District Assessment

*Author's Note*
This is the 'Oh-so-fun' Fall District Assessment

Servo, or desire? These two choices have torn apart the once great man Hugh the fowler was. Ripped apart by his sudden lust for the king's new wife-to-be and his dedication to serving the king, an act in haste and hate destroyed him. He captured all but one bird, a white dove, and when he did capture it, so glorious and pure, he treated the symbol of peace and purity like a common pheasant and wringed its neck. His decision costing both his loyal ever-lasting service and his mad desire.


His decision is like that of Adam and Eve. Whilst God told them not to pick from the apple tree, the snake, tantalizing and enticing his natural animalistic instinct, coaxed him to do so. In the end, he picked from the tree and twisted its neck. He lost his dedication to the king and lost that of whom he yearned. No longer shall he be able to live in Eden and serve his king faithfully.

In life, one should be able to choose between doing what is right and doing what you are told to. Under any circumstances, there are always options. There is always the choice to stand up to what you have been told and do what is righteous. During the Nuremberg Trials after World War 2, the most common plea was, “I was only following orders”. Unfortunately, even though they were following orders, many still did atrocious things which could have been avoided had they not carried out their orders. You will always have a choice, but sometimes, the options will not be what you want.

Hugh made a poor decision. He could have either continued to live alone and serve his king faithfully, or leave behind his master and make off with his bride. But he chose poorly, ripping both options away from him. Now, he is a lonely man who neither serves nor loves. The joys of life were taken away from him, but not by a wicked and cruel hand, but by his own. And thou shalt live in the Garden of Eden, nor serve thy royal master.

Osama bin Laden's death

This is mostly a discussion.

Something that surprises me is how Americans view themselves as civilized people, yet when someone who attacked our nation has been killed by our soldiers, we act like savages and dance and celebrate. Civilization was just thrown out the window. We are dancing around like a tribe celebrating the massacre of a rival village. I know he attacked us, destroying billions of dollars in property and thousands of lives, but we have killed 10 times as many Middle-Easterners, mostly civilians. They are not responsible. It is only a hand-full of crazy fanatics with bombs and the will to kill themselves in their God's name that have caused half the world such misery.

How do you feel about how we have handled ourselves in the past 10 years since 9/11? Have we appropriately responded to the attacks with precision, or have we just gone over there to slay those who might have had something to do with the attacks.

Freedom of Life, Controlled

*Author's Note*
This is my response to the Truman Show. 

Have you ever felt out of place? Felt there was something everybody else had that you didn't? During his entire life, Truman has felt the same way. He has lived his entirety in a dome, built to house him along with thousands of others. He was raised from birth with a fake mother, fake family, and an artificial life. He has lived only for entertainment, and he knows nothing of it.

Truman is the sole star of a world hit television show called, "The Truman Show". In it, his life is portrayed through extremely tiny cameras. Throughout his life he has been wanting to leave the tiny town he has grown up in, but every chance he gets has been undermined by ideas or force. After countless attempts, he has grown frustrated and curious. Why can I not leave? Only during brief periods of attempts to inform him of his life and world has his suspicion been aroused.

Television exists because people are confused and frightened throughout life, and television helps to restore your confidence in ability and existence. If ever you feel as though you are strange, irresponsible, or have too many vices, television pictures characters or real people with problems similar to those you have. It could be put as, "A series that lets you know you are not alone".

Life poses many problems that not one man can answer. Therefore, an fictional world was created to restore people in confidence. If you feel that you are out of place because you like jazz music, a television show might showcase a very famous and renowned person who also liked jazz. The Truman Show was created to show people that you are not alone, and that there is another person out there who is just as awkward as you feel.

Emulation of "Charge of the Light Brigade"

This is the original by Lord Alfred Tennyson:

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred:

'Forward, the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns' he said:

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!'

Was there a man dismay'd?

Not tho' the soldier knew

Some one had blunder'd:

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to do & die,

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley'd & thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,

Flash'd as they turn'd in air

Sabring the gunners there,

Charging an army while

All the world wonder'd:

Plunged in the battery-smoke

Right thro' the line they broke;

Cossack & Russian

Reel'd from the sabre-stroke,

Shatter'd & sunder'd.

Then they rode back, but not

Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

While horse & hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came thro' the jaws of Death,

Back from the mouth of Hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wonder'd.

Honour the charge they made!

Honour the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred!

 
This is the emulation by me:
"Retreat in the Winter Months"

Back, my friends, back, my friends

Advance the opposite way,

In the winter months

We regressed:

'We cannot hold, comrades!

Make for the river', he cried:

In the winter months

We regressed.

'We cannot hold, comrades!'

Could a man believe?

Even though we knew

Some one had failed:

Ours not to question why,

Ours not to boast reply,

Ours to charge and die

In the winter months

We regressed.

Enemy behind us,

Enemy in front of us,

Enemy above us

Rain'd & pound'd

Storm'd by shell and round

Shamefully, we look back

Into once a living Hell

We regressed.

Flash'd all their muzzles blare

Flash'd as they took the air

Sabring our comrades there

Charging to our rear

All the world wonder'd:

Plunged through the billowing smoke

Right through our line they broke;

Invader and Russian

Relinquished by the armored stroke

Shak'n and shatter'd

Then they fell back, but not

Not the regress.

Enemy behind us,

Enemy in front of us,

Enemy above us

Rain'd and pound'd

Storm'd by shot and round

Whilst friends and comrades fell,

They had served us well

Came back from the grasp of Hell

To help us fare thee well.

Even though no remained,

Left of the men who stayed.

When can our shame recede.

The horrible retreat we made!

Yet, all the world wonder'd

Remember the men who fell

Send the invaders to Hell

No longer shall we regress!

Life of Pi Summative Essay

*Author's Note*

The title speaks for itself. I chose the topic "Death is Essential for Life", or at least the one like it. Enjoy!

Death allows the natural order of life to continue. Should we all live to the end of the world, we would not be able to enjoy the true blessings given to us. Pain, joy, heaven, hell, love, hatred; all impossible. In order for life to have reason and purpose, death must be the last chapter in all our books. Even if the rest of us were all to die eventually, the one who would live forever would have to watch as all the ones he loved and all his friends die without him. He would not be able to grow old with his wife, rather than watch her age and wither away and stand over her grave as the same man he was when he married her.When Pi was in the boat, fishing for his very survival, he had to kill and force the fish he caught to give their life so that he may preserve his own. Death allows us all to live.

Only when you know your time here is limited do you live to your full potential. If you knew you would live forever, you would just sit on your porch for years on end, not doing anything to be human. If you didn't know whether you would be alive tomorrow, would you sit around and watch TV, or would you go skydiving and enjoying the thrill that is life? Life is like potato chips; they taste really good for a while, but eventually, they lose their taste. Death is the next food or drink. It's an escape from the now dull flavor. Once you reach the age where life starts to take things away, slowly and slowly, you begin to look towards the escape. The light at the end of the tunnel.

Even though we do not enjoy pain or fear, we all live through them. But that is what life is! There is no ecstasy without pain, there is no pain without ecstasy. These feelings are the very things that give life meaning. Pi lived through a hell few could imagine, but he is experiencing what life had in store for him. He was able to experience this because that is what life does to people. If you keep driving the car that you love more than anything in the world, eventually it becomes nothing more than a car. If you keep doing the job you love, it eventually becomes nothing more than a job. The Greeks seem right about life; there can be no joy without an equal measure of pain somewhere later. Many are afraid of this, for many have gone unpunished for all their sins. But that is what life is all about! Even if you have the worst childhood, the remainder of life should be enjoyable.

"Dream as if you will live forever, live as though you will die today." A famous quote by James Dean. The idea of life neatly packed into 14 little words. Many have the will to live their lives to the fullest, but many just don't want to. Those people do not realize the gift granted to them and may waste the greatest bounty man has ever known. Life is a spoil, but not one to be used in haste and vain. 'Tis a gift, a gift that keeps on giving and will never stop until the end. 'Tis a curse, a curse that will make hell a reality. 'Tis a blessing, something you can never fully grasp until your final moments. And in those final moments, you will answer the question: did you live your life?

When They Had An Empire

*Author's Note*

This is a poem that just popped into my head one day. I will not spoil what it is about, for that is for you to figure out. There are many things it can be about. It's up to you to choose.

When they had an empire,

the world trembled before them.

No one dared stand up,

less they be condemned.

When they hung by a wire,

they nearly fell.

But one had saved them,

from the depths of Hell.

When they were on the march,

all you could do was run.

To look back at ones you loved,

now, the ones who are done.

They caught them by surprise,
and made them hide in their demise.
Once mortal enemies, now allies,
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend".

And now the world holds strength once more,

to stand up to the ones who had beat them before.

To send men overseas, to fight tyranny,

separated many couples meant to be.

When first they met, their gain was naught.

Not a soul remained to be taught,

to fight the men who beat them before,

yet victory now, was close to lore.

Progress was made, yet progress was low.

The victory parade march was slow.

But time and time again, we pushed them back,

from the desert to the plains, to the hedges to the mountains,

our spark from before, had been brought back.

To stand against what is wrong,

you must give for what is right.

Unfortunately for many,

to give, was to die.

When the world stood against them,

they fought in need that was dire.

Now the few that remain remember back,

to when they had an empire.

The Desert in All It's Glory

*Author's Note*

This is a 4-part series that explains different themes from my vacation to Reno, Nevada. It is meant to resemble a stream of consciousness.

Travel

Droning. Endless droning. The jet engines consuming countless gallons of fuel as it propels us forward. As I look down, lakes turn to plains, which turn to hills, which turn to mountains as we head West.The mountains go on till what seems the end of the Earth. As they increase in size, they become capped with snow. Puffs of white soon engulf the mountain. Now, a winter wonderland with streaks of green and brown, the mountain itself peaking through the suffocating snow. We approach our destination, while the sun grows hot through the small portal in a plane they call a window. Nothing but a mere piece of glass and plastic. It focuses the light, heating the inside of the once cool aircraft. Now, the mountains are back. But something is different. No snow. They snow, melted by the sun, creates the run-outs cascading down the hill side. The majestic mountains now seem to weep a long winding trail that almost never ends, until the dry desert resumes. Now... we are out west.

Here is the strange part. A mystery not even I am sure of. As I peer out of the glass pane, I notice something that surely does not belong in the desert. An assortment of small buildings, which lead to three large hangers, followed by two extremely long runways. Could it be? The non-existing airfield in the Sierra Nevada? Area 51? A picture I had seen on a show the previous week was an exact clone of what I was seeing now. I even said to myself, "This is not it". But every inch of me said it was.

City
Finally! After what felt like an eternity sitting on that plane, we arrive. The hordes of people flowing out of the terminal suggests that this must be a busy time. Now we claim our baggage, and wait outside for the shuttle that will take us to the hotel. About 15 minutes later, we are on our way. The shuttle speeds to the destination on an empty highway. We pass billboards trying to get you to try, "Grand Sierra Resort's Luxury rooms!". others about political campaigns in which the candidates are enemies that will fight to the death for office, buffets, and casinos, the main attraction in Reno. Now we are in the heart of the city, mere ants beneath the towering monoliths, casting long shadows across the suburbs outlying the city center. Most buildings are restaurants, casinos, or hotels. The three things Reno is best known for. We exit the highway, and cross into rows of run-down homes. Reno isn't the only city hit by the depression, but it may be the worse.

After hours of travel, we arrive at the long awaited moment. The moment we enter our hotel, the Nugget. Two towers of an earthly tan, peppered with windows. Atop the main tower, a gleaming sign displaying Nugget in sparkling gold letters. Rows of light illuminate the monstrous letters, giving it a magical touch. A grand entrance fit for a king greets even the ones who can barely afford a weekend stay there. To meet us, an image of happiness, my grandmother. For the rest of our vacation, she's always there for us, and always willing to cart us around. Now, we are here.

 Long Desert Road
Ahead, along the earthen ground and asphalt, an endless trail leading us to the haven known as Frenchman's Lake. A beautiful lake nestled in the mountains, surrounded by pine's of epic proportions. An image of heaven on earth. A lake, reflecting the trees and barely snow-capped mountains, stands as a symbol of joy and peace. But we are not there yet. The Subaru Forester packed with four people, ruggedly traverses the long road. A car passes us every minute or so. To our right, a broad hillside slowly leading up to the top of a hill at a slight incline. The bright tan hill is showered with sagebrush and various weeds. To our left, a mountain in all it's glory, majestically rising over everything. The tip, dipped in a snow white coating. The rest, a brown with greenish tint. It dwarfs everything except for it's fellow mountains, spitting images of it except for the size. The road, lined by these monoliths, goes on and on and on and on. The end is barely in sight, with the town of Chilcoot, a small town with a population of only 100.

As Chilcoot passes, we approach the final stretch. Hills disappear as we are engulfed by a massive canyon. An endless winding road, buried deep within the rock. To our left, a proud rock-face, standing tall and jagged above all. Our right, a bone-chilling drop that makes you want to look down, but at the same time, makes you look away. We pass forests, campgrounds, and streams as the lake nears. Only one more mile, says the blue sign, followed by a sign requiring a permit, another about firewood, and another about fireworks, and more and more signs pass. I'm sick of it. I want to look around, not at a saying saying "no", "you can't bring", "not allowed" or "permitted". Disgusting. I wait for them to pass, wait for the beauty of nature to come back. After rows of signs, nature returns to me.


The Lake
Breathlessness is all I could feel. I sat upon a stone uprising, jutting out of the ground. As I traverse the rugged terrain trying to find a surface I can sit upon, the breeze rustles my hair and blows the loose bit of shirt at my waist. The rock face offers a comfortable seat, and I take advantage of it. Gazing upon distant, yet monstrous mountaintops, I think about home, happiness,  and life. Everything happening around me is tuned out. Silence, except for the wind, and the mountain. It talks to me, talks with me. It enters my mind, and leaves shortly thereafter. I wanted to talk back, but I couldn't. The distance blurs as the lake and plain beneath clear. Staring back at each other. looking into the eyes the lake has, and doesn't. Acting as a mirror, the mountain glances back at me one more time before it disappears forever. The mirror is interrupted by fly-fisherman. Their invisible poles yield a surprisingly large bounty of fish. They chat, their voices barely gracing my ear. A radio, placed on a rock by the beach plays country music, music that can not reach me. Before that, a plain. Not tall, not short, waves of desert grass sway in the breeze. It rolls, stops, jumps, and dancing with my mind. To me, a lifetime passes by, sitting there, thinking about anything that crosses my mind. The presence of nature's beauty leaves me without word; breathless.