I remember he would take forever in the bathroom. Some nights I placed myself at the dinner table, and there were four of my mother's favorite placemats set out, but only three people occupied the chairs behind them. The same went for the majority of my mornings. I would go the whole morning without seeing him. As I would stroll down the hallway towards the front door to go to school, I'd pass the bathroom. As he would cough, spit, and gag, my heart would sink into my chest. If anyone else had heard him, they would think he was about to die. You'd think I'd get used to it, but there was not one morning or night when heard him in the bathroom that tears didn't tempt to roll down my cheek. The memory of when I first found out is still clear as day to me. My parents were downstairs painting my room. They wouldn't let me help because I was too short. I also wasn't sure of what the correct way to paint was. Last time my carpet resembled a tie dye shirt because of all the paint I had spilled on the floor. I pranced down the hallway through the door frame leading into my room. I glanced around to see the majority of my walls finished in a turquoise color. My eyes made their way to my fourth wall where my parents were talking. They reduced their conversation to whispers, and then the whispering stopped too. They were supposed to be painting that wall green. But they weren't painting at all. As I scanned the room I noticed that there were no paintbrushes anywhere, nor any cans of paint. Something was off. They were being affectionate. I didn't understand because my parents weren't the type to show affection. It wasn't the cute, in-love type of affection. It was the kind where they looked like they were never going to see each other again. My mom's eyes were watery and I knew she had no allergies at that time of the year. I could smell the sadness in the air. I couldn't take it anymore; I am someone who hates not knowing things. I had to ask. “Why do you guys keep hugging each other?” I questioned. They glanced at each other and then at me. My mother was speechless. It was like she didn't know what to say. She couldn't form her thoughts into words. “Honey,” she paused, “your dad went to the doctor the other week, and we got the test results back today.” “And..?” I enquired. So many thoughts were racing through my head. I had no idea what she was about to say. But I could think of so many things she could say that would change everything. Her eyes flooded with water causing a tear to fall over the edge and roll down her cheek. “The test results showed that your dad has stage 3 cancer.” My mouth gaped open as my eyes became glossy. I couldn't fathom the words that had just come out of her mouth. I was trying to stay strong. But I was scared. I had never had to deal with something like this before. I feared the unknown, and everything about this screamed unknown. So many thoughts went racing through my mind. The one thought I couldn't shake was if he was going to die. “Is he going to be okay?” “We don't know much right now. But your dad is strong and we will get through this together, as a family,” she comforted.…
Pass out (drank, drank), wake up (drank, drank)
Faded (drank, drank), faded (drank, drank)
Now I done grew up
Round some people living their life in bottles
Granddaddy had the golden flask
Back stroke every day in Chicago
Some people like the way it feels
Some people wanna kill their sorrows
Some people wanna fit in with the popular
That was my problem
I was in the dark room
Loud tunes, looking to make a vow soon
That I'ma get fucked up, fillin' up my cup
I see the crowd…
their mother's stomach to the time they're learning to crawl, walk,
play and figure stuff out
When first viewing the film I noticed there was a lack of
communication from the narrator and the babies' parents. Hence,
This caused the focus to remain solely on the babies in the film. This
effect also made me feel as if I wanted to interact with the babies
and tend to their needs.
A second aspect I noticed from the film is the environment
that the babys grow up in shapes how they interact with the world…
with an array of racial and stereotypical posts and or comments. This alarming fact sparked our interests and we were determined to find out why something such as this could go virtually unchecked.
In the earlier stages of our research we collected primary research, going straight to the main sites (Vine, Facebook, and Twitter) to collect evidence. The first thing that we noted as an occurring pattern, was the collective effort put into these racial postings and videos. There would be a member…
i went there
Gera, Paul. "The Prison as a Laboratory: Medical Testing on Death Row Inmates." Ccbb.pitt.edu. University of Pittsburgh, 1 July 2003. Web. 19 Dec. 2013.
Hornblum, Allen M. "They Were Cheap and Available: Prisoners as Research Subjects in Twentieth Century America." They Were Cheap and Available: Prisoners as Research Subjects in Twentieth Century America. The Kaiser Papers, 14 Sept. 2006. Web. 19 Dec. 2013.
Salem, Ore. "Giving Life After Death Row." Nytimes.com…
Tutmose III, the Egyptians could no longer ignore the world outside of Egypt. The old Egyptian beliefs stated that the gods were the creators of Egypt, and only Egypt. The world outside of Egypt was often ignored and unrecognized by the Egyptians.
When Amenhotep IV suddenly changed his name to Akhenaten in honor of the Sun-god Aten and began preaching his theories of Atenism, religious thought in Egypt was forever changed. Akhenaten strived to make Aten the sole god worshipped in Egypt by closing…
“Wake up!” my mom screamed for the fifth time.
“Okay, Okay, I’m up!” I snapped at her. Didn’t she know when to give up? Screaming at me is not going to get me to wake up. But I knew what was today was. The day of my father’s execution. I dreaded it, worse than my brother Jacob’s execution. I opened my eyes to the familiar black and white scene I saw everyday when I woke up.
Shaking was the only thing I was doing.I slipped the white dress over my head and walked to the door opposite my bed. My…
Written By: Elizabeth Amy Hernandez
It’s hard to picture yourself being somebody when drug pushing, human trafficking, gangs and homicide are your majors growing up. I grew up in el barrio of Juarez Chihuahua Mexico. The streets were always full of living humans when the sun arose, but it seemed almost deserted once the sun went down. The odor of cream nieve and chile covered fruits filled the streets along with bicycles crowding and riding close by the houses…
WHEN DO I FINGERSPELL?
Languages are always evolving. When two languages co-exist in any community, the language
of the majority culture may influence the language of the minority culture. One of the ways that
ASL is influenced by English is in the incorporation of certain fingerspelled words (lexical
FINGERSPELLING is used for FOUR SPECIFIC PURPOSES:
1. To refer to proper names – (names of people, titles, brand names, cities, states,
2. To transliterate English technical…
When I hear the word Uganda
What do you think of when you hear the word Uganda? Do you see Uganda on a map? Do you work your brain to remember its location? Or do you not know what Uganda means at all? The answer is similar for most. Uganda is a country located in Central Africa, but for me, Uganda is much more than just a country. My answer goes much deeper. I have personally experienced the well known Pearl of Africa, and I have discovered, first hand, why it is referred to as a pearl. So what…