What Is A Hero?

What Is A Hero?

A hero is a person who can help you during times that you really need it whether it's breaking up with your boyfriend or in a fight. They are always there to help you when you are hurt verbally, physically, or spiritually. They are always on your side.

The Hero In My Eyes project was a way of expressing your opinion on what a hero is and who you think your hero is. I think that this project forces you to think about why this person is your hero and why you think that way.

To get to my final product of the Hero In My Eyes project, I had to go through several steps. One, I had to interview my dad to figure out what he was doing in the Vietnam War. Second, I had to write the first draft. This gave me more information of the perspectives of the reader. With my second draft, I had to turn it in through e-mail to Mrs. Charlotte. I was sick at the time and I was feeling dreadful. Honestly, I was just hoping that the e-mail got to Charlotte. For the third draft, I had recovered from my cold (with a fever), and worked on my corrections. This finally came to my very hard earned (and successful) final draft.

Looking back on what I had done to get to my final product, I think that I could have had better questions to ask my dad during the interview. This way, he could give me more information on what he was doing during the war. This will help me get more information from other people in the future. One of my many challenges that kept me from thinking straight was, in part, having a cold (with a fever). I just hate how your head gets all fuzzy when you get sick!

For this project, I think that I used Perspective a lot when I was writing my drafts. Instead of doing second person like most of the other students in my class, I decided to do first person because I thought that people would like to know what he was thinking about while he was fighting a war. This way, I felt like you could see how he was feeling clearer than you would if I had used second person.

To see my blog post on my Hero In My Eyes project, click here.

The Origin of Zero

The Origin of Zero

Many civilations have claimed to have invented the number zero. Some of them are right. Actually, three main civilizations created the number zero: the Babylonians, the Mayans, and the Hindus. Surprisingly, the Romans were not on this list of civilizations that had discovered the number zero.

The Babylonians discovered the number zero during the 4th century (B.C.). They announced that this number was real and that it would help them in their everyday life. The strangeness of the idea of another number was so outlandish that the people never accepted it. But, even today, we use some of their discoveries of zero. For example: time. They found out that one minute consisted of sixty seconds and that one hour consisted of sixty minutes.

Between the 4th and 5th century (B.C.), the Mayan people discovered the number zero as well. This knowledge stayed within their civilization. When their culture died, their knowledge of the number zero died with it.

Later on, around 600 (A.D.), the Hindus discovered the number zero. Along with discovering this special number, they discovered position numbering (which they learned for India). Later on, during the 10th century, the Europeans caught drift that there was a new number and decided to study it. They changed up the figure system (position numbering) and we use this system to this day.

I advanced the throttle on my C-117 plane. The loud roar of the plane filtered through my helmet and into my ears. I trailed along the coast, glancing down at the ocean below. The buttons of the controls of the plane blinked as I turned the plane slightly to get a better view of Vietnam. Immediately, the plane tilted to let me see my first view of the war-torn country. The jungle was misty in the early morning as the sun rose on the horizon. I sighed. How peaceful. I thought. There was no sight of war anywhere near. I had expected torn up fields, fires, communists, and most likely bodies but there was no such thing for as far as the eye could see.

I reported to the Naval Air Station a couple miles away. The radio crackled and snapped as they answered my request. I had a sudden wave of homesickness. I wished for my small concrete box in the bachelor officer quarters. I wanted to be lying on my terrible cot. I wanted to curl up in the sheets I had brought from home and just sleep. I wished I didn’t have to be in a war. I wanted to fight for our country even though I didn’t want to be enlisted in the first place. I wished for many things but right now, I had no idea what I wanted.

On the sunlit horizon I saw the first glimpses of Camranh Bay awaiting my delivery of cargo, the cargo that would later be used to kill communists. They killed people daily just for the heck of it. I felt pride and sadness well up in my chest. Killing was bad, but so were communists. It all equaled out. If we were to be rid of the bad people, we would have to be bad ourselves. I, as a lieutenant junior grade, wished that I could do more than just deliver cargo to Camranh Bay. I wanted to be able to do something more than just fly a plane to various places; I wanted to fly a plane with guns so that I could experience the pump of adrenaline that any young man wanted. I wanted to feel the danger.

I then saw the low cinderblock buildings and extraordinarily long runway of the Camranh Bay Naval Base. Quonset huts dotted the side of the runway, looking like little metal huts. I saw people taxiing a plane out of one of them, being very careful with the wings of the small plane. “Do I have clearance to land?” I asked the man at the other end of the radio. “You’re clear to land,” the radio sizzled. I let down the landing gear and began my approach toward the runway. I landed with a bone shuddering stop, letting the buttons and the breaks do the work. Several people came and rolled the cargo out of my cargo hold, handling them with care like the writing on the sides of the boxes demanded in bright red letters.

I delivered my cargo unknowing that I would have delivered cargo that wasn’t wanted by society. I was oblivious to the public outcry that was demanding us to come back to the USA. I was ignorant of how many lives were going to be lost for no cause. I was blind to the feelings of abandonment, the unappreciative people awaiting my return to the states, and the feeling of an incomplete mission. I was unknowing that I would have a family and a daughter that would miss me. At that moment though, I felt like a hero, ready to defend my country even if it cost me my life as I stepped out of the cockpit and onto the hot runway. I pulled off my heavy helmet and slicked back my sweaty hair. I took in a deep breath of salty air and jungle scent. The smell of rain wandered on the edge of my senses. It was a refreshing cocktail that indefinitely contrasted against the stale air of the cockpit. I felt ready for anything, especially for an ice cold beer. I grinned at my wishful thinking. What I really needed to do was to check with the head of command here to confirm my delivery. Mission accomplished.

My Art Electric Project

My Art Electric Project: Patriotic

Project Description

For my Mysics (Math/Physics) class, we were assigned a box and was told that we were to make an interactive, electrical component for our box. We could do pretty much anything we wanted to as long as it was save and inventive. The twist: we had to make the box symbolize a character trait that describes us. For me, I chose Patriotic because I love our country.

Process

Originally, when I started my Art Electric project, I had started with the character trait Dance because I love to dance! I started painted my box black and attempted to paint on white checkers to create a dance floor. The checks turned out extraordinarily terrible but, I continued on with my work. To make my little character on top of the box dance, I had to cut a hole in the top of the box. I tried to cut a perfect circle but it didn't turn out too well. Actually, I had to restart my whole box three days before the box was actually due. So, I decided to choose a simpler character trait to portray. I decided on the character trait Patriotic. First, I painted on an American flag because our flag represents our country on many occasions. Second, I painted Freedom on the side of my box along with a star. I painted this because we moved to America because we wanted religious freedom and the freedom of speech. Third, I posted a picture of President Obama because he is at the top of the government and he makes a whole ton of political decisions for our country. Fourth, I painted a list of the armed forces. I painted the armed forces because they are the most patriotic people in our country because they are willing to risk their lives for their country. Finally, for the interactive electrical component. For the interactive electrical component, I decided to put some lights in the stars of the American flag. I attached these lights together with some wires which later formed a parallel circuit. This attached to a button switch so the crowd can interact with my art component. This way, I have met all of the requirements for my Art Electric art project.

Final Product (Pictures)

Recap/Reflection

Now that my Art Electric project is finished, I have realized a lot of things that I could have done better on. Because I had messed up on my first box, I learned that I should have used a compass to draw a circle. An Exact-O knife also would have helped cut out the dancing circle better. I also learned that when you look at your peer's review, you don't always have to do as they advised, but you should also think very hard about why they came up with that critique before you turn it down completely. The drafting and revising of my art component came in handy when I was attempting to plan out my layout of my box though. It helped me see just how difficult this project was going to be. If I were to do this project all over again, I would have paid more attention to the drafts and revisions because they helped out a lot when I figured out that my box was too difficult. It helped me simplify the design of my box. I actually have learned that maybe, sometimes, simpler is better than the extraordinarily elaborate. I think that since I learned how to sauter and how to connect a wire, battery, and light to create a circuit, I think that I can use this in other projects that might occur later on in my school years. Overall, I think that I did quite well on my Art Electric art component.

The Great Dane

Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her skirt, took a deep breath and walked towards where he was sitting. He, being an old Great Dane named Patch. He licked her hand solemnly and wuffed at a treat she had hidden in her skirt pocket.
"You always seem to find food, wherever it may be." Angela smiled as Patch gobbled down the doggie delicacy.
She'd had Patch for as long as she could remember. Since she was a little cream-puff of a baby with her little cream-colored cheeks. She loved her dog like he was her best friend, and he was. He was her only friend.

My First Horseback Riding Experience

I mounted my horse. I was quivering, nervous. Why are you riding a horse? My inner-self inquired. You've never rode a horse before! What makes you think you can do it now? It condescended. Get off while you can! I shook my head. No! I yelled back. My inner-self shut up. I sighed thankfully. I picked up the reigns and fumbled with them. Finally I started to steer my horse to the arena. I took a deep breath. "Come on." I whispered in my horse's ear. They flicked back in acknowledgement. I walked about with the other riders. None of them acknowledged me. They know you're a newbie! They don't want anything to do with you! My inner-self yelled at me again. Shut up! I yelled back. It complied.

"Okay girls! Pick up the trot!" My trainer said cheerfully. What the heck is a trot? I asked myself. All the other girls started speeding their horses up and contorting their bodies into perfect poses. They praised their horses in high pitched voices. The trainer approached me and my horse where we were standing in the middle of the ring, watching the organized chaos. The trainer explained what a trot was and how to make your horse obey. I walked to the rail and clicked my tongue against the top of my mouth. You sound like an idiot! My mind screamed. Shut up! "Sit down, heels down, chin up, calves tight, elbows relaxed, wrists straight, fingers closed, backs arched, shoulders back," my trainer barked. All of the girls swirled around me and warped their bodies to flawless positions. To me, it just made them look like people with back problems. I, on the other hand, bounced on the back of my horse, just struggling to stay on. Horses twirled around me like a kaleidoscope of fur, dust, and hooves. Suddenly, time froze. All the horses stopped, the riders kept in position, and the dust settled. I stopped my horse by pulling back on the reigns like the other girls had. I almost ran into another horse in the process.

"Okay girls! Pick up the canter! Haley, your lesson is over." Sweat trickled down my neck. I walked down towards the barn. I felt dismissed, diminished, and flat out tired. I put my horse into the crossties. I slipped off the saddle and thumped to the ground. I leaned my head against my horses' face. See! I told you so! Was that really worth it? My inner-self yelled. Why did it always have to be so degrading? My horse snorted. I looked into her sweet brown eyes. Star was a perfect name for this little mare. I loved her name, it went with her face. She smelled like alfalfa and hay. I scratched lovingly at her little white mark on her forehead. It was shaped like a star. Her long black mane tickled my face. She blinked her long lashes and let me keep my face against hers. I felt a bond that possessed y heart my hazel eyes searched her amber ones.
Don't give up. They seemed to whisper. "I won't give up." I promised her vocally. These girls won't get the best of me, at least not yet. You know what? I'm never going to give up! You can throw all the problems you want at me, but they won't bring me down! Never, ever, ever in my entire life am I ever going to give up! I'm going to be one tough chick. I thought to myself. Bring it on!

Sensory Detail: Sound

http://margaretnoble.net/blog/choral_top/

A slow moan echoed through the room. Like a ghost from the ether. Crying for its past life and groaning at its future. It hummed as it walked among the fog between the earth and the netherworld. A sigh escaped its lips as it watched the beings living on the earth. Wishing it could join in on the fun yet again. As it travelled back to the ether, it pulled out a small violin. It placed the bow on the strings and played an eerie song. His master, Death, gladly accepted the ghostly creature in its tendrils of darkness once again. It continued to play as it entered the netherworld. It was a song that penetrated the heart with cold gloom. It came with a shock of beauty and solemness. But within the solemness, was a shockingly dark allure. This is the sound that pulls at the heart when Death seduces you with the kiss of death. It is a kiss that is never forgotten time and time again. This sound is the sound of death in a colorful spin.