Write about somebody who is completely invisible at all times. This would be physical, meaning nobody can physically see the person.

Participators:

  • Elizabeth Hamm’s Invisible
  • "Anthem" by Ayn Rand

    Anthem” by Ayn Rand

    From November 25 to December 1, 2007, I wrote a total of 1,180 words.

    From December 2, to December 8, 2007, I wrote a total of 943 words.

    This week from December 9 to December 15, 2007, I wrote a total of 2,798 words.

    Over the past three weeks, I have read the entire book, Anthem, written by Ayn Rand and 137 pages of Best Seat in the House written by Allen Rucker.

    I am so sorry that I haven’t been able to come on, write, update the website, write the overview, or finish up the meeting slideshow, but I will get it all done some time…I have just been so consumed with homework, babysitting, band things, etc. I really hate how busy this school year is keeping me. I have no time to myself because I do homework from the moment I get home all the way until I go to bed, and even then, I usually don’t have it all done…As I said before, when I have the time, I will most likely cook up a rant.

    Only in my dad’s time was the fashion so hot that it was actually on fire… Who knew that nylon parachute pants couldn’t be ironed? As the years go by, trends come and go, technology changes and grows, and memories are created and forgotten. The time that I live in now is similar to the time when my father attended high school in some ways, yet completely different in other aspects. From the crazy styles to the teched out gizmos, teenagers struggle to break free from their parents and declare themselves independent while trying to make their generation stand out from all the rest as the years continue. With this combination, an array of different times can come.

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    When imagining the Great Depression of the 1930’s, rarely does a person suddenly feel a deep and pure sympathy for each individual person who suffered through the historical event or quickly visualize the scenes the migrants had struggled through and the pain they had felt. Most people are unable to suddenly feel sorrow for something they don’t know much about or for something that seems so vast. When John Steinbeck wrote his book, The Grapes of Wrath, he kept his main purpose always on his mind. He wanted to inform the public of this impacting tragedy and wished that his piece would move people so deeply that they would actually act upon what they had just read. To make people feel so emotional, he had a great writing technique in mind that broke down the unimaginable sorrow in the Great Depression and first showed the reader the Joads, a compassionate family, strong-willed and always looking out for one another. Once he had snatched his reader’s heart, he then spanned out and showed them that just about every migrant suffering from the Great Depression was like the Joad family allowing the reader an easier transition from a single family to the society in whole. John Steinbeck used intercalary chapters to give the effect that he wanted.

    When The Grapes of Wrath was written with the sole purpose to enlighten, rather than to entertain, John Steinbeck found that there were many points to get across and that he needed to intensely explain each complex idea. To be able to tell the public of the situation, however, he would first need to catch and keep the reader’s attention and create a newfound sympathy within him for the migrants of the Great Depression. This would present a challenge for any of his readers who had not personally experienced the event themselves. Steinbeck created the Joad family, making sure that they were a lovable group that could grow on one’s heart and could easily be loved. Through an array of different characters within the family, Steinbeck was able to create plots and problems, display different sides of the Great Depression, show how different people reacted to the event, and insure that there was at least one character for everybody to favor. Showing the audience how the family cared so deeply about one another and adding characters like Ma Joad, the readers felt emotionally troubled when the family suffered. Ma would always put her family first and would even deprive herself if one were in need. Steinbeck clearly shows this when Mrs. Wainwright tries to get Ma to sleep and temporarily stop watching over her daughter, Rose-of-Sharon, who had just lost her baby. “‘Come on,’ Mrs. Wainwright said, ‘Jus’ lay down. You’ll be right beside her. Why, you’d wake up if she took a deep breath, even.’” (606) From this small setting that the reader is tucked into, he is able to clearly imagine and feel how the family feels as they progress through the story. He begins to struggle alongside the characters and grow to understand more clearly. It is then that Steinbeck feels that the reader is ready to be exposed to an even larger amount of problems and finds a clever way to make an easy transition. Through the use of intercalary chapters, this can be achieved.

    Intercalary chapters provide documentary information for the reader and give social and historical background that he would otherwise not receive from the story itself. These chapters do not progress the story, however, but temporarily interrupt the small setting that the author has created to step back and take a larger look at the situation in a whole. As the reader leaves the somewhat familiar and comfortable microcosm and is exposed to the much larger macrocosm, he may then fully understand the situation that the author is trying to point out. Realizing that he had thought that the small setting was unbearable, he is then shown an even larger population, all dealing with similar problems, and then truly understands the impact of such a drastic event. The single Joad family traveling from place to place is suddenly transformed into “the moving, questing people” with “great highways streaming with moving people.” (385) The reader sees that a great sum of families, each similar to the Joads, are going through the same situations and then sees the entire population with new eyes. He can now feel the entire society’s pain and suffering and feel as if he personally knows every one of the migrating families. This technique tries to overwhelm the reader, making him feel sympathetic not only for the quaint and personal part of the situation that he has grown to know and love, but also the general and somewhat unfamiliar society all together. Showing him that he can love a small piece of the population that is just like the rest of unknown migrants, he is able to be more considerate and caring. From there, Steinbeck was hoping that with this new selflessness, the reader would feel the need to do something about the situation. Through this technique, he was hoping to bring great change and help for these migrants. Steinbeck used intercalary chapters with a story to accomplish what he had hoped, which can only be affective if used skillfully.

    Steinbeck successfully used intercalary chapters to inform the reader of the historical and societal background, broaden the scope of the novel, expose others with experiences similar to the Joads, provide his own opinions of the situations, and imply possible solutions or outcomes to the problems. Introducing the reader to a strong-willed family, he allowed the Joads to grow on the reader’s heart, causing him to become emotionally attached. Throwing in intercalary chapters, usually between each “Joad Chapter” he then showed the reader that even more families, each like the Joads, were suffering the same problems and something needed to be done. With the reader already feeling the pain of the Joads, it was not difficult for him to then feel the pain of the entire society and understand the problems of the Great Depression of the 1930’s. With the help of intercalary chapters, Steinbeck was able to show someone how to love and care for those he hadn’t even known.

    Write about how a pinky finger saves someone’s life.


    Dude, I have been so busy, I didn’t even have the time to do a Check Up! Seriously, I didn’t mean to miss it, and I did remember it, I have just been so swarmed with life and stuff that I haven’t been able to do much of anything else.

    This also means writing, so this week from November 18 to November 24, 2007 I only managed to write a total of 2,515 words. Most of it is on my third chapter of The Club which I am still working on.

    I officially decided last night that this school year is the worst I have had for a few reasons. The bell just rang though, so I have to return to my busy life. Maybe I will have the time to type up a rant later on…

    "The Grapes of Wrath" by John Steinback

    “The Grapes of Wrath” by John Steinback

    This week from November 11, to November 17, 2007, I wrote 1,352 words on Magic Pens and 3,020 words off to make a total of 4,372 words.

    I read the last 65 pages of The Grapes of Wrath written by John Steinbeck, but then re-read 206 pages again making a total of 271 pages.

    I’m sorry that I didn’t do more than that, but I was really busy and was once again bombarded with a lot of homework.

    Should I go? The question drifted within my mind, invading all of my other thoughts. I couldn’t stop thinking about it each moment of my day, and it had been keeping me awake at night. I yawned and stretched out my arms, leaning my back over the worn cushioning of the backrest of my quaint computer chair. I had already been tired, yet homework insisted that it take more from me.

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    "The Grapes of Wrath" by John Steinback

    “The Grapes of Wrath” by John Steinback

    This week from November 4, 2007 to November 10, 2007, I wrote a total of 2,122 words.

    I also read 148 pages of The Grapes of Wrath written by John Steinbeck.

    “Finally, I’m almost home…” I thought to myself as I glanced out the window to my left on the school bus, brushing my long brown hair out of my face. I saw the base’s surrounding chain link fence passing by bit by bit as the bus continued down the highway slowing to turn left onto the air base. Squeezed against the window in the seat with the wheel, my knees were raised with my backpack resting in my lap taking over my face. The person next to me was turned into the alley of the bus, paying no attention to me, as usual. It was another usual and boring day. I gave a heavy sigh before returning my glance to the window next to my face on my right and crossing my arms over the top of my backpack to rest my head on the warm black fabric of my hoodie’s sleeves with a frown and a yawn. With the bus turning off the highway, I was given a clear view to the highway stretching on, the same question entering my mind. I’d never been past this turn…what was out there?

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    "The Grapes of Wrath" by John Steinback

    “The Grapes of Wrath” by John Steinback

    This week from October 28 to November 3, 2007, I wrote a total of 3,040 words.

    I read 251 pages of The Grapes of Wrath written by John Steinbeck.

    Blink…blink…blink…

    The words would just not come…My hands rested over the flat keyboard of my laptop before me, the fingers slightly curled over the home row key. A single lamp sat upon my spacious black desk beside me and shed a faint yellow glow across my features along with the bright gleam of the monitor screen. I slid the mouse down to pull up the time and found 11:42 PM staring back at me. Unfocused and frustrated, I turned in my chair to glance out the large window behind me although I was unable to see anything through the thick veil of darkness. I brought both of my hands to my tired face and held my head there for a moment. “I need to write…” I whispered to myself with a heavy sigh, my voice amplified in my cupped hands. “I need to write…” With a frown, I returned my hands to their designated letters, turning back in my seat and forcing my eyes to once again stare at the flashing line on the blank screen.

    Blink…blink…blink…

    There in the darkness of night in my lone room before my computer screen, I sat and waited. I waited for the ideas to come, the words to flow, the letters to start appearing on the screen. I waited for the cursor to stop flashing.

    I shuffled my fingers a bit to hear the clack of keys without actually pressing them, telling myself that it was a weak attempt to revive some inspiration, although I knew that it was really just to pass the time. I was bored, and the words just weren’t coming; yet I was too ashamed to admit it. My mind was empty; I was finished…

    Swishing a strand of my blonde hair over my shoulder, I gave my head a slight shake and glanced to the books resting on my desk in front of the lamp. “From Bestselling Author Karen Hall,” The Fall of Castle Tironia, The Firedance of the Dragon, Mysteries of the Fawn’s Glen. Why weren’t the ideas coming? Why wasn’t I able to write? Deep inside I knew that I didn’t really want to write. I had no desire to at the moment, but I knew that I had to and found myself sitting there. There, wrapped in my crimson robe, I slouched over my used keys and waited…

    Finally giving up like so many nights before, I pushed myself from the desk and picked myself up from the chair, immediately sliding one hand up to cover my face and stretching my back of the other hand pressed against my hip. Tiredness was bearing down on me and caused me to give a great yawn and rub my strained eyes.

    After a moment of standing there, recollecting my thoughts, I took my first step away from my unfinished work, the cold wooden floor meeting with the bottom of my bare foot. I continued on, leaving the room and entering the great hall. I turned and entered my open living room, feeling a release of stress as the ceiling raised above me, opening up to the floor above. Coming close to the lit stone fireplace that rested between two large, cream sofas in the open room, I rested myself upon one, tucking my feet under myself and covering my bare legs with my robe.

    I let the warm heat of the fire sweep over me, stinging my eyes and cheeks, but not caring about the slight pain. I didn’t care about anything at the moment and was deep in thought. I could not write. I needed to write. I didn’t want to write. With the crackling tucked into the back of my mind, I closed my eyes and tried to let the tension within my mind go, however it would not. Yawning once more, I reached up to my stretched mouth with my hand and gave my eyes another rub reddening the blue of my eyes even more. Sleep would not come and I knew it. I had spent many shameful and sleepless nights, knowing what I must do, but not being able to do it.

    I was pulled from my thoughts when I felt the cushioning beside me press down. “Hey, Misty,” I said plainly, rubbing my hand down the gray cat’s back without any enthusiasm. The feline walked across my lap and quickly became comfortable, curling into a small, furry ball on my robe, allowing me to stroke her short fur as she rested. It soothed me to feel her light breathing raising and falling beneath my hand. “What am I going to do?” I asked to myself and to my cat. “What am I going to do?”

    In my mind, all I saw was a blank screen with a single flashing cursor.

    Blink…blink…blink…