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I really enjoy this whole "waking up late because I have a free first period" deal.  It is absolutely amazing not having to wake up at 6:30am everyday.  Even though I still have to wake up that early on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, it is still a big relief not having to get up so early on Mondays and Tuesdays. 

First of all, Mondays always suck.  Going from a nice weekend of sleeping late into a long, hard school week is always a downer.  And many of you already know how much I hate Tuesdays because they are so long and I have to work at night.  However, I must say that having a free first period has helped me coped with my lack of sleep!

1. Escoge una de las obras de arte arriba. Las dos son del pintor surrealista, Salvador Dalí.

2. Primero, examina la obra​ objectivamente:
       ¿Qué ves?
       Describe los colores. ¿Son brillantes o apagados?
       Descibe el tono de la obra.

3. Luego, analízala subjectivamente:
        ¿Qué representan / simbolizan los objetos en el cuadro?
        ¿Qué mensaje trae la obra? (What message does the work bring?)
        ¿Por qué la pintó?
        ¿Qué conexiones puedes hacer entre tu vida y las imágenes vistas en la pintura?
        ¿Cómo te hace sentir? Me hace sentir...

Usa frases que aprendimos en la unidad de "Mar Adentro" tales como: Entiendo que, Para mi, Creo que, Además, conmovedor(a)

So, it felt like it was going to be a normal day, go to school, do work, relax, and then go home, do work and relax once again. Well the relaxing part was right, but I was talked into getting a pedicure after school. I personally looked at it as though I had nothing to lose, and personally I wanted a nice little foot massage too, so might as well go along with the plan. In any case, I went to get the pedicure and it was really worth the time and money. I think I have established to myself that it will be a monthly occurrence. You learn something new everyday

In this interview, i talked with my sister and her fiance about their views on woman in society.

Título: Esperanza Reinanse
Tags: espanol 5 econnell Gierke 2011 reflexion 2 Esperanza

La casa de Esperanza eran en fuego. A primero, Esperanza y su madre no pueden abuelaita pero Miguel encuentra Abuelaita quien es herido pero asi asi. Manana, al dia despues el fuego, los tios malvados vuleven a la casa y Luis pregunta la madre de Esperanza a casarse el tambien. La madre acceptó la brindar de Luis. Esperanza y su madre escape en un wagon un tren. Esperanza crea que es raro que ella y su madre no estan en el lujuso parte de un tren. 

Mi nombre es Jessica. Tengo catorce años. Soy sociable. Por lo tanto hablo por telefono casi todos los dîas. Y es por eso que casi nunca juego videojuegos. Soy creativa. Es por eso que todos las días dibujo. Por lo tanto casi nunca veo la tele. Después de las clases escribo.

My social and physical awkwardness stems from a curse placed upon my family years ago by an embarrassed and angry witch. This witch had encountered one of my ancestors, a young, dashing lass, who walked as if upon water: enjoying the ripples beneath her feet all the while knowing that any who looked upon her believed themselves witnessing a miracle. A goddess walking amongst men, if you will. The witch, an opportunistic old croon, believed that if she was to befriend such a woman she would be propelled into the top tiers of polite society. With her magic and this ancestor-o-mine’s grace, they could control the small world in which they lived. Energized by the prospect, the witch approached my relative  and eloquently explained the proposition. Upon hearing the witch's idea, my ancestor looked at her, smiled kindly, and told her no. The witch, not completely dissuaded, asked why my ancestor would refuse such an opportunity. My ancestor replied, in a serious voice, I have no other desire than to spend my days wandering about these woods until I am accidentally shot down in a horrific hunting accident. I fear your plans would greatly interfere with my own. The witch was shocked. Hurt. Confused. Forlorn at the notion of my ancestor  wasting her gift. Shocked once more. And finally angry. (“ How dare some young harlot deny me  such a  future so she could be shot down in the woods!”) The witch, not ashamed to fulfill the stereotypes that had prevented her species from being considered socially acceptable, felt that my ancestor’s actions required punishment. Having accepted that the only redeeming quality my family member possessed was the innate grace which first attracted the witch with its silent call, she determined it was that gift that must be taken. She placed a curse on my relative which resulted in a hobbled, clumsy number that could only be called a walk in the most open-minded of circles and inspired ridicule and pity in all who saw it. Yet even in her lame, borderline dialed state, my relative retained her wits and good humor. The witch found her reaction to be an affront on the entire process and decided it was necessary to increase the size of the curse. She now made it so the curse affected my dear relative’s means of social interaction. She was unable to form cohesive, intelligent sentences or maintain eye contact with whomever she spoke. She stuttered, paused awkwardly, and tended to ramble in a fashion that caused mother’s to hide their children in her presence. She now suffered not only a bothersome lack of elegance while walking but its verbal equivalent! The witch was pleased. She had thoroughly disheartened my ancestor and punished her for her insolence. However, the amount of power the witch used in this punishment far exceeded the limits both women believed it lived within: it did not just affect my ancestor but her descendants as well. There now existed a discrepancy in my ancestor’s genetic code which manifests ever so rarely, an alteration that when dominant plagued its owner with the jilted witch’s curse. (There have only been a few recorded cases of this highly recessive gene surfacing with only one victim alive today. The living patient has tried various gene therapies and spells to have it removed but that witch proved most powerful albeit terribly fickle. I shall give you one guess as to who this mystery patient is. Give up? It is Rumpelstiltskin. It is always Rumpelstiltskin where guessing names and fairy tales are involved. Oh yes and first-born child payments. He often has a hand in those.)

I was at a restaurant eating dinner with my uncle and my mom, they were commenting about a South American proverb: “The house does not rest upon the ground, but upon women”

It got me thinking that during my entire life I have never seem a male member of my family helping out in any domestic chores.  Even now, SOME people think that man should be the “provider” and woman should be "housewife" (don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with that, But...). I personally think that the roles in a family should be balance out more. I would rather have the house to rest upon the family and not just the woman. 

So I have many stories to tell about my trip to Jordan this summer and here is just one.
I will never forget how I met my first friend, Michelle Yang. After already a long flight to Chicago I had a 3 hour lay over before my flight to Oklahoma. So while I was waiting for my flight I saw a small Asian who looked a familiar from the website. So for about 15 minutes I stared at this girl trying to figure out if she was on the trip. I caught her eyes a couple of times, but quickly turned my head so she wouldn't know I was staring. After a while I gave up.
About an hour later the flight attendant called out the flight number, and I started to gather my things. When I turned around from my seat I saw her again, but this time I noticed she had on a debate shirt, and that's when I knew it. The thing was, though, she said something to me before I could. "Are you going to Jordan?"
"Yeah!" was the only thing I could say.
"I thought you were, and I was starring at you thinking you look familiar" At that point I was happy that I wasn't the only one looking. After breathing out and feeling happy that I met someone from the trip I was ready. Michelle and I became fast friends, and we are still friends today. Now the next part of the trip would be even harder...

"Worry looks around. Regret looks back. Faith looks forward."

"Why would i spend money on food, when i could just not eat and save money?"

"Save for what?"

​

por Natalie Sanchez
Cambié mi libro electrónico por uno de papel. Se llama Cajas de Cartón por Francisco Jiménez. Hasta ahora, he leído hasta la página siete. El protagonista de el libro se llama Panchito. Su familia  vive en México, junto con él, y son muy pobres. Se quieren mudar a California para hacer más dinero y vivir una vida mejor. Cuando cruzan la frontera, una mujer los lleva a un lugar adonde pueden trabajar piscando fresas. No puede empezar a trabajar el papá de Panchito hasta que pasen dos semanas. Personalmente, no me puedo relacionar con Panchito mucho porque nací en los Estados Unidos, pero mi mamá no. Ella nació en Puerto Rico, y tuvo que venir a los estados unidos como a los 20 años para tratamiento médico. Le dio lupus a los 15 años. Ella siempre me dice que se le hizo difícil venir para acá. Ella vino pobre con su mamá. Solo tenían un catre y un televisor. No tenían camas ni mesas. Ellos usaban la fornituras que tiraban a la basura; las limpiaban, ya las usaban. Mi mamá tiene algunas cosas en común con Panchito. 

She undoubtedly has a lot of hurt. And never has known how to deal with it. So she drinks, and abuses, and drinks, and abuses and tries to defend each of her actions in between. The thing is: until someone happens to understand the meaning of the word "cope", this hurt will continue through generations. Because her mother's hurt became hurt for her, and her hurt has become ours. Luckily, I understand the laws of human nature. Her hurt will continuously affect me, but my hurt ends here. I'm making sure of that. 

i am about so tired of paying for 1 DOLLAR CUPCAKES.
its a scam.
it is . but the sprinkles are so good, and so is the icing
anyway, i used to hate cake. i used to hate CUPCAKES
but now i find myself buying them for a dollar ? like its something i loved all my life.
i dont understand whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy it cost so much though?
 soda is a dollar.
cupcakes are a dollar
brownies are a dollar.
everything is  a dollar, no matter the size .
and u know what? thats dead because sometimes, bianca gives me a skimpy piece of cake, and gives someone else a big *** piece of cake. -_- but we BOTH PAYED OUR DOLLARS.

im kinda mad though cuz i never even liked cupcakes. somethings up .