<?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-283201566759546010</id><updated>2011-08-10T04:38:55.608-07:00</updated><category term='2010 summerassignment'/><category term='thINK'/><title type='text'>thoughts by alita</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-7271493813241746996</id><published>2011-06-19T17:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T18:45:33.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HTPLLAP: Chapter 1- Every Trip Is a Quest</title><content type='html'>Growing up in a household full of feminists constantly forcing my much older male cousin's to let me play football with them, even though I never wanted to, honestly put me off any books about women empowerment and the importance of female heroins. Do not get me wrong, I'm all for woman's rights and equality, but I simply do not search for these books in my local book store. Finally one summer day I was faced with a five hour long car ride and I gave in. Out of pure desperation, I begrudgingly picked up the book my aunt dropped into my lap about one of the few Spanish female conquistadors, Ines of My Soul by Isabel Allendre. To my dismay, the path of the heroin, Ines Suares, fascinated me and is a perfect example of a literary quest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Our Quester&lt;/span&gt;: Ines Suares, a Spanish native happily married to her lover, Juan de Málaga. Born to a poor family in the sixteenth century, she becomes a seamstress, condemned to a life of hard work without any lucrative prospects for the future. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A Place To Go&lt;/span&gt;: Ines' husband goes off to concur the new world, promising to return with riches and glory, leaving Ines all alone. After he fails to return, the protagonist uses her husband's apparent disappearance as a means to secure a charter and go off on her own adventure to Peru, in search of her runaway spouse. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A Stated Reason to Go There:&lt;/span&gt; Although Ines uses her husband to facilitate her voyage across the sea, she is not truly in search of her love. Ines is very disillusioned by Juan after seeing his fickle nature and lack of loyalty. Instead of living out her life alone, never knowing if she is a widow or simply and abandoned bride, she departs on her journey in search of closure. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Challenges and trials&lt;/span&gt;: As one of the few Spanish women to make the journey to the foreign world, the courageous heroin faced many dangerous challenges. Ines' travel companion and niece quickly runs off with a handsome sailor, leaving her alone yet again. Lusty conquistadors hungering for any resemblance of a woman surround her and she is constantly plagued with the well known new world challenges of disease, hunger and combative natives.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Real Reason to Go&lt;/span&gt;: Ines becomes the lover of Pedro de Valdivia, an accomplished soldier and aides him, sward in hand, in defending the settlement of Santiago, Chile. By embarking on this treacherous voyage Ines single handedly  transformed her life as a poor tired seamstress into the revered lady of Santiago, succeeding where many men have failed. The journey of Ines Suares showed her the extant of her own courage and self worth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-7271493813241746996?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/7271493813241746996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2011/06/htpllap-chapter-1-every-trip-is-quest.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/7271493813241746996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/7271493813241746996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2011/06/htpllap-chapter-1-every-trip-is-quest.html' title='HTPLLAP: Chapter 1- Every Trip Is a Quest'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-4446098407822040335</id><published>2010-08-06T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T06:16:27.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Movie for Teenagers?</title><content type='html'>As I walked into the movie theater with three teenage boys, I mentally prepared myself to spend two hours watching car chases, explosions and cleavage. To my surprise they all wanted to see &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shrek 4. &lt;/span&gt;So there I was with my 3D glasses on seriously questioning my choice of friends, when I realized we were not the only people over eleven in the theater. Half way through the movie I understood why. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shrek 4 &lt;/span&gt;was actually funny and not the wow this is so stupid I'm going to laugh at it funny, the my popcorn is in danger of being spilt funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disney Pixar has made &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shrek &lt;/span&gt;the type of film that can be enjoyed by children from ages two to eighty (My eighty-five year old grandfather saw the movie and was uncomfortable with the donkey dragon crossbreeding). There are very few movies with three sequels that are worth seeing, but &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shrek 4 &lt;/span&gt;has done it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that annoyed my about this film was, like a lot of new movies,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Shrek 4&lt;/span&gt; is in 3D. I might be the only one, But I hate 3D movies. I do not like paying five dollars more to see a blurry movie and leave with a headache. My whole life is in 3D, I can manage seeing two hours of it in 2D. On the plus side dorky glasses are always fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never the less great movie. Well worth suffering through that extra dimension.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-4446098407822040335?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/4446098407822040335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/08/movie-for-teenagers.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/4446098407822040335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/4446098407822040335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/08/movie-for-teenagers.html' title='A Movie for Teenagers?'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-532310132551353021</id><published>2010-08-03T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T15:40:38.519-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thINK'/><title type='text'>Depressed Surfers</title><content type='html'>As I came across a time.com article entitled "Study: Obsessive Wed Surfers Are More Depressed", my first thought was, it seems like bad business practice for a website to tell people surfing the web will make them depressed. The author, Alice Park, explained that pathological Internet use is a way of "self-medicating or manifestation of the persons mental state." Is the fact that people who spend a large amount of their time on the Internet are more depressed, really surprising? Any teenager who has been stuck at home sick can testify, there is nothing more depressing then spending hours on Facebook when no one is online to talk to you. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The article also states that students reported to feel moody, nervous and uncomfortable away from the computer. It seems everyone has there drug. My sister is constantly texting on her cellphone. At this very moment my cousin is getting annoyed at me because my blogging is taking Internet speed away from his Xbox addiction. This informative piece once again shows that our generation is addicted to technology. The advice given to parents is to "monitor children's online activities," but in my opinion parents should take their kids to go get ice cream or make them join sports. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On a side note, in between every few paragraphs of this Time article there is a link to other article. The first was "25 websites you cant live with out," the second, "Facebook No-Nos," the third, "Best Social Networking Apps." This probably is not the safest article to read if you have an Internet surfing addiction yourself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Click &lt;a href="http://www.time.com/time/health/article/0,8599,2008234,00.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; to read the original article.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-532310132551353021?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/532310132551353021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/08/depressed-surfers.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/532310132551353021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/532310132551353021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/08/depressed-surfers.html' title='Depressed Surfers'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-3186822545367382152</id><published>2010-08-03T11:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T14:24:58.255-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thINK'/><title type='text'>Stepping Back</title><content type='html'>After spending a whole day looking at modern art, I came to the realization that some art was not going to be understood by my measly seventeen years of life experience. I came across "Water-Lilies", a piece by Claude Monet, and just to please everyone who has ever tried to teach me about art, I stopped.  That small pause to admire an artist solely because of what I had heard about the French founder of impressionist paintings, changed the way I think about beauty forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped right in front of the painting to admire the skillful brush strokes and impressive use of color, but still did not really understand why this painting was so spectacular. Finally a friend told me, "Step back a bit." That simple sentence transformed the painting in my mind. The colors seamed to flow in harmony as easily as real water. The subtle flowers had an almost shy charm like a gorgeous little girl peeking out from behind her mothers legs, unsure if she is ready for the world to see her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I stood mesmerized by this truly remarkable piece of art, I realized how much of a fool I had been to try and look closely at the details of a painting and ignore its full glory. Just like a valley is only a view from its peaks not the base, just like loved ones seem so much more important when they are far away enough to miss, sometimes you have to "step back a bit" to see beauty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SBL047sn8xg/TFh1fLfzOEI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UTdk8xQHKoc/s1600/monet-water-lilies-NG6343-fm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 149px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SBL047sn8xg/TFh1fLfzOEI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UTdk8xQHKoc/s320/monet-water-lilies-NG6343-fm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501276123355625538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-3186822545367382152?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/3186822545367382152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/08/beauty-can-change.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/3186822545367382152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/3186822545367382152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/08/beauty-can-change.html' title='Stepping Back'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SBL047sn8xg/TFh1fLfzOEI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UTdk8xQHKoc/s72-c/monet-water-lilies-NG6343-fm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-3585593327209163754</id><published>2010-08-03T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T11:35:04.895-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2010 summerassignment'/><title type='text'>My Photo Story</title><content type='html'>Click on the photo below to lean about me as a writer, reader and a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/52663766@N03/4857151585/" title="26479_376462037033_674367033_3827785_1978213_n by Alita Mobley, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4142/4857151585_b76e355207.jpg" alt="26479_376462037033_674367033_3827785_1978213_n" width="500" height="116" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-3585593327209163754?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/3585593327209163754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-photo-story.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/3585593327209163754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/3585593327209163754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-photo-story.html' title='My Photo Story'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4142/4857151585_b76e355207_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-1650420633503759167</id><published>2010-05-22T13:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T12:43:15.822-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Mice and Men</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Analysis of Detail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The first paragraph John Steinbeck's &lt;em&gt;Of Mice and Men &lt;/em&gt;is carefully worded to depict what will happen in the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Steinbeck writes,"the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green", "Green" there represents new, lively and strong. When one is lost in the woods they are told to find a "river" and fallow the running water to civilization. Lennie represents the "green", strong but naive. George is the "river", always guiding lost Lennie in the right direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the "rocky Gabilan mountains" are described there is also a figurative meaning. "Rocky" means rough and unstable, but "mountains" are stable and wise. Lennie's mind is "rocky", but George is the "mountain" that keeps in stable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The two men's lives are described as ,"under the trees the leaves lie deep and so crisp.""Leaves" are free and go where ever the wind takes them. "Trees" are old and strong, with long roots. The "leaves" are like Lennie and George's lives, always moving from place to place. The "tree" represents their friendship, strong and deep rooted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their journey is depicted as, "a path beaten hard by boys coming down from the ranches to swim in the deep pool, and beaten hard by tramps who come wearily down from the highway." The "path beaten hard" is a tough road many have taken. The "deep pool" is the peaceful destination that is worth the journey. The hard lives Lennie and George live is represented by the "path beaten hard" and the "deep pool" is the farm they want to have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, "the limb is worn smooth by men who have sat on it" describes the relationship of the men and their future farm. The "limb" is sturdy and and supports leaves. The "men" rest on the tree and give it life. The "limb" represents the farm Lennie and George will have and the "men" are Lennie and George, who will make the farm thrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Analysis of Point of View&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third person point of view allows the reader to use his own emotions as opposed to only reading the emotions the author gives the characters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Narrator says, "Lennie's closed hand slowly obeyed. George tool the mouse." p6&lt;br /&gt;"Slowly obeyed" conveys that Lennie is reluctant to give up the mouse, without the author actually writing out his feelings. Though at times Lennie is reluctant to do what George wants, he trusts George blindly.&lt;br /&gt;"George lay back on the sand and crossed his hands under his head, and Lennie imitated him, raising his head to see whether he was doing it right"p7 is another time where this is shown. By saying "Lennie imitated him" the narrator shows Lennie looks up to George. When Lennie needs guidance his guardian is there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Curley's shoulders dropped and squared "How long ago'd he go?""p54, gives the reader in site to Curley's mind. Curley's physical actions show he is worried about what his wife is doing even though we can not read his mind. Curley is adamantly looks for his wife because she is a "tart".&lt;br /&gt;"He [Candy] lay back on his bunk and crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling"p47-48 displays emotions in a physical way as well. Though the narrator does not tell us that Candy is upset, the reader can tell by his actions. Candy is too proud to show his feeling to the other men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Analysis of Tone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sentimental and protective tone in Steinbeck's novel that reflect the price of letting a person into your heart and watching out for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;""No-look! I was jus' foolin', lennie. 'Cause I want you to stay with me. trouble with mice is you always kill 'em." he paused. "Tell you what I'll do Lennie. First chance I get I'll give you a pup."" p13, shows George's softer side. Even if George gives Lennie a hard time, he still cares about Lennie and wants them to stay together, showing the value of their ralationship to george.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing Lennie's devotion to George is much easier. "Suddenly Lennie's eyes centered and grew quiet, and mad. He stood up and walked dangerously toward Crooks, "Who hurt George?" he demanded." Lennie is much more open about is love is more protective of George, perhaps because he is dependent on George.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Analysis of Theme&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The theme of &lt;em&gt;Mice and Men&lt;/em&gt; is I am my brother's keeper. Often in life I feel like my sister's keeper. She is useless when it comes to it comes to picking out clothes or traveling and I am always there to help her. No matter how much my sister leans on me, I can not imagine supporting my sister as much as Lennie leans on George. Each time Lennie does something wrong George is there to cover it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"George stood up and thew the mouse as far as he could" p9 George Watches out for Lennie even when he does not like it because George knows whats best for Lennie. George's life would be much easier with out Lennie but he stays with him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-1650420633503759167?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/1650420633503759167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/of-mice-and-men.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/1650420633503759167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/1650420633503759167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/of-mice-and-men.html' title='Of Mice and Men'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-2217101194752407636</id><published>2010-05-20T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T16:51:50.684-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dorothea Lange's Migrant Mother photos.</title><content type='html'>Dorothea Lange's photos are so breath taking, they can teach a person far more than any text book  can. The shelter in this picture shows the extent a mother will go to for her children. These people truly show how important the bond of family is. By her wedding ring and her tireless car, it is evident that this mother did not always live such a impoverished life. It is remarkable how such a young woman, with so many dependent children can endure this type of depression. She could have left the children behind, but even on the brink of starvation she had the courage to march on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wedding ring in this picture also shows the strength of a family bond. The mother has lost everything they own, other than a single suitcase, yet the ring remains on her finger. The symbol of her marriage is the one thing she chooses over food and shelter. This shows no matter how unbearable life may get, family will always be there with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mrsginfo.pbworks.com/f/Photographs+Dorothea+Lange.pptx"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-2217101194752407636?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/2217101194752407636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/dorothea-langes-migrant-mother-photos.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/2217101194752407636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/2217101194752407636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/dorothea-langes-migrant-mother-photos.html' title='Dorothea Lange&apos;s Migrant Mother photos.'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-4375072121921679593</id><published>2010-05-20T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T15:54:10.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Animal Farm</title><content type='html'>George Orwell's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Animal Farm&lt;/span&gt; uses animals is a very effective way. Pigs accentual live a life of ease on a normal farm, eating plentiful and playing in the mud. Orwell used this idea of a pigs duty on a farm to help show the role of the ruling class. The pigs on Animal Farm only supervised the work of others and ate all the apples and milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a child I always wanted a pony, not because I like horses, or even because I wanted to ride her. The sole reason I wanted a pony was because they are cute. Honestly is there really any other reason they exist? Orwell successfully used the that idea of ponies to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;represent&lt;/span&gt; the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;extravagant&lt;/span&gt; lives of the upper class, in the character Mollie who only likes to eat sugar and play with the ribbons in her hair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-4375072121921679593?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/4375072121921679593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/animal-farm.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/4375072121921679593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/4375072121921679593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/animal-farm.html' title='Animal Farm'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-6510244049590485136</id><published>2010-05-15T08:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T15:53:53.322-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Giver</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Lois Lowry's novel &lt;em&gt;The Giver &lt;/em&gt;turned a day when I was mad at my parents into a day when I was happy to have feelings at all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once lite eyed, eleven year old, Jonas starts training with the giver this entire view point on life changes. This curious boy is forced to face the harsh reality that he has been raised in a lie. As Jonas watches the tape of his beloved father performing a release and the image of his once happy family is shattered in his mind, I could not help but remember I first time I realized my father was not everything I thought he was. Unfortunately I believe each child can remember this moment. Though the first time I got embarrassed by my dad talking to my friends, might not compare to Jonas watching his father commit murder, Lowry did an excellent job of depicting such a important part of growing up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To be honest if I did not have complex emotions, my life would be far easier than it is today. I would no longer have to get annoyed by my siblings, no longer rack my brain for that cute, witty comment I should have said to some boy, and I would not even complain about having to write book reports. Just imagining how much I could get done without emotions makes my head spin. &lt;em&gt;The Giver &lt;/em&gt;let me explore a "utopia" with an absence of emotions, something I otherwise would have never dreamed of. This fascinating world thought me how important complex emotions really are and not to take them for granted. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-6510244049590485136?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/6510244049590485136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/giver.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6510244049590485136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6510244049590485136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/giver.html' title='The Giver'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-7149433490383925777</id><published>2010-04-20T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T08:55:16.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cross Examined</title><content type='html'>What is in this box?&lt;br /&gt;Clothes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is in that box?&lt;br /&gt;Clothes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is in those boxes?&lt;br /&gt;-gulp- clothes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this box?&lt;br /&gt;Okay, OKAY! All the boxes are filled to the brink of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;explosion&lt;/span&gt; with clothes!&lt;br /&gt;WAIT! Not this one! This box is filled with shoes. -smile-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do you have so many clothes?&lt;br /&gt;I can't through any of them any.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These still have price tags on them.&lt;br /&gt;I'm a compulsive &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;buyer&lt;/span&gt; and I love shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can you afford this?&lt;br /&gt;I can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you believe you have a problem?&lt;br /&gt;long pause&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-7149433490383925777?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/7149433490383925777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/cross-examined.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/7149433490383925777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/7149433490383925777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/cross-examined.html' title='Cross Examined'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-9158351843757187633</id><published>2010-04-20T19:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T19:12:48.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"The Little Red Wheelbarrow"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Robots&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;                                                                                     Robots make life   easier.        Robots make life harder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Quickly we progress.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Quickly  we forget&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;how we functioned &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Before the                malfunctions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Soon we will find                    a happy medium.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. My blog messed up the shape of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-9158351843757187633?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/9158351843757187633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/04/little-red-wheelbarrow.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/9158351843757187633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/9158351843757187633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/04/little-red-wheelbarrow.html' title='&quot;The Little Red Wheelbarrow&quot;'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-6670460820725839987</id><published>2010-04-20T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T07:25:21.712-07:00</updated><title type='text'>celebrations!!!</title><content type='html'>The most important celebration of every year is my birthday. Not only do I count down the days, I count down the months. I save up all my money to afford the massive celebration that I go through every year. I get the biggest, most delicious cake and spend months shopping on line for things to show my uncle who hates gift shopping. I always pick out a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;ridiculously&lt;/span&gt; cute outfit for that day and do everything in my power to make it fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About seven a.m., the morning after my birthday I get that feeling, post birthday depression. That feeling that dreadful feeling that there is 365 days left until my birthday. God for bid its a leap year!!! For this reason I set one birthday gift aside to open exactly one week after my birthday, just to stretch things out a bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-6670460820725839987?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/6670460820725839987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/04/celebrations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6670460820725839987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6670460820725839987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/04/celebrations.html' title='celebrations!!!'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-5944687599120668286</id><published>2010-03-17T11:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T07:16:14.801-07:00</updated><title type='text'>St.Patricks Day</title><content type='html'>I love St. Patrick's Day! True St. Patrick getting rid of all the snakes in Irland, does not have much to do with me, but maybe that is what I like about this holiday. This day is not like all the other holidays in my life. I do not have to visit my family, spend hours excruciating over gifts, or even send out post cards. I do not have to make small talk at awkward parties or sing extremely old songs. I do not have to dress up and get kissed on cheek my an elderly woman who, "knew me since you were this tall."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In stead I get to wear what ever crazy outfit I want to, I get to run around with my friends, or just stay home and bake green cookies. I love this holiday because I can celebrate this day anyway I want to, without having to keep up with traditions. St. Patrick's Day is one of the only holidays I can make my own traditions for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-5944687599120668286?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/5944687599120668286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/stpatricks-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/5944687599120668286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/5944687599120668286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/stpatricks-day.html' title='St.Patricks Day'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-1604696139536521477</id><published>2010-03-14T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T11:36:46.702-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Call of the wild</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Jack London's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;The Call of the Wild&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; takes a very intriguing approach to story telling. I am not a very big fan of animals, unless they are on my dinner plate. So naturally I was less than enthused when I found out that I had to read a whole book dedicated to one beast. More than that I don't believe that animals can talk. I assumed that London would have the reader be inside Buck's head, or have Buck narrate the story itself. I was expecting a more Animal Farm style. However I was pleasantly surprised to find out when I started reading the book that I did not have to read any dog talk. London captures the emotions of Buck and the other dog's without making them speak. The only human characteristic I found in the book was when the dogs laugh. However when the dogs laugh, London states that the dog laugh only in a way in which dogs can laugh. I found it fascinating that London could reveal so many details of Buck's emotions without giving him to many human features. London's lack of personification highlight what a truly talented writer London was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 32px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 32px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;One significant change is the behavior and character of Buck. In the beginning of the book, Buck was innocent, happy, and comfortable. Buck knew that he was the master of his household. He would never dream of killing a fellow dog. And he spent his days basically playing and having a good time. However as the book develops, it becomes clear that Buck must take a stand against the cruel outside world. He must take a stand against cruel owners, cruel weather, cruel dogs, and cruel circumstances. He had to take a  stand against them or he would have died. Even though Buck survives, something more important in him dies, his tame and loving,  parts. It is replaced by fierce and ferine characteristics. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I would recommend this book to all animal book sceptics like myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-1604696139536521477?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/1604696139536521477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/call-of-wild.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/1604696139536521477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/1604696139536521477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/call-of-wild.html' title='Call of the wild'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-1356173060414041822</id><published>2010-03-14T01:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T03:30:09.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Char. of a Winner</title><content type='html'>Believing winning is about the prize might be an easy mistake to make. In reality the best part of winning is that feeling of accomplishment one gets when openly acknowledged for hard work. More important than metals or trophies is what winning represents, accomplishing a goal. This goal could be anything from willing a chess game to a Noble Peace Prize. Winning gives one recognition talent and effort and the harder one works for this goal more gratifying the high of winning is afterward. Unless we are talking about the lottery, in that case there is no hard, gratifying work involved, and it's all about the prize. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I think about what I am most proud of winning The fifth grade pride awards come to mind. I won the district pride award for writing in Florida. The students with the top standardized testing scores were chosen to compete. The truth is I did not care much about the award itself. I was happy because I beat Sam my elementary school &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nemesis&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-1356173060414041822?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/1356173060414041822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/char-of-winner.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/1356173060414041822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/1356173060414041822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/char-of-winner.html' title='Char. of a Winner'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-6538074191836800281</id><published>2010-03-13T13:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T14:21:34.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pride and Prejudice Review (2books)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FF33;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point in our lives we have all been guilty of prejudice. The main character in Jane Aunten's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FF33;"&gt;Pride and Prejudice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FF33;"&gt;, Elizabeth Bennet, based her ideas of her future love, Mr. Darcy, on false assumptions. Before she even spoke to him, she wrote him off as a snobby, rich, aristocrat who cares about nothing but himself. In fact, Mr. Darcy was not snobby at all. Although Mr. Darcy himself prejudged Elizabeth as a person of inferior class and improper. Elizabeth Bennet did not fit into the normal shape of a lady in the 1800's. She was not afraid to voice her opinion, to disagree, or to stand up for herself. Instead of acting like a pet like the other women trying to catch a husband, she made her ideas known. Characters in the novel such as Mr. Bingly, Mr Bingly's sister, Mr. Darcy, Darcy's snobby Aunt, the Priest, and Elizabeth's own mother all disapproved of her unconventional manners. All of Elizabeth's peers were guilty of prejudging Elizabeth. The Japanese culture is very similar to the one Elizabeth was stuck in. Women are to be quiet, obedient, and polished. I am half Japanese. When I go to Japan, I have to basically put on a fake social veneer to conform to the expectations of Japanese culture. I don't want to disappoint my family or even worse have other people judge me for my personality. Elizabeth's character did something that I am not brave enough to do, to be bold. Her boldness especially attracted me to the character as well as give me something to look up to. In the time period of the movie, instead of race being an important factor, it was class. I my self am guilty of prejudice in a form other that racism. I have written people off as being a meat-head, a jock, a dumb blonde, a geek, old fashioned, red neck, slow, too young, or even labeling someone as just another guy trying to get laid. This book made me more aware of the many facets of prejudice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many modern comedies are slap stick. Though I enjoy this genre on occasion, I prefer reading comedy in the form of wit and quick retort. Eighty percent of the book is subtle humor. I have a very busy schedule. It includes school, soccer, dance, and many other activities. Being able to unwind and watch some one else act like a fool in love is very relaxing for me. I have had relationships before and it was not fun to be in difficult situations. But, reading about other characters in difficult situations is very entertaining to me, especially since my own feelings are not involved. For example to think of Mr. Bingly fret over what to do about his love and pace in circles out of nervousness is hilarious. I have been in the same situation as Mr. Bingly and it is not an entertaining one. Worrying about the boy I have a crush on calling me back, or what he thinks of me is not my favorite thing to do. But seeing some one else worry is absolutely hilarious. Being a spectator in the game of love is far less painful and much more entertaining than being a player.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While watching love's complexities come to life on screen is enjoyable to watch, love is deeper than butterflies and comedy. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had to overcome many obstacles to finally end up together. Both of them had pride which came in the way of being together. Elizabeth was too proud to be with someone who was so rich. Mr. Darcy as well was far too proud to be with someone who was of inferior class. And they were both too proud to admit that they liked the one another. This tension made me sigh in relief when the characters finally came together in the end. After I finished the book, I wanted to find love much like the main characters found, true, difficult, and everlasting love. Something that not everyone is able to find. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FF33;"&gt;Pride and Prejudice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FF33;"&gt;, made me realize that the language of love seems the same in the 1800's as it does now. Even though technology, transportation, religion, and environment all change, love has seemed to be solidly uniform. My personal fairy tale would include the magical love that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy found by the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jane Hausten's novel portrays the hardships of love, the humor which goes along with it and the prejudice we all carry. Seeing those things come together makes this a book that reminds me of my own personal love adventures as well as make it an extremely enjoyable read.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/283201566759546010-6538074191836800281?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/6538074191836800281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/pride-and-prejudice-review-2books.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6538074191836800281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6538074191836800281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/pride-and-prejudice-review-2books.html' title='Pride and Prejudice Review (2books)'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-610008723901376290</id><published>2010-03-12T11:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T01:04:47.041-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Olymipcs/ Determination</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;     Olympic contenders spend years getting to where they are today. Training is there life and is more important than anything else. I could not imagine being that determined to do anything. Even waking up to go to school is a huge struggle for me. I generally lie in bed for five minutes debating whether or not getting up today is worth the hassle or if I should go back into hibernation mode untill tomorrow. I always find a reason to get out of bed and start my day but, never the less I always need convincing. How can a person commit years of their life without the grantee of a gold metal? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Granted I most likely do not seem like the most driven person but when I decide to do something it will be done. I have changed schools more than the average person for one reason or another. Ever since sixth grade, each time I changed schools, I researched websites, organized tours and meetings, decided on a school, sent transcripts and my dad just signs the final documents. The thing that drives me the most is taking control of my own life. I can not stand waiting around for authority figures to decide what is best for me. I am not saying I will not listen to their advice but I refuse to just be the effect of other people's actions. I do this so when ever something goes wrong in my life, I can not blame everything on my parents, like normal teenagers, because I am the only one responsible. Like wise when something goes well I have the satisfaction of knowing I made it happen in my own life. The thing I am most determined on having is a life filled with failure and triumph all controlled by no one else but me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-610008723901376290?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/610008723901376290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/olymipcs-determination.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/610008723901376290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/610008723901376290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/olymipcs-determination.html' title='Olymipcs/ Determination'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-925077966904282974</id><published>2010-03-10T12:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T08:54:10.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mask</title><content type='html'>Mind racing,&lt;br /&gt;eyes red,&lt;br /&gt;moody,&lt;br /&gt;hands shaking,&lt;br /&gt;I walk out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big smile,&lt;br /&gt;eye drops applied,&lt;br /&gt;talkative,&lt;br /&gt;but still upset inside,&lt;br /&gt;I enter class.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-925077966904282974?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/925077966904282974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/mask.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/925077966904282974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/925077966904282974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/mask.html' title='Mask'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-2081742114994034488</id><published>2010-02-23T11:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T00:03:03.586-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Persuation</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I use persuasion, in everyday life, more than most people. Being the type of person that likes getting her way, I often use persuasion to my advantage. Pathos is generally the method I use because normally the things I am trying to get people to do are not logical but, batting my eye lashes and saying pleeeeease is a sure winner. I am not one for using pity but occasionally desperate times call for desperate measures. The day I moved to Batesville, my now ex-boyfriend drove me to the airport. Because my suitcases were grossly over weight, I ended up with four carry-on bags, all filled with liquids. The TSA agent already had his finger pointed in the extra security, we go through all of your stuff and make you check half of it, section of the lines as soon as he saw me. I shot him a sad look with my watery, bloodshot, sleep deprived eyes and guess who was whisked through security, still in possession of all her contraband. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ethos, establishing credibility, is also a a fun technique to use. When you act like you know what you're talking about, convincing someone you do becomes much easier. One time I was taking a test in a quiet classroom with no windows and yelled with excitement, "Look it's snowing out side." The entire class, teacher included, enthusiastically looked around the room to see the snow, to no avail. Today I convinced Kimberly, for a good five minutes, that the wifi router on Mrs. Gillmore's sealing is really a camera put in place to catch cheaters. The laughter of people around me gave my lie away a little later though. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-2081742114994034488?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/2081742114994034488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/02/persuation.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/2081742114994034488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/2081742114994034488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/02/persuation.html' title='Persuation'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-6600846795672607990</id><published>2010-01-29T14:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T21:02:50.788-08:00</updated><title type='text'>creativity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Writing a blog about something I feel strongly about is difficult for me. Do not get me wrong I have quite a few iron-willed opinions, but I simply do not feel the need to rant about them in my blog. If a peer were to ask me how I feel on a subject like abortion or human rights I could jabber out a long monologue about my views, yet I am not inspired to tell the blogging world about a sixteen year old's view point on life. One might ask, then why is my all time favorite blogger writing this blog at all? My answer to that faithful reader is, I am trying to pass tenth grade English and to accomplish that, I can not just blow off an assignment just because I am not inspired. For that reason the topic of today's blog is you can not force creativity. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Teachers seem to expect creative masterpieces every time they read a report and sure enough every time a paper falls short of perfection they call in for reinforcements, the infamous red pen. Though you may not want to believe it I too have had my hard work xed out and scribbled on by the malevolent red pen. "Why is this?(-shocked face-)", you ask beloved reader. Certainly I would not get points taken off my work because of a mistake, typo, or plain lack of literary skill. My teachers take points off my work because my writing, at times, portrays my complete lack of enthusiasm. How am I expected to unveil my creative genius if I am forced to write about i topic that bores me to tears. Creativity simply can not be forced upon a student. Ether a topic jumps out at you with the enthusiasm of a ten year old girl in a Jonas Brothers concert (sorry for the lewd mental image) or a topic is just not worth wasting time on. Students should have several topics to choose from, so they will have the zeal to do an assignment worth reading. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To see Jeff's view on forcing creativity click &lt;a href="http://myuniquelifespace.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!3D28BACBD4BDF253!8562.entry"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://twitter.com/djmead/status/4496677945"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt; is a quote from David Mead about creativity that I liked and wanted to share with you, my favorite follower. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-6600846795672607990?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/6600846795672607990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/01/writing-blog-about-something-i-feel.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6600846795672607990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6600846795672607990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/01/writing-blog-about-something-i-feel.html' title='creativity'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-2250533784349646327</id><published>2010-01-24T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T12:40:37.125-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Deadline (1 book)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Chris Crutcher's &lt;i&gt;Deadline &lt;/i&gt;made me think about what I would do if I knew this was my last year. The story is about eight teen year old Ben Wolf who has been diagnosed with an incurable blood &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 19px;font-size:medium;" class="Apple-style-span" &gt;disease.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 19px;font-size:medium;" class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The theme of this novel is tacking a stand. Ben finds out that he is going to die. Though there is a treatment, his chances are slim. He goes against the norm. and chooses to forgo treatment and live out his life, as healthy as possible. Ben does not let other people's opinion of his decision deter him from living the life he wants to. He waits to till he is comfortable to tell his loved ones, much later than when his doctor and shrink tell him to. Even though he is guided by Haysoos, his imaginary friends, Ben makes his own choices. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Ben, the main character, is smart, sarcastic and cares about the people around him. Ben spent most of his life tacking care of his mentally ill mom. This has turned him into the type pf person who takes care of everyone around him before himself. When Ben first gets diagnosed he decides to think about his own feeling before his family's. His senior year being his last, Ben does not hold anything back. The small but determined teen goes out for the football teem and asks out the girl of his dreams. Just when I thought Ben had become selfish, he finds out his girlfriends big secret and does not run. I know very few teenagers who would stay with a girl they just started dating after they found out news like that. In fact I doughty I know many young adults that would. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I recommend this book to everyone because it made me thankful for every extra minute I have on this earth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;PS. I do not know why the font on this blog is being weird. Please accept my sincerest apologies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- The author&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-2250533784349646327?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/2250533784349646327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/01/deadline-1-book.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/2250533784349646327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/2250533784349646327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/01/deadline-1-book.html' title='Deadline (1 book)'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-6972208514159233146</id><published>2010-01-18T18:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T19:08:52.037-08:00</updated><title type='text'>taking Stands part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Even though my hair was a mess and I was screaming at the top of my lungs, my dad always got me to school, half an hour late, but I was there. Every single day of second grade, I would think of new ways to prevent going to school. One day I had the genius idea to hide from my dad so he could not make me go. I hid inside the empty jacuzzi in our back yard. After two hours I got board and came out. My dad was a teacher at the school I went to, at the time which meant when I was two hours late he was two hours late. Needless to say he was mad. After being yelled at for a bit, I decided school just was not worth it. So I told my dad I was never going to school again. Apparently he also decided it was not worth it so he left me at home. The next day my dad asked me if I was going to school and I said, "no!" and I did not go. He left me with a list of chores to do before he got home. I waited till 1:45 and then did the chores. &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;This went on for a few days until I got a call from my bff Melissa. She told me all about the new things that happened in school. Sammy Gillbert was her partner in P.E. I had a crush on Sammy and Melissa knew it. This was not going to continue. The next morning I got up and put on my uniform to go to school. To my surprise, my dad would not let me go to school. He said, "You made your bed and now you have to lay in it." What kind of second grader knows what that means. I begged my dad to take me and I promised to never miss another day of school again. That was a triumph of hope over experience. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-6972208514159233146?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/6972208514159233146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/01/taking-stands-part-2.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6972208514159233146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6972208514159233146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/01/taking-stands-part-2.html' title='taking Stands part 2'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-1019241015110231951</id><published>2010-01-18T14:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T18:00:15.468-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking Stands</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Deep in the dusty corner of my mind, where I store the information forced upon me by my history  teachers, sit all those people who have taken stands and made it into the exclusive pages of high school text books. There is no shortage of proud American stand takers, so many in fact that I have to read about stand taker after stand taker for the entire 1034 pages of the U.S. History book. Why does this country produce so many citizens who firmly call into question issues they do not agree with? Is there something in the water? Have our infants not been exposed to sufficient Mozart and Baby Einstein to cool their hot heads from the start? Though these possibilities should be checked out, I think the large amount of stand takers is due to the very first Americans to go against the grain. These rebels have their own holiday, the good type of holiday, the type we get out of school for. During this day "sorry we're closed" signs are promptly displayed and families gather together to drink and play with fireworks. Good combination. The colonial revolutionist are the reason so many Americans are willing to stand up for what they believe without fear of persecution. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Colonial revolutionists paved the way for the rest of the nation. They were willing to die for the what they believed in and wanted all Americans to have the freedom to do the same. The U.S. is filled with activists that ranging from tree hugging protesters to my sister, refusing to eat &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Heinz&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ketchup&lt;/span&gt; because it will support John Kerry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-1019241015110231951?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/1019241015110231951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/01/taking-stands.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/1019241015110231951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/1019241015110231951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/01/taking-stands.html' title='Taking Stands'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-475105212070866215</id><published>2009-12-14T20:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T19:58:29.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Julius Caesar</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;    William Shakespeare's &lt;i&gt;Julius Caesar &lt;/i&gt;is a tragedy, based on the conspiracy against Caesar and events proceeding his death. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;    Though Caesar is killed in the third act and only appears in three scenes, I still consider him the central character. He might not be physically seen in the play very often, but Cesar's presence is noticeable. In the first scene his statues are garnished with scarves and the people cheer in the street. In this scene we see Caesar like a commoner might see their lord, not face to face, but the Prof of the lord is visible. Even after Julius Caesar's death he reappears in the form of a ghost and haunts his killers. Caesar's ghost impels the murderers to suffer the same fate as Caesar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;   True to form of all Shakespearean plays, &lt;em&gt;Julius Caesar&lt;/em&gt; fallows&lt;span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"&gt;  Shakespears dramatic sturcure&lt;/span&gt;. The protesters tearing off the decorations from Caesar's statue and Cassius' sonnet showing his discontent with Caesar, both represent the rising action of the plot. The climax of the play is the deceitful murder of Julius Caesar. The falling action is represented by the battle waged between Mark Anthony and Brutus, a consequence of the death of Caesar. In the end Caesar's killers die, only living in the pages of history as well as Julius Caesar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span style="WHITE-SPACE: pre" class="Apple-tab-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;    I would recommend Shakespeare's &lt;i&gt;Julius Caesar &lt;/i&gt;to anyone who is interested. Though a bit hard to understand this play is well worth the extra effort. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-475105212070866215?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/475105212070866215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/12/julius-caesar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/475105212070866215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/475105212070866215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/12/julius-caesar.html' title='Julius Caesar'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-5252907252003328151</id><published>2009-12-14T18:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T19:54:55.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Uglies- 2books</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Scott &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Westerfeld's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Uglies &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;made me look around at the people I considered pretty and ugly, wondering why I even care. I have to recommend any book that makes a sixteen year old change her views on beauty. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;At the age of sixteen each character undergoes an extreme cosmetic surgery changing every inch of their body, transforming them from "uglies" to "new pretties". A whole group of people voluntarily calling them selves uglies was very interesting to me. It reminded me of teenage boys calling themselves gangsters. Something tells me the majority of the children in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Batesville&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; High School do not really want to be in gangs. Gangsters are not on the top of the community totem pole. A teen calling himself a gangster is demeaning. Because the word is cool, someone who calls himself that word is instantly cooler. right? What if the word were to change? I would not feel convertible with my future son calling himself a murderer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;The theme of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Uglies &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;is adolescent change. As a child, Tally never had any reason to question her elders. Her life was planned out for her and Tally was looking forward to the future. After meeting Shay her view point changes. She discovers that authority figures do not know everything. Her self-image changes dramatically as the plot progresses causing her to doubt her teachings. Tally, always a risk taker, was as mush of an individual as an "ugly" could be. Once she saw the real world her seance of individually grows as she learns to be self sufficient. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Uglie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;s is an intriguing books that is a real page turner. The book was recommend to me by several friends and I have enjoyed &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Uglies &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;very much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-5252907252003328151?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/5252907252003328151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/12/uglies-2books.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/5252907252003328151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/5252907252003328151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/12/uglies-2books.html' title='Uglies- 2books'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-7680991578121803692</id><published>2009-12-14T18:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T19:59:41.331-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Name</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  line-height: 26px; font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;    When my mom was pregnant with my older sister, my parents could not decide what to call her. One day while reading a baby names book my dad got an idea. He put his hand on my mother's stomach and began to say the names he liked out loud. The first time through the list my unborn sister kicked on two names, Amina and Alita. The next time they tried this my sister only kicked on Amina. Personally, I think my sister was kicking because she did not want to be named Amina. It seems my parents did not agree because a few months later Amina Erica Mobley was born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;    My dad lived in Japan for fifteen years and during that time his grandmother had only written him one letter. The letter arrived two weeks after my sister was born. She wrote,"God only gave me one son but if I had a daughter I would have named her Arita after my sister, who died as a child." In Japanese the sounds for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; change depending on other sounds in the word thus when a Japanese person says Arita it sounds like Alita. My angel obsessed mother decided Alita, the Spanish word for little wing, was prettier. On April sixteenth, 1993 bald Alita Marie Mobley, the most amazing child ever, was born. What my mother did not know was, in any Spanish speaking country I can go into a KFC and order &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;alitas de pollo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;(chicken wings) covered in hot sauce. I am sure you can imagine how much I got made fun of during the three years I lived in Costa Rica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-7680991578121803692?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/7680991578121803692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-name.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/7680991578121803692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/7680991578121803692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-name.html' title='My Name'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-6511130128920263689</id><published>2009-12-12T15:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T20:00:32.330-08:00</updated><title type='text'>leaders</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Today my teacher asked me to make a list of good leaders. Being an American high school student, with great ease I could list off the leaders that have been engraved into my mind by each and everyone of my history teachers, George Washington, Martin Luther King Jr., and Gandhi. As I went further down my list, I began to run out of historic leaders so I decided to think about leaders in my own life. This proved much harder. Compared to great leaders who encouraged people to stand up for what they believe in and paved the way for incredible change, I do not know if my youth group leader really holds her own. I came to the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;conclusion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; that a good leader does not have to go down in history for guiding massive amounts of people. All a person has to do to be a good leader is lead one person and make a difference in that single person's life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-6511130128920263689?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/6511130128920263689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/12/leaders.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6511130128920263689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6511130128920263689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/12/leaders.html' title='leaders'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-8191901626488891466</id><published>2009-12-02T19:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T20:00:55.806-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;    As I walk down the isles of the Walmart, I can see the first signs of Thanksgiving. During the two weeks to come I will be asked the same question by my teachers, Sunday school teacher, youth group leader and my family, What are you thankful for? I generally respond with a generic answer such as, my family or no school. Is that really all I am thankful for? For this reason I, or rather my English teacher has decided that I will make a list or things I am thankful for.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;My family. Yes, I do realize this was my generic answer when I could not think of anything funnier to say. In all honesty I am very thankful for my family. They have supported me through everything I have done and have always been there to help me when I needed then. If nothing else they will always be there to tell me, "I told you so."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Heaters. Arkansas is far too cold to live without heaters.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My big sister. Even though I lived with her for my whole life, she can still find new and more evil way to torture me. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The good cooks in my family. Each and every one of our holiday meals are mouthwatering because of the hard work of my aunts.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pies. I do not think there is an explanation needed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A roof over my head. They come in handy in the event of rain. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;books and blankets. During a thunder storm or just a cold day books and blankets are always the best way to wast away an afternoon.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Facebook. I put this website on my list not only because I happen to be on facebook while writing my blog, but because my handy homework distraction is the only place I can find photos of people I knew in Third grade. The down side to this is that I feel a bit uncomfortable seeing a picture of my bff who I made a secret language with, now at some crazy party in a very, very short dress.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cookies. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Holidays. Any excuse to eat too much, open gifts and spend time with my family is my idea of fun.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-8191901626488891466?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/8191901626488891466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/12/thanksgiving.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/8191901626488891466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/8191901626488891466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/12/thanksgiving.html' title='Thanksgiving'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-7900306020316085749</id><published>2009-11-12T15:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T20:01:50.141-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Sean Covey's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Teens &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;inspired me to not only make goals but to achieve them, for once. The habit that I liked the most in this book was "be proactive". One day a I realized that I, a normally happy person, was having the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;u style="text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;orst week ever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;. A lot of little things in my life, each totally unrelated, just keep going wrong. My friends noticed that that I was not being as fun as usual but, when I did not want to talk about what was going on, they stopped mentioning it. A few days afterwards I realized that I wouldn't want to be around myself and I just decided to be happier. My mood is my own, why can't I be in control? suddenly everything got a bit brighter. I scored a goal in soccer and aced a math quiz. On my way home from school, I found a dollar. I like to think of that as my reward for being so awesome today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Most of the time being angry is just a wast of energy. If someone is upset enough to actually change the situation they are in, that is great. But I am sorry to say that is not normally what happens. For the majority of people I know anger only leads to fights, holes in walls and resentment. Have you ever asked a person why he is angry? Considering upset people like nothing more then complaining about what ever made then mad, I am guessing your answer is yes. Some responses from the angry person might include, "My teacher gave me a F!", "My girlfriend .....", "My F$%#ing boss....". It is very rare to find someone who takes responsibility for there actions and feeling saying, "I wrote a bad report, last minute and my teacher gave me and F" or "I caught my boss on fire so he laid me off!" (just kidding about the last one). Being proactive really does make me happier. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;     &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Teens &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;is a fun, fast read that is actually helpful. I know its shocking that a book forced upon me by my English teacher might be helpful to me, but I am really glad I read this book.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-7900306020316085749?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/7900306020316085749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/11/sean-coveys-seven-habits-of-highly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/7900306020316085749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/7900306020316085749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/11/sean-coveys-seven-habits-of-highly.html' title=''/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-7064673300221074569</id><published>2009-10-25T07:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T18:14:41.031-07:00</updated><title type='text'>travel tips</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Four o'clock in the morning, over weight bags in hand and stuck in security. "Miss please step aside for a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;andom&lt;/span&gt; security check" says an annoying ATF agent. "Random" in this context is used very loosely. My sister's name is Amina. Combined with the fact that Amina is also the name of the mother of Muhammad and that we are both dark haired, results in my sister and I getting "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;randomly" &lt;/span&gt;selected for&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;security checks a lot. &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I travel over seas four or five times a year. Though one might say I am experienced I still refer to air travel as a horrific journey, that should not be entered into lightly. Below are some tips to help you get through it all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Check your flight! Trust me spending the night alone, stranded at the airport is no fun at two in the morning once all the shops are closed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Know the weight requirements on your bags. When your bag is twenty pounds over weight and a $90 fee is staring you in the face, those five extra really cute jackets just do not seem as necessary.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;NEVER anger ATF agents! Specifically do not call them high school drop outs who think being government agent is a big deal. I believe "What did you have to take a thirty minute wanding seminar and now you say your protecting me?" was said by my charming, older sister. Her argument ended with us individually patted down in small glass rooms and all of our luggage searched, scanned and swabbed for drug and gunpowder residue. I promised to never travel with my sister again and Amina threatened never to pay taxes again. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ask for a seat in the emergency exit row. Exit seats generally have two times as much leg room as normal seats. Children are not permitted to sit in these seats making an optimum sleeping environment for you. WARNING! In the event of a catastrophe you will have to assist people. Please review safety regulations.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In the event tip four was not fallowed resulting in a less then satisfying seat choice, no worries. Contrary to popular belief seat changing is allowed. Upon entry scope out the area and co-passengers for empty window seats and/or cute seat buddies.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do not fly into Miami airport. You will be delayed. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make a note to be nice to people at airports. Chances are they will sit next to you on a six hour fight.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go to the bathroom before in flight lunches are served. Waiting until after everyone eats will result in you spending anywhere between twenty minutes to the rest of your life, waiting in line.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Traveling abroad? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;      9. Be sure to check the expiration date on your passport. Some countries do not let you &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;enter their borders if there is less than six months left on your passport. This little known &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;fact will not be told to you until you are at the airport thinking you are off on an exciting &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;vacation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;      10. Have a return ticket with you when leaving the U.S. If you do not have your return &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;ticket&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;leaving with 90 days of arrival, you will end up having to buy a $2,000 ticket on the spot, &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;at the airport.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With these tips you are officially ready to embark on your adventure. Good luck!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-7064673300221074569?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/7064673300221074569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/travel-tips.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/7064673300221074569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/7064673300221074569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/travel-tips.html' title='travel tips'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-6438846103403870004</id><published>2009-10-17T16:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T16:23:31.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Invisible Man.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Book Review 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Invisible Man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;(1 book)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;    H. G. Wells' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Invisible Man &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;opened my eyes to a different style of writing. This book taught me that i do not like the genre of sci-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;fi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;. Though this genre is very imaginative and interesting, sci-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;fi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; just seems to unreal for my taste. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;    Griffin is the main character of this book. Though he is a very talented scientist, experimenting on optical density, Griffin is very greedy and wants all the fame of success to be his alone. The character moves into an apartment to continue his work in privacy. After being hassled by his landlord and spending most of his money, he turns himself invisible as a way to escape. What I found odd about this novel is, why would he not make invisible clothes for himself so he would not have to run around naked? Personally I would not feel comfortable preforming experiments, let alone fight with people, naked. The invisible man is an interesting character because realizes that one man can not do everything on his own. Unfortunately by that time the danger and horror of his actions have escalated far further than expected and the person he chooses to share his secrets with betrays him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;    The tone of this book is anger the invisible man is angry at society because of how they treated him. The language in used in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Invisible Man &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;is not what I am used to, but it does set the mood of England during the 1900's. It is interesting that Griffin functioned in society for so long without being unmasked. Though I reality was staring many in the face they dismissed the uncommon truth. This shows that people choose what to believe and what to write off as imagination, no matter what the truth may be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Invisible Man &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;was not one of my favorite books but the novel shows how society wound react to something as bizarre as an invisible man. I do recommend this book to those sci-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;fi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; lovers out there because of the interesting way H. G. Wells keeps you wanting to turn the pages to discover what really happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-6438846103403870004?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/6438846103403870004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/invisible-man_17.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6438846103403870004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/6438846103403870004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/invisible-man_17.html' title='The Invisible Man.'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283201566759546010.post-2577374894342289694</id><published>2009-10-17T16:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T19:36:46.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Book Ever</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:19px;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Book review 5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;When We Were Romans&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:13px;"&gt;(1 book)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;     Matthew &lt;span class="misspell" suggestions="Neale's,Neal's,Neala's,Neall's,Nealy's" style="background- "&gt;Kneale's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;i&gt;When We Were Romans &lt;/i&gt;enchanted me with its unique style and dynamic story.&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;    Nine year old Lawrence is the man of his family. When his mother, Heather becomes convinced that her ex-husband is stalking them, she moves the family to Rome. Because the story is told by Lawrence, you understand their circumstance in a somewhat altered from, through his youthful eyes. Constantly plotting ways to leave his "cry baby" little sister behind, the young boy is a annoyed by her existence. As the situation escalates Lawrence becomes much more protective of his sister and her well being. The children are presented with a very interesting conflict; whether to betray their mother or ignore the truth around them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;    The majority of the story is set in roam, a colorful country compared to England Lawrence's prior home. A queer &lt;span class="misspell" suggestions="Costarring,Stricken,Castration,Gastric,Castrating" style="background- "&gt;Costarican&lt;/span&gt; tour guide once told me, " Because I am a herbalist I always take note of the trees instead of the tourist traps most people do." I do admit this made the long bus ride through i middle of no where much more interesting. Through out Lawrence's travels his mother comments on the architecture, cafes and roman goods. The nine year old pays no attention to this and focuses his attention on aliening each person he meets with their inner animal. This is a very important decision so he examines everyone carefully.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;    &lt;i&gt;When We Were Romans &lt;/i&gt;made me laugh out loud many times, something a little embarrassing to do in a public place. I will recommend this book to everyone I know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-2577374894342289694?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/2577374894342289694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/best-book-ever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/2577374894342289694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/2577374894342289694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/best-book-ever.html' title='Best Book Ever'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-8140023148386371401</id><published>2009-10-14T21:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T19:37:24.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"I heart you, You haunt me"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:19px;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;Book review 3&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;I Heart You, You Haunt me&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(1 book)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;    &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Lisa Schroeder's &lt;i&gt;I heart you, You haunt me &lt;/i&gt;is a book i could not put down from start to finish. This might sound like a good thing, but not when I am sitting in class thinking, "Is something going to happen between the two of them?, maybe I will just read a few pages instead of learning about cell division."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;    &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The main character in this novel is Ava, a girl who feels guilty for her boyfriend, Jackson's death. She shies away from her friends and discovers her boyfriend is with her in her dreams. Thinking she has to make up for being the reason Jackson died, Ava tries to spend all of her him with. Later in the story when Ava realizes that Jackson is there to help her grieve and become happy again not to be a constant reminder of what she once had, she takes back control of her life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;    &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The short, &lt;span class="misspell" suggestions="elaborated,uncelebrated,uncalibrated,inebriated" style="background- "&gt;unelaborated&lt;/span&gt; sentences used by the author in this book make the reader feel as if a teenage girl is telling you her story directly. The story is very fast pace, good for someone like me who often skips paragraphs when a novel seems to be dragging out. I also found it interesting how the main character wa&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;s &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;cautious&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;about what she showed the rest of the world know.&lt;/span&gt; She knew that others would think she was crazy if they knew she was being haunted by Jackson. Though she is afraid she is losing it too, Ava lives her fantasy because she wholeheartedly wants it to be true. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;    &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I would recommend this book to anyone, especially young adults. &lt;i&gt;I heart you, You haunt me &lt;/i&gt;is a fantastic quick read for a rainy S&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;unday&lt;/span&gt; afternoon or that one last book report.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-8140023148386371401?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/8140023148386371401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-heart-you-you-haunt-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/8140023148386371401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/8140023148386371401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-heart-you-you-haunt-me.html' title='&quot;I heart you, You haunt me&quot;'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-2933751100038410597</id><published>2009-10-12T20:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T20:19:58.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Kira-Kira"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Book review 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"Kira-Kira"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(1 book)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;    Cynthia &lt;span class="misspell" suggestions="Godhead's,Dhoti's,Hardhats,Cahoot's,Catboat's" style="background- "&gt;Kadohata's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;i&gt;Kira-Kira&lt;/i&gt;, a story of a young Japanese-American girl making a new life in Georgia, was very easy for me to relate to. Being half Japanese myself, all of the odd little customs that do not covert well in western society are interesting to look at from another perspective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;    The main character and narrator of the story, Katie learns the word "&lt;span class="misspell" suggestions="Kira,Kora,Lira,lira,KIA" style="background- "&gt;kira&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="misspell" suggestions="Kira,Kora,Lira,lira,KIA" style="background- "&gt;kira&lt;/span&gt;" (glittering) from her older sister Lynn. From the moment Katie learns the word everything around her seems to become "&lt;span class="misspell" suggestions="Kira,Kora,Lira,lira,KIA" style="background- "&gt;k&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="misspell" suggestions="Kira,Kora,Lira,lira,KIA" style="background- "&gt;ira&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="misspell" suggestions="Kira,Kora,Lira,lira,KIA" style="background- "&gt;kira&lt;/span&gt;". In the beginning of the novel Katie, like most younger sisters, wanted to be just like Lynn. Once Lynn makes friends with the popular girls, she kicks her sister to the curb forcing her to play alone. Katie grows substantially during this time because she has to make her own decisions, not just fallow her sister's lead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;    The theme of this novel is the life of American immigrants. Katie's parents move from a mostly Japanese town in Iowa to Georgia, a town with very few Asians. When they first arrived the family did not eat out because, at the time of segregation, there were only assigned places for whites and blacks. Not fitting into ether of these categories and not sure what was appropriate, they simply avoided the situation all together. The mother worked at the chicken plants to earn enough money to buy a house. When asked to back the union,  wanting to keep her head down and not make trouble, she declines. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;     &lt;i&gt;Kira-Kira &lt;/i&gt;tells the story of young Katie growing up in a world were she is constantly reminded she does not belong yet still finds "kira kira" in everything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;I recommend this book to everyone because the story made me take a second look at my family as well as others.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-2933751100038410597?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/2933751100038410597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/kira-kira.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/2933751100038410597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/2933751100038410597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/kira-kira.html' title='&quot;Kira-Kira&quot;'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-3447348156124552572</id><published>2009-10-06T19:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T19:05:17.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Book Review The Secret Garden</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 24px; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;Book Review&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Secret Garden&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(2 books)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Frances Hodgson Burnett's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Secret Garden &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;changed the way I looked at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;every day life. The story shows a children can grow up with everything they&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;could ever want yet still may be deprived from the greatest parts of life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;   &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Burnett's character Mary is a young girl from a wealthy, English family &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;living in India. She was given what she &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;wanted, when she wanted it but she &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;was missing the most important thing in a child's life, love. When she moved &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;a distant uncle's mysterious mansion, in a strange land, Mary discovered new &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;things about her surroundings and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;herself. She learns the amazing wonder that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;is the out side world.  Suddenly the nature, something Mary had &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;never wished to be around became the most important thing in her life. With &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;the guidance of her maid and her new found understanding of the outside &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;world, Mary decides to be a more agreeable, kinder person. She found a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;garden, a place all to herself where she could do as she pleased. To a girl who &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;never had any need for secrets, a little oasis just for herself and those she &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;wished to be with was just the sanctuary she desired. Mary's character &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;transforms from a sour faced brat to a caring young lady showing us that often &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ones best revaluations are discovered by the individual and not forced upon him by others.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The two male characters in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Secret Garden &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;are Colin and Dickson, but it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;turns out that being of the same gender is their only similarity. Dickson &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;comes from a large, poor family. Despite their financial handicaps Dickson's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;family are quite joyful and loving. Colin on the other hand, is the only hare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;to a tremendous fortune and for that reason can those around him to do as he &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;pleases. Because the fresh air "sickened" Colin and his fear of becoming &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;a hunchback he refused to go outside. This very unlikely pair of boys became &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;good companions. They opened eachothere's eyes to a whole new world, which till that point was just out side their grasps.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;    The garden itself, in my opinion, is one of the most important characters in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;this book. This oasis developed along side the children. The garden was first &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;introduced as a lonely, forgotten place winding away into nonexistence. When &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;shown a little attention and love the garden opened a place of wonder &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;to Mary. The garden reveled it's "magic" to the children helping each of them &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;with their own goals. Mary transformed the garden into a beautiful and peaceful creature much like the garden transformed her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Secret Garden &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;is an amazing piece of literature and I would &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;recommend it to anyone. This book makes you grateful for the things around you and after each page makes you want to lay out in the grass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-3447348156124552572?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/3447348156124552572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/book-review-secret-garden.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/3447348156124552572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/3447348156124552572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/10/book-review-secret-garden.html' title='Book Review The Secret Garden'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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-283201566759546010.post-5457547784257655050</id><published>2009-09-09T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T19:25:41.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Change</title><content type='html'>Change comes at unexpected times.&lt;div&gt;change brings the unexpected.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Too much is enough to be feared,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;too little is never enough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Always coming too soon,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;always ending too late.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next time it comes will I know better?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The last time it came I thought I did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/283201566759546010-5457547784257655050?l=alitasthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/5457547784257655050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/09/change.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/5457547784257655050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/283201566759546010/posts/default/5457547784257655050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alitasthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/09/change.html' title='Change'/><author><name>alitam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11325829311640484548</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></feed>
