Brainwashing - Free Essay Example

Sample details Pages: 1 Words: 379 Downloads: 1 Date added: 2017/09/24 Category Advertising Essay Type Argumentative essay Did you like this example? Melissa Gonzalez August 9, 2010 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm / Introduction to Psychology Ms. Sharnell Stocks Brainwashing Before 1950, the term brainwashing didn’t exist in America; this is something new in the English language. And since it is a fairly new term, one may ask what the term brainwashing is? Where does it come from, or how is it applied? Following I will explain the different definitions of brainwashing, its origins and how Americans were brainwashed during the Korean War. Brain washing is described as an intensive, forcible indoctrination, usually political or religious, aimed at destroying a persons basic convictions and attitudes and replacing them with an alternative set of fixed beliefs. It is also known as the application of a concentrated means of persuasion, such as an advertising campaign or repeated suggestion, in order to develop a specific belief or motivation. Brain washing was used as a form of coercive persuasion during the Inquisition, the show trials against enemies of the state in the Soviet Union. No specific term emerged until the methodologies of these earlier movements were systematized during the early decades of China for use in their struggles against internal enemies and foreign invaders. Until that time, descriptions were limited to concrete descriptions of specific techniques. The American Soldiers were victims during the Korean War in the 1950’s. The American prisoners were given several demands by their captors that included sleep deprivation and other intense psychological manipulations designed to break down the autonomy of individuals. The captors would start with a smaller request and gradually worked up to bigger demands. They would also have to write statements about self- criticism, do public confessions, and group discussions. But yet when granted permission to return to America, the American prisoners did not return and instead they switched their allegiance to the enemy and retained all egiance to the anti-American doctrines that had been inculcated during their incarcerations. The ones that returned to America thought that communism didn’t work in America; it was a good thing in Asia. Brainwashing is also used in religious cults, sects, and government. In conclusion brainwashing is used through different methods such as isolation, monopolization of perception, induced debility , threads, occasional indulges. Brainwashing is a weapon commonly seen by dictators, abusive husbands, ect.. against those who are vulnerable. Don’t waste time! Our writers will create an original "Brainwashing" essay for you Create order

The Governing Board s Role - 1875 Words

Governing Board’s Role The governing boards role is very important when it comes to discussing what is happening within a healthcare organization and making sure things are been done to their ethical standards. The primary role of governing boards is to make sure that the mission statement includes things that are needed from the public and to make sure that those people hired for this company are able to uphold to the ethnical code that is given by the healthcare organization. When issues arise within the organization, it is left up to the governing board themselves and the CEO to see how it would be best to address the situation before jumping to any type of conclusion. The governing board has to make sure everyone in the facility is†¦show more content†¦Ã¢â‚¬Å"The board’s duty of assuring that there is an effective strategy process has to go well beyond requiring and overseeing the periodic production of a strategic plan† (Morrill, 2013, pg. 14). E very plan that is put in more requires way much more than just coming up with the plan, it requires that there is no steps left out of the final decision and that things are handled in the proper manner. Overall, the governing board has a great responsibility along with the CEO when it comes to handling things in an ethical manner. Key Performance Dimensions In order to make sure the healthcare organization is doing everything to provide the best care for their patients and that the facility is doing everything that they can to ensure that, some type of performance measurements need to be used. â€Å"Performance measurement systems employed in healthcare must be capable of not only meeting expectations of different stakeholder, but also of giving the most realistic image of the status and the progress that are being made to the system† (Doolen, Enami, 2015, pg. 427). By using performance measurements, the facility can see what they are doing wrong and in what ways they can improve service the patients next visit to ensure their voice was heard by the facility. The three measurements that can be used to see Middleville’s overall performance include daily patient log, patient

USS Coral Sea (CV-43) - Aircraft Carrier

Essay on Eugene ONeills Long Days Journey into Night

Eugene ONeills Long Days Journey into Night As the fog descends around the Tyrone’s summer home, another fog falls on the family within. This fog is that of substance abuse, in which each of the four main characters of Eugene O’Neill’s play, Long Day’s Journey into Night face by the end of Act IV. Long Days Journey into Night is a metaphoric representation of the path from normalcy to demise by showing the general effects of substance abuse on human psychology and family dysfunctions through the characters Mary, Jamie, Edmund and Tyrone. Mary Tyrone makes the transition most clearly throughout the entire play. In Act I, her hands move restlessly, and she seems to be quite nervous. When she appears in Act II â€Å"one notices no†¦show more content†¦His optimism is crushed when he realizes that she has indeed relapsed. Mary and Edmund are connected in more ways than a mother is to her youngest son. Michael Hinden notes that besides the fact that they share the same physical features, they have both tried to kill themselves and are both linked to sanitariums (62). Because they are so similar, it is not unusual that he uses her strength as motivation to persevere within his own problems, while her failure ensures his own failure in his mind. Jamie is the disappointment of the family. He enjoys the company of whores and other alcoholic degenerates. He was expelled from college, and was a seemingly bad influence on his younger brother. Mary blames Tyrone for Jamie’s alcoholism, since he fed Jamie a teaspoon of whisky as a child whenever he was restless. Yet, Jamie blames his mother. â€Å"[His] alcoholism is tied directly to [her] morphine addiction: over the years his drinking has risen and fallen in relation to Mary’s cures† (Hinden 54). He had hoped that if she could beat it, so could he. It is apparent that his alcoholism is also the cause for his failure in life. In Act IV, Jamie admits that he has glorified his lifestyle in order for his brother to fail. This apparently worked, since Edmund too has a problem with alcohol. Although their relationship seems healthy, it is obviously poisoned. It is not uncommon between two brothers that the younger looks up to the elder, and Edmond does. Knowing this,Show MoreRelated The Concept of Time in Eugene ONeills Long Days Journey into Night1743 Words   |  7 PagesConcept of Time in Eugene ONeills Long Days Journey into Night The pre-Socratic Greek philosopher Heraclitus said in his theory of the Universal Flux that everything flows and nothing abides; everything gives way and nothing stays fixed. You cannot step twice into the same river, for other waters and yet others go ever flowing on... Time is a child moving counters in a game. (Allen 103) And so it is with the characters in Eugene ONeills Long Days Journey into Night. 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In Eugene ONeills play, Long Days Journey into Night, the char acterization of Mary Tyrone demonstrates a sense of loss through her loneliness, addictionRead MoreEugene O’Neill: Pessimistic American who Showed Dark Social Realities of the modern Life and Started Modern American Drama1208 Words   |  5 Pagesshattered with the result that man found himself lonely. The literature of the century in general and drama in particular, became powerful expression of this sense of nihilism. It was taken up and expressed beautifully by Eugene O’Neill in his almost each expressionistic play. Eugene Gladstone ONeill, Nobel Prize winner for Literature in 1936, is one of the few American playwrights of the twentieth century to acquire world stature and reputation. It was ONeill who, though deeply influenced byRead MoreEvolution or Revolution - Recurring ideas in Ibsen, ONeill and Shepard3024 Words   |  13 Pagesthe idea their own. American drama is no exception. 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Twilight 7. NIGHTMARE Free Essays

string(105) " to my CD player first, picking it up off the floor and placing it precisely in the center of the table\." 7. NIGHTMARE I told Charlie I had a lot of homework to do, and that I didn’t want anything to eat. There was a basketball game on that he was excited about, though of course I had no idea what was special about it, so he wasn’t aware of anything unusual in my face or tone. We will write a custom essay sample on Twilight 7. NIGHTMARE or any similar topic only for you Order Now Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found my old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. I picked up a CD that Phil had given to me for Christmas. It was one of his favorite bands, but they used a little too much bass and shrieking for my tastes. I popped it into place and lay down on my bed. I put on the headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears. I closed my eyes, but the light still intruded, so I added a pillow over the top half of my face. I concentrated very carefully on the music, trying to understand the lyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third time I’d listened through the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least. I was surprised to find that I really did like the band after all, once I got past the blaring noise. I’d have to thank Phil again. And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for me to think – which was the whole purpose of the exercise. I listened to the CD again and again, until I was singing along with all the songs, until, finally, I fell asleep. I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Aware in some corner of my consciousness that I was dreaming, I recognized the green light of the forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby. And I knew that if I found the ocean, I’d be able to see the sun. I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jacob Black was there, tugging on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest. â€Å"Jacob? What’s wrong?† I asked. His face was frightened as he yanked with all his strength against my resistance; I didn’t want to go into the dark. â€Å"Run, Bella, you have to run!† he whispered, terrified. â€Å"This way, Bella!† I recognized Mike’s voice calling out of the gloomy heart of the trees, but I couldn’t see him. â€Å"Why?† I asked, still pulling against Jacob’s grasp, desperate now to find the sun. But Jacob let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the dim forest floor. He twitched on the ground as I watched in horror. â€Å"Jacob!† I screamed. But he was gone. In his place was a large red-brown wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore, the hair on the back of his shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between his exposed fangs. â€Å"Bella, run!† Mike cried out again from behind me. But I didn’t turn. I was watching a light coming toward me from the beach. And then Edward stepped out from the trees, his skin faintly glowing, his eyes black and dangerous. He held up one hand and beckoned me to come to him. The wolf growled at my feet. I took a step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp, pointed. â€Å"Trust me,† he purred. I took another step. The wolf launched himself across the space between me and the vampire, fangs aiming for the jugular. â€Å"No!† I screamed, wrenching upright out of my bed. My sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the CD player off the bedside table, and it clattered to the wooden floor. My light was still on, and I was sitting fully dressed on the bed, with my shoes on. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. It was five-thirty in the morning. I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots. I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back over and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to stay horizontal. I could feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of my skull. I turned onto my side and ripped the rubber band out, quickly combing through the plaits with my fingers. I pulled the pillow back over my eyes. It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up exactly the images I’d been trying so desperately to avoid. I was going to have to face them now. I sat up, and my head spun for a minute as the blood flowed downward. First things first, I thought to myself, happy to put it off as long as possible. I grabbed my bathroom bag. The shower didn’t last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though. Even taking the time to blow-dry my hair, I was soon out of things to do in the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I crossed back to my room. I couldn’t tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. I went to look out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again. I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed – something I never did. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on my old computer. I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free service substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl of cereal while I waited. I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the floor and placing it precisely in the center of the table. You read "Twilight 7. NIGHTMARE" in category "Essay examples" I pulled out the headphones, and put them away in the desk drawer. Then I turned the same CD on, turning it down to the point where it was background noise. With another sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in pop-up ads. I sat in my hard folding chair and began closing all the little windows. Eventually I made it to my favorite search engine. I shot down a few more pop-ups and then typed in one word. Vampire. It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through – everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies. Then I found a promising site – Vampires A-Z. I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally the screen was finished – simple white background with black text, academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the home page: Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both. – Rev. Montague Summers If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires? – Rousseau The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood. I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates for young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn’t much that sounded like the movies I’d seen, and only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, who were even preoccupied with drinking blood. Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici. About this last there was only one brief sentence. Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires. It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires. Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob’s stories or my own observations. I’d made a little catalogue in my mind as I’d read and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob’s criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor. And then another problem, one that I’d remembered from the small number of scary movies that I’d seen and was backed up by today’s reading – vampires couldn’t come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night. Aggravated, I snapped off the computer’s main power switch, not waiting to shut things down properly. Through my irritation, I felt overwhelming embarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my room, researching vampires. What was wrong with me? I decided that most of the blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks – and the entire sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter. I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn’t involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without checking the weather and stomped out the door. It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on foot, angling across Charlie’s yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. It didn’t take long till I was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays. There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or I wouldn’t risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was hopeless; I could get lost in much less helpful surroundings. The trail wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and the maples. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me, and all I knew was due to Charlie pointing them out to me from the cruiser window in earlier days. There were many I didn’t know, and others I couldn’t be sure about because they were so covered in green parasites. I followed the trail as long as my anger at myself pushed me forward. As that started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above me, but I couldn’t be certain if it was beginning to rain or if it was simply pools left over from yesterday, held high in the leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. A recently fallen tree – I knew it was recent because it wasn’t entirely carpeted in moss – rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I stepped over the ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacket was between the damp seat and my clothes wherever they touched, and leaned my hooded head back against the living tree. This was the wrong place to have come. I should have known, but where else was there to go? The forest was deep green and far too much like the scene in last night’s dream to allow for peace of mind. Now that there was no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency, so it must be raining above. The ferns stood higher than my head, now that I was seated, and I knew someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and not see me. Here in the trees it was much easier to believe the absurdities that embarrassed me indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in my clear-cut bedroom. I forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer, but I did so unwillingly. First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said about the Cullens could be true. Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly and morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions. But what, then? I asked myself. There was no rational explanation for how I was alive at this moment. I listed again in my head the things I’d observed myself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more – small things that registered slowly – how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way be sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. He had skipped class the day we’d done blood typing. He hadn’t said no to the beach trip till he heard where we were going. He seemed to know what everyone around him was thinking†¦ except me. He had told me he was the villain, dangerous†¦ Could the Cullens be vampires? Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational justification was taking place in front of my incredulous eyes. Whether it be Jacob’s cold ones or my own superhero theory, Edward Cullen was not†¦ human. He was something more. So then – maybe. That would have to be my answer for now. And then the most important question of all. What was I going to do if it was true? If Edward was a vampire – I could hardly make myself think the words – then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn’t even believe myself; anyone I told would have me committed. Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: to be smart, to avoid him as much as possible. To cancel our plans, to go back to ignoring him as far as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrably thick glass wall between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell him to leave me alone – and mean it this time. I was gripped in a sudden agony of despair as I considered that alternative. My mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping on to the next option. I could do nothing different. After all, if he was something†¦ sinister, he’d done nothing to hurt me so far. In fact, I would be a dent in Tyler’s fender if he hadn’t acted so quickly. So quickly, I argued with myself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could he be? I retorted. My head spun around in answerless circles. There was one thing I was sure of, if I was sure of anything. The dark Edward in my dream last night was a reflection only of my fear of the word Jacob had spoken, and not Edward himself. Even so, when I’d screamed out in terror at the werewolf’s lunge, it wasn’t fear for the wolf that brought the cry of â€Å"no† to my lips. It was fear that he would be harmed – even as he called to me with sharp-edged fangs, I feared for him. And I knew in that I had my answer. I didn’t know if there ever was a choice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew – if I knew – I could do nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now. Even if†¦ but I couldn’t think it. Not here, alone in the darkening forest. Not while the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor. I shivered and rose quickly from my place of concealment, worried that somehow the path would have disappeared with the rain. But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping green maze. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close around my face, becoming surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all, or following the path farther into the confines of the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was free, Charlie’s lawn stretched out in front of me, the house beckoning me, promising warmth and dry socks. It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the day, jeans and a t-shirt, since I was staying indoors. It didn’t take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, more serene than I’d felt since†¦ well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest. That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful part for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision was made, I simply followed through – usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like my decision to come to Forks. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives. This decision was ridiculously easy to live with. Dangerously easy. And so the day was quiet, productive – I finished my paper before eight. Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up a book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. The chills that flashed up my spine whenever I thought of that trip were no different than the ones I’d felt before I’d taken my walk with Jacob Black. They should be different, I thought. I should be afraid – I knew I should be, but I couldn’t feel the right kind of fear. I slept dreamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning my day so early, and sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the second time since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I skipped to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that couldn’t possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the window – surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who knows how many years – and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all. My blood was electric in my veins. Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately. â€Å"Nice day out,† he commented. â€Å"Yes,† I agreed with a grin. He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie smiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he’d been in those days had faded before I’d known him, as the curly brown hair – the same color, if not the same texture, as mine – had dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the shiny skin of his forehead. But when he smiled I could see a little of the man who had run away with Ren? ¦e when she was just two years older than I was now. I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I’d seen in months. By dint of much elbow grease, I was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn’t even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done – the product of a slow social life – but there were a few Trig problems I wasn’t sure I had right. I took out my book industriously, but halfway through rechecking the first problem I was daydreaming, watching the sunlight play on the red-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the margins of my homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I’d drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the eraser. â€Å"Bella!† I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike. I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I’d been sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn’t be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in khaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving. â€Å"Hey, Mike,† I called, waving back, unable to be halfhearted on a morning like this. He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining golden in the light, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see me, I couldn’t help but feel gratified. â€Å"I never noticed before – your hair has red in it,† he commented, catching between his fingers a strand that was fluttering in the light breeze. â€Å"Only in the sun.† I became just a little uncomfortable as he tucked the lock behind my ear. â€Å"Great day, isn’t it?† â€Å"My kind of day,† I agreed. â€Å"What did you do yesterday?† His tone was just a bit too proprietary. â€Å"I mostly worked on my essay.† I didn’t add that I was finished with it – no need to sound smug. He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. â€Å"Oh yeah – that’s due Thursday, right?† â€Å"Um, Wednesday, I think.† â€Å"Wednesday?† He frowned. â€Å"That’s not good†¦ What are you writing yours on?† â€Å"Whether Shakespeare’s treatment of the female characters is misogynistic.† He stared at me like I’d just spoken in pig Latin. â€Å"I guess I’ll have to get to work on that tonight,† he said, deflated. â€Å"I was going to ask if you wanted to go out.† â€Å"Oh.† I was taken off guard. Why couldn’t I ever have a pleasant conversation with Mike anymore without it getting awkward? â€Å"Well, we could go to dinner or something†¦ and I could work on it later.† He smiled at me hopefully. â€Å"Mike†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I hated being put on the spot. â€Å"I don’t think that would be the best idea.† His face fell. â€Å"Why?† he asked, his eyes guarded. My thoughts flickered to Edward, wondering if that’s where his thoughts were as well. â€Å"I think†¦ and if you ever repeat what I’m saying right now I will cheerfully beat you to death,† I threatened, â€Å"but I think that would hurt Jessica’s feelings.† He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. â€Å"Jessica?† â€Å"Really, Mike, are you blind?† â€Å"Oh,† he exhaled – clearly dazed. I took advantage of that to make my escape. â€Å"It’s time for class, and I can’t be late again.† I gathered my books up and stuffed them in my bag. We walked in silence to building three, and his expression was distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him in the right direction. When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I didn’t need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew what I could be doing tonight†¦ But that was definitely the wrong path to let my mind wander down. Of course I was happy about the sunlight. But that wasn’t completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in, not even close. So I gave her a maybe, telling her I’d have to talk with Charlie first. She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of anticipation to notice much of what she said. I was painfully eager to see not just him but all the Cullens – to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued my mind. As I crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither down my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me – would Edward be waiting to sit with me again? As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens’ table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled – Spanish had made us late – but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family. Desolation hit me with crippling strength. I shambled along behind Jessica, not bothering to pretend to listen anymore. We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the empty chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I vaguely noticed that Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response. Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could while spiraling downward in misery. She, too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, grasping at anything to distract myself. I realized I’d been holding on to a last shred of hope when I entered Biology, saw his empty seat, and felt a new wave of disappointment. The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at least it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the court. The best part was the coach didn’t finish, so I got another day off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class. I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mope before I went out tonight with Jessica and company. But right after I walked in the door of Charlie’s house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. I tried to be happy that Mike had asked her out to dinner – I really was relieved that he finally seemed to be catching on – but my enthusiasm sounded false in my own ears. She rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night. Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I had fish marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread left over from the night before, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused half hour on homework, but then I was through with that, too. I checked my e-mail, reading the backlog of letters from my mother, getting snippier as they progressed to the present. I sighed and typed a quick response. Mom, Sorry. I’ve been out. I went to the beach with some friends. And I had to write a paper. My excuses were fairly pathetic, so I gave up on that. It’s sunny outside today – I know, I’m shocked, too – so I’m going to go outside and soak up as much vitamin D as I can. I love you, Bella. I decided to kill an hour with non-school-related reading. I had a small collection of books that came with me to Forks, the shabbiest volume being a compilation of the works of Jane Austen. I selected that one and headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs on my way down. Outside in Charlie’s small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out of the reach of the trees’ shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my stomach, crossing my ankles in the air, flipping through the different novels in the book, trying to decide which would occupy my mind the most thoroughly. My favorites were Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. I’d read the first most recently, so I started into Sense and Sensibility, only to remember after I began three that the hero of the story happened to be named Edward. Angrily, I turned to Mansfield Park, but the hero of that piece was named Edmund, and that was just too close. Weren’t there any other names available in the late eighteenth century? I snapped the book shut, annoyed, and rolled over onto my back. I pushed my sleeves up as high as they would go, and closed my eyes. I would think of nothing but the warmth on my s kin, I told myself severely. The breeze was still light, but it blew tendrils of my hair around my face, and that tickled a bit. I pulled all my hair over my head, letting it fan out on the quilt above me, and focused again on the heat that touched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms, my neck, soaked through my light shirt†¦ The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of Charlie’s cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the trees, and I had fallen asleep. I looked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I wasn’t alone. â€Å"Charlie?† I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house. I jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering the now-damp quilt and my book. I ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dinner would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came in. â€Å"Sorry, Dad, dinner’s not ready yet – I fell asleep outside.† I stifled a yawn. â€Å"Don’t worry about it,† he said. â€Å"I wanted to catch the score on the game, anyway.† I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn’t anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn’t like baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of us enjoyed. He seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my depression, to make him happy. â€Å"Dad,† I said during a commercial, â€Å"Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose†¦ do you mind if I go with them?† â€Å"Jessica Stanley?† he asked. â€Å"And Angela Weber.† I sighed as I gave him the details. He was confused. â€Å"But you’re not going to the dance, right?† â€Å"No, Dad, but I’m helping them find dresses – you know, giving them constructive criticism.† I wouldn’t have to explain this to a woman. â€Å"Well, okay.† He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the girlie stuff. â€Å"It’s a school night, though.† â€Å"We’ll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You’ll be okay for dinner, right?† â€Å"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here,† he reminded me. â€Å"I don’t know how you survived,† I muttered, then added more clearly, â€Å"I’ll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top.† It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I grimly tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue V-neck blouse – something I’d worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix. I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it to class. With a sinking heart, I circled the full lot looking for a space, while also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there. I parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell. It was the same as yesterday – I just couldn’t keep little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table. The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and made all the more attractive by the fact that Lauren had other obligations. I was anxious to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see him appearing out of the blue the way he always did. I vowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight and not ruin Angela’s or Jessica’s enjoyment in the dress hunting. Maybe I could do a little clothes shopping as well. I refused to think that I might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the earlier arrangement. Surely he wouldn’t cancel without at least telling me. After school, Jessica followed me home in her old white Mercury so that I could ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my hair quickly when I was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplated getting out of Forks. I left a note for Charlie on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, switched my scruffy wallet from my school bag to a purse I rarely used, and ran out to join Jessica. We went to Angela’s house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits. How to cite Twilight 7. NIGHTMARE, Essay examples

The Accomplishments Of Harriet Tubman Essay Example For Students

The Accomplishments Of Harriet Tubman Essay The Accomplishments Of Harriet Tubman Essay Harriet Tubman was a black woman born into slavery. Harriet was an abolitionist and strongly believed that all slaves should be free. Harriet learned that her master had died and that she would be sold if she did not run away. At the age of twenty-five, Harriet left her plantation and was on the run to a free state (Harriet par 1). Harriet made her way ninety miles from Maryland to Philadelphia. There she began to work and make a living for herself. She decided that she was going to free other slaves so she began to make her journey back to the Southern states twice a year to free as many slaves as she could (Bentley 47-49). The Underground Railroad was how Harriet freed hundreds of slaves, including her aging parents. The Underground Railroad was a route that Harriet took to free the slaves. She would have covered wagons with fixed bottoms, which were filled with slaves. She would take them to various homes of other abolitionists for food and shelter throughout the night. Once day broke Harriet would continue her journey towards the free states (Smith par 1-2). When the government enacted the Fugitive Slave Law Harriet could not bring the slaves to Philadelphia anymore. They were no longer safe in any of the states and had to be brought to Canada for their freedom. This meant that Harriet had to extend the route of the Underground Railroad (Petry 132-133). Harriet was nicknamed Moses by her people. They believed that she was sent from God to free them. Throughout all her trips back and forth through the Underground Railroad, the reward for the capture of Harriet was up to $40,000. This made it even more difficult for Harriet to make it safely through the woods and trails, though she was never captured (Smith par 5-6). During the Civil War, Harriet Tubman became very prominent. She became a nurse, a scout, and a spy for the Union forces. As a nurse, Harriet found a root that helped cure the dysentery. Once again the soldiers began to call her Moses because she had saved many of their lives (Petry 220-224). While being involved in the Civil War, Harriet freed another seven hundred slaves. Harriet was said to be a well respected throughout the war. She received official commendations from many Union Army officials. Even though Harriet contributed a lot of time and hard work in the war efforts, she never received veterans benefits for any of of her painstaking work (Harriet par 3). Following the Civil War, Harriet returned to her home in Auburn, New York to live with her parents. Harriet helped Auburn remain a center for womans rights. In Auburn Harriet married and continued helping misfortunate people (Life par 14). She led the growth of the African Methodist Episcopal Church. Harriets home in Auburn was used as a home for other blacks and elderly who were sick and were in need of assistance in their lives (Bentley 112). Harriet continued to tell reporters and writers about her journeys and her lifestyle. She would never leave a person wondering. She told all the reporters everything they wanted to know and never left anything out. By doing this she made a small profit for her home (Bentley 119). Sarah Bradford was a friend of Harriet who believed that her story was worth telling. Sarah decided to write Harriets biography and give all the proceeds to Harriet to help her finish paying off her mortgage so that the others living there could continue living there. The book made enough money to cover the mortgage and have some extra which Harriet gave to the town of Auburn (Bentley 118). By the time of her death, Harriet freed over a thousand slaves. She received a medal from the Queen of England, Queen Victoria (Bentley 119-120). .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc , .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc .postImageUrl , .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc , .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc:hover , .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc:visited , .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc:active { border:0!important; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc:active , .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u45786520b6e4298da9cb5f21429785dc:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Financial Analysis Essay She also helped out her community a great deal by contributing funds to her town and by allowing sick and elder blacks stay in her home (Bentley 112). Harriet was buried in Fort Hill Cemetery in Auburn, New York with military honors. The federal government has honored her accomplishments when they decided to place her photo on a commemorative postage stamp. .