Saturday Night Jail Cell

            I wake up to the sound of a siren going off, vibrating painfully in my head. “Stop, stop it!” I shout into the darkness before opening my eyes. I feel the panic rise in my stomach when I do not recognize anything around me. My eyes pick out a tiny metal bunk bed in the corner, a toilet, and rusty bars with seemingly nothing but blackness behind it. When did I get here? Suddenly, it all comes back to me. The flood of events overwhelm me, and I am no longer in my cell.

            The speckless glass doors slid open, and I casually strolled into the grocery store wearing my empty backpack. I knew that my face showed absolutely no emotion, but my heart was pounding like a drum inside my ragged military jacket. I looked around, paranoid that someone would see my fidgety nervousness. There was a only bent-over, old man sporting thick glasses, peering at the price of a bundle of flowers. I turned my eyes away from him and walked to the medicine aisle, my backpack getting heavier by the second. Luckily, nobody was there.

            I swung my backpack onto the ground and crept behind the counter of the pharmacy. I grabbed the first bottles in sight and dropped them into my backpack. At this rate, it would take all night to get enough to trade for the money. The image of my frail, coughing grandfather on his hospital bed pushed me to work faster. I started sweeping the shelves, clearing the aisle as fast as I could. I winced when a box fell off the shelf and landed on the floor with a loud clank. I looked all around me, certain that someone was going to find me. All was still. Nobody came to check out the noise. I quickly zipped up my backpack and ran back toward the entrance. Only a few more steps, and all would be successful. As I passed through the metal detectors, they remained silent. I sighed a breath of relief. So the myths about the fake detectors were true after all. I stepped out into the cold, frigid night air.

            All of a sudden, I sensed that something was not quite right. A bright beam of light was shining directly into my eyes, and a person who was yelling something was coming closer. I started to run in the opposite direction, but there was another beam of light. Suddenly, I was frozen like a deer in the headlights, unable to move my legs. This was it. The police finally caught up to me.

            “Stop! Drop everything and put your hands up above your head! You are under arrest for thievery and drug activity!” shouted a policeman. Next to him, I saw the old man glaring at me with a frightening intensity. His age only reminded me of what I came to accomplish.

            It was at that moment that I decided I had no other choice. I took my gun out of my inner jacket pocket and aimed it straight forward. The yelling got more agitated, but I could not hear what they were saying. A painful electric shock suddenly went through my body, and I collapsed into darkness.

            That is all I remember. It seemed like it happened years ago, but I have a feeling that it was only yesterday night, a Friday. I sink onto the cold concrete floor as I came to the realization that this will truly be the end of my escapades, my grandfather’s only chance of survival.

Thankful For (A Classmate)

I think everyone in our English III class contributes their own distinct styles of writing and has their own unique opinions, so I would first like to say that I am thankful for the diversity in our class. I gain a more in-depth understanding of the text we're reading from the discussions that we have as a class. I also gain a wider perspective by seeing what other people in my class got out of a specific quote or event that happened in the text. I think everyone analyzes things differently, so hearing each other’s thoughts and opinions really help me think about the text in a different way. This allows me to see details or underlying meanings that I wouldn’t have seen before when I was reading it for the first time. Other times when I get to learn from my peers are during writer’s workshops and group work collaborations.

I’m thankful for Candace, Ciara, and Charles (hey all C's!) because I learn a lot from them during group work. We often ponder over a question and try to find a quote from the book that helps explain something. We sometimes have different opinions about what the author is trying to convey, but these varying ideas make me wonder if the author did have multiple reasons for writing something. We then work together to try to provide further concrete evidence to support our answers. Even though we sometimes get off track, we manage to get most of our work done, and it’s fun to work with them. I gain more understanding of the text through our analytical discussions as a group overall. 

Then he is dead?

In the play Macbeth, the main character Macbeth went through a lot of trials to get what he desired. He murdered, lied, schemed, and went against his own morals to achieve the ephemeral status of king. In the end, he got what he wanted, but was it all worth the trouble? In my opinion, I don't think the end result was worth it. He felt worse and worse after every murder he committed, and the guilt just piled onto him until he could no longer handle the weight on his shoulders. Although others didn't know what crimes he committed, he would always live with that guilt inside of him when he's a king. Also, the number of evil deeds he carried out were never-ending. One murder led to the next because he felt that it was necessary to eliminate all potential competitors for the throne. With every murder, his greed increased and his empathy and morality decreased. He felt like he could not control his life anymore because he felt compelled to kill everyone who could possibly be a threat to him. His lack of self-control led to him mindlessly killing both friends and foes like a machine. The power he obtained at the end was short-lived anyways because he cheated the system and got the punishment he deserved. The actions he took to get this authority were not worth it because it not only damaged his morals, but also changed him from a human being to a monster.

From the crown to the toe, top-full of direst cruelty

This was a rather interesting quote in the play Macbeth. I think that the context in which this was said would be surprising to a viewer of this play in the time period during which the play was written. Lady Macbeth said this line while she made up her mind to murder the king. A lady at that time was thought to be weak, feminine, and full of human compassion, or the “milk” of kindness. This quote shows a sharp contrast to the feminine image. Instead of the lady being weak, the husband is weak. So in order to get what they both want, Lady Macbeth decided to take the task into her own hands to account for her husband’s cowardice. This idea of the wife being the stronger, more determined partner of the marriage was a new idea to society at the time.

 To be filled from the crown to the toe meant that her whole body be filled with evilness. Not just plain cruelty, but the direst, or extremely urgent, cruelty. Now why would anyone want to be full of cruelty at once? The answer is someone who has a burning desire to reach an ambition at any means, even if it meant corrupting their own moral values. I’m sure most of us have pretty high ambitions for our futures, but probably aren’t as willing as Lady Macbeth to do anything to reach it. In Lady Macbeth’s case, her determination to reach her goal was so great that she would kill the king of the land to achieve it. She does not want even a bit of compassion in her body because it would make her feel guilty about assassinating an innocent figure loved by the people. The fact that the king is a virtuous, honorable one means that the murder cannot be justified and will not be righteously looked upon by the people. Her utter desire for power overcomes public opinion and moral justice. 

No New Tale to Tell

In the two Canterbury tales that we recently read, we saw how greed, selfishness, and cunning brought the men to their deaths and how equality given to women in a marriage brought prosperity. These lessons can still be applied to our lives today, especially the Pardoner’s Tale. I’m pretty sure everyone has felt the temptation of greed and self-gain before. Even though sharing is encouraged in society as a form of social etiquette, the human instinct inside of us desires to have everything for ourselves. This may be because we as humans put ourselves before others in order to survive in prehistoric times. For example, when there are only two of your favorite cookies left, you want to eat all of them because they’re so delicious, but your moral side tells you to save one for your sibling. Not sharing will not bring you to your death, but it is moral to do so. There should also be a sense of trust if you’re working with a team to accomplish a common goal, so that nobody takes all the credit for something. In the second Canterbury tale, this can still be related to modern society because women still desire sovereignty over their husbands, but in a more gender-equal modern society in the U.S., this is less of a problem than third-world countries. I agree that there needs to be a balance of power in a relationship for it to last long.