Even if you haven’t been fastidious you would know that on March 11, 2011 an earthquake stroke Japan causing massive tsunamis on the Pacific Ocean and Japan. A copious amount of people were reported missing-dead-and houses turned to bits making survivors feel a pang over the lost lives. It is crucial to send adept helpers to the places where the earthquake hit hardest. It is said that this fitful earth movement was so strong that it was almost impossible to grapple against the harsh earthquake.
Even if this was a devastating event, others deployed it to facilitate the prediction of the tsunami that hit the Pacific coasts of the Americas. Even if the tsunami didn’t decelerate, there was enough time to evacuate enough people from the coasts.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
House on Mango Street
House on Mango Street
Sara Moreno
The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros is an inspiring story that is written in a poetic way that helps describe the protagonist’s feeling, actions or to give a reader a clue why she is writing the certain vignettes. The title of the book is House on Mango Street because the main character does not like living or even being a part of Mango Street because she is ashamed of her heritage and her small, basic home. She wants, more than anything, to have a nice home for her own and not be part of Mango Street, but yet she knows that she'll always be from that place no matter where she moves to because that’s where she grew up in, so deep down inside, she knows that she will always love Mango Street.
The main character or the protagonist is Esperanza, an American Mexican girl, that is different from the girls of her type in the way that she doesn't want to be the typical Mexican woman that is less important that the man. She wants to be the one that works and not the one that stays in the kitchen or takes care of the children by herself. She independent in a way because she thinks differently that the rest. She thinks that the way to get out of poverty is to work hard and do good in school unlike the other girls who either think that they should marry a rich man or that it won’t be possible for a woman to get out of poverty because the woman shouldn't work.
House on Mango Street is written, how I mentioned before, in vignettes. Each vignette have a different story that describes the troubles of growing up in poverty and how it's like being a woman in a place with sexism. It fist starts to be told from when Esperanza was a child but as the book goes on, Esperanza starts to grow and starts maturing. In the beginning it seems like if she where around eight or nine years old, around the middle of the book she seems to be teenager but at the end she seems to be around seventeen, and then a young adult.
The memoirist came to noticed many things at the end. One of them is that she noticed that no matter where she moves to, she will always be part of Mango Street. She moves from her small, pitiful house but she seems to start missing it after she's got the house she's always wanted. Another thing she noticed was that even if she is a woman, she could still accomplish her dream of having a nice home of herself and have a decent job because she worked hard and didn't make stupid decisions like marrying the wrong man or get pregnant before she should.
This novel is inspiring in many ways especially to woman and people who live in poverty. It shows that no matter who you are or how you live, you can always do what you wish if you just try hard and never give up. It also shows that one you have a home, you will always be part of it. Another thing that I like is some lines like where “You must keep writing. It will keep you free.” And Nenny, I say, but don’t hear me. She’s too many light years away. She is in a world we don’t belong to anymore. Nenny. Going.”
Sara Moreno
The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros is an inspiring story that is written in a poetic way that helps describe the protagonist’s feeling, actions or to give a reader a clue why she is writing the certain vignettes. The title of the book is House on Mango Street because the main character does not like living or even being a part of Mango Street because she is ashamed of her heritage and her small, basic home. She wants, more than anything, to have a nice home for her own and not be part of Mango Street, but yet she knows that she'll always be from that place no matter where she moves to because that’s where she grew up in, so deep down inside, she knows that she will always love Mango Street.
The main character or the protagonist is Esperanza, an American Mexican girl, that is different from the girls of her type in the way that she doesn't want to be the typical Mexican woman that is less important that the man. She wants to be the one that works and not the one that stays in the kitchen or takes care of the children by herself. She independent in a way because she thinks differently that the rest. She thinks that the way to get out of poverty is to work hard and do good in school unlike the other girls who either think that they should marry a rich man or that it won’t be possible for a woman to get out of poverty because the woman shouldn't work.
House on Mango Street is written, how I mentioned before, in vignettes. Each vignette have a different story that describes the troubles of growing up in poverty and how it's like being a woman in a place with sexism. It fist starts to be told from when Esperanza was a child but as the book goes on, Esperanza starts to grow and starts maturing. In the beginning it seems like if she where around eight or nine years old, around the middle of the book she seems to be teenager but at the end she seems to be around seventeen, and then a young adult.
The memoirist came to noticed many things at the end. One of them is that she noticed that no matter where she moves to, she will always be part of Mango Street. She moves from her small, pitiful house but she seems to start missing it after she's got the house she's always wanted. Another thing she noticed was that even if she is a woman, she could still accomplish her dream of having a nice home of herself and have a decent job because she worked hard and didn't make stupid decisions like marrying the wrong man or get pregnant before she should.
This novel is inspiring in many ways especially to woman and people who live in poverty. It shows that no matter who you are or how you live, you can always do what you wish if you just try hard and never give up. It also shows that one you have a home, you will always be part of it. Another thing that I like is some lines like where “You must keep writing. It will keep you free.” And Nenny, I say, but don’t hear me. She’s too many light years away. She is in a world we don’t belong to anymore. Nenny. Going.”
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
I believe
I believe that
when a kid
falls from their bike
they will always get back on.
I believe
that a fledgling
will always
learn to fly
I believe that a drop of water
on a leaf
will fall
but feed a tiny seed
making it a tree
I believe that
a smile
doesn't always show happiness
I believe that
a smile can turn to a frown
but a frown
can easily turn to a smile
I believe that
there is no
bad days
you just make them feel bad
I believe that
when you dream
your not always asleep
so why don't you
just wake up
little fledgling
and flap your wings
when a kid
falls from their bike
they will always get back on.
I believe
that a fledgling
will always
learn to fly
I believe that a drop of water
on a leaf
will fall
but feed a tiny seed
making it a tree
I believe that
a smile
doesn't always show happiness
I believe that
a smile can turn to a frown
but a frown
can easily turn to a smile
I believe that
there is no
bad days
you just make them feel bad
I believe that
when you dream
your not always asleep
so why don't you
just wake up
little fledgling
and flap your wings
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
short story
Okay, let me apprehend, so yesterday my brother told me that Egypt was now in anarchy. Yeah, I knew that people were trying to get rid of the “president”, but I never knew they would get rid of him so fast. I watched the news, and I saw about millions of people on the streets causing calamity. There was so many people that even a cow could assimilate in the crowd, but never did I know that they would get rid of him so fast. But just like that, bam! He’s out of the government. How did it happen? I had also seen that he had talked to President Obama, and that he said something about him not being able to accomplish his promise, and that he will try to.
But how did he leave the government? Did he just quit, they shot him or something? They kicked him out somehow? I really don’t know. I’ve been watching the news every day, and when the best part comes, I don’t watch it because I was playing Sims. You know, you really have to be more meticulous about things sometimes. You never know what you can miss out on.
You know what, now that I think of this, because of this huge crowd of people that protested against the Egyptian president, it makes it look like he’s worse than Chavez, but then I thought again “there is no way that that would be possible. Maybe the president or ex-president of Egypt was in power for about 30 something years, but Chavez takes tons of money from Venezuela and, counting me, but I think that not many people know how bad he is because he lionizes those with more power than him and those who can make him more powerful. He gives them so much money, Venezuela’s money and much more, but who am I to say who is worse, I’m just a girl that her family lost millions of dollars because of him.
But how did he leave the government? Did he just quit, they shot him or something? They kicked him out somehow? I really don’t know. I’ve been watching the news every day, and when the best part comes, I don’t watch it because I was playing Sims. You know, you really have to be more meticulous about things sometimes. You never know what you can miss out on.
You know what, now that I think of this, because of this huge crowd of people that protested against the Egyptian president, it makes it look like he’s worse than Chavez, but then I thought again “there is no way that that would be possible. Maybe the president or ex-president of Egypt was in power for about 30 something years, but Chavez takes tons of money from Venezuela and, counting me, but I think that not many people know how bad he is because he lionizes those with more power than him and those who can make him more powerful. He gives them so much money, Venezuela’s money and much more, but who am I to say who is worse, I’m just a girl that her family lost millions of dollars because of him.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Short Story
Cold wind cladded my skin. The week, yellow light of the candles where starting to fade away. Soon the only source of light Edmin and I would have was the one of the harsh lightnings plummiting from the dark clouds. We could hear just the rain drops crashing to the ground and the thunder so loud it made our ear drumbs shake. Our arms wraped around each outher giving us enough warmth to not make a big deal about it, but we still froze even if our cloths was starting to dry up from this horrible storm. At least we could stand staying in this place until most of the anarchy is fixed in this town.
I looked at Edmin for a while and I could bearly make out his face with such dim light. For the first time in ten years of my sons life I saw worry in his dark-blue eyes that where almost coverd by his souking black hair. Also, for the first time, his skin looked pale like snow probably because of the cold. I couldn't stand seeing him like this, so I thought of a way to cheer him up, "Don't worry, we can conspire and figure a way to get out of here." I stated with a low, uneaven voice and shaky lips; probably not from the weather, but from the fact that the cops could find us any moment now, just like they did with Edmin's father, my husband ten years ago. Edmin was just five years old.
"I don't care if I get out of here or not, I want Dad back." he declared with a strong, demanding wheep. Tears came down from his eyes. He couldn't just aprehend, could he?
"Dont you get," I paused to let go of him to look straight at his eyes. " they arrested him a long time ago. Fom what I know, he might not even be...." I stopped my words in an instant as I couldn't even finish the sentance. I couldn't hold the cry in anymore. Tears flooded my eyes as well as my heart. I burried my head in beatween my knees. I rememberd the last time I saw him....
" Edmin, stay with your mom." Chris wisperd to Edmin as he knudged him towards me. Edmin held on tight to my arm. I stepped away from the door even more from what I was, but Chris got closer to it. He looked back at me with that same replica of Edmin's eyes. The only difference was that Chris had slightly thinner lips than him. He turned back around and slowly placed his palm on the golden knob, turning it, then opening the door to see a police in the entrance. Chris swoloed and in a very polite manner, he spoke, "May I help you in any way sir?"
"Is your name Chris Woods?" the cop said in a loud intimidating voice.
"Yes that is me."
"May I speek to you outside?" Those words made me siver, but I never knew that they would change my life.
Chris looked at me again and mouthed three words, "I love you." then the police leaded him out the house. I frozed in my spot and felt like my breath was gone. Fear over powerd my whole body and I practicly stayed paralized. The door closed behind him, and from that day, I havn't seen him again.
I lifted my head to take a short glance at him and say I was sorry for the crusal words, but he just staird at the distance, and I knew that he was remembering the same momment.
I looked at Edmin for a while and I could bearly make out his face with such dim light. For the first time in ten years of my sons life I saw worry in his dark-blue eyes that where almost coverd by his souking black hair. Also, for the first time, his skin looked pale like snow probably because of the cold. I couldn't stand seeing him like this, so I thought of a way to cheer him up, "Don't worry, we can conspire and figure a way to get out of here." I stated with a low, uneaven voice and shaky lips; probably not from the weather, but from the fact that the cops could find us any moment now, just like they did with Edmin's father, my husband ten years ago. Edmin was just five years old.
"I don't care if I get out of here or not, I want Dad back." he declared with a strong, demanding wheep. Tears came down from his eyes. He couldn't just aprehend, could he?
"Dont you get," I paused to let go of him to look straight at his eyes. " they arrested him a long time ago. Fom what I know, he might not even be...." I stopped my words in an instant as I couldn't even finish the sentance. I couldn't hold the cry in anymore. Tears flooded my eyes as well as my heart. I burried my head in beatween my knees. I rememberd the last time I saw him....
" Edmin, stay with your mom." Chris wisperd to Edmin as he knudged him towards me. Edmin held on tight to my arm. I stepped away from the door even more from what I was, but Chris got closer to it. He looked back at me with that same replica of Edmin's eyes. The only difference was that Chris had slightly thinner lips than him. He turned back around and slowly placed his palm on the golden knob, turning it, then opening the door to see a police in the entrance. Chris swoloed and in a very polite manner, he spoke, "May I help you in any way sir?"
"Is your name Chris Woods?" the cop said in a loud intimidating voice.
"Yes that is me."
"May I speek to you outside?" Those words made me siver, but I never knew that they would change my life.
Chris looked at me again and mouthed three words, "I love you." then the police leaded him out the house. I frozed in my spot and felt like my breath was gone. Fear over powerd my whole body and I practicly stayed paralized. The door closed behind him, and from that day, I havn't seen him again.
I lifted my head to take a short glance at him and say I was sorry for the crusal words, but he just staird at the distance, and I knew that he was remembering the same momment.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Gladys
I couldn't sleep, I truly couldn't. Tomorow was going to be the first day of school after Christmas vacation, and I really didn't want to start; I didn't want the last day of sweet vacation to go by so fast, so I just layed there on my bed and looking at the roof thinking about anything really, until I heard a cry coming from the room that was partly connected to mine in a way. It was Gladys, my little sister. She does't cry anymore at nights, so I thought for a momment what might of been going on. I sat up on my bed in a way that my bare feet touched the cold-tiled floor. I waited there for a momment to see if the weeping would stop, but it didn't. I finally stood up and headed to peek though the arch that sepporated our rooms. It was to dark for me to see, so I walked towards her bed, so it would be more clear what was going on. "Gladys, whats going on?" I asked in a sweet, soft tone.
"Ma... ma..., Mama left me alone. I don't want to be alone." she weeped in a low voice. I sat on the border of the bed. Afraid that she would slap me and say "don't touch me!", I slowly moved my arm to her and carefuly pased my cold fingers through her beautiful, soft curls.
"Want me to stay here with you?" I asked.
"Yes!" and she puled me to lay down next to her small, pettit body. I hugged her and her tears fadded. She hugged me back and I smiled. I sang her a lullaby and she sang along. I looked at her, and I knoticed, she's not a little baby any more; she's growing up." My baby sister is growing up." I told myself. One day she won't even care about me, or maybe care about me more, but whatever happens, she will always be the best sister someone could ever have.
"Ma... ma..., Mama left me alone. I don't want to be alone." she weeped in a low voice. I sat on the border of the bed. Afraid that she would slap me and say "don't touch me!", I slowly moved my arm to her and carefuly pased my cold fingers through her beautiful, soft curls.
"Want me to stay here with you?" I asked.
"Yes!" and she puled me to lay down next to her small, pettit body. I hugged her and her tears fadded. She hugged me back and I smiled. I sang her a lullaby and she sang along. I looked at her, and I knoticed, she's not a little baby any more; she's growing up." My baby sister is growing up." I told myself. One day she won't even care about me, or maybe care about me more, but whatever happens, she will always be the best sister someone could ever have.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Didn't Want to See Him
Sitting in a serene manner in the principals office waiting patiantly for the principal to come out and see me. You would think I would be tremulus, but I'm not beacuse I didn't write "F*** you" on the wall; besides, I was only ten years old. As I waited for Mrs. Simmons, the door opened next to me. A guy with some stupid looking red hat just came in with practicly his whole inventry in some expensive looking suitcase. I thought I knew this guy, yes, yes I did. Holden Caulfield, Phoebe Caulfield's dispicable brother. Oh how I abhor that guy; well, everyone does really. Unlike his affable sister, he is always so despondant. Well atleast what I've seen of him. Phoebe says he used to have a joyful disposition. It's even hard to tell that he is related to such a sage like her, but yet, they seem to simulate one another in a way.
So yeah, when he came in, I could tell he was dehydrated by his dry lips and abnormal his pale-green skin. I also noticed some abration on his clothes and on the side of his mouth. The clothing was clad in dirt and dty blood. He looked like he was in so much pain that it was excrusiating to watch. I actually had pitty for him, but just for that concise momment. It almost evoked me to ask if he was okay and offer him a seat next to me to talk about what was going on with him without him even trying. It was almost as if he had gone through a couple of turbulant weeks. He pretty much could surcomb any momment now, but he didn't. Well I know that I be resiliant to whatever had happend to him. Suddenly he looked over to me.
"Hey, may I sit next to you?" he asked. Oh great.
"Sure", I answerd. Well it's not like I'm going to rebuff someone for sitting down, so he sat down. He then started this useless tirade about some guy named Akley and this girl named Jane. Wow, that was interminable.
So yeah, when he came in, I could tell he was dehydrated by his dry lips and abnormal his pale-green skin. I also noticed some abration on his clothes and on the side of his mouth. The clothing was clad in dirt and dty blood. He looked like he was in so much pain that it was excrusiating to watch. I actually had pitty for him, but just for that concise momment. It almost evoked me to ask if he was okay and offer him a seat next to me to talk about what was going on with him without him even trying. It was almost as if he had gone through a couple of turbulant weeks. He pretty much could surcomb any momment now, but he didn't. Well I know that I be resiliant to whatever had happend to him. Suddenly he looked over to me.
"Hey, may I sit next to you?" he asked. Oh great.
"Sure", I answerd. Well it's not like I'm going to rebuff someone for sitting down, so he sat down. He then started this useless tirade about some guy named Akley and this girl named Jane. Wow, that was interminable.
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