Second Semester Senior

Second Semester Senior Hello Everyone! Firstly, I’d like to publicly apologize for not being as frequent as I normally am. I think last year, I set a goal of blogging once a week. Sophomore year, this has become decidedly more difficult. I’m sure you can guess what I’ve been doing.. (*drum roll*) That’s right! Studying! Or psetting, or various academic-related activities. Academically speaking, sophomore year is definitely a step up from freshman year, although, for many reasons, I still think freshman year overall was harder. There’s also a couple things I’ve been doing outside of academics, such as planning and executing a water project in Ethiopia, becoming a founder of a new FSILG, and playing with robots but that is all queued for a later post (in an attempt to spread out my blogging and be more frequent ^^”). What I actually want to talk about today is really not today at all, but rather two years ago. More precisely, senior year of high school, which I think many of you might be experiencing right now. It is nearing the end of November; the first round of applications have gone in (early action date was November 1st); the last-minute standardized tests and subject tests have been crammed for and taken; changes to creative portfolios have been finalized and made. Many of you probably have a few applications left to finish still (no worries, I myself did four of them in one weekend just before the Jan. 1 deadline) (but would not recommend, obviously). Even so, we are definitely entering that time when things are wrapping up, and (hopefully) calming down. This is also a time when a lot of people seem to enter a mindset of now what? You’ve prepared and prepared and prepared, written essays, had interviews. Now, everything is fully out of your control, and has been passed into the hands of these mysterious “admissions officers” (TBH I never thought of admissions officers as real people or even separate from universities until I met Chris Peterson, and read this excellent blog post by Ben Jones, whom I’ve never met https://mitadmissions.org/blogs/entry/its_more_than_a_job) (It always just seemed, in my head, like the school itself had a brain, and was doing the deciding) I received a question that pretty much summed up all these feelings on tumblr the other day: As it turns out, there actually are still things you can do to most effectively prepare for college! So, here is what I did after submitting my application: Pick up a senioritis projectâ€"something to do in the time that you procrastinate all of your other work. Mine was learning to longboard, a couple friends of mine tried to learn elvish from LOTR. Search “things to eat __(your city)__” and go to all the places and eat the things :3 (I actually am doing this now, in Boston, not back in Denver, but I should have!!) Go to whatever downtown, small or large, that you have, or take public transportation to that stop you’ve never been to, and just waste time. Window shop. Get some ice cream. Whatever. Use a countdown app to countdown the remaining days until winter break/school ends/this one class you have ends Try to write a short story or a serial Invest more time than you previously would into extracurricularsâ€"I put extra effort into Robotics and Chinese Club : Write!! About anything and everything. Write badly. Laugh at it. Make a reading list. Try to finish it Read book recommendations from friends Ask your parents lots of questionsâ€"ask them things you have never asked before, however meaningful (“When you came to the U.S, did you plan on staying?”)* or totally random (“Ma, when you were a kid what was your favorite snack food”)** as you wish. ^same, but with your siblings and other family members Attempt art-ing. Listen to lots of different music Use whatever mode of transportation you have, and go everywhere. I didn’t have a car in high school, or a license for that matter, and I lived in Colorado, which has only-sort-of-decent public transportation. I took the light rail, and then longboarded or walked. I explored downtown Denver thoroughly, and took a road trip with my friends to go camping over the summer. In the winter months, binge-watch TV shows and movies with your favorite TV shows and movie watching partners. Have lunch by yourself on top of the school bleachers and wonder about life. Have coffee with a friend and wonder about life Realize that you sort of dislike much of existentialist philosophy. Have adventures with friends at night (e.g., suprising another friend at their music performance) Hang out at friends’ houses and wonder about life Talk to friends about wondering about life Mutually agonize over the future Eat pizza Pet dogs Hang out with little kids and tweens attempt exercising Cook something interesting (I made bao zi with my mom) Cook something interesting with friends (we made a buttercream cake!) Cook something interesting with friends part 2 (kim bap. So good.) Go to the movies! Realize that you’re so over your 12 year old self and some of his/her past interpersonal relationships. U don’t need them gurl. Realize that you wish you stayed in touch more with a friend who moved away. Get to know people completely different from you that you have never hung out with before Hang out with the freshmen (they are so cute~) and the underclassmen in general Vent to someone Be vented to, and comfort the vent-er Cry a little about things/academic and life pressure Stay up til 3AM just talking and playing games Be even better friends with your friends, or the people on the “fringes” of your friend group. Plan an extravagant senior trip, which may or may not happen Plan a much less extravagant senior trip that actually happens When I was a high school senior, I definitely had moments where I got so caught up in college and the future that I did not realize until I left or just before how much I would miss the presentor rather, that time which has now passed. And I did not even like high school, as some of you may not. But I did have friends, whom I liked a lot, and we were very close. I don’t think I even realized how close, until I came to a place where suddenly, I didn’t know anyone. I was (and still am, of course) very close with my family. I loved (and still love, of course) Colorado in and of itself, as a place. So, even though I did have those moments of antsy-ness, I am glad I took some time to really appreciate just being where I wasin high school, in Colorado, with my friends and family. After everything is submitted and signed and sealed and done, I’d encourage you to do the same. Even though I was never someone who believed in the “high school is the best time of your life!”, high school is still a time of your life, which will soon not be the present, and that is what’s important to realize. High school itself may not even be the defining characteristic of this time for you, but that’s the thing about timeit passes, regardless of what it holds. It’s a cliche, I know, but remember to enjoy the moment, whatever that moment is for you. (The feet of yours truly in the Platte River, which winds through part of downtown Denver) *Nope. **???(sa chi ma)

The Roman And Mongolian Empires - 976 Words

The Roman and Mongolian empires were among the largest contiguous nations in the history of humanity. The provinces of their empires stretched across vast swaths of the globe, and their dominion included a diverse variety of cultures and people. These nations were able to accomplish this because of certain advantages given to them by their cultures and value systems. The Roman and Mongolian armies used superior technology, combined with military and political stratagems, to conquer and rule extremely large, organized, and wealthy empires despite their incredibly heterogeneous cultures and systems of conduct. Both of these superior military forces exemplified similarities in strength, organization, and higher military strategies, but their differences concerning weapons, uniforms, and cultural values presented a stark contrast from each other and how they performed conquering and governing their empires. The structures of the Roman and Mongolian armies were clearly defined and created the standard of militaristic organization for modern day militaries. The commanders of armies are what eventually determine if victory is achieved. The well-organized machine requires a brain to control it, and likewise the structured armies of Mongolia and Rome needed generals of talent to direct their destructive force towards a beneficial objective. Roman and Mongolian officers were given specific objectives, but were allowed to achieve those objectives however they determined. This freedomShow MoreRelatedRoman Empire vs. Mongolian Empire Essay1405 Words   |  6 PagesRoman Empire and Mongolian Empire The key to the Mongolian success lied in their excellent horsemanship, their use of the composite bow, their unimaginable discipline and communication on the battlefield and also their ability to adapt to enemy tactics. 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Animal Hunting And Its Effects On The Environment

This will also have a substantial effect on the environment and the Earth is already overpopulated as it is, this is clearly seen in different parts of the world. Cities go on for miles without any greenery and are overcrowded, roads look disgusting as there are so many cars on the road polluting the atmosphere and if the population increases even more, there will be more cars on roads which will cause even more air pollution in the atmosphere which means that plants and other species will die as the atmosphere will be so toxic or it could potentially introduce new diseases or cancers. Wild animals could also gradually die out and become extinct because of environmental destruction because the humans would be destroying their habitats and also due to over hunting animals. Animal hunting is a very popular activity to do and if there is a higher population, more people will be killing animals which is another factor that will cause the wild animals to gradually die out. Siberian tigers have been classed by the IUCN as being endangered. There are approximately 300 Siberian tigers left in the wilderness in the regions of China and North Korea and the factors that are influencing the lives of these tigers are due to humans capturing, hunting or the killing of the tigers and habitat loss due to humans constructing more buildings or cutting down trees to use for vital everyday things such as fences, buildings, shelves, desks and books. Overpopulation would start affecting manyShow MoreRelatedHorrific Affect of Pestcides in A Fable for Tomorrow from the Book Silent Spring by Rachel Carson918 Words   |  4 Pageshave severe harms and damages on the environment and other organisms. In the excerpt â€Å"A Fable for Tomorrow† from the book Silent Spring, Rachel Carson describes the disastrous and horrific effects of pesticides on the environment and animals of the town. 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Chalice Chapter 9 Free Essays

string(34) " taking up this inheritance soon\." PART THREE Two days after the fire the Overlord’s agent came to the House, and another man with him. She already knew she did not like the agent, Deager, and she disliked the new man immediately, although at first she could not be sure she disliked him for any reason other than the company he kept. He gave her reason soon enough, however, in the proprietorial air with which he looked round. We will write a custom essay sample on Chalice Chapter 9 or any similar topic only for you Order Now He was introduced to her with a tremendous flourish, although no reason was given for his presence; which, with the air and the flourish, was explanation enough, and her heart plummeted. By the time the Grand Seneschal informed her, stiffly, that this was the Overlord’s choice for the next Master’s Heir, she didn’t need to be told, and in her anger and frustration she said, â€Å"That is hasty,† before she remembered to whom she spoke, and she bit her lip, waiting for the rebuke. But none came. She was so surprised she looked into his face. He scowled at her at once, the familiar contemptuous, disapproving scowl, but when she ducked her head and then glanced back again a moment later, his face had relaxed into what looked a lot like sadness. The new man’s name was Horuld. She paid little attention to his breeding, that several of his forebears’ lines ran directly from Willowlands, and several more had crossed in the ensuing generations, and which Deager was very eager to tell out, over and over and over, even to such unworthies as the demesne’s shabby and erratic new Chalice, who was herself one of the indications (Deager didn’t say this but he didn’t have to) that the demesne was still in trouble, over a year after she had taken her place in the Circle. So far as she knew no Chalice had ever been deposed. But she had never seen any record of a Chalice chosen when there was no Master to hold the land steady while the Circle did its work either. It had very occasionally happened that an apprentice died with or before her Chalice; but then too there had always been an experienced Master. And there were stories of Chalices who had not been able to bear the work they were called on to do – even those who had had their proper apprenticeships – and broken under it. There were only a few of these stories, but one was too many, and there was more than one. She believed that one such Chalice was the Chalice she herself followed. She was surprised – even more surprised than she had been at the Grand Seneschal missing a chance to reprimand her – when Horuld seemed disposed to talk to her. There were other, more prepossessing and conversationally skilful members of the Circle he could address himself to; demesne hierarchy declared that Chalice was Second of the Circle, but that had to be remembered only when there was work to be done. Her Circle recollected it only when they had to, as did the Overlord’s agent – or they always had done previously. She was, as Chalice, compelled to be present for the agent’s visit, and – as Chalice – she would serve whatever Master fate set over Willowlands. That was enough. Perhaps the training she hadn’t had would have included how to hold superfluous discourse with people she would rather avoid. When she was standing Chalice or performing a ritual she did not have to chat; but Horuld’s first visit was informal. In other circumstances this would have seemed friendly and considerate; as it was it seemed ominous and coercive. Deager, having proved to his own satisfaction, if not all of his audience’s, that Horuld’s bloodlines were an excellent choice, wished to make it clear – he said – that the Overlord was merely anxious that an unambiguous Heir should be in place, after the recent disaster. If such an accident should happen again, the demesne might fall apart entirely. It had been without a Master for seven months; it could not survive this a second time. She tried to tell herself that a declared Heir was a sensible precaution; their present Master was the end of his family. The previous Master should have declared an Heir when he sent his only brother to Fire. She wondered why the Overlord had not obliged him to do so; she had only been a small woodskeeper then, and small woodskeepers heard little about Overlords’ decisions. The demesne gossip said merely that the Master was a young man, and hale, and he would produce Heirs – had probably produced a few already, the uneasy joke went. But they would be bastards, and prohibited. By the time the ordinary folk of the demesne had begun to realise that their young Master seemed to have no intention of marrying and producing a proper Heir, especially in combination with his increasingly alarming general behaviour, the fear of what this meant also meant that no one wanted to talk about it. And then the worst had happened. Perhaps she should try to believe that the Overlord was merely doing the responsible thing – the responsible thing he had failed to do before – but again she wondered. It was too soon to tie an Heir to the present Circle; Willowlands was still too precarious. However necessary an Heir was, forcing him upon them now would unbalance it further. Would the next thing be that she was obliged to take an apprentice? She had no energy for the binding that would entail. Leaving aside that she had nothing to teach one. Perhaps it was only her dislike of both Deager and Horuld that made her feel the agent was making it clear that Horuld was being introduced to Willowlands as the Heir only after he had made something else even more clear, if not in so many words: that the Overlord would like to see Horuld taking up this inheritance soon. You read "Chalice Chapter 9" in category "Essay examples" She was too quick to feel she needed to defend the Master, she told herself. But what she had taken from the agent’s description of Horuld’s bloodlines was that if he was the best that could be done for her poor demesne, the Overlord should be straining every muscle to support the present Master. Did the Overlord want to break Willowlands entirely? Surely not. The disruption would damage the Overlord’s grip too†¦no. He would be counting on riding it out; might he, more, be betting on the huge increase of his own power the successful changeover would produce? She knew almost nothing of the politics among Overlords. Demesne folk did not travel to the crown city nor visit the court of the king; and as practising Chalice she was furthermore indissolubly tied to her land. But whatever else she knew or thought of the Grand Seneschal, he would not have kept such a piece of news as a visit from the Heir from the rest of the Circle; and Deager glossed, or slithered, over the question of why Willowlands had not known who was coming with him, which made it plain that there had been no message that had gone awry. She had mixed the cup she would offer to the company before she came. She had mixed it for the visit from the Overlord’s agent, and that was all. That was how it was done; that was why it was important that a Chalice know in advance who would drink from her cup, and for what reasons. Last-minute changes were destabilising, which was why battlefield cups, which were perforce rare, were also notoriously volatile. It should not have been a good omen, that a Master’s Heir should be left out of the first cup he received from the Chalice. Perhaps the Overlord, or some other of his plotters, had decided that being left out was better than a Chalice throwing her weight against him, which a loyal Chalice might be suspected of doing upon the presentation of any outblood Heir. Chalices were parochial by definition; of all the Circle, only the Chalice could not set foot across her demesne’s boundaries. Some of the oldest records called the Chalice the Landtied – and because of this literal overidentification, the Chalice’s response to outbloodedness in any member of the Circle was considered crucial. This perhaps explained why Horuld was interested – indeed eager – to talk to her. Perhaps she could be disposed to include him kindly in her mixture for his next visit, after he had been careful to make a good first impression. She would not need to be disloyal. An y Master’s Heir was an important part in the demesne structure; most accepted Heirs attended at least some Circle gatherings; and under the present circumstances the only possible Heir was an outblood. A Chalice must at least punctiliously include her Master’s Heir in any cup he was present for; of course it would be better if she felt at least benign toward him, or even generous. But she did not feel benign or generous. She listened, smooth-faced, when the agent pronounced some blather about how the surprise of presenting Horuld unannounced would create â€Å"clarity† in an awkward situation; that he would be more able to see where he would best fit into difficult circumstances if no one was trying to soften the truth. She knew that a properly schooled Chalice would have some matching blather to offer in return, but she was not a properly schooled Chalice, and it gave her a little meagre pleasure that her silence discomfited the agent, and by his discomfiture he exposed that he knew his action had been dishonourable. Did she loathe Horuld because Deager was a toad? No. Sunbrightener was a toad, and his antics merely made her feel tired and sad. Or because the Chalice was repelled by outbloodedness? She looked at Horuld and every particle of her recoiled. No. She bore the Chalice, she was not engulfed by it. Mirasol had arrived a little late at the House for the meeting with Deager. Just as she was leaving her cottage a young mother had burst into the meadow carrying a wildly weeping child. Mirasol knew them, Kenti and her daughter Tis; they were neighbours. Tis had pulled a kettle of boiling water over. Fortunately it had only been half full, but the child still had a badly burned arm; and the local herbswoman, Catu, was gone to a lying-in, Kenti did not know where. Mirasol hadn’t spoken to Kenti or her husband Danel properly since she had become Chalice, in spite of the fact that Danel and she had grown up together; she had been jealous when he had been apprenticed to a ploughman, for the horses. Kenti said breathlessly, â€Å"Can you do anything? Can you help?† Her eyes went to the back of Mirasol’s right hand, which was holding the edges of her cloak together over the cup of congruence in her left hand, and then hastily rose to Mirasol’s face. But she couldn’t meet the Chalice’s eyes the way she had many times met Mirasol’s, and they dropped away again. Poor Tis was weeping in a miserable, exhausted way that was painful to hear. Mirasol brought them into the cottage and took down a small pot of the honey especially good for burns and smeared it carefully over Tis’ arm. The little girl cried out at the first touch but by the time Mirasol had finished she had fallen silent, and leant back against her mother’s body staring at Mirasol with huge still-wet eyes. Even as Mirasol looked back at her the eyelids drooped, and Tis was asleep. And then Kenti burst into tears. Mirasol led her to the big soft chair by the fireplace where Mirasol did much of her reading and let her collapse. â€Å"It was my own carelessness – I know what she’s like – I let myself be distracted – it was only a moment – and then I heard her scream – and I knew Catu was away – I didn’t know what to do – it was awful† and then she couldn’t say anything for a while. Mirasol made a tisane – a spoonful of her soothing honey with a spoonful of the calming herbs she’d had from Catu herself; in the early months of her Chalicehood she’d drunk it by the bucketful. When she brought a cup to Kenti, Kenti laid Tis tenderly down beside her on the chair, sticky arm uppermost, and took it. She breathed in the steam and gave a little half laugh: she recognised Catu’s mixture. â€Å"I’ve used honey for littler wounds – your mother taught me that when I wasn’t much older than Tis – but this one was so dreadful. And then I remembered – I remembered your hand. I thought, if your – if the Chalice’s honey can cure what a Fire-priest can do, then perhaps it can cure Tis’ arm.† Mirasol said gently, â€Å"The Master cured my hand.† â€Å"He – ?† said Kenti unbelievingly, and Mirasol saw the fear in her face, the same fear she saw in the Housemen’s faces before they bent nearer their Master to slide the chair under him as he sat down; the fear she saw in the faces of most of the others of the Circle when their part in a rite brought them too close to him – the fear of him that made the Master leave the burnt grove before any of his people saw him there. â€Å"Yes. He.† She wanted to say, Tell Danel. Tell your mother. Tell all your friends. But she watched Kenti’s face and knew that she would tell the story – if she believed it. Kenti’s face said that she wanted to believe it – she wanted that hope, not only for herself, but for her demesne. Kenti sat looking at her daughter for a long moment and then said wonderingly, â€Å"Look – the mark is already fading. Your mother’s honey could not have done so much so quickly. It is the Chalice in you, I know, but perhaps – perhaps – perhaps it is also that we have a Fire-priest for Master†¦.† Her voice had sunk to a whisper. Mirasol was still thinking about the hope in Kenti’s face when she walked up to the House. She knew she was late, but it was only Deager, the agent, coming for a – snoop, she thought uncharitably. Overlords’ agents were supposed to visit their Overlords’ demesnes, but she didn’t like the way Deager’s nose twitched, the way his eyes darted around, as if he were hoping to smell something rotten, to see someone doing something illicit or disgraceful. And then she arrived, and there was a surprising number of people churning around in the big hall behind the front doors, and a youngish, weaselly-faced man she had never seen before standing a little too close to Deager’s elbow. The situation was uncomfortable enough to begin with, when it was only Deager and Horuld, herself and the Grand Seneschal and the Seneschal’s apprentice Bringad, and four of the minor Circle (the others were hastily sent for when Horuld was revealed as the Heir) plus the attendants the visitors brought and their own Housefolk. As the word spread about Horuld, more and more people streamed in, and both the noise and the tension level, it seemed to Mirasol, rose, and the ever-worried Bringad looked more worried than she had ever seen him. But when the Master arrived†¦she did not know how to understand it, explain it, even to herself. It was as if the level ground tipped a little in one direction and the high curving sky changed its arc just a little in some other direction. A Master was not expected to greet a mere agent on his arrival; the Grand Seneschal did that. But as the representative of his Overlord, a Master would be churlish as well as foolish not to see him at some point during his visit. She assumed the Grand Seneschal had despatched a message to the Master about Deager’s unexpected companion; it was impossible to read any trace of surprise or disquiet on the Master’s shadowy black and strangely mutable face when he made his entrance. Mirasol heard with what was beginning to be a familiar sinking of the heart the conversation falter and then stop as he was noticed, before the head Houseman announced him. Perhaps all Masters are greeted with a respectful hush, but she doubted that most demesne folk drew together as if for protection when their Master appeared. When Deager (his voice positively quavering as he addressed the Master) described Horuld as the Overlord’s candidate for Heir, the Master merely bowed his head. There was a disagreeable pause, and then the agent rushed to begin telling Horuld’s bloodlines over again, speaking too loudly and too quickly, and at first forgetting his flourishes. But when a Master has no son nor other suitable close relative, the meeting between the Master and the Master’s newly declared Heir was as laboriously and ponderously formal as centuries of tradition could make it, including, in this case, the tradition that an unexpected situation should be treated even more formally than the same situation when everyone knew what was happening. The Grand Seneschal managed to insert an orotund phrase or two (rather like a pole through the spokes of a wheel, Mirasol thought) into the agent’s barrage of genealogy, which had a steadying effect. When Deager finally fell silent, his concl uding bow was as elaborate as if he were being presented to the king. But Mirasol found herself thinking that the Master had bowed his head so very ceremoniously indeed that perhaps he had somehow known of Horuld’s coming before the message from the Grand Seneschal. Most of the initial gestures among any group that required the presence of the Chalice were stylised, just as her offering of the cup was, but during Horuld’s first visit to Willowlands they all seemed to move as if they were puppets in a puppet show, their limbs made of wood, the pulling of their strings performed by a puppeteer. If there had been an audience Mirasol felt they would not have found the performance convincing. Although Deager had insisted in a manner that was obviously meant to be magnificent but came over as merely presumptuous, that this first informal meeting with the Heir should proceed as it would have if Horuld had not been there, this was not possible, as Deager would have known it was not possible. Furthermore any meeting involving the Circle to which the Chalice stood should be precise about the number of people present, the number of people who would be offered the Chalice’s cup – which Deager would also know. And the Willowlands folk were doubtless awkward with surprise. They had known an Heir would be chosen, and Mirasol had held Chalice during the gathering when the Master had acceded to the Overlord’s wish, as presented by Deager, that the Overlord do the choosing. But that had only been a few weeks ago, and they had heard nothing of the progress of the search. She had begun reading about the meeting of a Master with an unknown Heir, so she knew that if it had been a proper meeting she should offer her cup first to the Master and second to the Heir. After a moment’s invisible dithering behind the face she tried hard to keep in an expressionless Chalice mask she did so anyway: let Deager assume this was a manifestation of magnanimity and support; she considered it buying time. The contrast between the Master and an ordinary human had never been so marked, she thought, as between the Master and his Heir when she took the cup from one and offered it to the other. She had directed them to stand on either side of her – which would also have been the correct form for a planned first meeting between the two of them: she could see Deager smiling with satisfaction, but she ignored him. The Master seemed to tower over her, and his natural heat, as she stood close enough to him to hold a cup to his lips, wrapped itself around her as if claiming her – and briefly and disconcertingly she remembered riding home with him after the fire in the Onora Grove. Horuld, who was no more than average size, seemed puny and frail in comparison; and the fact that he was obviously struggling not to flinch away from the Master added to this impression of weakness. She might have helped him, as she often helped the Circle members who were still reluctant to approach the Master, by stepping toward him, by allowing him to maintain a greater distance; but she did not. She offered the cup to the Master with a bent arm, and then turned and offered the cup to Horuld, again with a bent arm, and waited, forcing him to step close, not only to her, but to the Master. He did not try to take the cup from her, but he did raise a hand to grasp it, and she could feel him trembling. There were beads of sweat on his upper lip which she doubted were only from the heat. Before she took the cup on to Deager and the rest of the Circle, she bowed, to the Master, and then to Horuld. The Master must receive the deeper bow, of course, but the Heir might have had one nearly as deep; her bow to the Heir was only enough more than perfunctory not to be offensive. She let her gaze pass as if carelessly over Deager, and saw that he had stopped smiling. She could feel, before she had got halfway round the Circle, that it was not a good binding. When she made her final bow it was almost difficult to stand upright again, and she was exhausted. She had to make a great effort to meet the eyes of Horuld and Deager; the Grand Seneschal’s eyes looked glassy and unfocused, and the Master’s were as unfathomable as they had been the first day, when his hand had slipped and burnt her, and his face was only blurred shadows. She tried to remember the sudden surprising joy of his healing of her hand, of talking to him about what he saw, about her bees being tiny golden sparks in his strange vision – of the night that she had helped him put out the fire in Onora Grove, and the ride home after. But she remembered these things as she might remember something out of a book, a story told of someone else. Even if, by some extraordinary accident, the Chalice had not known beforehand all those who would drink, a well-mixed cup should have had a more positive effect than this. Perhaps she had mixed it injudiciously; that was likeliest. Even without his bringing an unannounced Heir, her dislike of Deager made it onerous for her to mix a cup that she would have to offer to him. But even if a more experienced Chalice might have done better, it was still true that introducing an Heir without proper advance warning was like throwing a boulder on one side of a delicate scales and expecting them still to balance. But perhaps the lack of binding and balance in this gathering was because Horuld was wrong†¦wrong for the demesne, wrong as Heir, wrong even to be here. It had been known in the past that an outblood Heir was rejected by the demesne, however carefully the humans had tried to make the best choice. Perhaps the Overlord had overplayed his game by giving the Master and his Chalice no forewarning that the Overlord’s choice was coming to be introduced to his hoped-for inheritance. By the end of the day, when she could leave the House and make her way back to her cottage, she was shaking and sick. She pulled her hood over her head and held it bunched round her throat with her hands, feeling that what she really wanted to do was disappear: if she wrapped the ends of her cloak around her tightly enough and then tighter still, eventually there would be no one left inside†¦. Usually the gentle thumping of the empty Chalice cup against her hip was comforting: another ritual got through. Today it was not; she felt that she – they – Willowlands had indeed not got through the ritual of the introduction of the Heir. She concentrated on the thought of sitting in the last of the daylight in the clearing by the cottage, listening to her bees. She was still ten minutes’ walk from the cottage when some of her bees came to meet her. She stretched out her arms to them and they landed on her hands and forearms, stroking her skin as if the tiny hairs were sepals they expected to secrete nectar for them. She shook her hood back, and several landed on her face and neck; out of the corners of her eyes she could see more landing on her shoulders. As she walked the last few minutes to the cottage she found herself thinking that her head felt strangely heavy, and that the hum of the bees was unusually loud; and then when she came out of the tree-shadowed path into the sunny clearing around the cottage she saw a great cloud of bees lifting away from her and dispersing, and she realised that she had been wearing a hood and cloak of bees. She watched them scatter about their proper bee business, and wondered. Horuld came twice more in the next few weeks with Deager, and then a third time he came alone. When he came with Deager their visits were announced in advance; but now as the acknowledged Heir, he might come as he pleased – and stay as he pleased. She was in the House library when he came that third time, and the first warning she had was a shadow falling across the open door; she was deep into her research and would not have noticed, except that a half-familiar voice said, â€Å"Chalice,† and her body had recoiled before her mind had recognised who it was. She turned the recoil, she hoped, into a mere startle, and stood up at once to make a ceremonial sign of greeting, saying, â€Å"Forgive me, my mind was lost in what I was doing.† He said smoothly, â€Å"And I have interrupted you; forgive me.† She bowed her head and waited, hoping his appearance was a formal signal only and that he had no business with her. The demesne’s folk were growing used to their new Chalice, and they were now coming to her more and more; this was a relief in some ways, and she knew she must be grateful for the good this was doing Willowlands, but she often had to put aside what other work she had planned on doing. She had fled to the House library today and was hastily reading up on the behaviour toward and reception of outblood Heirs. Part of her problem, she thought, as she had thought many times since the Chalice had come to her, was that she was not by nature a formal sort of person; she found that side of the duties of the Chalice so difficult as sometimes to feel incompatible with her private self. She wondered if this was anything like trying to live in the human world when you were a priest of Fire. How to cite Chalice Chapter 9, Essay examples

war Essays (569 words) - Gettysburg Campaign, The Killer Angels

Between the days of July 1, 1863 and July 4, 1863, the Civil War?s outcome was decided. These four days have been known as the Battle of Gettysburg, the turning point of the war. In The Killer Angels, Michael Shaara brings us a vivid image of what the battle was like. Shaara?s work is very impressive. He is able to capture how things were during the Civil War. The fate of the country was resting on that war so the novel adds a great deal to the reader?s mind. Shaara was able to bring to the reader a little of the war. The book also gives you a feel for some of the important characters of the battle, including Lee, Longstreet, Pickett, Buford, and Hancock. The most inspiring figure in the book, however, is Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain. He led the 20th Maine regiment of volunteers who held the Union's left flank on the second day of the battle. The Killer Angels gives us an idea on how war affects people. The characters could have been anyone. The author focuses in on universal emotions, not great figures. For example, everyone has always heard of Grant and Lee because of their importance. But few have heard stories about the common soldier. The book centralizes on the actions of the common soldier, even though it is from the leader?s point o view. Emotion in the story affects even generals. Several times in the book you can see that they feel for those lost in battle. Usually, generals are often portrayed as being larger than life. Shaara adds a human touch to them. One conclusion that could be drawn from the book is that the Confederates quick start had some effect. Outnumbered, the Union forces managed to hold until afternoon when they were overpowered and driven back. In the confusion, thousands of Union soldiers were captured before they could rally on Cemetery Hill. The Confederates had captured the town. Pickett?s charge was the Confederates last chance to change the outcome of the battle. The charge turned out to be a total failure and Pickett lost almost all of his division after that defeat. When he returned to Lee, he was ordered to prepare against a possible Union counterattack. Pickett then replied, General Lee, I have no division now. With the failure of the charge the battle was over - the Union had been saved. The next day, July 4, Lee?s army had to retreat. Shaara use of evidence was greatly seen throughout the novel. Just by reading it, I had an excellent idea of what the Battle of Gettysburg was. His novel could easily be transformed into a history textbook because it gives just as much information as one. If you were to read an article on the battle, you would find almost the same information that you would find in this book. The writer?s writing style is one that I have never seen before. He has a way for detailing all events that it is easy to visualize them. Nothing is left to the imagination. Shaara manages to strike a balance and his tale is very well told. The book also starts slow but things pick up as it r eaches the middle. Once things do become active, the novel does not let up much. The excitement goes all the way to the very last pages

Free Essays on Laughter

When told of this assignment I had no clue where to begin. I didn’t know what I wanted to write about or even what the topic was. I than called a friend from class, which really didn’t help me cause he didn’t know either what to write about. Than it hit me as I was watching Will Ferrell from Saturday Night Live do his classic impression of Harry Carry. I burst out laughing and after doing so was left with that feeling of deliciousness. The feeling you get when something you say makes someone laugh for forever. Or the feeling you get when you watch Homer Simpson do something stupid. It’s the feeling of joy. I guess it all stems back to when I was a little kid. I always enjoyed the feeling after a good chuckle. You felt alive and happy. I recall leaving the movie theatre after watching Home Alone and laughing at all the traps that Kevin set on the wet bandits. I felt great. You really cannot beat that pure feeling of happiness. Unless of course your on some magical drug. Which is beside the point but in that case it’s a great feeling, but only a different great feeling. Laughing is the cure for everything in my eyes. If your sad, laughing cheers you up. If you are sick, laughing is like the Dayquil of wonders. If you just lost an arm, well I am sure laughing will cheer you up a little, although losing an arm is an intense thing. Yes its really intense. The point is that no matter what, laughing will bring that great smile upon your face and make that moment or even your day better. My grandpa contributed to a lot of my laughter as a child. He always knew how to have a good time and make light of every moment. He would always make jokes at the dinner table and do funny impressions. He was never serious. I guess looking back it’s a good thing and a bad thing. Theirs times to be serious and times to not care. But even those times of seriousness need a little laughter. And that’s where he came in. I... Free Essays on Laughter Free Essays on Laughter When told of this assignment I had no clue where to begin. I didn’t know what I wanted to write about or even what the topic was. I than called a friend from class, which really didn’t help me cause he didn’t know either what to write about. Than it hit me as I was watching Will Ferrell from Saturday Night Live do his classic impression of Harry Carry. I burst out laughing and after doing so was left with that feeling of deliciousness. The feeling you get when something you say makes someone laugh for forever. Or the feeling you get when you watch Homer Simpson do something stupid. It’s the feeling of joy. I guess it all stems back to when I was a little kid. I always enjoyed the feeling after a good chuckle. You felt alive and happy. I recall leaving the movie theatre after watching Home Alone and laughing at all the traps that Kevin set on the wet bandits. I felt great. You really cannot beat that pure feeling of happiness. Unless of course your on some magical drug. Which is beside the point but in that case it’s a great feeling, but only a different great feeling. Laughing is the cure for everything in my eyes. If your sad, laughing cheers you up. If you are sick, laughing is like the Dayquil of wonders. If you just lost an arm, well I am sure laughing will cheer you up a little, although losing an arm is an intense thing. Yes its really intense. The point is that no matter what, laughing will bring that great smile upon your face and make that moment or even your day better. My grandpa contributed to a lot of my laughter as a child. He always knew how to have a good time and make light of every moment. He would always make jokes at the dinner table and do funny impressions. He was never serious. I guess looking back it’s a good thing and a bad thing. Theirs times to be serious and times to not care. But even those times of seriousness need a little laughter. And that’s where he came in. I...

Why Britain Attempted to Tax the American Colonies

Why Britain Attempted to Tax the American Colonies The attempts by Britain to tax its North American colonists in the late 1700s led to arguments, war, the expulsion of British rule and the creation of a new nation. The origins of these attempts lay, however, not in a rapacious government, but in the aftermath of the Seven Years War. Britain was attempting to both balance its finances and control the newly acquired parts of its empire, through asserting sovereignty. These actions were complicated by British prejudice against the Americans. The Need for Defense During the Seven Years War, Britain won a string of major victories and expelled France from North America, as well as parts of Africa, India, and the West Indies. New France, the name of France’s North American holdings, was now British, but a newly conquered population could cause problems. Few people in Britain were naà ¯ve enough to believe that these former French colonists would suddenly and wholeheartedly embrace British rule with no danger of rebellion, and Britain believed troops would be needed to preserve order. In addition, the war had revealed that the existing colonies needed defense against Britain’s enemies, and Britain believed that defense would be best provided by a fully trained regular army, not just colonial militias. To this end, the post-war government of Britain, with a major lead taken by King George III, decided to permanently station units of the British army in America. Keeping this army, however, would require money. The Need for Taxation The Seven Years War had seen Britain spend prodigious amounts, both on its own army and on subsidies for its allies. The British national debt had doubled in that short time, and extra taxes had been levied in Britain to cover it. The last one, the Cider Tax, had proved highly unpopular and many people were agitating to have it removed. Britain was also running short of credit with banks. Under huge pressure to curb spending, the British king and government believed that any further attempts to tax the homeland would fail. They thus seized upon other sources of income, one of which was taxing the American colonists in order to pay for the army protecting them. The American colonies appeared to the British government to be heavily undertaxed. Before the war, the most that colonists had directly contributed to British income was through customs revenue, but this barely covered the cost of collecting it. During the war, huge sums of British currency had flooded into the colonies, and many not killed in the war, or in conflicts with natives, had done rather well. It appeared to the British government that a few new taxes to pay for their garrison should be easily absorbed. Indeed, they had to be absorbed, because there simply didn’t seem to be any other way of paying for the army. Few in Britain expected the colonists to have protection and not pay for it themselves. Unchallenged Assumptions British minds first turned to the idea of taxing the colonists in 1763. Unfortunately for King George III and his government, their attempt to transform the colonies politically and economically into a safe, stable and revenue-producing- or at least revenue-balancing- part of their new empire would flounder, because the British failed to understand either the post-war nature of the Americas, the experience of war for the colonists, or how they would respond to tax demands. The colonies had been founded under crown/government authority, in the name of the monarch, and there had never been any exploration of what this really meant, and what power the crown had in America. While the colonies had become almost self-governing, many in Britain assumed that because the colonies largely followed British law, that the British state had rights over the Americans. No one in the British government appears to have asked if colonial troops could have garrisoned America, or if Britain should ask the colonists for financial aid instead of voting in taxes above their heads. This was partly the case because the British government thought it was learning a lesson from the French-Indian War: that the colonial government would only work with Britain if they could see a profit, and that colonial soldiers were unreliable and undisciplined because they operated under rules different from those of the British army. In fact, these prejudices were based on British interpretations of the early part of the war, where cooperation between the politically poor British commanders and the colonial governments had been tense, if not hostile. The Issue of Sovereignty Britain responded to these new, but false, assumptions about the colonies by trying to expand British control and sovereignty over America, and these demands contributed another aspect to the British desire to levy taxes. In Britain, it was felt that the colonists were outside the responsibilities which every Briton had to bear and that the colonies were too far removed from the core of British experience to be left alone. By extending the duties of the average Briton to the United States- including the duty to pay taxes- the whole unit would be better off. The British believed sovereignty was the sole cause of order in politics and society, that to deny sovereignty, to reduce or split it, was to invite anarchy and bloodshed. To view the colonies as separate from British sovereignty was, to contemporaries, to imagine a Britain dividing itself into rival units, which might lead to warfare between them. Britons dealing with the colonies frequently acted out of fear of reducing the crown’s powers when faced with the choice of levying taxes or acknowledging limits. Some British politicians did point out that levying taxes on the unrepresented colonies was against the rights of every Briton, but there weren’t enough to overturn the new tax legislation. Indeed, even when protests began in the Americans, many in Parliament ignored them. This was partly because of the sovereignty issue and partly because of contempt for the colonists based on the French-Indian War experience. It was also partly due to prejudice, as some politicians believed the colonists were subordinate to the British motherland. The British government was not immune to snobbery. The Sugar Act The first post-war attempt to change the financial relationship between Britain and the colonies was the American Duties Act of 1764, commonly known as the Sugar Act for its treatment of molasses. This was voted in by a large majority of British MPs, and had three main effects: there were laws to make customs collection more efficient; to add new charges on consumables in the United States, partly to push the colonists into buying imports from within the British empire; and to change existing costs, in particular, the importing costs of molasses. The duty on molasses from the French West Indies actually went down, and an across the board 3 pence a ton was instituted. Political division in America stopped most complaints about this act, which started among affected merchants and spread to their allies in assemblies, without having any major effect. However, even at this early stage- as the majority seemed slightly confused as to how laws affecting the rich and the merchants could affect them- colonists heatedly pointed out that this tax was being levied without any expansion of the right to vote in the British parliament. The Stamp Tax In February 1765, after only minor complaints from the colonists, the British government imposed the Stamp Tax. For British readers, it was just a slight increase in the process of balancing expenses and regulating the colonies. There was some opposition in the British parliament, including from Lieutenant Colonel Isaac Barrà ©, whose off the cuff speech made him a star in the colonies and gave them a rallying cry as the â€Å"Sons of Liberty,† but not enough to overcome the government vote. The Stamp Tax was a charge applied on every piece of paper used in the legal system and in the media. Every newspaper, every bill or court paper, had to be stamped, and this was charged for, as were dice and playing cards. The aim was to start small and allow the charge to grow as the colonies grew, and was initially set at two-thirds of the British stamp tax. The tax would be important, not just for the income, but also for the precedent it would set: Britain would start with a small tax, and maybe one day levy enough to pay for the colonies’ whole defense. The money raised was to be kept in the colonies and spent there. America Reacts George Grenville’s Stamp Tax was designed to be subtle, but things didnt play out exactly as he had expected. The opposition was initially confused but consolidated around the five Resolutions given by Patrick Henry in the Virginia House of Burgesses, which were reprinted and popularized by newspapers. A mob gathered in Boston and used violence to coerce the man responsible for the Stamp Tax’s application to resign. Brutal violence spread, and soon there were very few people in the colonies willing or able to enforce the law. When it came into effect in November it was effectively dead, and the American politicians responded to this anger by denouncing taxation without representation and looking for peaceful ways to persuade Britain to scrap the tax while remaining loyal. Boycotts of British goods went into effect as well. Britain Seeks a Solution Grenville lost his position as developments in America were reported to Britain, and his successor, the Duke of Cumberland, decided to enforce British sovereignty by force. However, he suffered a heart attack before he could order this, and his successor resolved to find a way to repeal the Stamp Tax but keep sovereignty intact. The government followed a twofold tactic: to verbally (not physically or militarily) assert sovereignty, and then cite the economic effects of the boycott to repeal the tax. The ensuing debate made it quite clear that British Members of Parliament felt the King of Britain had sovereign power over the colonies, had the right to pass laws affecting them, including taxes, and that this sovereignty did not give the Americans a right to representation. These beliefs underpinned the Declaration Act. British leaders then agreed, somewhat expediently, that the Stamp Tax was damaging trade and they repealed it in a second act. People in Britain and America celebrated. Consequences The result of British taxation was the development of a new voice and consciousness among the American colonies. This had been emerging during the French-Indian War, but now issues of representation, taxation, and liberty began to take center stage. There were fears that Britain intended to enslave them. On Britain’s part, they now had an empire in America which was proving expensive to run and difficult to control. These challenges would eventually lead to the Revolutionary War.