A Daughters Revenge

Journal #6

Bridgett Harris was just three years old when she was first raped by her father. he hadn't thought she'd remember this; being so young, but she did. and this wasn't the last time, he continued to do this to this young African American girl her whole life. He forced her to preformed oral sex, as he also preformed this on her to. One night she (Harris) awoken to her father in bed with her; she screamed and fought him to leave her alone for the first time that night. She moved in with her mother, although the abuse became so bad she actually went to live back with her father Eric. she had never told anyone about this, and i don't think even she knows why. But the time came to act when now as an adult; she watches her father bouncing her sisters young daughter on his lap . this scared her, it brought her back to when she was an Innocent child bouncing on his lap.

Harris went home and made a tap of why she is doing what she is about to do. she explained everything that has happened to her in her life (summed up) explain what Eric had done to her and how she hadn't wanted that for her niece. within a month she meet with her father at her place so they could "talk". she for the first time, explained to him her pain and how she hated him. Harris wanted nothing more for the man to admit what he had done. this same day; they fought and fell to the ground. the girl who had had been a security Gard in her past; naturally her instincts of training set in. her father who had been battling through a kidney stone fell and seemed as he wasn't breather. harris' intentions was not of death.

making sure the man was alive, she then gaged him and pulled down his pants. first she used some scissors, this was ineffective and she moved to a scalpel, removing his penis with one cut. Harris had been sent to jail for manslaughter in the second degree which is as lenient as they could have been. seeing how Eric had died but not from blood loss. he lost oxygen from being gaged and died before he could have from blood loss. she will be in jail for as minimum of 5 -15 years.

The way this story started out i was confused, but it kept me extremely interested because i had to know, what was going to happen next? what more could this child go through? One quote that i found the hardest to read was, "She remembers him getting on top of her and trying to have sex with her. She remembers the phone ringing and pleading with her father to go answer the phone�and him telling her �Don’t worry about it.� She remembers him getting off her in time. She remembers holding her doll. She remembers being in pain. She was 3 years old."

A bully finds a pulpit on the web

Journal # 6

Can google differ between positive and negative reviews for a website?
Shopping online is always a gamble, you never know exactly what your getting because u cant actually see it. Ms. Rodriguez went online to buy a pair of glasses. she had been a long time fan of lafont; a french company. Not long after her purchase, she received a call from the owner of the site saying they were all out of her brand and she had to pick another. she was not allowed to get her money back; although a few days later she got them in as planned. The frames were counterfeit and she demanded for her money back; that's when the man became angry, swearing at her. she was also charged an extra $125 .
what i found so interesting about this story was that, when Ms.Rodriguez went on google to find a good site this site was at the top of the list. the owner of this site, has hundreds of posts, all negative. One was even from him explaining to everyone that each time they post something on his web page his statues goes up which causes him to get more business. i find it amazing that even now that we cannot tell what is actually a safe site and what is not. google is my number one go to source of information on a day to day basis; reading this has really opened my eyes to keep a look out for people like this man.

The Invaders

Journal # 5

This story was about a man who's home town was of Arkansas, hot springs.his grandmothers husband shot a man, and to pay his bail of $50,000 he bet all he had on a horse. the name "the invaders" came from this line in the story "You don't know much about Charles Cella. His horses never win. Always bet on the invaders."  charles cella was the owner of the race track.

Hot spring has always been a "natural area" even back when the land was owned by Indians. Why is it that all of these mobsters where if they where to meet in any other place they'd kill each other. Although on this "tour of america" hot springs its for peace. People come from all over and everyone "left their beefs behind" or their disagreements with one another. The town is full of gambling, and for a while it was becoming very poor. All of its hotels roting and falling apart. the gambling revolved around casinos, although most were shut down; and at the race tracks. the young man in the story had been around this is whole life, and his family went through four generation's at the track. The dialogs was southern; you can always tell especially by the saying they have.

Man or Beast?

Journal # 4

“18 tigers, 17 lions, six black bears, three mountain lions, three leopards, three Celebes macaque monkeys, three grizzlies, two wolves, and one baboon”

Can you imagine taking care of all these animals; in your own back yard? This story was actually very intriguing; I couldn’t stop thinking about how and why this man would have killed himself.

Terry; was a 63 year old man; he fought in the Vietnam war, flying helicopters is an extremely frightening job. I tried to put myself in his shoes; a young man, hundreds of feet off the ground while you watch multiple others burst into flames; as it free falls back to earth. After returning from the war, nothing satisfied him; no matter how thrilling it was it would never be enough. While at war, a stray monkey would visit him at camp; although he wished to take it home with him the army wouldn’t allow it. This is where I believe terry began to have his issues.

Terry also collected many things; he never threw a thing out. Reading this I had images of men and women from “hoarders”; a TV show; individuals that don’t throw things away; including used food wrappers, bags, mail...etc. When he found his first lion cub, from then on terry collected many stray and very exotic animals. Over all this time he collected a total of 56 animals! Not long after he was changed for animal cruelty, sent to jail; once released he started to sell gun and ammunition out of this home.

While all of this happened; I believe he became over whelmed. Caring for these animals must have taken up a huge part of this life; although him and his wife loved every animal and took good care of them. Although one night terry, let lose every animal he had locked up; they ran and roamed free across the grass. This night terry took his own life and his exotic pets gnawed and chewed on his dead caucus.

I'm aweare he had given a home to wild animals; but when the police came and started shooting the poor beasts it broke my heart. His man had given them a home; they'd lick his face and he loved them. Of course they got scared and there "instincts set in" ours would to if men with guns were shooting at us. I was distraught knowing they hadn't just tranquilizer them and put them back into there natural habitat.
To this day no one knows the real reason for Terry's actions; many assume he just "cracked" after all that had happened.

"Man Or Breast?"

The Gray Box: An investigative look at solitary confinement

Journal #3

I always knew solitary confinement must be a hard thing to deal with. But its more then that, it changes your life, makes you a new and changed person; and sometimes not always for the better.

To be put into this confinement you typically would have to be difficult, harmed/ assaulted a staff member, tried to escaping or killed an inmate. This type of behavior can get you locked into a small room only the size of “two queen mattresses”. Honestly how long do you think you yourself could be trapped and locked in there? No windows, no fresh air, little and horrible food; not a thing to look at or watch except the lines on that thick padded wall.

This was first started in the 1820s’ by Quakers. They thought putting criminals into these confined cells would help rejuvenate them in some way. Although, that was proven to not be true after one man who was released went crazy and killed him wife from it. The conditions are horrible and the people within are lucky enough to get a window, one said “One time I kept a single green leaf alive for a few weeks. And one time I had grasshopper for a pet.”

            I found it interesting how this woman remember the man she had defended in trial months before she had pneumonia; she was also separated for a long time, nurses hadn’t met her needs and she was left in her “quarantined room”. After a week this was much for the women to handle; this brought her back to the day in court. Osiel Rodriguez, “Intrigued, I went to hear Jordan represent himself in federal court by a live video feed from prison. Though he was shackled as he made his case, his arguments were as skilled as those of the most seasoned trial attorneys I had seen. He lost.” “A trial in which he’d be arguing for access to reading materials that seemed a reasonable way to cope inside a concrete box.”       

            Reading this I learned “Taxpayers are shelling out about $75,000 a year to house a single prisoner in solitary confinement – more than twice as much as spent housing prisoners in general population.” This I find a little outrages, they need more then two guards escorting these men in; also these prisoners aren’t allowed to work so hired staff has to clean after them. It seems as if they really go out for there way to keep these inmates in confinement, really confided; they aren’t even allowed to clean the place to knock off a few hours. Yes, a lot have done vicious crimes, although most haven’t and don’t deserve that kind of treatment.


"Gray Box:An Investigative Look At Solitary Confinement."

No Country for Innocent Men

Journal # 2

 “Timothy Cole, imprisoned while a 26-year-old student at Texas Tech University, had been failed by the justice system at every turn. But what makes his story particularly gut-wrenching is that he perished in prison even as the real rapist, Jerry Johnson, tried repeatedly to confess to the crime. By the time Johnson's story was heard, Cole had been dead nearly a decade.”

          This quote and article is exactly why I picked crime and justice. I do not know someone personally that has been convicted of a crime but I know how often it happens. It’s on the news, online and in the papers all the time. I feel sorry for a man or woman who dies behind bars, especially if they don’t deserve to be there.  Watching movies can intrigue you, almost as if you are living their story, I become very animated. I remember watching the movie Aladdin; I couldn’t believe they were going to cut off jasmines’ hand for giving a small child an apple! Although that wasn’t based in America; I understand that now –lol-.

          People can be sent to jail by mistake in a number of ways, but in this article he was accused of raping someone he had not raped. Even though the real criminal owned up to it, the police did not let the other man free of charges. This was in Texas back in the 60s’; laws were certainly different than now. But Governor, Rick Perry had let almost three hundred executions take place; “Perry famously said that he had lost no sleep over the possibility of an innocent man being executed on his watch”

One woman says “yes, I’m positive”,( that he’s the man who raped her), later DNA showed differently. “But researchers are learning just how often eyewitnesses are wrong: Nationwide, incorrect identification was a factor in the convictions of more than 75 percent of people eventually exonerated by DNA.”

How can you be sure of whom it was? Naturally, we believe what information our brain is sending us but it’s not always right, our mind creates things without us knowing. Sometimes we picture ourselves doing something that hasn’t really happened.  Have you ever tried to remember something and you get glimpses; although, it’s not through your own eyes? This isn’t uncommon to remember being somewhere and seeing yourself from an outsiders view; this most likely means it was a false memory. "By the time of trial, almost all of them were absolutely sure they were identifying the right person." But being put under the pressure, thinking “There is only ten men in the line up; but none look exactly as he; which one could it be?” I believe people often make mistakes.

This was an effective article; although the beginning was boring and I found myself dozing off and having to go back and read it for the right information later in the story. All the boring information should be put at the end where it’s relevant to the reader, and they understand it clearer.

"No Country For Innocent Men"

Should I Buy Gun?

Journal # 1

Guns have never been, let’s say an interest of mine as it is for young men. Although, the past few weeks I’ve had some peculiar dreams involving needing them to protect my life. I was even considering going to a shooting range; not because I want to carry one around or to harm anyone else, I just feel driven towards it. Instantly I felt irony seeing this on the top stories to read on the web page today. Not, ten to fifteen minutes before I had been searching and discovered tonight was “ladies night” at the shooting range not far from here.

            While reading the article I picked up on some paranoia, I think the author’s mother had; and she herself also started showing symptoms of this later on. Always thinking someone is out to get her; “But I also spent an unhealthy number of hours staring into the inky blackness of the front yard. I’d listen to the susurrus of the trees and become convinced that someone was out there rustling and whispering… I’d hear twigs cracking, likely from cats or raccoons, and think that it was branches breaking beneath a prowler’s feet.”

            She witnessed a lot of brake in to her home and office; it seemed as if she was being stalked. Although, through all of these nights scared, even when a man was screaming she’s a bitch and to let him in; physically violently throwing himself at her door, she never once got the gun. Her boyfriend had bought, she had no knowledge of this and she wondered when he had bought if; did he even have a license?

            She moves to Montana, here you can own a gun and almost everyone does. With a license you’re allowed to have it on you in public. “I have glimpsed quite a few guns idly resting, like a map or some other quotidian object, on the dashboard of a car.” I had no knowledge of this; living around here and hearing about fall rivers new gun laws I hadn’t know places were so open about it. Its almost a piece of there sub-culture, she showed this very well and It personally interested me in my own way, hopefully you’ll like it too J.

"Should I Buy A Gun?"

Memoir Draft

  

The sun rose quickly and the heat came with it, this long walk back home seemed to be endless. Mariah, Taylor and I walk to the convenient store and you’d think we'd go to the closest one; but instead we walked to the more popular one a few miles down the road. At the time this seemed like a great idea until we got about half way there.

Our town is small and for the most part quiet, except for the crickets at night and tractor pulls in the summer. Most people hate it here; the winters can be brutal living on the coast but our sunny beach breeze is worth the long winter wait. It’s not the Bahamas but it’s beautiful and natural.

Although on our walk, it seemed more like a dump of discarded food wrappers, boxes and used condoms. With ever step I take it becomes more unbearable to watch; this walk was a bore and I began to think about my recent trip to Tennessee. Its dry dead air made my mouth become drained and withered. Spitting out my gum atop the pavement I notice no others mashed into its tiny crack, eroding slowly into the ground. A matter of fact I hadn't seen a single piece of trash the whole time, Amanda flicked her cigarette and I remembered how I watched as it danced its way below the curb of the sparkling road.

I wonder why and how there streets where so unbelievably clean; I keep the thought to myself, self consciously believing others wont understand my concerns. We reach the store and buy our self drinks, small but expensive sandwiches. Walking back, it didn’t take long for us to finish our food and drinks, and more still an hour to go.

The best things we found were bottles; all kinds, from Snapple bottles to rum. Mariah picks up a bottle; a crescent moon shape, corked at the top. The bottle was already smashing across the highway before I have time to speak. I quickly join in on this new adventure.

I pick up a bottle, its old and rusty the stench hits me hard, it’s dark but I was sure something had died within it long ago or possibly just recently. I pick up another and dirty brown liquid from the bottle leaks down my arm. I throw it towards the road, it crashes into the pavement. Bad idea; what ever was left splashed all over my purple tank top and shorts. I stop to glare at this ridiculous stunt; I wanted to laugh but held it in.

Taylor "We really shouldn’t be doing this guys, someone is deferentially going to call the police on us." she pleaded.

"Who cares, they aren’t going to do anything were only in middle school, it’s not like they will throw us in jail." I argued.

"Yeah who cares?" Mariah agreed with me.

They always gave off a sudden "POP!" before you heard the smash. Bottles spun through the air, my eyes deceive me; the bottle almost slowed down before yet another one smashed all over the busy road. We laugh while people become angry, honking there horns hoping it could foil our fun. But nothing can, we know the consequences, and are willing to take the chance. We smash bottles for the last forty-five-minutes back to my house, it was exhilarating. Were about seven minutes from my house and the thought of this makes me move quicker. Our bottle throwing died down after awhile.

I'm passing a house, its cover by weeds and vines growing up the tree and along the stone wall lying beneath it. I know this home, it belongs to a classmate of ours, I hadn’t liked her much; I see a yellow flip flop with the word "spam" written across it only feet away. This makes me laugh I want to pick it up but realize I probably shouldn’t so I choose the bottle a long side of it. I picked it up and shouted for Mariah to grab the other I’m grasping lifting off the dead ground below.

I turn my head; a police cruiser drive by on the right side of the road, us being on the left side I'm sure he hadn’t seen me grabbing the bottles. I quickly assume someone has called the cops on us and discretely drop the bottle back down, within seconds the three of us decided its better to run just in case.

"Okay, on three we'll turn around and run into Brittney’s yard and go by woods back home" I say swiftly, knowing I can find my way home.

"One....two...three-" turning around another cruiser comes flying up behind us, almost knocking Taylor over.

"The other way." one of the girls yells to the left of me. as I turn around the cruiser from just seconds ago zooms in and they close us in, the stone wall is covered in poison ivy all the way up the trunk of the tree and cars continue to speed by; crap, no where to go.

The two police men get out of their cars and begin to yell and lecture us. Both the men had dark blue uniforms on with a lot of shinny metal pieces. Looking at the two I can see who's had their job longer as one prides in his work and the other not so much. They take us to our destination, Mariah in one car, Taylor and I in the other. The seats are cold and hard, looking at Taylor I'm distracted by the smudged dirty thick plastic window in between the two seats.

We wait at my house for our parents to arrive, the police told me the three of us will be completing hours of community service after this. I'm extremely angered by his remark, being forced to provide my services isn't what I had in mind for my summer. Mariah and Taylors parents show up first, mine not far behind. They seemed angry until the cops left and they spoke firm but calmly to us all. I haven’t been listening much but from what I understand were going for a ride. The cars stop and were on a nearby street, the sign is missing and I can’t remember its name although I pass it on my way home everyday. Then I'm handed a broom and a dust pan.

"What the hell are we suppose to do with this?" I say to the others, they shrug their shoulders as they are also handed the same damn cleaning brooms.

"You guys are going to clean the road, and sweep up the glass you broke" One young rude police man says with a smirk. I can tell he’s enjoying this and I hate how smug he is.

I laugh “The hell I am" smirking even more then he.

Mariah laughs even louder "You think were going to clean the road?"

"All the glass is already smashed so tiny, it won’t matter now; you’re retarted?" I quickly and surprisingly say to the man. His face becomes red and I know he’s furious.

“You’re going to." He continued to lecture us and we also continue to laugh
We pretended to sweep up a small corner, the situation gets so absurd that he actually goes into the road and slows down traffic.

"What an idiot" Taylor whispers, still nervous he' all hear her.

The men come back and they lecture us for another ten minutes of course before letting us leave.
"You could have killed a family in a mini van; there little kids." he shouts at us, hoping for a positive reaction.

"Why a mini van?" I say holding my smile back; this had been the third time he'd said this to us and I figure he had it coming to him.

"Yeah and I don’t think those small pieces of glass would have flipped over the van." Mariah says. We both bust out laughing, we know he’s angry and we keep fueling his fire.
He takes a breath and calmly says "I have a feeling i'll be seeing you two again." trying to scare us before he gets in his car and drives away, leaving us in the dust from beneeth his tires.

Feeling Towars Memoir

Honestly, i feel like my memoir is coming out well. i already have half written and i continue to look at it, add and revise  more everyday. it should be done shortly and the draft will be published.
My theme is crime and law, this was a hard topic to choose from and relate to my own life. i have had my own small troubles with the law so i choose to write about one of these stories.

Killing Chickens

killing chickens; this reminds me of basically the hard times we as people have to experience in live.

A thirty eight year old mother, getting a divorce and raising two children. She didnt seem to have much experince with killing chickens; from what i understood it was previencely her husbands task.
 she was a sad women, killing these birds with her own hands. so horrible she had to take breaks inbetween each murdur.
Her childern were confused they didnt understand why their father wasnt there and they wonderd if they would see him.
On this day it was her birthday, she was sad; you could tell depression was consuing her in her own way. They origonaly had plans to out for her special day; last minute she changed her mind and said they would say home and it'd be just them.
I dont know if others pick up on her sadness and depression; i've lived depression i live it almost everyday and i know the sad lonley feeling, it consumes you. over come by this divoce, and on top of it twisting and breaking a living things neck while it jurks for safty.

Thinking Made Visible!

My hometown was a wonderful (or choose your own adjective) place to grow up.

Waves splash off the slippery rocks; the wind swiftly swept though my small summer town.

Laci had a rather eccentric style.

A rather large women opens the door to our classroom; her clothes were baggy and her hair was long and dark, her big flowery sweater made me giggle, "Is this my teacher?"

Mr. Brown is the worst teacher I’ve ever had.

 Mr. Brown;He seemed to talk for hours; although it was made clear we'd never get to today's assignments.

The room seemed very institutional.

The door shut and i was finally alone, the lights flickered above my head and the heat was extreme. when the doctor came in we barley managed to cram ourselves in.

Advertisment

I choose this picture because; it’s basically an advertisement on not testing or experimenting on animals. I personally love animals and find this very disturbing to see how harmful these things are to these creatures.

Cover girl is a makeup company and they put out tons of ads and come out with new makeup every year. Although, before you can put these products out on the market they have to be proven safe for use. Just as anything does, they have set backs, these set backs are only known because of the testing they do on animals. I do agree that if someone or something is going to be harmed its better if it's a lab rat rather then your thirteen year old daughter. But do we really need these things? Do we need our eye liner, mascara or lipstick? Personally I think not, but if you use these products you might think differently. This topic is so controversial, how can you decide what things are necessary and which aren't? It’s impossible.

The pictures and the information you find online about these animals is endless.

For people who don't understand this picture at the top, they replaced a model with a dog. Members of cover girl did not because it is bad for publicity; although groups like Peta (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) photo shop images for their own advertising purposes.

The (AWA) or animal awareness act " requires that minimum standards of care and treatment be provided for certain animals bred for commercial sale, used in research, transported commercially, or exhibited to the public."

This law was passed back in 1966, although as you guessed their probably is plenty of people that are not following these laws correctly.

Also in 1985 they passed an amendment that was supposed to make better living conditions for laboratory animals. Basically any animal (especially dogs) should have a healthy environment where they can run and exercise consistently. They also are not allowed to use a single animal for any major procedure if it hasn't already been healed from the previous one. Now, they make sure the people they hired are capable and trained correctly. This happens ever where all over the world; employees are hired but do not have the proper training to do their job correctly. This was a huge problem hundreds of years ago with mentally ill patients; they were being treated worse than animals and living in their own feces. Mostly because we assumed these people could not tell the difference; when in fact they could.

It’s a big jump from people to animals but what about primates? These are chips and monkeys, which over evolution brought us humans. Are we not doing more and more studies every year proving the intellectual levels of these chimps? They might not be able to do complex math problems but they are besides us some of the more intelligent animals we know of; almost as smart as us and one day they will be.

I think these animals (monkeys) know exactly what's happening to them. Although these primates are not the most commonly used animal, typically you would use guinea pigs. I don't know much about these animals but I know their not like chips. And it was defiantly a relief to know they use the monkeys lastly if possible.

Hyperlink Test

"forget about recess"

After reading this i honestly feel like if they were having such an issue with children getting hurt and playing to rough there is other ways to deal with it. Making the child participate in the games for 30minutes each day is definitely something that's going to go a long way. I also feel, the kids do need to feel free outside at reasses.

At my school we had plenty of room to run around; there was also a field where a teacher was always playing dodge ball with the students willing to play. Yes, there was supervision, but they weren't hounding us like dogs or forcing us to do anything. kids get hurt, they fall down and scrape there knees, a ball might hit them in the face and give them a bloody nose but that's a part of being a kid and growing up.

Choosing A Theme

I would honestly have to say, my first choice for a theme would be criminal justice. I have never studies about criminal justice or law, although i am very argumentative and if i like you enough i bet i could be your lawyer ; ) . no, but i really do feel strongly about this topic; the thought that famous celebrities and the wealthy are allowed a "get out of jail free card" intrigues me. is this not America? are we no longer protected under our constitutional rights; were we ever really? These people are even allowed a second and extra " get out early card" when on a daily bases we send innocent people to jail everyday.

 Although i have always been an "at sea" kind of girl, I've always felt somehow connected to the ocean and the marine animals living within it. I'd love to do my theme on marine life( nature) , its always interested me since i was a little girl. i hope to one day become a marine biologist if i can ever go through with it.

Writers Autobiography

My experience as a writer goes as far back as i can remember. even now, i can see my first grade class room like i was there yesterday. My teacher, giving our class a writing assignment; usually to write non-stop without picking your pencil off the paper for five to ten minutes. We did this often and i always found myself being the last one to hand in there paper. We would write on this huge lined gray paper; the texture was rough and when you erased a word it smudged into a big gray blob. We had other paper like this, i always hated it but it was all they provided. I could never write for only ten minutes, it seemed like when my stories began to get good she would tell us to stop. How could i just stop when i had so much to say?


With all my class mates handing in there two page papers i always felt confident walking up last with my five page papers. It was at this time, that my teacher and parents told me "one day you could become a writer". I now see this as a great opportunity for myself, but at the time i looked at it as a huge expectation to live up to. Although as the years passed i shied away from writing, to the point that i wouldn't pick up a book to read.


By the seventh grade i fell into a major depression and began to write again. At this point my whole outlook had changed, i showed no one my work and felt very self conscience. I found this therapeutic for me, even reading has become a hobby of mine on an everyday bases. By high school, i had notebook's filled with stream of consciences, poems, short stories ..etc and it happened again. A creative writing teacher my junior year; who literally thought i was having something else write my work for me, (this was obviously false) thought i was a great writer. She was intrigued by my stories, and this gave me a new hope to keep writing. I'll never forget what she told me ; " You can make someone believe anything, even if its not real, and that's not something most people can do."