Archive for January, 2008
4
Assingnment 3
Not much, I read like a book every 6 months. I like to read stuff like Clockwork Orange or The Philosophy of Andy Warhol: From A to B and Back Again.
Do I like to read? Why or why not?
I really like to read but only if it is really interesting and something that not everyone would be interested in reading, and of course it has to get my attention.
How good a reader am I? Why do I think this is?
I understand most of what I read but sometimes I do not finish the books I’m reading.
Do I read much outside of school/at home? What kind of reading do I do there?
We do not read books at school so all of my reading is outside school and mostly at home. I read whatever book I feel like reading at the moment.
Of the things I have read, these are my favorites? why did I like them best?
Clockwork Orange, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol, and Cuando Veronika Decide Morir. These are some of my favorite books because of what they are about.
How often do I write? What types of writing do I do?
I do not write very often now and when I do is mostly just to express whatever it is that is bothering me.
Do I like to write? Why or why not?
I do like to write because I can express myself but I do not like to post my writting.
How good a writer am I? Why do I think this is?
I am not the best writer but I think I can do well, at least that’s what some people say.
Do I write outside of school/at home? What kind of writing do I do outside of school?
I write at school and at home. At school is mostly non-sense essays I do without putting any effort and at home I write what I like.
Of the things I have written, I like these best… Why do I like them best?
I dont know and I dont like to publish my writting.
How important are reading and writing? Why do I think this is?
Reading and writing are important because it helps us with our vocabulary a lot.
this is me.
An ordinary girl from a small country in Central America. My friends and family are my life and painting my passion. I live for music. Coffee and cigarrettes make my day go on and sleep over, girl talks, and dreaming make it move on. I surely know the meaning and practice of girl power. On a friday night the world usually alterate and my ears seem to explode at the sound of music. Little know, I rather not know. I never make scenes, they come to me. Waiting halls, Sundays, and money are my biggest enemies, and laughing and living my, passion.
Beowulf from Grendel’s Point of View
Upon arrival at the mead hall, Grendel notices the door is much to small for him to enter through it easily. This does not make him happy because it happens everywhere he goes in the little human towns. So he squeezes his shoulders through the small opening and manages to ask the man at the nearest table what was going on. The man, being exhausted from his own celebrations, was to tired to even notice the beast standing over him. Monsters of Grendel’s type are not used to be ignored and see it as disrespectful and so do not like to be ignored. Which is why Grendel pulled his head from the doorway and reached his claw in to snatch up unsuspecting man. Everyone else in the room was too busy to even notice the man being lifted from his place behind his drink. With the first man out of the way, Grendel decided to try a different approach. Again, scrunching himself down partway through the door, Grendel looked for someone to tell him what was going on. He cleared his throat and said with a rough, gravelly voice, “Excuse me!” No one noticed. So he said it louder, “Excuse me!” A few heads turned. After a number of astonished gasps, more turned to see. Detecting he was now the center of attention, Grendel asked what they were all doing making so much noise so late at night. The men only stared at him. So he asked more simply and slowly, not knowing if they were intelligent or not, “What are you doing?” The only response this time was an echoed “Get him!” This surprised Grendel because they seemed to say it in unison. He jumped slightly and hit his head on the doorway. He stood up and rubbed his head and knocked over a horse and its cart with his foot. He stubbed his other foot on the corner of the building and stumbled off dazed and confused but deciding to come back later to get in the last word.
A couple of hours later, Grendel returned. But this time nothing would surprise him. He came to the mead hall once again and peered inside to see everyone asleep. He tried getting their attention but nothing worked. So he ate them.
Grendel decided that he really did not like these people. So for a number of years he would return to the same place to eat the people.
One night as Grendel came into the hall he noticed that the people looked different from usual. So he carefully picked one up at ate it. It did not taste terrible but it was different. This was when he was attacked by one of the little human things. It grabbed onto him with a grip like his own. It was freaking him out. He tried shaking it off unproductively; spinning around did nothing as well. It was latched onto his arm quite tightly. As Grendel lunged from the direction of the human, his green flesh was torn and his arm became the property of the human. Grendel did not want to give away his arm; he was used to it and enjoyed having it around. But, he was willing to leave it behind if it meant he would be able to get away from the annoying human. So he left.
Being short one arm, Grendel decided to retire from eating the humans and to go visit his mother at the bubbling pool. He thought maybe she would have an extra he could have or at least an idea of where he could get a replacement. And he walked off into the sunset.
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