World Today :: essays papers

World Today The world today, more than ever, is a steadly shrinking planet, as new technology allows us to cross boundaries and attempt feats that were once only dreams of science fiction novelists. Yet, even as progress roots out old ways of life, and new technology makes obsolete time honored traditions, we never lose sight of the rich cultures to which our earth is home. Even today, the world is still a colorful and vibrant place, filled with a myriad of exotic cultures, each with its own unique and enthralling history and traditions. It is this increasing charm and fascination with the ancient that invariably draws the curiosity of outsiders. This fact has even permeated itself throughout my life. No matter where I go and wherever I end up, there is always some measure of curiosity concerning the other hemisphere of the world. Before and especially following any significant trip, I repeatedly face the same line of inquiry, â€Å"What is the Middle East like?†. To this question I have often respond with a casual and simple answer, â€Å"It’s okay†. Upon my return from the Middle East this past summer however, I began to feel this response horriblyinsufficient, and I decided to contemplate a more meaningful answer. I quickly came across amental block as I started thinking to myself, how could I ever possibly convey the sights, the sounds and the feelings of this region, so vibrant and culturally rich, to anyone who has not had the fortune to see it for themselves? Despite these difficulties, I began to draft my thoughts. In an attempt to bring in perspective the rich and inspiring heritage of the region, I progressively began to picture my most recent vacation to Arabia, and letting my memories take charge, I began describing to the best of my ability t he highlights of my trip. Dawn crept up sluggishly the day I arrived in Saudi Arabia after my twenty-eight hour flight. After fighting, unsuccessfuly, for a few hours of some much needed sleep, I was just about to drift into doze off when the nearby mu’athin announced the dawn prayer, calling all faithful Muslims to their morning religious duty. Trying to turn over and sleep after an exhausting trip, I found my efforts compromised by the piercing bright desert sun that now edged over the horizon. Rousing myself from bed, I readied myself for the coming day, planing and imagining what each successive day would bring. Reintroducing myself to familiar sights, I noticed the same young boys from so

Women in Tennessee Williams A Streetcar Named Desire and Arthur Miller

Women in Tennessee Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire and Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman The part of Stella and Linda are both archetypal female figures in that they follow the typical fictional role of the submissive wife and mother. In A Streetcar Named Desire, Stella DuBois (renamed Mrs. Stanley Kowalski) supports and forgives her husband, defending him against any criticism. Likewise, in Death of a Salesman, Linda - the only female character with any import - is a meek, timid figure around her husband. This weakness is underscored by the sentence structure and diction that each character uses when in conflict with their husband. As both Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller are men, it can be seen that their female characters tend to be what men would desire in women, without giving a too-accurate portrayal of an actual person. Stella and Linda are both symbols of the deferential wife and mother, not convincing portraits of women. Stella and Linda are both thought of only in relation to the other characters. They exist to support their husbands and defend them from other characters. Both Stella and Linda attempt to blind themselves to their husbands' flaws, and apologize to other characters for their husbands' actions. When Stanley gets drunk, smashes the radio and window, and hits Stella, Stella must apologize to Blanche for Stanley's behavior: "He's half-drunk!"; "He didn't know what he was doing... He was as good as a lamb when I came back and he's really very, very ashamed of himself." All that Stella can do is make excuses for his behavior, not blaming him for anything: "People have got to tolerate each others' habits, I guess." It is in this scene (4) that the audience truly sees Stella... ...laces, especially in scene 3: "All of you - please go home! If any one of you have one spark of decency in you-"; "You lay your hands on me and I'll-". This is realistic for some women who are submissive to their husbands, more so than perhaps the characters' actions, but the portrayal of the women characters as weak and wavering spouses is not realistic when it is the only female element. There are no strong female characters in either A Streetcar Named Desire of Death of a Salesman. Stella and Linda are dutiful wives, inferior to their husbands, who forgive and support them in spite of abuse. This is shown by their change in sentence structure and diction. Perhaps some males desire unconditional support and surrender from their wives, but to portray all females as weak women at the every beck and call of their husbands is unrealistic and inaccurate.

Western Art Discussion

Exit Through the Gift Shop is a movie directed by Banksy which is centered around Thierry Guetta – Mr. Brain Wash- a Frenchman. Guetta created exhibits of art consisting of many pre-existing prints. Using a computer, he distorted them and probably managed to sell them for some million dollars. Banksy’s film does not show much about Banksy. Rather, he filmed it in a way that takes a look at what factors make contemporary art unfit. This movie is thus not such an interesting one. t is however more educative and can enable one to enhance their artwork if they are keen with the production (Ryzik). A more disappointing aspect of this movie is that Terry seems to dominate the movie although Bankys is supposed to feature more to showcase his movement of the art. Terry must seek to show that Banksy was a London-based infamous graffiti artist who was however never known by people. This situation could thus be seen a big ridicule. Banksy tries to demonstrate that contemporary art needs people with big finances so that they can have access to a large exhibition to market their products besides gaining fame. Thierry cannot be regarded as an artist since he reproduces work which has already being done by other people. he however employs professionals to help him during his work. In conclusion Thierry’s documentary about Banky's excellence in his own career is just a contribution to the work of art especially regarding how one can come up in the art industry and finally excel.

A Night To Forget

The wind blow violently through the church-yard, wiping the hair off of Abi's face, as she looked down at her mothers grave. At the corner of a church a man with dark hair and piercing green eyes stared across at her. â€Å"It's no good girls we are going to have to call it a night. It's been absolutely fantastic, hard to believe it's my last night as a single woman, but I will be in no fit state to get married tomorrow if we don't go now,† wailed Jeannie. The mob of giggling girls tumbled out of the night-club, none of them noticing the tall dark man who floated out after them. Wanna lift home Rachel, we're all taking a cab,† screamed one of the girls, clutching on to Jeannie with one hand round her neck holding her upright. â€Å"No, I'm fine you lot, I've drank a bit much, perhaps walking home will clear my head. Anyway it's not far. † â€Å"Ok Rachel, we all know you can look after yourself,† said Jeannie with a wink, and a fit of laughter met her words. With a last fleeting look at the remnants of the wild hen night, Rachel turned to walk the few streets home. Rachel turned the corner, humming softly to herself reminiscing about the night and her friends, † I cant believe there's only one of us left who's still single,† she spoke the words with slight regret, â€Å"At least Jeannie found the man she had always wanted†. â€Å"Pete wouldn't be too happy about the man that was paying me rather too much attention, in the night-club. I wish he was going to be home tonight, we could talk more about, perhaps, getting married ourselves†. She hugged herself at the thought, perhaps it would be her turn to get married next! At that moment two men in the park caught her eye both walking quickly but far apart from one another. One had a huge German shepherd which wagged its tail at the sight of her, but as the man bent down to reprimand it, and she smiled to herself, â€Å"There are loads of people out tonight must have been something big going on†. She debated if she should cut through the park, â€Å"Should I, shan't I, well it'll be quicker. † She crossed the street and entered the park, the swings were squeaking, and the wind whistled through the trees, picking up speed and making her hair cover her face. Someone coughed behind her, she jumped in the air, peering around she breathed a sigh of relief, it was only the butcher Frank. She greeted him and carried on home, the wind continued whistling around her. There was a huge rustling in the evergreen bushes near her feet, she held her breath and looked pointedly up at the increasingly darkening sky, until she felt something brush her hand. She looked down suddenly at the wet floor, the black tarmac path covered with a festering film of moss and the sight that met her eyes was very surprising as it was the great shaggy head of the German Shepherd she had seen earlier. Rain started pouring down in droplets the size of 50 pence pieces and began running of gutters and roofs, the rain plastering her hair to her sweaty face as though buckets of water were being repeatedly dropped on her head. The moon which had given her light, now became covered by the heavy black storm clouds, and it was the occasional lightening strike which seemed to land increasingly closer each time which gave a second of illumination before plunging the street around her into darkness yet again. The sound of a fire alarm rang in the distance but she focused her mind it wasn't something for her to deal with tonight. She started to walk quicker, and glanced behind her but the man seemed to be the same distance away, she broke into a frantic kind of run, her face contorting as she tried to keep her mind, she was so close to the end of the park. As she rounded the next bend, only two streets away from her house, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She peered over her shoulder and was more than a little bit surprised to see the man who had been walking across the park behind her. His hair was dark, and he was exceedingly tall, was he the man who had flirted with her at the night-club? His face was covered in shadow and his eyes were looking at the floor and his hands were in his pockets. She sighed, of course, she did live in a busy area it wasn't that odd for someone to be walking this way. She carried on walking checking behind her every now and then and becoming increasingly worried that after several minutes he still was following her, this couldn't possibly be normal, could it? She started humming again but the tune was slightly distorted as her breathing became shallow and she had to gasp for air as her throat was constricting. She plunged her hand into her bag, it crawling around searching, searching for her keys. Pete always complained that she could never find her keys, suddenly her hand grasped around then. The lights in the house were out, her flat mate wasn't in either, she sprinted up the drive to the house, one last lightening strike making her panic stricken face light up, â€Å"shit, shit† she cried thrusting the bent key into the lock. She gave one vital turn on the key and hear the lock snap open, she threw the door open and slammed it shut behind her and leant back on the door her breath coming out in great rasping breaths. She gave a huge sigh of relief and sunk down onto the rough, wooden floor. â€Å"He was probably innocent and wasn't doing anything wrong but, phew that was just too scary†. Rachel, slowly got to her feet and climbed the winding staircase made of old pine with the creaky first step. As here feet found there way to tiled landing floor she pushed open the door and slowly made her way through the catastrophic mess of books and clothes that was her bedroom all scattered over a periwinkle blue carpet. She then slowly tiptoed through the junk to the bathroom and leant over the bath to turn on the exceedingly rusty, hot tap. A sound met here ears which could not have had anything to do with her, the step at the bottom of the stair had given an almighty creak, her head shot up and she turned to face the door on to the landing. â€Å"That couldn't have been anybody. No I must have imagined it. † Rachel then slipped out of her pale lilac, dress which had rested a couple of inches above her knobbly knees, and pulled on her woollen dressing gown. The water flooded into the bath as she made her way out of the room and slowly descended the old staircase and stumbled into the kitchen, â€Å"I must have drunk far too much† she moaned softly slightly slurring each word. She reached for kettle to fill it with water only to notice the tap was dripping. That couldn't have been her, so she leant forward to turn it on properly. The door creaked behind her and she spun round, no one was there but the door was swinging slowly. Open, shut, open, shut. She crept to the door, but before she had got two paces across the room she uttered a small, quickly stifled shout. She felt something-soft winding itself between her legs. It was Emily, her cat. Rachel got back up from stroking her scary little friend to turn the dripping tap off. No longer was it dripping. She shook her head violently, blond hair cascading over her face, â€Å"no one is in here, its fine. † She cautiously, walked through the door into the hall and felt the soft sheepskin rug rub between her toes, her heart beating hard against her ribcage, and her palms oozing sweat. She turned the corner to climb the stairs, and silently ascended the stairs yet again, and she walked into the bathroom. The water was no longer running, this was no longer a joke someone had to be in the house? â€Å"Raquel are you here? Please tell me your joking around? Its not funny you know, please come out,† she cried into the silence her breath coming out in short gasps, her eyes flitting from the landing and the stairs to her bedroom, the two closest places to her. She fled down the stairs to the kitchen her feet echoing loudly, on the wooden steps. â€Å"No. No, who's in here,† her shouts went unanswered in the big house. She leant back wards against the kitchen ledge and put her hands behind her each on a part of the kitchen worktop. She squeezed her hands against the rough marbled side, and felt some thing rustle under one of her palms. She picked it up, a single scrap of paper and turned round to read it on the kitchen side. Looking forward to seeing you again sweetheart. Her hands began to tremble, and the hairs on the back of her neck stuck up. Bang! The door swung open on its hinges. â€Å"I told you we would meet again†. He said smirking at her, his eyes looking her up and down, his gaze then lingering on her face. â€Å"Y-y-you, shouldn't b-be in here†. She stammered. â€Å"What do u mean I shouldn't be in here, darling. I'm in love with you. We are destined to be together. † â€Å"You've no right to be in here, how'd you get in† Rachel said her voice slightly stronger now, as she regained her senses after the shock of seeing him there. â€Å"Why, do all, of the girls say that, I hated it when the other girls said that! † he said, his greasy voice becoming less cosseting and more fierce. W-w-what do you mean by others,† the stammers returned, her fears now staring her in the face as she realised what he could do. â€Å"Oh, I just meant the other women I liked, not that they are still around anymore. They decided they didn't like me. † His voice suggesting that this was nothing out of the ordinary. â€Å"There was, Miranda, Polly, Florenec and, oh, Abi. † He said counting them off on his fingers. â€Å"W-what do you mean there not around anymore? † she asked tentatively. â€Å"What do you think I mean darling? † he replied. Trying to placate him she responded, â€Å"oh, I expect you mean that they just moved away. † He laughed, â€Å"course they did darling, moved to heaven or hell. † Rachel realised that the man in her house was seriously deranged and that she was in mortal danger. She knew she needed to get away from him, as quickly as possible, but with legs that felt like jelly she wasn't sure how she would achieve this. A strange clicking noise could just be heard coming from the direction of the hall they both turned to it, he asked sharply, â€Å"what's that? She replied, â€Å"Oh I often here that noise I don't know what it is, don't worry about it, knowing that it was the door bell with its nearly flat battery. Rachel knew that all she needed to do now was get to the doorbell with out alerting his suspicions. Suddenly with no warning he lunged forward, wrapping his muscular arm around her defenceless neck. He hissed in her ear, â€Å"Do you think I'm stupid there is someone at the door isn't there? † Rachel slumped forward, her weight catching him unprepared, he staggered under her weight. Suddenly a sharp pain shot through his lower body, he stepped backwards shaking his head, moaning â€Å"what's going on,† not quite comprehending what was happening and completely unprepared for the next sharp blow that struck him over the head knocking him to the floor. There was a huge commotion at the front door, clearly somebody was trying to open it without the benefit of a key. The door suddenly gave way and several huge men powered through the door looking around, in there midst was a familiar hairy face. As the men dealt with the now unconscious would be attacker, Rachel buried her head in Rex the German shepherds shaggy coat. She took a deep breath and turned to her colleagues to ask, â€Å"what the hell kept you. † Her inspector patted her on the back saying, † well done Sergeant you played your role well, the way you stumbled home those orange juices must have been very strong but at least this murdering bastered will soon be under lock and key. â€Å"By the way sergeant exactly w2hat did you do to him before we got here? † she replied smiling, â€Å"that's what comes from having a boyfriend who's a Karate 6th Dan. The operation went smoothly enough, mind you I though Rex was gonna blow our cover when he came to see me through the bushes in the park! â€Å"

Black Men And Public Spaces Essay Research

Black Men And Public Spaces Essay, Research Paper Today, when a black individual walks around at dark, they are automatically thought of as being a trouble maker. Peoples will frequently make everything possible to avoid a black individual, be it walk on the other side of the street or traverse a street at a different country. Black Men and Public Space, by Brent Staples, demonstrates merely what truly happens to a black individual when he/she is walking about at dark, or even during the center of the twenty-four hours. Staples uses personal experiences and narratives he heard about other black work forces to turn out his point. He leads off with an illustration of a adult female who was walking down a street in Chicago and Staples was walking down the same street behind her. He noticed that she kept picking up her gait of walking, finally making a slow running gait. Within seconds, she disappeared from his sight, all because he was a black adult male walking down a street at dark. It was because of this one experience that he learns of his ability to change public infinite in ugly ways. Staples describes himself as a softie who is barely able to take a knife to a natural poulet, allow entirely keep one to a individual s pharynx. Many black people today, who are merely like Staples, are mistaken for muggers, rapers, and liquidators. He realized that being perceived as unsafe is a jeopardy in itself. All he needed to make was to turn a corner into a bad state of affairs, or herd some scared, armed individual, or do an errant move at a constabulary officer, and he could weave up injury or even dead. He so moved to Brooklyn, and it is the same here as it was in Chicago. Women will non look at him when he passes by, they have their bags cleaving against their organic structures, and they forge in front as though they are playing football and are being tackled. He understands why adult females act this manner towards him. Womans are peculiarly susceptible to force and immature black work forces are the representatives of these pe rpetrators. He attributes his non-violent attitude to his childhood. In the vicinity that he grew up in, he was barely noticeable against a background of pack warfare, street knifings, and slayings. He was one of the good male childs, and he had to endure as if he was one of the bad 1s. I saw infinite tough cats locked off ; I have since buried several excessively ( Staples 153 ) . He has seen a adolescent cousin, a brother, and a friend all lowered into the land. Due to all of this, he chose to stay a shadow-timid, but a subsister. Other illustrations Staples utilizations to demo his ability to change public infinite are when he was mistaken for a burglar in his ain office. The director called the constabulary and the lone manner Staples could turn out that he in fact did work at that place was to happen person who knew him. Another clip he was killing clip before and interview and decided to travel into a jewellery shop. The proprietor excused herself, and so returned with a large Doberman pinscher ready to assail. He took a intimation, and left the shop. He besides describes a narrative he heard about another black journalist who was mistaken for the liquidator in a narrative he was covering. What is this universe coming to when a black journalist can non cover a narrative without being under intuition that he is a suspect, all because of his race? Equally chilling as this may sound, it is the truth. Be it in a large metropolis or one the size of Williamsport, these sorts of things happen. One could set this theory to the trial. Just base on a pavement for an hr or two on a busy dark, and number how many people will change their way in order to avoid contact with a black individual. One could reason that black people have the same rights as Whites do today. Yes, the fundamental law says so, but what about the right to walk down a street and non be thought of as being a liquidator or raper? Yes, black people and white people are purportedly treated every bit, but inkinesss today do non hold all the same rights as Whites do.

Michael Jordan Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1000 words

Michael Jordan - Essay Example r significantly influenced the game itself, and the style of playing, and the experts state that â€Å"as a phenomenal athlete with a unique combination of grace, speed, power, artistry, improvisational ability and an unquenchable competitive desire, Jordan single-handedly redefined the NBA superstar.† (Kieller) Moreover, even the stars of the same format, equally experienced and successful players, recognized his uniqueness and paid homage to his talent. For instance, Magic Johnson stated: Theres Michael Jordan and then there is the rest of us." Larry Bird, in his turn, spoke of him as of a talented player at the beginning of his star career: â€Å""God disguised as Michael Jordan.† (gtd in Michael Jordan Biography) It’s evident that his impact in sport development and popular culture is great, and it’s much more greater than awards he received and the championships he won with his team. He started his career in the basketball league as a recruit with his dizzy dunks, and his drives and his unique style, and by the end he became almost an icon of several generations, and a part of popular culture. He is the person who spread the popularity of basketball league in global sense, who made basketball a significant part of popular culture, and shared his style with millions of people. (Michael Jordan Player Info) Jordan is famous for his personal unique style of playing. Nike signed a contract with him to advertise shoes, and this company gambled on his extreme popularity and appeal, but the results surpassed all expectations. This is how it is described by the experts in marketing and advertising: â€Å"One version of the sneakers he wore in his first preseason was an unseen before blend of his teams red and black colors that the NBA initially considered in violation of the "uniformity of uniform rule. Subject to fines if he continued to wear them, he occasionally did and the demand for that version and others in the Air Jordan line was unprecedented†. (qtd in

The war on drugs - argumentative research paper

The war on drugs - argumentative - Research Paper Example Drug wars seek to alleviate the problem, and offer a lasting solution towards drug users through elimination of the sources of drugs throughout the globe. Drug use was prominent in years prior to institution of measures that were assumed to regulate utilization of drugs among the American populace. In earlier years, drugs found numerous applications in production of foods and drinks around America. For instance, Coca-Cola utilized cocaine in drink manufacture until some period in 1903, while opium was utilized for infants with colic and was considered an OTC drug (Toll 427). The other drug that was utilized during this epoch was heroin and found greater appliance as cough depressant. Although people developed dependence on these drugs, alcohol remained the biggest setback yet it has not been contemplated as harmful with respect to other drugs. Various legislative acts were utilized in phasing off drug exploitation within the society, thus indicating commencement of war on drugs. The period when drugs were never regulated showed little discrepancies with regard to utilization of drugs, despite the actuality that drugs are currently regulated. Restrictions on drug use never commenced until the closing stages of 19th century, which led to prologue of various enactment at all levels of government. However, drug trade got these restrictions on racial grounds, since certain races were involved in drug trades around America. The preliminary enactment transpired in 1906, which aimed at directing the cataloging of medications and at the same time, prevent production or delivery of adulterated commodities in trade among states (Toll 427). The enactments progressed throughout the years, since the initial enactment leading to the current struggles towards the alleviation of drug utilization within the societal context. Prologue of Harrison Act served to prohibit drug sales to