Farah

=Reflection= I think that more than anything else, this portfolio shows that writing is an important part of my life. It is a means of self-expression, a tool to help me interpret the world, and an art form that I appreciate deeply. To me, writing is about not just getting ideas across, but getting them across in an attractive way. Whether I’m trying to defend a thesis or simply using writing to interpret the world around me, I want to be proud of the finished product.

I do think that writing is a strong point of mine. I also feel that I’m able to “dig deeper” and really understand the things I read. Less strong is my ability to manage my time and stay organized, so despite how much I love writing, it often gets done at the last minute. Time management especially is a skill I think I need to improve.

I didn’t find this portfolio especially challenging, but surprisingly, that didn’t bother me at all. That may have had something to do with it being benchmark time, but I found that it was strangely gratifying to not only look over my old work but also make changes to it that I knew would be improvements since they were based on teacher feedback.

I’m proud of a lot of the work I’ve done in English this year, but I suppose I’m most proud of my //The Odyssey// essay. Writing a five-paragraph essay was not something new to me at the beginning of this year, but crafting a three-point thesis was, and I was rather anxious about how the whole thing would turn out. Considering my lack of experience, I think I pulled it off pretty well.

= = =Quarter 1=

Introduction
As my first essay for Ms. Dunn's English class and part of my first-ever round of benchmarks, I was (understandably, I think) rather anxious. Fortunately, the assignment combined work I was comfortable with—writing a five-paragraph essay—with a task that was new and exciting to me: crafting my own thesis.

__The Odyssey__ Essay
The female characters in __The Odyssey__ all share a number of characteristics that arguably shed a fair amount of light on the role of women, both mortal and immortal, in ancient Greek society, and how those women were regarded by men—especially those men who wrote lengthy, famous epic poems. All the women hold formidable amounts of power and defiantly disobey other men—even equally powerful men. Despite this, though, their lives all seem to revolve around other men. This all shows women in a peculiar light considering that in ancient Greece few women had many rights or freedoms. With such limitations imposed on them, how could any woman have power over herself and the world around her?

The women of __The Odyssey__ are all quite powerful individuals. Athena, arguably the most powerful, is a goddess, one of the twelve immortal beings who reside on Mount Olympus. It goes without saying that she holds a rather impressive amount of power. Calypso, a nymph, is between a goddess and a mortal and therefore also quite powerful, though not as much as Athena. She certainly has power over Odysseus, though she is forced by Zeus to let him go. Penelope is a human queen, and while mortal women did not typically hold much power in ancient Greek society, with her husband missing and her son on his journey, Penelope has been left to her own devices as the sole ruler of Ithaca. Even before Telemachus left his home, Penelope held some power over the suitors by tricking them with her weaving scheme. As Antinous explains angrily at the council, “So by day she’d weave at her great and growing web—by night, by the light of the torches set beside her, she would unravel all she’d done. Three whole years she deceived us blind, seduced us with this scheme…” (lines 115-118, page 96). Penelope may have a number of reasons for this deceit, but it seems (though is never explicitly said) that one of them is her desire to hold onto power—if she were to marry, her husband would become king of Ithaca and she would lose her role as its unsanctioned ruler. Clytemnestra, likewise, is a queen who takes on her husband’s role when he leaves to serve in the Trojan war. Unlike Penelope, she is quite passive when it comes to keeping her power, and to some degree she gives it up to Aegisthus when she finally agrees to become his lover, lets him maroon the bard, and eventually kills her husband at his command. Clytemnestra is the only murderer among the four women, but with their great power, all four women break one of society’s most deeply ingrained rules.

The women of __The Odyssey__ all defiantly disobey powerful men as they strive to achieve their goals. Athena comes to Odysseus’s rescue countless times and helps Telemachus in his struggle toward manhood, despite the threat of Poseidon’s wrath. Calypso has quite different motives, but still goes against the will of Zeus without a second thought, keeping Odysseus captive on her island until finally Hermes threatens her with Zeus’s full wrath, and even then she is at first reluctant. In a furious outburst, she cries, “So now at last, you gods, you train your spite on //me// for keeping a mortal man beside me. The man I saved, riding astride his keel-board, all alone, when Zeus with one hurl of a white-hot bolt had crushed his racing warship down the wine-dark sea.” (lines 143-147, page 156). Calypso obeys Zeus, but not without first accusing Hermes and the rest of the gods of spiting her simply because they disapprove of a goddess being romantically involved with a mortal man, and claiming that she has the right to force Odysseus to marry her because she saved him from drowning. Calypso, it would seem, is not so quick or so eager to take orders from anyone, even the king of the gods. Alternately, Penelope defies men in more subtle and underhanded ways, tricking both the suitors and her own son in order to stall for as long as possible by claiming to put off marriage until she finishes a weaving project, but secretly undoing each day’s progress at night. At the same time, she implies that she intends to marry and is therefore unfaithful to the memory of Odysseus. Meanwhile, Clytemnestra cheats on her husband Agamemnon and lets her lover maroon the bard Agamemnon had entrusted with keeping Clytemnestra safe. As King Nestor explains to Telemachus at the feast of Poseidon, “But then, that day the doom of the gods bound her to surrender, Aegisthus shipped the bard away to a desert island, marooned him there, sweet prize for the birds of prey, and swept her off to his own house, lover lusting for lover.” (lines 306-310, page 116). Here, Clytemnestra becomes compliant almost to the point of simply giving up her power—and yet she is still disobeying her husband as well as going against one of the most basic customs of ancient Greek society. She even murders Agamemnon so that she can be with Aegisthus. All of these women show a defiant refusal to obey powerful men and instead work to fulfill their own desires—which, strangely enough, all seem to revolve around other men.

In ancient Greek society, women had little power and little rights—they were almost entirely dependent on other men. It makes sense, then, that even a woman who aggressively worked toward her own goals would have goals that centered around another man. The great goddess Athena devotes a surprising amount of time and energy to helping Odysseus on his journey home and Telemachus on his journey to manhood. Calypso, the powerful and beautiful nymph who could certainly have her pick of men, especially mortal men, devotes ten long years to trying to marry Odysseus. As Athena explains to Zeus when she begs him to help the helpless Odysseus, “Now he’s left to pine on an island, racked with grief in the nymph Calypso’s house—she holds him there by force.” (lines 14-17, page 153). While this is not the most detailed description of Calypso’s actions, it does show how Calypso is so devoted to her unwilling would-be husband that only divine intervention could force her to give him up. Penelope, despite her many self-serving deeds, is clearly still mourning her supposedly dead husband. When she hears a bard singing a song that reminds her of Odysseus, she begs him to stop—“But break off this song—the unendurable song that always rends the heart inside me… the unforgettable grief, it wounds me most of all! How I long for my husband—alive in memory, always, that great man whose fame resounds through Hellas right to the depths of Argos!” (lines 392-397, page 88). Whatever deceit or trickery Penelope may be engaging in, she is still obviously committed to the memory of her lost husband. Clytemnestra is probably the best example of this phenomenon among the women, lying, cheating, even going so far as to commit murder—but for another man, her lover Aegisthus. It seems that no matter how pro- or anti-feminist the women in __The Odyssey__ are, and how legally independent they may be, they are all still emotionally quite dependent in some way on men. This may be a bit of "editorial" on the part of men of the time, who wanted to portray even the most powerful women as at the beck and call of men.

The great power that all the women in //The Odyssey// have, the fearless way in which they all defy powerful men, and the way that their lives all seem to revolve around certain men all point to a surprising way in which women behaved in ancient Greece, and the way that the men around them considered them. Given the many similarities between all the women in the poem, it would seem that there were certain assumptions made about women or expectations of them in ancient Greek society. Perhaps we can learn a lesson on what not to do from //The Odyssey// and stop attaching unrealistic stigmas to or making gross generalities about women in today’s culture.

Introduction
Since the focus of our year is finding out who we are, it makes sense that we should consider at some point who we wish we weren't. During our __Freedom Writer's Diary__ unit, we were asked to write in our journals about wanting to drop aspects of our identities.

Entry
I don’t think I have ever wanted to drop my racial, cultural, or gender identity. There have been times when I thought my life would be easier if I were male—there still are—but I have never actually wished to be male. I can’t really want to change my racial identity, because as a sperm bank baby, the most I can gather about my father’s ethnicity is “white enough to check the Caucasian box on standardized tests.” He had brown hair and brown eyes, that’s about all I know. Aside from that, I’m Canadian and British, plus too little Lebanese for anyone to really care about. Needless to say, I’ve only ever been discriminated against for my race by “South Park,” and even I find the “Blame Canada” song funny.

I don’t really think about my cultural identity except when I travel, and when I travel, it makes me foreign and exotic. I won’t deny that I enjoy being the center of attention because I have an American accent, or am two grades higher than Scandinavian children my age.

=Quarter 2=

Introduction
While our Quarter 2 benchmark was actually to simply write a memoir vignette on paper and color-code examples of various stylistic devices, we later were given the task of turning our vignettes into either podcasts or movies. I decided to simply do a podcast, feeling that visuals would add nothing to the quality of the piece and might distract from the actual vignette.

Memoir Vignette
My Unprofessional Opinion: Following the Career Path of Lucy van Pelt I’ve often jokingly asked people if there is a mental disorder that makes you obsessed with mental disorders, but the truth is, if there was, I would know about it.

It’s not a very funny joke, but people occasionally laugh, and often offer some halfhearted guess as to the name of such a disorder. Obsessive Psychology Research Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Psychiatry Disorder, Compulsive Mental Illness Obsession. This rarely ends well for me, since it takes every last bit of self-restraint I have to refrain from explaining, at length, that an “obsession” in terms of psychology is an unshakeable, irrational fear, or series of intrusive, anxiety-inducing thoughts. A “compulsion” is the series of repetitive behaviors or actions that are meant to counteract such fears or thoughts.

Many children are known to become obsessed—and here I use “obsessed” to mean keenly interested—with certain topics. Trains, for example, or dinosaurs, or sports trivia. Never was an obsessive interest so thoroughly cultivated as in my house. My mother, a psychology professor at the University of Pennsylvania (though she now works in the field of neuroethics, a term she often refers to as “very Madison Avenue” ), voluntarily supplied me with her copy of the //Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition// (DSM-IV) and corresponding case book when she first learned of my interest in psychology.

Though at first I think she was mostly amused by my newfound fascination, I believe it soon became almost alarming in her eyes —never mind the inconvenience it caused. The DSM-IV almost never left my room. If it did, it was immediately returned. My mother had made no mention of possibly needing to use it in the future when she had first given it to me, and I had no intention of releasing the weighty, 886-page hardcover book from my control. Nearly every evening after school, once I had finished my homework, I would reward myself by sitting on my bed, opening the book, and searching through the lengthy table of contents for whatever mental illness caught my interest. The idea of meeting, of trying to treat, someone with such an illness fascinated me. I recalled Lucy van Pelt from the cartoon // Peanuts //, sitting at her lemonade stand-turned-psychiatrist’s office. While my friends had babysitting, petsitting, or summer jobs, I was intrigued by the idea of five-cent therapy as a source of income. In fact, I often was an impromptu therapist for my friends, listening to their problems for hours in on end and working out solutions like some addictive puzzle. I never charged my friends, of course, but when they made comments like “No one else seems to care like you do,” and “I’m so glad I have you to help,” I felt a strange kind of pride at being so “special” and needed. It wasn’t the branch of psychology that most captured my interest, and certainly if I had thought that one of my friends had a serious disorder I would never have tried to handle it on my own, but I still got a great deal of satisfaction out of playing such a special role in my friends’ lives. Not that I helped my friends for purely selfish reasons—I was just delighted to discover I had talents that helped me find such a special niche. I hadn't started learning about psychology for any reason but my own fascination, but if my friends got something out of it, so much the better.

If my mother had ever thought my interest in psychology was just a passing fad— which Sigmund Freud could have deemed “minimization,” a type of denial that involves admitting an unpleasant fact but denying its seriousness —she certainly didn’t anymore. When the description provided by the DSM-IV didn’t shed enough light for me on the nature of the disorder in question, I would head straight to the Barnes and Noble on 19th and Walnut and spend entire weekends scouring their disappointingly limited psychology section. A few of the books I discovered made their way home with me, but most exceeded my budget, as the five-cent-therapy business had never really taken off. Since claiming to have kleptomania (an addiction to stealing) will rarely, if ever, get you off the hook for shoplifting, I spent my time reading in the café of the Barnes and Noble.

When I became frustrated with the limited selection I found, I began searching through other bookstores. The University of Pennsylvania bookstore had mostly self-help books. Borders had a much bigger selection, but it was comprised entirely of books about depression, bipolar disorder, and autism. All three were interesting to me, but I found that literature on the disorders that I was really desperate to know more about was quite limited. I didn’t stop at reading about crazy people. My flourishing love for psychology fed my love for fiction writing. It was a rare disorder that I could read about without thinking, //I need to write a story about this.// Borderline personality disorder, dissociative identity disorder, body dismorphic disorder… everything was too good to pass up. Everything was too fascinating to ignore.

My interest in psychology has become more than just something to do during my free time. I’ve turned it into something constructive, and I plan to turn it into a career. Meanwhile, I’ve decided that being fascinated with psychology isn’t a disorder in itself—though thinking that that joke is funny might be.

Stylistic Device Legend
Opening Line Dialogue Simile/Metaphor Personification Magic Three Humor Hyperbole Repetition for Effect Symbolism Alliteration Onomatopoeia Oxymoron

Memoir Vignette Podcast
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Introduction
I was actually pretty enthusiastic about this journal entry. It was assigned as homework, to be modeled after the chapter "My Name" from Sandra Cisneros's //The House on Mango Street//. Names in general have always interested me, and I have complicated feelings about my own name.

Entry
It’s amazing how many nicknames you can squeeze out of a name like Theodora. If your name is Theodore, like my grandfather’s was, you can be called Theo or Teddy. Maybe “Odor” if you’re unlucky. But with a name like Theodora, there’s Teddy, Theo, Thea, Tea, Dora, Dory… I’ve even been “Teddidora” to a former classmate of mine, “Tedward” to a boy at camp, and “Theodork” to a few friends.

A lot of people complain about the nicknames they get, but I like how the name Theodora has such a multitude of available nicknames. My name is varied, many-layered, and always changing. So am I.

If your name is Theodore, like my grandfather’s was, it’s not really an unusual name. Not very common, but not very unusual. You’re bound to meet your fair share of Theodores in your life, your Teds or Teddies, whether it’s the stuffed bear you couldn’t think of a better name for or the guy in the cubicle next to you. But Theodora is far less common. I can only think of three other Theodoras I’ve ever heard of, and only one of them I really know anything about.

I may have been named after my grandfather, but I really like sharing a name with the ancient Byzantine empress Theodora, whose story I find inspiring. She was a simple prostitute and circus performer until she married the emperor Justinian. That in itself might be impressive to other people, but it’s not why I admire her. She didn’t simply become an empress to lounge around enjoying the luxurious life that she had made for herself. She was known for her beauty, but more than that she was known for being “superior in intelligence to any man.” Her husband frequently consulted her on important matters, and she was an important, powerful figure, not simply a piece of ancient Byzantine eye candy. She made a better life for herself, and then she set about making a better life for her subjects. She’s even credited with saving Justinian’s entire reign.

I don’t think that a name defines anyone or anything, but I do think names are important. While I do have a number of nicknames to go by, I’ll always be Theodora in the end, and I like knowing that I’ll always be able to count on that.

=Quarter 3=

Introduction
Having enjoyed our first quarter benchmark, I was unsurprised to find that I enjoyed our third quarter benchmark—crafting a thesis and writing a five-paragraph essay about Octavia Butler's __Kindred__—as well. The fact that I was able to look at a character through the lens of a psychologist didn't hurt, either.

__Kindred__ Essay
Every so often, one encounters a person who is confusing, almost bewildering. Such people are hard to classify, especially when one tries—as so many people do—to peg everyone as ultimately good or ultimately bad. Of all the characters in Octavia E. Butler’s science fiction novel __Kindred__, there is one who stands out as being such a hard-to-place character—Rufus Weylin. Rufus’s character feels oddly hard to classify. He goes from cruel and domineering to needy and weak in the blink of an eye, leaving his true nature open to endless debate. His infringements on the rights of others might really the cries of a deeply wounded child—but then again, his wounded-child act might merely be a means of getting away with his many infringements on the rights of others. It almost seems as if Rufus simply has no kind feelings towards others, yet it’s always possible that he simply does not know how to show them. His behavior is almost too erratic and inconsistent to point to an answer, yet there is one underlying theme among all his deeds, both good and bad. Rufus is governed by a possessiveness and desire for control that stems from a fear of abandonment. As any psychologist could predict, abandonment and lack of emotional closeness are big parts of Rufus’s life right from the start, as is often the case with the driving forces behind needs that become pathologies.

Rufus’s parents, one could argue, were responsible for planting the seeds of the possessiveness and desire for control in Rufus’s psyche. His father Tom, emotionally distant from the get-go, cares more for his money than for his family. As Rufus tells Dana after she saves him from a fire he tries to set, “It’s all he ever thinks about,” (Page 26). Even from a young age, Rufus recognizes that his father does not perform the fatherly duties expected of him, and harbors an intense anger towards Tom. Rufus even tries to “get back at him” multiple times. Explaining to Dana why he previously burned down his father’s horse stable, he says, “I wanted Daddy to give me Nero—a horse I liked. But he sold him to Reverend Wyndham just because Reverend Wyndham offered a lot of money. Daddy already has a lot of money. Anyway, I got mad and burned down the stable,” (Page 25). Clearly, Rufus is not the type to quietly accept others’ offenses against him, nor is he the type to think through his actions. Margaret Weylin seems to be Tom’s polar opposite, a fact that is further illustrated by the many symptoms of a failing marriage they display. After explaining to Dana the circumstances of an earlier whipping by his father, Rufus goes on to explain, “But Mama said it was cruel and disgraceful for him to hit me like that no matter what I did. She took me to Baltimore City to Aunt May’s house after that, but he came and got me and brought me home. After a while, she came home too,” (Page 26). Rather than be emotionally distant like her husband, Margaret is caring and protective of her son to the point of being overbearing (as well as jealous of others with whom Rufus has a close relationship, notably Dana), much to Rufus’s frequent displeasure. However, she is neither happy nor stable. After bearing two children, both of whom die at young ages, her physical and mental health begin to deteriorate, and she leaves for Baltimore. When she returns some years later, she is more stable, though in an unhealthy way—she has become a laudanum addict. Despite her previous dislike for Dana, she asks Rufus for Dana as a personal caretaker. Rufus agrees, despite considering Dana as not only an object but a prized “possession” of his. This may be an indication of Rufus’s love for his mother and happiness at her return. Then again, it may also be a demonstration of the fact that Dana is something he can lend out to his mother at whim. While considering other people to be objects is generally a telltale sign of a twisted mind, it may just be Rufus's method of "simplifying" Dana's role in his life to make it fit in neatly with the world he knows.

Dana complicates Rufus’s life in innumerable ways. Throughout his unstable childhood, with unfit parents and frequent near-death experiences, there is one person who seems to be his “savior.” Dana appears out of nowhere to rescue Rufus every time his life is in danger, but the surprises don’t end there—she even goes so far as to show him kindness, unlike Tom, but without babying him, unlike Margaret. Few people, if any, care for Rufus more than Dana, and he is fully aware of this. Though Dana’s role in Rufus’s life is on the surface simple and straightforward—appear out of the blue in the nick of time to save his skin again and again—their relationship becomes complex and, ultimately, deeply poisonous. As Dana finally pieces together the reasons for her visits to the Antebellum South, she thinks, “The boy drew me to him somehow when he got himself into more trouble than he could handle,” (Page 26). Dana, upon her second meeting with Rufus, has no idea the extent to which their lives will be irrevocably intertwined. Realizing, finally, that she cannot risk putting it past Rufus to rape her, she explains, “A slave was a slave. Anything could be done to her. And Rufus was Rufus—erratic, alternately generous and vicious. I could accept him as my ancestor, my younger brother, my friend, but not as my master, and not as my lover,” (Page 260). Their relationship ends in the worst of all possible ways—with Rufus dying at Dana’s hand. There are a number of factors leading up to this, one being the fact that after Alice had killed herself, Rufus lost his “second half” of the one woman he considered Alice and Dana to be and tried to force Dana to fill Alice’s role.

Alice herself is perhaps the most straightforward example of Rufus’s possessiveness. Though originally his childhood friend, Alice explains to Dana after Rufus tries to rape her, he “Got to where he wanted to be more friendly than I did,” (Page 119). Alice describes the circumstances of her rape with sarcasm and bitterness, which may be the predecessor of the “dulling” she experiences later. Dana, rather understandably, is horrified when she learns that Rufus raped Alice, yet this horrible breach of human decency does not seem to be the act of some psychopathic predator—rather, the final, desperate move of a rejected lover, passed over for another man. When Dana confronts him about the audacity of what he has done to Alice, Rufus responds not with denial but with an admission of weakness. “’I begged her not to go with him,’ he said quietly. ‘Do you hear me, //I begged her!’//” (Page 124). Rufus cannot have Alice’s love, so he opts for having power over her instead. Raping her is only the tip of the iceberg—Alice becomes, for all essential purposes, a concubine. The notion of a slave who serves not only as a sexual plaything but as a “breeder” of more slaves may seem quite alien to the modern-day reader, but is, in fact, perfectly normal for Rufus. Then again, Alice’s position is distinguished from that of, say, Tess, in that Rufus seems to harbor true feelings for poor Alice. With no real way of showing them to one who will not accept or return them, Rufus reverts to a tried-and-true strategy—having total control over Alice. By possessing her both physically, by sexually assaulting her, and emotionally, by manipulating her through their children, Rufus reaches a level of stable, complete possession. Of course, possessing only Alice is not enough for Rufus—it appears as though nothing might ever be, and when Dana comes to him for the last time, he seems to be contemplating simply giving up (though the possibility remains that this is nothing more than a power play). Possessiveness seems to be Rufus’s main source of motivation, almost as if he feels that nothing else could ever bring him happiness.

Rufus’s constant need for complete control over those he cares about seems to be the driving force behind nearly everything he does. Others, of course, may find a different theme underlying his behavior—after all, it is rather inconsistent and erratic. Finding an explanation for his actions is a challenge, and trying to tell how he truly feels even more so. It is exactly this, one might argue, that makes Rufus’s character so unique. Perhaps the same philosophy should be applied to dealing with those we encounter in real life who are as hard-to-place as Rufus—though those who do this would be advised to keep in mind the circumstances of Rufus’s untimely end, and be on their guard.

Introduction
Just as we were asked to write about various aspects of our identities, we were asked one class to describe how we were shaped by our environments. Given that our theme for the year is "Who Am I?" this seems like a good question to consider.

Entry
I am shaped in many ways by my environment. I live in a home where kind words are common but never insincere, understanding is a requirement, and ignorance is the ultimate sin. Having been raised almost entirely by my mother, I’ve picked up many of her habits, both good and bad. While I tend to mimic her lack of organization, I’ve also learned to love learning just as she does. Many parents push their children to be academic superstars, enrolling them in preschool Mandarin programs and having them take college courses in middle school. I’m very grateful that this never happened to me. I never had to be Mommy’s Little Genius. Instead, I was encouraged to take the mind I’d been given—wherever it might be among percentiles and statistics that many people seem to assign so much meaning to—and use it for things that I cared about, that I enjoyed, that made me happy and helped me grow as a person. My environment has shaped me into someone who loves learning and wants to be informed and worldly.

=Quarter 4=

Introduction
The Macbeth creative project was divided into two sections: the quote analysis, and the creative piece. The quote analysis consisted of us picking five quotes from Shakespeare's "Macbeth" that showed how either Macbeth or Lady Macbeth developed as a character throughout the play and analyzing them. The creative piece was far more open-ended—we simply had to make some kind of artistic piece about the quotes we had chosen.

Quote Analysis
O worthiest cousin, The sin of my ingratitude even now Was heavy on me. Thou art so far before That swiftest wing of recompense is slow To overtake thee. --King Duncan, act I, scene IV

At this point in the play, Macbeth has come to King Duncan’s camp after fighting the Norwegian army. The Thane of Cawdor’s treachery has been revealed to Duncan, who has named Macbeth the new Thane of Cawdor. Macbeth is being congratulated on his accomplishments and honored for his bravery by Duncan, who seems to consider him a great friend and ally. Duncan is explaining to Macbeth the depth of his gratitude and appreciation for Macbeth. He is complimenting Macbeth’s ability as a warrior and apologizing for having ever doubted his strength and loyalty. At this point in the play, it seems that Macbeth serves Duncan loyally. His ambition has thus far not tainted his relationship with Duncan, which tells us that so far, Macbeth’s ambition has never really manifested itself so strongly. He is rather innocent.

Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas in incarnadine, Making the green one red. --Macbeth, act II, scene II

Here, Macbeth has just murdered Duncan at the urging of Lady Macbeth. He is frightened, and has forgotten to plant the daggers so that Duncan’s guards will be blamed for the murder. While Lady Macbeth is planting the evidence, Macbeth is thinking about what he has just done. He is on edge, and every sound he hears frightens him. Worse, he is hearing voices that Lady Macbeth claims she cannot hear. Macbeth is reflecting on his deed. He sees the blood on his hands and comments aloud that the entire ocean would be insufficient to clean the blood off his hands—instead, the ocean would be dyed red. Clearly Macbeth is not desensitized to violence. Despite all Lady Macbeth’s assurances, he feels terribly guilty about what he has done and he is terrified of someone else finding out. For all his ambition, he cannot escape his feelings of guilt at having killed such a good friend and person.

There is none but he Whose being I do fear: and, under him, My Genius is rebuked; as, it is said, Mark Antony’s was by Caesar…. For Banquo’s issue have I filed my mind; For them the gracious Duncan have I murder’d; Put rancours in the vessel of my peace Only for them; and mine eternal jewel Given to the common enemy of man, To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings! --Macbeth, act III, scene I

At this point, Macbeth is plotting to kill Banquo, who he is sure suspects him of murdering Duncan. Macbeth is also intending to kill Fleance, because the witches prophesied that Banquo’s sons would become kings after Macbeth, and Macbeth is determined to prevent this. Macbeth is saying here that Banquo is the only person he feels threatened by. He knows that Banquo is becoming suspicious, and he is starting to become frightened. Worse, Macbeth is disgusted at the idea that all the work he has done and all the trauma he has put himself through to become king will end up benefiting Banquo and Banquo’s sons more than it benefited Macbeth himself. We can see that Macbeth is becoming more concerned with power than he was before. He has become all too comfortable with his role as king, and will keep it by any means necessary.

Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits: The flighty purpose never is o’ertook Unless the deed go with it; from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. --Macbeth, act IV, scene I

At this point, Macbeth has tried to murder Banquo and Fleance, but only succeeded in murdering Banquo. Terrified, he returns to the witches to find out more about his future. While the prophecies he hears assure him that he will reign unthreatened for the rest of his natural life, he also learns that Banquo’s sons are indeed destined to follow him as kings of Scotland. Returning to the lords who accompanied him to the witches, he is told that Macduff has fled to England. Macbeth is cursing his foul luck. He realizes that he can no longer afford to dilly-dally with his plans. He is determined to kill Macduff’s family, and he understands that he cannot delay. As soon as he decides to make a move, he vows, he will. It seems that Macbeth is hardening his heart, and becoming more ambitious. He is deciding to show no mercy, and become more sneaky and treacherous.

Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. --Macbeth, act V, scene V

At this point in the play, Macbeth has been preparing for war against Malcolm and Macduff, who are approaching the castle with their English allies. Macbeth has just been informed of Lady Macbeth’s death. Macbeth is grieving over his wife and reflecting on the sad and empty nature of life. For all Macbeth’s ambition and dastardly deeds, it seems he has not lost his sensitive side. Lady Macbeth, who has been the only person to stay by his side throughout the play, is finally gone, and it seems he is lost without her.

Introduction
When Ms. Dunn began class by asking us to write in our journals about how we stand up for what we believe in, I was almost surprised the topic hadn't come up earlier. After all, much of what we had read in class could be related to standing up for what one believes in.

Entry
I’ve often found that standing up for what I believe in, especially when it means saying no to someone else, is easier when I’ve decided to do so beforehand. Saying no to other people tends to be hard for me, so I have an easier time of doing it when I’ve been able to prepare myself mentally. Standing up for what I believe in is also less of a challenge when I remember that if people would rather think less of me for believing what I believe—or standing up for those beliefs—than look past our differences, then their opinions are worth nothing to me anyway.

It’s always easier to stand up for what I believe in when I know I won’t be alone in doing so, and sometimes being the lone dissenter can be frightening. I’ve found that while traditional wisdom holds that one should be true to oneself instead of simply going with the majority, making a fuss often does very little to help anything, and there’s a fine line between standing up for oneself and putting down others. When I’m presented with an opinion that differs from my own, especially a majority opinion, I’ve found that often the best thing to do is simply move to a less controversial topic.

=Optional Elements=

Introduction
Our first project of the year was the Me Magazine, a 10-page magazine about ourselves. The magazine consisted of articles about one to three parts of our life that were important to us, as well as advertisements that we made ourselves and a letter from the editor.

























Introduction
I don't think there was any specific topic for this journal entry, it was simply free-write.

Entry
Sometimes I think I must be the most selfish, ungrateful person in the world. Last year I went to a small private school, and I was the class loser. People snubbed me or made fun of me. I spent most of my time with the only three girls in my grade who accepted me—but I didn’t really enjoy their company. You could practically see the trail of self-pity I left behind when I walked.

Suddenly I’m starting to see how incredibly lucky I am. A lot of students at SLA have real problems, have suffered real pain. I should be happy to be free of that, and part of me is, but part of me can’t help thinking how “fashionable” it is to be depressed. Nobody wants to read happy poetry anymore, nobody puts smiley faces on their Myspace pages. It’s like society doesn’t value happiness, because people want lives that match the strange but undeniable appeal of all things beautifully morbid and gloomy. I think this is most apparent in teenagers—stores like Hot topic are evidence of this phenomenon, proving that black goes with everything but a smile. It isn’t just the goth kids anymore who turn their pain—real or otherwise—into both a fashion statement and a badge of honor.

What I’m saying, I suppose, is that I feel guilty succumbing to the popular mindset of “things would be better if they were worse—but since they’re not, I’ll tell myself they are, and dress accordingly.”

This isn’t to say that there aren’t real people who use such outlets to express real pain—there absolutely are. Sometimes, however, I think it’s the people who flaunt it most who are making it all up themselves. I’m not sure if that means I should feel more or less guilty and “unentitled” the next time I write a depressing poem.

Introduction
"Why I Write" is a pretty popular topic for writing instructors, it seems. I wasn't surprised when Ms. Dunn started off class my asking us to get our journals and explain why each of us writes.

Entry
Writing is something that I believe has evolved, less in nature and more in function. What started out as a necessary tool for survival, or at least convenience, turned into a recreational activity. Now it is a part of our world that can be a livelihood for an author, an enemy or unattainable goal for a child in school, and a binding promise for someone in the legal profession. Writing is universal, and fills a different position in everyone’s individual world.

I write because, aside from the necessity of everyday miscellaneous writing, words come to me with a certain ease and I enjoy putting them on paper. In a way, I think, part of my love for writing stems from an instinctive enjoyment of having something go smoothly—not effortlessly, but smoothly. I’ve been told that some of my writing is hard to read because of the extensive vocabulary used—and I will confess to frequently using a thesaurus when I feel that I need a more interesting word to make my writing flow—so clearly the product isn’t always as “smooth” as the process, but I still enjoy writing as the words come to me. In a way, I write for myself only.

I also write simply because I have something to say. That doesn’t mean I’m always writing editorial articles. I enjoy writing stories, so I often get an idea from some random source of inspiration—what would happen if someone spent their life fighting for something they then realized was wrong?—and get the story of Justina Ré, who fights to get her exiled family of royalty back to power, then slowly realizes that her family is corrupt and unfit to rule.