Gabriella :: Personal Narrative Russia Judaism Papers

Gabriella Sometimes I still say your name, just to hold it in my mouth, to twirl it past the curves of vowels and into the trill of the l, the lilt of the final a. Gabriella, I still see your sharp, strange face, in street crowds and in airports, the flutter of your long hands tracing my belly button. I can’t remember Gabriella’s last name, something quite Russian and excitingly foreign to the five year old self of mine who last saw her. I don't know which part of Russia she lived in before coming here as part of a refugee plan for Soviet Jews, never even thought to ask. In 1983, I only knew that Russians were communists, and communists were bad, which was why Gabriella (stop, wait, say the name again, slowly). Gabriieeelllaaa ran away. I am four years old and have to read one whole book with chapters before starting kindergarten next week at Ezra Academy, a Jewish day school in Woodbridge, Connecticut which requires all students to read and write both Hebrew and English at a basic level upon entrance. When we met the principal over the summer, he said that I would be the youngest pupil by more than a year. For my book, I pick Meet Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. from a shiny shelf at Stop n’ Shop while dangling over the front of the child seat in my mother’s shopping cart, already too round to fit in comfortably. That night, I curl into my pink flannel princess nightgown to read in my mother’s big maroon rocking chair. "Mommy, were the Jim Crow people commu..commm...communin,..cc...communinists?" "Communists?" She smiles, and I watch for the crinkles at her eyes to tell me if she noticed my tangled pronunciation. "Are the people who hated Dr. King the same people who hate Gabriella?" "Who?" My mother drawls over the who, dangling the word like the glass in her hand, one sip left of pale rose colored wine so perfect I want to place it like dew on my tongue "Wine is only for mommies" "If I’m not allowed to drink more than one glass of ginger ale why can you drink five glasses of wine?" "Because it’s different for grownups, our stomachs are bigger" "Big enough for the whole bottle?" "Don’t be silly. Who were you asking me about before?" "Remember! The girl who is going to be in my class who you said Rabbi Scolnik helped rescue from the cc.

Comparing Two Definitions of Home :: Compare Contrast Comparison

Comparing Two Definitions of Home For each person, home has a different meaning. For some, it is their house; for others, home focuses on where loved ones are. The two authors Richard Ford and Chang-Rae Lee consider home to be where the memories are. In their respective works, â€Å"I Must Be Going† and â€Å"Coming Home Again,† the authors explore home through memories. Ford’s memories are based on moving to new homes, while Lee’s memories are focused on his mother and cooking. Each, in turn, finds out what home means for himself. In Ford’s work, he explores how the idea that â€Å"transient is a word of reproach† (Ford 110), a stereotype which he does not agree with. Many people consider people who move often to have shallow roots. People with little foundation are suspicious to lengthy residents. In his life, he has moved roughly twenty times, but he does not â€Å"concede their establishment is any more established than† (110) his own. To Ford, home is all of the memories; physical location is irrelevant. He moves so often because â€Å"longing’s at the heart of it† (109). He has been longing to see the outside world. As a kid, he noted â€Å"that the world outside †¦ was the more magical, exotic place† (109-110) than his hometown. Remembering when he once owned a home, he felt so trapped. In a drunken rage, he flung paint on everything on a lower level. This shows that Ford has a strong need of personal freedom to move. He wants to control his own destiny, concluding that any of his problems are therefore â€Å"on [his] bill, not theirs† (111). Ford feels that â€Å"memory always needs replenishing† (110) and he does so by constantly moving from place to place. Ford questions the American southerner tradition that home is â€Å"supposed to hold† (110) Southerners to their houses and land. Ford feels differently about home: â€Å"home – real home – the important place that holds you, always meant that: affection, love† (110). For him, home is the pleasant memories he holds. Comparing Two Definitions of Home :: Compare Contrast Comparison Comparing Two Definitions of Home For each person, home has a different meaning. For some, it is their house; for others, home focuses on where loved ones are. The two authors Richard Ford and Chang-Rae Lee consider home to be where the memories are. In their respective works, â€Å"I Must Be Going† and â€Å"Coming Home Again,† the authors explore home through memories. Ford’s memories are based on moving to new homes, while Lee’s memories are focused on his mother and cooking. Each, in turn, finds out what home means for himself. In Ford’s work, he explores how the idea that â€Å"transient is a word of reproach† (Ford 110), a stereotype which he does not agree with. Many people consider people who move often to have shallow roots. People with little foundation are suspicious to lengthy residents. In his life, he has moved roughly twenty times, but he does not â€Å"concede their establishment is any more established than† (110) his own. To Ford, home is all of the memories; physical location is irrelevant. He moves so often because â€Å"longing’s at the heart of it† (109). He has been longing to see the outside world. As a kid, he noted â€Å"that the world outside †¦ was the more magical, exotic place† (109-110) than his hometown. Remembering when he once owned a home, he felt so trapped. In a drunken rage, he flung paint on everything on a lower level. This shows that Ford has a strong need of personal freedom to move. He wants to control his own destiny, concluding that any of his problems are therefore â€Å"on [his] bill, not theirs† (111). Ford feels that â€Å"memory always needs replenishing† (110) and he does so by constantly moving from place to place. Ford questions the American southerner tradition that home is â€Å"supposed to hold† (110) Southerners to their houses and land. Ford feels differently about home: â€Å"home – real home – the important place that holds you, always meant that: affection, love† (110). For him, home is the pleasant memories he holds.

A Shared Vision

Most individuals who have exemplary leadership qualities and skills are often referred to as â€Å"born leaders.† However, I tend to disagree with such kind of mentality.I believe that there is no such thing as born leaders, but rather good leaders are honed by their experiences in life as well as with the principles and values that they acquire through time. Being an effective leader entails that a person should know how to influence and motivate other people.These include sharing with them a vision or objective that the leader thinks will benefit the organization that they belong to. Being the case, it is important to give due attention and consideration to the life experiences of a leader.The vision that he or she has and how he or she will fit it with the rules of the organization is also essential. In line with this, I also have my own life experiences that helped me to have the necessary leadership traits that I currently apply with the organization that I belong to.Pers onal ExperiencesI served for the military for a span of ten years. Like any personnel that have to work for this kind of organization, I have learned the concept of discipline and obedience. We were trained to follow orders and to always be ready for anything especially during emergency situations.I also internalized the principle of standing for what you believe in. Sometimes, I even have to fight for my principles in life because there are instances wherein I will encounter a situation or even people who would challenge the beliefs that I have. I can say that working for the military has indeed honed me into becoming the person that I am now. I have learned many things that developed my leadership qualities.I vividly remember a particular person that inspired me because I believe that he exemplifies what an ideal and effective leader should be. I was under his supervision during my initial entry into the military. At first, I find him too strict and intimidating. He always notices my every move and makes a big deal of the mistakes that I make. I really have a hard time keeping with the standards that he has.However, as the days pass by I noticed that his strictness is actually helping me. I have become more disciplined and I tend to think carefully of every move that I take.I make it a point to logically and critically analyze my decisions and actions especially with regards to its effects on other people. Under his leadership, I started doing my best to prove myself to him and to the organization by taking greater responsibilities and making bolder steps. I can say that I have proved my worth because of his way of motivating me.Moreover, I also admired how he handles his subordinates. He might be a disciplinarian but he still makes sure that he gives equal attention to the needs of the people that he governs.Another remarkable trait that he has is the way he influences other people with the vision that he holds for the organization. He wants to improve the military by training people that will uplift the organization. As such, all his plans and efforts are dedicated in the achievement of such vision.

Students, faculty struggle with plagiarism in Internet era

In the postmodern society we have today, Internet-access Is a natural part of the everyday life. Not only have the Internet almost taken over people's lives, but apparently also their schoolwork and education. Due to the easy access to everything on the Internet, faculty at schools have trouble find-inning a dividing line, between what is cheating and what is not. An example of this was seen in a chemistry-class at the University of Wisconsin, where 42 students were accused of plagiarism. While all the students protested, none of the students seemed to know the seriousness of the situ-tool.This leads to the question: when Is something plagiarism? And what can one do to fix the cheating? Journalist, Todd Effeminately wrote the text â€Å"U students, faculty struggle with plagiarism in In-tern era† in 2010, and it was published in â€Å"the Capital Times†- newspaper. The sender of the art-clue, want to Inform the reader of the present Issue: plagiarism. The sender simply wants to notify the reader that plagiarism Is Illegal and wrong. This leads to the unknowing students, who tempt to take the short cut and use other people's work.The scary thing is that most students don't see the series- scenes of this problem – they simply don't consider it cheating. As Donald McCabe, professor at Rutgers University and co-founder of the International Center for Academic Integrity, explains it: â€Å"You're almost to the 50-50 mark right now, where almost half the students we survey don't see this as ‘moderate' or ‘serious' cheating. And the number that's growing Is the half who don't con-slider It cheating. † This quotation-use by the writer, appeals to the readers pathos: how come so many students don't see this wrongdoing?What have society done wrong to make this happen? Not only does Effeminately appeal to pathos, but he also appeals to ethos, which strengthens his reliability. HIS ethos Increases, with both the use of statistics and experts to comment on the Issue, for an example: â€Å"Donald McCabe, has been researching academic misconduct for 20 years, and he says Logos is also a penetrating form of appeal. It is used throughout the entire text, when Effeminately tries to convince the reader that plagiarism is an increasing crime.Because, of course plagiarism is wrong, and he proves it by referring to the majorities opinion: â€Å"most me to agree with the notion that plagiarism – taking the work of others and presenting It as your own – Is wrong†. Another appeal to logos Is his use of connectives in the text. Connectives make him look sure of his case, for an example when he uses â€Å"of course† in the end his contention: â€Å"Students who cheat are nothing new on college campuses, of course†. All of the examples above are all signs of hidden argumentation.Hidden problem, and agree with him at the same time. With the use of hidden argumentation, the reader is influence d in the wanted direction, most likely without ensign any form of manipulation. The signs of hidden argumentation is seen in the text, when the writer refers to experts, the majority of people's opinions and if the writer is general-sizing, which is all seen in this text. The way of the composition makes the text very floating – there is a good balance between claim and evidence in the argumentation.At the same time there is a perfect comprehensive use of experts to support the argumentation. Because of the formal and high-flown language used in the article, it is to conclude that the target roof for the text must be most suitable for the academic educated people. At the same time it is not unthinkable that the text also is meant for college-students around the world. Because of the theme and the conclusion in the text, you must assume that the text's purr-pose is to enlighten the students about the serious matter of the problem: plagiarism.One of the scary things to think ab out is the fact that young students cheat because they have doubt in themselves. Either, they don't realism how smart they are, or maybe they are Just scared of hard work and failure? In reality, the main reason why students cheat is because they: â€Å"didn't think they could accomplish what they wanted to any other way'. But is the goal really accomplished, when it is accomplished with fraud? Plagiarism is so common that some people even write papers in ex-change for money.As it is told in the article: â€Å"Professor Donald Downs (†¦ ) met a man who â€Å"told me he felt like he had taken my courses. † A puzzled Downs asked the man what he meant. â€Å"He told me, ‘Vive written about 20 papers for your In conclusion, what can one do to fix the cheating? According to the article the main season to fix cheating is by talking about it, even though the topic is sensitive: ;legalism is a very difficult conversation to have because nobody quite wants to talk about it,† (†¦ You can't work on this issue unless you talk about it. † The important thing is to enlighten students about this issue, because if the students really speak the truth: then how can it be considered cheating, if they truly don't know what plagiarism is? Enlighten is also the main purpose of this article: enlighten the world about plagiarism. Set a stop to plagiarism and accomplish your goals by yourself.

The Twilight Saga 4: Breaking Dawn 1. ENGAGED

No one is staring at you,I promised myself. No one is staring at you. No one is staring at you. But, because I couldn't lie convincingly even to myself, I had to check. As I sat waiting for one of the three traffic lights in town to turn green, I peeked to the right – in her minivan, Mrs. Weber had turned her whole torso in my direction. Her eyes bored into mine, and I flinched back, wondering why she didn't drop her gaze or look ashamed. It was still considered rude to stare at people, wasn't it? Didn't that apply to me anymore? Then I remembered that these windows were so darkly tinted that she probably had no idea if it was even me in here, let alone that I'd caught her looking. I tried to take some comfort in the fact that she wasn't really staring at me, just the car. Mycar. Sigh. I glanced to the left and groaned. Two pedestrians were frozen on the sidewalk, missing their chance to cross as they stared. Behind them, Mr. Marshall was gawking through the plate-glass window of his little souvenir shop. At least he didn't have his nose pressed up against the glass. Yet. The light turned green and, in my hurry to escape, I stomped on the gas pedal without thinking – the normal way I would have punched it to get my ancient Chevy truck moving. Engine snarling like a hunting panther, the car jolted forward so fast that my body slammed into the black leather seat and my stomach flattened against my spine. â€Å"Arg!† I gasped as I fumbled for the brake. Keeping my head, I merely tapped the pedal. The car lurched to an absolute standstill anyway. I couldn't bear to look around at the reaction. If there had been any doubt as to who was driving this car before, it was gone now. With the toe of my shoe, I gently nudged the gas pedal down one half millimeter, and the car shot forward again. I managed to reach my goal, the gas station. If I hadn't been running on vapors, I wouldn't have come into town at all. I was going without a lot of things these days, like Pop-Tarts and shoelaces, to avoid spending time in public. Moving as if I were in a race, I got the hatch open, the cap off, the card scanned, and the nozzle in the tank within seconds. Of course, there was nothing I could do to make the numbers on the gauge pick up the pace. They ticked by sluggishly, almost as if they were doing it just to annoy me. It wasn't bright out – a typical drizzly day in Forks, Washington – but I still felt like a spotlight was trained on me, drawing attention to the delicate ring on my left hand. At times like this, sensing the eyes on my back, it felt as if the ring were pulsing like a neon sign: Look at me, look at me. It was stupid to be so self-conscious, and I knew that. Besides my dad and mom, did it really matter what people were saying about my engagement? About my new car? About my mysterious acceptance into an Ivy League college? About the shiny black credit card that felt red-hot in my back pocket right now? â€Å"Yeah, who cares what they think,† I muttered under my breath. â€Å"Urn, miss?† a man's voice called. I turned, and then wished I hadn't. Two men stood beside a fancy SUV with brand-new kayaks tied to the top. Neither of them was looking at me; they both were staring at the car. Personally, I didn't get it. But then, I was just proud I could distinguish between the symbols for Toyota, Ford, and Chevy. This car was glossy black, sleek, and pretty, but it was still just a car to me. â€Å"I'm sorry to bother you, but could you tell me what kind of car you're driving?† the tall one asked. â€Å"Urn, a Mercedes, right?† â€Å"Yes,† the man said politely while his shorter friend rolled his eyes at my answer. â€Å"I know. But I was wondering, is that†¦ are you driving a Mercedes Guardian?† The man said the name with reverence. I had a feeling this guy would get along well with Edward Cullen, my†¦ my fiance (there really was no getting around that truth with the wedding just days away). â€Å"They aren't supposed to be available in Europe yet,† the man went on, â€Å"let alone here.† While his eyes traced the contours of my car – it didn't look much different from any other Mercedes sedan to me, but what did I know? – I briefly contemplated my issues with words like fiance, wedding, husband, etc. I just couldn't put it together in my head. On the one hand, I had been raised to cringe at the very thought of poofy white dresses and bouquets. But more than that, I just couldn't reconcile a staid, respectable, dull concept like husband with my concept of Edward. It was like casting an archangel as an accountant; I couldn't visualize him in any commonplace role. Like always, as soon as I started thinking about Edward I was caught up in a dizzy spin of fantasies. The stranger had to clear his throat to get my attention; he was still waiting for an answer about the car's make and model. â€Å"I don't know,† I told him honestly. â€Å"Do you mind if I take a picture with it?† It took me a second to process that. â€Å"Really? You want to take a picture with the car?† â€Å"Sure – nobody is going to believe me if I don't get proof.† â€Å"Urn. Okay. Fine.† I swiftly put away the nozzle and crept into the front seat to hide while the enthusiast dug a huge professional-looking camera out of his backpack. He and his friend took turns posing by the hood, and then they went to take pictures at the back end. â€Å"I miss my truck,† I whimpered to myself. Very, very convenient – too convenient – that my truck would wheeze its last wheeze just weeks after Edward and I had agreed to our lopsided compromise, one detail of which was that he be allowed to replace my truck when it passed on. Edward swore it was only to be expected; my truck had lived a long, full life and then expired of natural causes. According to him. And, of course, I had no way to verify his story or to try to raise my truck from the dead on my own. My favorite mechanic – I stopped that thought cold, refusing to let it come to a conclusion. Instead, I listened to the men's voices outside, muted by the car walls. â€Å"†¦ went at it with a flamethrower in the online video. Didn't even pucker the paint.† â€Å"Of course not. You could roll a tank over this baby. Not much of a market for one over here. Designed for Middle East diplomats, arms dealers, and drug lords mostly.† â€Å"Think she's something?† the short one asked in a softer voice. I ducked my head, cheeks flaming. â€Å"Huh,† the tall one said. â€Å"Maybe. Can't imagine what you'd need missile-proof glass and four thousand pounds of body armor for around here. Must be headed somewhere more hazardous.† Body armor. Four thousand pounds of body armor. And missile-proof glass? Nice. What had happened to good old-fashioned bulletproof? Well, at least this made some sense – if you had a twisted sense of humor. It wasn't like I hadn't expected Edward to take advantage of our deal, to weight it on his side so that he could give so much more than he would receive. I'd agreed that he could replace my truck when it needed replacing, not expecting that moment to come quite so soon, of course. When I'd been forced to admit that the truck had become no more than a still-life tribute to classic Chevys on my curb, I knew his idea of a replacement was probably going to embarrass me. Make me the focus of stares and whispers. I'd been right about that part. But even in my darkest imaginings I had not foreseen that he would get me two cars. The â€Å"before† car and the â€Å"after† car, he'd explained when I'd flipped out. This was just the â€Å"before† car. He'd told me it was a loaner and promised that he was returning it after the wedding. It all had made absolutely no sense to me. Until now. Ha ha. Because I was so fragilely human, so accident-prone, so much a victim to my own dangerous bad luck, apparently I needed a tank-resistant car to keep me safe. Hilarious. I was sure he and his brothers had enjoyed the joke quite a bit behind my back. Or maybe, just maybe,a small voice whispered in my head, it's not a joke, silly. Maybe he's really that worried about you. This wouldn't be the first time he's gone a little overboard trying to protect you. I sighed. I hadn't seen the â€Å"after† car yet. It was hidden under a sheet in the deepest corner of the Cullens' garage. I knew most people would have peeked by now, but I really didn't want to know. Probably no body armor on that car – because I wouldn't need it after the honeymoon. Virtual indestructibility was just one of the many perks I was looking forward to. The best parts about being a Cullen were not expensive cars and impressive credit cards. â€Å"Hey,† the tall man called, cupping his hands to the glass in an effort to peer in. â€Å"We're done now. Thanks a lot!† â€Å"You're welcome,† I called back, and then tensed as I started the engine and eased the pedal – ever so gently – down___ No matter how many times I drove down the familiar road home, I still couldn't make the rain-faded flyers fade into the background. Each one of them, stapled to telephone poles and taped to street signs, was like a fresh slap in the face. A well-deserved slap in the face. My mind was sucked back into the thought I'd interrupted so immediately before. I couldn't avoid it on this road. Not with pictures of my favorite mechanic flashing past me at regular intervals. My best friend. My Jacob. Thehave you SEENthis boy? posters were not Jacob's father's idea. It had been my father, Charlie, who'd printed up the flyers and spread them all over town. And not just Forks, but Port Angeles and Sequim and Hoquiam and Aberdeen and every other town in the Olympic Peninsula. He'd made sure that all the police stations in the state of Washington had the same flyer hanging on the wall, too. His own station had a whole corkboard dedicated to finding Jacob. A corkboard that was mostly empty, much to his disappointment and frustration. My dad was disappointed with more than the lack of response. He was most disappointed with Billy, Jacob's father – and Charlie's closest friend. For Billy's not being more involved with the search for his sixteen-year-old â€Å"runaway.† For Billy's refusing to put up the flyers in La Push, the reservation on the coast that was Jacob's home. For his seeming resigned to Jacob's disappearance, as if there was nothing he could do. For his saying, â€Å"Jacob's grown up now. He'll come home if he wants to.† And he was frustrated with me, for taking Billy's side. I wouldn't put up posters, either. Because both Billy and I knew where Jacob was, roughly speaking, and we also knew that no one had seen this boy. The flyers put the usual big, fat lump in my throat, the usual stinging tears in my eyes, and I was glad Edward was out hunting this Saturday. If Edward saw my reaction, it would only make him feel terrible, too. Of course, there were drawbacks to it being Saturday. As I turned slowly and carefully onto my street, I could see my dad's police cruiser in the driveway of our home. He'd skipped fishing again today. Still sulking about the wedding. So I wouldn't be able to use the phone inside. But I had to call___ I parked on the curb behind the Chevy sculpture and pulled the cell phone Edward had given me for emergencies out of the glove compartment. I dialed, keeping my finger on the â€Å"end† button as the phone rang. Just in case. â€Å"Hello?† Seth Clearwater answered, and I sighed in relief. I was way too chicken to speak to his older sister, Leah. The phrase â€Å"bite my head off was not entirely a figure of speech when it came to Leah. â€Å"Hey, Seth, it's Bella.† â€Å"Oh, hiya, Bella! How are you?† Choked up. Desperate for reassurance. â€Å"Fine.† â€Å"Calling for an update?† â€Å"You're psychic.† â€Å"Not hardly. I'm no Alice – you're just predictable,† he joked. Among the Quileute pack down at La Push, only Seth was comfortable even mentioning the Cullens by name, let alone joking about things like my nearly omniscient sister-in-law-to-be. â€Å"I know I am.† I hesitated for a minute. â€Å"How is he?† Seth sighed. â€Å"Same as ever. He won't talk, though we know he hears us. He's trying not to think human, you know. Just going with his instincts.† â€Å"Do you know where he is now?† â€Å"Somewhere in northern Canada. I can't tell you which province. He doesn't pay much attention to state lines.† â€Å"Any hint that he might†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"He's not coming home, Bella. Sorry.† I swallowed. â€Å"S'okay, Seth. I knew before I asked. I just can't help wishing.† â€Å"Yeah. We all feel the same way.† â€Å"Thanks for putting up with me, Seth. I know the others must give you a hard time.† â€Å"They're not your hugest fans,† he agreed cheerfully. â€Å"Kind of lame, I think. Jacob made his choices, you made yours. Jake doesn't like their attitude about it. ‘Course, he isn't super thrilled that you're checking up on him, either.† I gasped. â€Å"I thought he wasn't talking to you?† â€Å"He can't hide everything from us, hard as he's trying.† So Jacob knew I was worried. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Well, at least he knew I hadn't skipped off into the sunset and forgotten him completely. He might have imagined me capable of that. â€Å"I guess I'll see you at the†¦ wedding,† I said, forcing the word out through my teeth. â€Å"Yeah, me and my mom will be there. It was cool of you to ask us.† I smiled at the enthusiasm in his voice. Though inviting the Clearwaters had been Edward's idea, I was glad he'd thought of it. Having Seth there would be nice – a link, however tenuous, to my missing best man. â€Å"It wouldn't be the same without you.† â€Å"Tell Edward I said hi, ‘kay?† â€Å"Sure thing.† I shook my head. The friendship that had sprung up between Edward and Seth was something that still boggled my mind. It was proof, though, that things didn't have to be this way. That vampires and werewolves could get along just fine, thank you very much, if they were of a mind to. Not everybody liked this idea. â€Å"Ah,† Seth said, his voice cracking up an octave. â€Å"Er, Leah's home.† â€Å"Oh! Bye!† The phone went dead. I left it on the seat and prepared myself mentally to go inside the house, where Charlie would be waiting. My poor dad had so much to deal with right now. Jacob-the-runaway was just one of the straws on his overburdened back. He was almost as worried about me, his barely-a-legal-adult daughter who was about to become a Mrs. in just a few days' time. I walked slowly through the light rain, remembering the night we'd told him___ As the sound of Charlie's cruiser announced his return, the ring suddenly weighed a hundred pounds on my finger. I wanted to shove my left hand in a pocket, or maybe sit on it, but Edward's cool, firm grasp kept it front and center. â€Å"Stop fidgeting, Bella. Please try to remember that you're not confessing to a murder here.† â€Å"Easy for you to say.† I listened to the ominous sound of my father's boots clomping up the sidewalk. The key rattled in the already open door. The sound reminded me of that part of the horror movie when the victim realizes she's forgotten to lock herdeadbolt. â€Å"Calm down, Bella,† Edward whispered, listening to the acceleration of my heart. The door slammed against the wall, and I flinched like I'd been Tasered. â€Å"Hey, Charlie,† Edward called, entirely relaxed. â€Å"No!† I protested under my breath. â€Å"What?† Edward whispered back. â€Å"Wait till he hangs his gun up!† Edward chuckled and ran his free hand through his tousled bronze hair. Charlie came around the corner, still in his uniform, still armed, and tried not to make a face when he spied us sitting together on the loveseat. Lately, he'd been putting forth a lot of effort to like Edward more. Of course, this revelation was sure to end that effort immediately. â€Å"Hey, kids. What's up?† â€Å"We'd like to talk to you,† Edward said, so serene. â€Å"We have some good news.† Charlie's expression went from strained friendliness to black suspicion in a second. â€Å"Good news?† Charlie growled, looking straight at me. â€Å"Have a seat, Dad.† He raised one eyebrow, stared at me for five seconds, then stomped to the recliner and sat down on the very edge, his back ramrod straight. â€Å"Don't get worked up, Dad,† I said after a moment of loaded silence. â€Å"Everything's okay.† Edward grimaced, and I knew it was in objection to the word okay. He probably would have used something more like wonderful or perfect or glorious. â€Å"Sure it is, Bella, sure it is. If everything is so great, then why are you sweating bullets?† â€Å"I'm not sweating,† I lied. I leaned away from his fierce scowl, cringing into Edward, and instinctively wiped the back of my right hand across my forehead to remove the evidence. â€Å"You're pregnant!† Charlie exploded. â€Å"You're pregnant, aren't you?† Though the question was clearly meant for me, he was glaring at Edward now, and I could have sworn I saw his hand twitch toward the gun. â€Å"No! Of course I'm not!† I wanted to elbow Edward in the ribs, but I knew that move would only give me a bruise. I'd told Edward that people would immediately jump to this conclusion! What other possible reason would sane people have for getting married at eighteen? (His answer then had made me roll my eyes. Love. Right.) Charlie's glower lightened a shade. It was usually pretty clear on my face when I was telling the truth, and he believed me now. â€Å"Oh. Sorry.† â€Å"Apology accepted.† There was a long pause. After a moment, I realized everyone was waiting for me to say something. I looked up at Edward, panic-stricken. There was no way I was going to get the words out. He smiled at me and then squared his shoulders and turned to my father. â€Å"Charlie, I realize that I've gone about this out of order. Traditionally, I should have asked you first. I mean no disrespect, but since Bella has already said yes and I don't want to diminish her choice in the matter, instead of asking you for her hand, I'm asking you for your blessing. We're getting married, Charlie. I love her more than anything in the world, more than my own life, and – by some miracle – she loves me that way, too. Will you give us your blessing?† He sounded so sure, so calm. For just an instant, listening to the absolute confidence in his voice, I experienced a rare moment of insight, i could see, fleetingly, the way the world looked to him. For the length of one heartbeat, this news made perfect sense. And then I caught sight of the expression on Charlie's face, his eyes now locked on the ring. I held my breath while his skin changed colors – fair to red, red to purple, purple to blue. I started to get up – I'm not sure what I planned to do; maybe use the Heimlich maneuver to make sure he wasn't choking – but Edward squeezed my hand and murmured â€Å"Give him a minute† so low that only I could hear. The silence was much longer this time. Then, gradually, shade by shade, Charlie's color returned to normal. His lips pursed, and his eyebrows furrowed; I recognized his â€Å"deep in thought† expression. He studied the two of us for a long moment, and I felt Edward relax at my side. â€Å"Guess I'm not that surprised,† Charlie grumbled. â€Å"Knew I'd have to deal with something like this soon enough.† I exhaled. â€Å"You sure about this?† Charlie demanded, glaring at me. â€Å"I'm one hundred percent sure about Edward,† I told him without missing a beat. â€Å"Getting married, though? What's the rush?† He eyed me suspiciously again. The rush was due to the fact that I was getting closer to nineteen every stinking day, while Edward stayed frozen in all his seventeen-year-old perfection, as he had for over ninety years. Not that this fact necessitated marriage in my book, but the wedding was required due to the delicate and tangled compromise Edward and I had made to finally get to this point, the brink of my transformation from mortal to immortal. These weren't things I could explain to Charlie. â€Å"We're going away to Dartmouth together in the fall, Charlie,† Edward reminded him. â€Å"I'd like to do that, well, the right way. It's how I was raised.† He shrugged. He wasn't exaggerating; they'd been big on old-fashioned morals during World War I. Charlie's mouth twisted to the side. Looking for an angle to argue from. But what could he say? I'd prefer you live in sin first? He was a dad; his hands were tied. â€Å"Knew this was coming,† he muttered to himself, frowning. Then, suddenly, his face went perfectly smooth and blank. â€Å"Dad?† I asked anxiously. I glanced at Edward, but I couldn't read his face, either, as he watched Charlie. â€Å"Ha!† Charlie exploded. I jumped in my seat. â€Å"Ha, ha, ha!† I stared incredulously as Charlie doubled over in laughter; his whole body shook with it. I looked at Edward for a translation, but Edward had his lips pressed tightly together, like he was trying to hold back laughter himself. â€Å"Okay, fine,† Charlie choked out. â€Å"Get married.† Another roll of laughter shook through him. â€Å"But†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"But what?† I demanded. â€Å"But you have to tell your mom! I'm not saying one word to Renee! That's all yours!† He busted into loud guffaws. I paused with my hand on the doorknob, smiling. Sure, at the time, Charlie's words had terrified me. The ultimate doom: telling Renee. Early marriage was higher up on her blacklist than boiling live puppies. Who could have foreseen her response? Not me. Certainly not Charlie. Maybe Alice, but I hadn't thought to ask her. â€Å"Well, Bella,† Renee had said after I'd choked and stuttered out the impossible words: /Worn, I'm marrying Edward. Tm a little miffed that you waited so long to tell me. Plane tickets only get more expensive. Oooh,† she'd fretted. â€Å"Do you think Phil's cast will be off by then? It will spoil the pictures if he's not in a tux – â€Å" â€Å"Back up a second, Mom.† I'd gasped. â€Å"What do you mean, waited so long? I just got en-en . . .† – I'd been unable to force out the word engaged – â€Å"things settled, you know, today.† â€Å"Today? Really? That is a surprise. I assumed †¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"What did you assume? When did you assume?† â€Å"Well, when you came to visit me in April, it looked like things were pretty much sewn up, if you know what I mean. You're not very hard to read, sweetie. But I didn't say anything because I knew it wouldn't do any good. You're exactly like Charlie.† She'd sighed, resigned. â€Å"Once you make up your mind, there is no reasoning with you. Of course, exactly like Charlie, you stick by your decisions, too.† And then she'd said the last thing that I'd ever expected to hear from my mother. â€Å"You're not making my mistakes, Bella. You sound like you're scared silly, and I'm guessing it's because you're afraid of me.† She'd giggled. â€Å"Of what I'm going to think. And I know I've said a lot of things about marriage and stupidity – and I'm not taking them back – but you need to realize that those things specifically applied to me. You're a completely different person than I am. You make your own kinds of mistakes, and I'm sure you'll have your share of regrets in life. But commitment was never your problem, sweetie. You have a better chance of making this work than most forty-year-olds I know.† Renee had laughed again. â€Å"My little middle-aged child. Luckily, you seem to have found another old soul.† â€Å"You're not†¦ mad? You don't think I'm making a humongous mistake?† â€Å"Well, sure, I wish you'd wait a few more years. I mean, do I look old enough to be a mother-in-law to you? Don't answer that. But this isn't about me. This is about you. Are you happy?† â€Å"I don't know. I'm having an out-of-body experience right now.† Renee had chuckled. â€Å"Does he make you happy, Bella?† â€Å"Yes, but – â€Å" â€Å"Are you ever going to want anyone else?† â€Å"No, but – â€Å" â€Å"But what?† â€Å"But aren't you going to say that I sound exactly like every other infatuated teenager since the dawn of time?† â€Å"You've never been a teenager, sweetie. You know what's best for you.† For the last few weeks, Renee had unexpectedly immersed herself in wedding plans. She'd spent hours every day on the phone with Edward's mother, Esme – no worries about the in-laws getting along. Renee adored Esme, but then, I doubted anyone could help responding that way to my lovable almost-mother-in-law. It let me right off the hook. Edward's family and my family were taking care of the nuptials together without my having to do or know or think too hard about any of it. Charlie was furious, of course, but the sweet part was that he wasn't furious at me. Renee was the traitor. He'd counted on her to play the heavy. What could he do now, when his ultimate threat – telling Mom – had turned out to be utterly empty? He had nothing, and he knew it. So he moped around the house, muttering things about not being able to trust anyone in this world___ â€Å"Dad?† I called as I pushed open the front door. â€Å"I'm home.† â€Å"Hold on, Bells, stay right there.† â€Å"Huh?† I asked, pausing automatically. â€Å"Gimme a second. Ouch, you got me, Alice.† Alice? â€Å"Sorry, Charlie,† Alice's trilling voice responded. â€Å"How's that?† â€Å"I'm bleeding on it.† â€Å"You're fine. Didn't break the skin – trust me.† â€Å"What's going on?† I demanded, hesitating in the doorway. â€Å"Thirty seconds, please, Bella,† Alice told me. â€Å"Your patience will be rewarded.† â€Å"Humph,† Charlie added. I tapped my foot, counting each beat. Before I got to thirty, Alice said, â€Å"Okay, Bella, come in!† Moving with caution, I rounded the little corner into our living room. â€Å"Oh,† I huffed. â€Å"Aw. Dad. Don't you look – â€Å" â€Å"Silly?† Charlie interrupted. â€Å"I was thinking more like debonair† Charlie blushed. Alice took his elbow and tugged him around into a slow spin to showcase the pale gray tux. â€Å"Now cut that out, Alice. I look like an idiot.† â€Å"No one dressed by me ever looks like an idiot.† â€Å"She's right, Dad. You look fabulous! What's the occasion?† Alice rolled her eyes. â€Å"It's the final check on the fit. For both of you.† I peeled my gaze off the unusually elegant Charlie for the first time and saw the dreaded white garment bag laid carefully across the sofa. â€Å"Aaah.† â€Å"Go to your happy place, Bella. It won't take long.† I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes. Keeping them shut, I stumbled my way up the stairs to my room. I stripped down to my underwear and held my arms straight out. â€Å"You'd think I was shoving bamboo splinters under your nails,† Alice muttered to herself as she followed me in. I paid no attention to her. I was in my happy place. In my happy place, the whole wedding mess was over and done. Behind me. Already repressed and forgotten. We were alone, just Edward and me. The setting was fuzzy and constantly in flux – it morphed from misty forest to cloud-covered city to arctic night – because Edward was keeping the location of our honeymoon a secret to surprise me. But I wasn't especially concerned about the where part. Edward and I were together, and I'd fulfilled my side of our compromise perfectly. I'd married him. That was the big one. But I'd also accepted all his outrageous gifts and was registered, however futilely, to attend Dartmouth College in the fall. Now it was his turn. Before he turned me into a vampire – his big compromise – he had one other stipulation to make good on. Edward had an obsessive sort of concern over the human things that I would be giving up, the experiences he didn't want me to miss. Most of them – like the prom, for example – seemed silly to me. There was only one human experience I worried about missing. Of course it would be the one he wished I would forget completely. Here was the thing, though. I knew a little about what I was going to be like when I wasn't human anymore. I'd seen newborn vampires firsthand, and I'd heard all my family-to-be's stories about those wild early days. For several years, my biggest personality trait was going to be thirsty, it would take some time before I could be me again. And even when I was in control of myself, I would never feel exactly the way I felt now. Human†¦ and passionately in love. I wanted the complete experience before I traded in my warm, breakable, pheromone-riddled body for something beautiful, strong†¦ and unknown. I wanted a real honeymoon with Edward. And, despite the danger he feared this would put me in, he'd agreed to try. I was only vaguely aware of Alice and the slip and slide of satin over my skin. I didn't care, for the moment, that the whole town was talking about me. I didn't think about the spectacle I would have to star in much too soon. I didn't worry about tripping on my train or giggling at the wrong moment or being too young or the staring audience or even the empty seat where my best friend should be. I was with Edward in my happy place.

Case Study of Gucci Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1750 words

Case Study of Gucci - Essay Example Most brands products of Gucci group of companies suffered a drop in sales in the wake of the 2008 economic crisis except the two strong brands whose sales increased even in the most extreme of circumstances. Due to the circumstances involving the general drop in sales volume and the traditional beliefs and sales concepts, it is important that Gucci explores the best marketing model or mix to employ so as to revamp the market. One of the popular marketing strategy/model is the Ansoff Growth marketing mix. This describes the growth of a business in its attempt to market new or regular products in a new market or previously existing market. It therefore brings together growth in the market and growth or increase in brand of an organization. Ansoff can be achieved through various strategies such as market penetration, market development, product development and product diversification (Pickton & Broderick 2005). Market penetration involves the marketing of the products or the specific br and in existing market with an aim of increasing the market proportion for the product which can be achieved through the 7 P’s of marketing. ... wear whose sales have dropped since they are neither producing new brands nor investing in a new market but trying to retain their market share amid a crisis. Under the Ansoff mix, marketing development is also a strategy which involves seeking new markets for an existing product. The methods used can include exploiting new geographical markets through exporting or setting up of outlets where they originally did not exist. The company can also adopt a new distribution channel which will ensure the product penetrates into the markets it did not attract. In this case, other methods such as differential pricing can be used to attract consumers of different economic or social status (Mao and Krishnan 2006). Since Gucci might have limited their market in terms of size, the company should consider increasing the market size for the product whose sales volume is on the decline so as to ensure a balance. Ansoff also includes product development where a company undertakes to introduce a new p roduct into the market and will require new competencies and modified products. Gucci is more concerned about its products which are on the decline but could choose to restructure their brands so as to produce more acceptable brands into the market and therefore avoid declining sales. Apart from all this strategies under Ansoff, the company may also opt for market diversification. This is a marketing strategy of exploiting totally new markets without prior experience or knowledge of the market. It is a risk venture which might result into unprecedented losses if not carefully approached but should be taken if circumstances demand. In the middle of the economic crisis, Gucci should not take this approach since it might result into more losses, especially the costs involved in promotion so as

Social Law Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 2000 words

Social Law - Essay Example Link between corporate crime and Social crime Corporate crimes engage planning, tactical residency the deviance ought to be harmful to people exterior of a corporation or rather the deviance of corporate representatives ought to extend the intentions and desires of a Corporation. The deviance should be supported or abided by top administrative and/or colleagues. The prime recipient of this deviant deed is the corporation. Social crime denotes a cluster of peoples who occupy a comparable place in the economic structure of production. In that classification profession is extremely vital since it offers monetary incentives, steadiness and benefits like healthcare. Has the law’s view of the criminal responsibility of corporations changed over the years? The conclusion of the century provides a chance to mirror on legal replies to alterations in social and monetary organization. Increasing dependence on sophisticated expertise, the developing trendy terminology of risk, and endeavo rs to position the wherewithal of criminal law in opposition to business ventures are a number of the expressions of those alterations. There has developed a debate concerning probable criminal accountability for 'Millennium Bug' tragedies captures these prime features of modern life. Civil and Criminal Law Civil decree endeavors to determine non-criminal arguments for instance divergences over the connotations of contracts, land ownership, annulment, child care, and harms for individual and property denting. Civil law ought to be used since its purpose is to give a legal solution to resolve problems. Criminal decree is that organization of the decree that tackles conduct deemed so dangerous to community entirely that it is forbidden by statute, impeached and penalized by the governing body (Gardner and Terry, 17). Criminal law is a matter of enforcement looking in the sheriff viewpoint. A sheriff is a bureaucrat of the court, plus his chief purpose and role is to serve and performs the diverse legal courses and mandates issued. Secondly, Divisional and government department policies and courses are reliable throughout the court case law in the U.S. These rules are crafted and established to cover the accurate, prompt, and judicious service and implementation of all matters regarding the enforcement of consents and course. Thirdly, the FEC has private power over the public enforcement of the centralized fight against finance law. In implementing that influence, the Commission utilizes a multiplicity of techniques to uncover probable election law breaches. How crime in the streets is viewed versus how crime in the suites is viewed by society? By means of burglary and fraud as two paradigms, the judgments indicate that public viewpoints of sanction conviction and relentlessness advocated that street criminals were exceptionally credible to be caught and be judged to more harsh sentences as opposed to white-collar criminals. There is much debate on which crime sh ould be punished severely. Both crimes are perceived to receive the exact sentence and are at par. With this in consideration, there is no varying perception in crime in the suites, and it is not supposed to be changing. Question Two Functionalist verses Conflict view of change Conflict philosophers perceive social change as happening merely via infighting amid social classes. Even as, it is factual that numerous revolutions have emerged in the emergence of class plus/or cluster conflict, it is a terrific deal different from the outlook functionalists inclination. Functionalists characteristically employ the additional tangible factors, for example, population development and industrial advances as pioneering the indict