the movie is engulfed in. Students find themselves longing for family, or loved ones but the sad reality is that they were confined behind the school walls. This emotion ultimately created the Dead Poets Society as the students accomplished some sense of belonging with it. Loneliness destroyed many of the students and even killed one off. But within this loneliness hope took a stand literally at the end of the movie and spat in its face.
"Dead Poets Society" symbolizes the coming together of weak individuals. All of the groups members bare the burden of some dilemma within their lives. Their group allowed them an escape to a world new to them. A world filled with happiness, freedom and love. This world was shortly lived but non the less caused a massive ripple effect in the boys lives.
Conformity is a powerful act, over thought by the students in Welton Academy. The students create a poetic group that is more so passed down by their English teacher John Keating. This group allows the students the ability to express their deepest emotions in the most poetic ways possible. The students use this as a scapegoat to run from their controlled lives. Unfortunately this act of conformity goes against school rules as the students leave the school grounds at sleeping hours. Initially this results in no problems what so ever, but eventually the truth is revealed and these meetings become a lot less secret. Ultimately this results in the schools enragement, the firing of Mr Keating and the drastic and harsh suicide of a student. Such a harmless act of coming together to express emotion, becomes the basis of the worst time period in those students lives.
Poetry is a vast river full of emotion, it allows one to dip their feet in its bountiful purity and feel the cool freedom flow between their toes. The students who form the Dead Poets Society realize this and use it to stand up for their passions in life. Mr Keating taught these students to think and feel for themselves, and taught them the true meanings of poetry. This completely opens his students eyes that now live for themselves and not for what their parents want them to be. Poetry allowed the students to be their own person and chase their own dreams and not the dreams of their parents. This did not obviously go well with the students in the group for their parents took them by the reigns. But the short span of time that they lived that freedom, those students finally tasted its sweetness. Before everything they believed in came down before them in a horrifically swift fashion. Those students did what their heart desired, but this came at all toll and blackened their existence.
Loneliness is quietly portraid throughout Peter Weirs film. Its the frosted bitterness that almost every character in the movie is engulfed in. Students find themselves longing for family, or loved ones but the sad reality is that they were confined behind the school walls. This emotion ultimately created the Dead Poets Society as the students accomplished some sense of belonging with it. Loneliness destroyed many of the students and even killed one off. But within this loneliness hope took a stand literally at the end of the movie and spat in its face.
"Dead Poets Society" symbolizes the coming together of weak individuals. All of the groups members bare the burden of some dilemma within their lives. Their group allowed them an escape to a world new to them. A world filled with happiness, freedom and love. This world was shortly lived but non the less caused a massive ripple effect in the boys lives.
Monday, September 20, 2010
This paragraph is as boring as watching paint dry
After Mrs. Mitty came out of the drugstore, they climbed into their automobile. Walter fastened his seat belt, watched his wife turn on the windscreen wipers and carefully watched her pull away from the curb. The car drove down the road as slowly as a snail. Walter Mitty sighed in the passenger seat as his wife babbled on like a baboon. He rolled his head off to one side it felt heavy like a rock, the day was miserable it was raining cats and dogs.
---
Suddenly there was a roar of an engine loud like a lion. Walter felt himself lift off the ground he was flying like a bird. His plane kicked like a horse but Walter grasped the reigns firmly. His squad flew precise like an arrow preparing to engage German fighters. The wind howled like wolves just outside Walters cabin, he knew this was suicide but he flew on. Suddenly he made out in the distance a German fighter. His heart started to pound like a drum. None of Walters training prepared him for a moment such as this. Gun fire lit up the stillness of the night like fireworks on the fourth of July. His men were dropping left and right like flies, leaving only Walter trembling in his seat. Only two fighters were left on each respected side, a battle to the end. Walter meandered swiftly and cunningly like a fox. Locking in the German fighter in his cross hairs. He flipped a few switches and engaged the enemy. A loud bang echoed through the air like booming thunder but not coming from where one might of thought.
---
Suddenly there was a roar of an engine loud like a lion. Walter felt himself lift off the ground he was flying like a bird. His plane kicked like a horse but Walter grasped the reigns firmly. His squad flew precise like an arrow preparing to engage German fighters. The wind howled like wolves just outside Walters cabin, he knew this was suicide but he flew on. Suddenly he made out in the distance a German fighter. His heart started to pound like a drum. None of Walters training prepared him for a moment such as this. Gun fire lit up the stillness of the night like fireworks on the fourth of July. His men were dropping left and right like flies, leaving only Walter trembling in his seat. Only two fighters were left on each respected side, a battle to the end. Walter meandered swiftly and cunningly like a fox. Locking in the German fighter in his cross hairs. He flipped a few switches and engaged the enemy. A loud bang echoed through the air like booming thunder but not coming from where one might of thought.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Horrors Of The Holocaust
On November 7th 1938, Jewish minor Herschel Grünspan assasinated a Nazi German diplomat Ernst Vom Rath. The Nazis used this act to scale a full fledged attack against the Jewish peoples of Germany. That cold night the Nazis vandalized many Jewish shops and completely demolished almost every synagogue in sight. This diabolical night is referred to today as the "Night of Broken Glass". But unfortunately this was in no way comparable to the horrors to come. As swift as dawn breaks over thirty thousand Jews have all ready been sent to their ultimate demise in Nazi concentration camps. Death becomes more common then starry nights, and this is just the beginning.
You find yourself straying from an early morning dream, birds outside chirp happily and you become alert and awake. If only you'd known of the horrors that lingered just mere minutes away, of the pain and suffering to come; if only you knew. Standing from your long slumber you stretch and walk to the window to greet such a glorious day. Softly you place your hands upon the window sill, warm to the touch from the suns glow. The big tree in the front yard is in full bloom and sways peacefully.
A shout interrupts your mornings peace. Sheela the Jewish neighbor is at the curb crying, a German soldier stands before her clutching a mauser pistol. Your heart stops in complete shock and horror, Sheela's children run from the house in tears. They run as fast as their little feet can possibly carry them, but this was to no avail. The German shouted and pulled the trigger. Your heart is wrenched from your chest, the world spins un controllably, anger consumes you, blinds you and devours you. You shout at the bastard German from your window, he returns your greeting with two quick shots from his pistol. They fly past your face in an instant and destroy the lamp that once lie resting atop your night stand.
Instantly you drop to the floor and begin crawling towards your closet. In the back of your mind you know the German will be kicking down the door at any moment. You think of your kids downstairs so helpless, their eyes so wide and filled with horror. But not on this day will they parish you swear this to the moon and stars. Quickly you stand and slam the closet doors open, feverishly you throw clothes aside to find what you need most in life. There it shines brightly, you feast your eyes upon it hungrily. You clutch its cool barrel tight and pop two slugs into its chamber. Everything freezes its way too quiet.
The door bursts from downstairs and you run to the stairs. You hear the shouts of your children, it drives a needle through your soul. The bastard raises and points his gun at your oldest son. He shouts a few words, which are interrupted with your own, "Hell yearns for you." Pulling your trigger the shotgun kicks back at you like a bull, bullets spray and the German is sent flying into the wall. He lie motionless, dead. You know he deserved a worse fait but at least it was done by your own hand. You clutch your three children tightly, soft crying fills the blood stained walls of the house. You know this wont be the last time a German enters the house and next time it wont just be one.
You find yourself straying from an early morning dream, birds outside chirp happily and you become alert and awake. If only you'd known of the horrors that lingered just mere minutes away, of the pain and suffering to come; if only you knew. Standing from your long slumber you stretch and walk to the window to greet such a glorious day. Softly you place your hands upon the window sill, warm to the touch from the suns glow. The big tree in the front yard is in full bloom and sways peacefully.
A shout interrupts your mornings peace. Sheela the Jewish neighbor is at the curb crying, a German soldier stands before her clutching a mauser pistol. Your heart stops in complete shock and horror, Sheela's children run from the house in tears. They run as fast as their little feet can possibly carry them, but this was to no avail. The German shouted and pulled the trigger. Your heart is wrenched from your chest, the world spins un controllably, anger consumes you, blinds you and devours you. You shout at the bastard German from your window, he returns your greeting with two quick shots from his pistol. They fly past your face in an instant and destroy the lamp that once lie resting atop your night stand.
Instantly you drop to the floor and begin crawling towards your closet. In the back of your mind you know the German will be kicking down the door at any moment. You think of your kids downstairs so helpless, their eyes so wide and filled with horror. But not on this day will they parish you swear this to the moon and stars. Quickly you stand and slam the closet doors open, feverishly you throw clothes aside to find what you need most in life. There it shines brightly, you feast your eyes upon it hungrily. You clutch its cool barrel tight and pop two slugs into its chamber. Everything freezes its way too quiet.
The door bursts from downstairs and you run to the stairs. You hear the shouts of your children, it drives a needle through your soul. The bastard raises and points his gun at your oldest son. He shouts a few words, which are interrupted with your own, "Hell yearns for you." Pulling your trigger the shotgun kicks back at you like a bull, bullets spray and the German is sent flying into the wall. He lie motionless, dead. You know he deserved a worse fait but at least it was done by your own hand. You clutch your three children tightly, soft crying fills the blood stained walls of the house. You know this wont be the last time a German enters the house and next time it wont just be one.
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