...My names Alfred dinglebopper.me and my friend Ronald need money fast.it all goes back to the trip to mexico we took,with took forever to same up for.the plan was to got to mexico for a weekend to relax. It was me Ronald and our friend and leader john. It was our treat for hom saving our buts so many times before.but it all went downhill when we left the resort to go to the beach.we were just about to leave but he needed to go to the bathroom. He got back just fine he was five feet from us when an entire gang jumped out of the corner and kidnapped him.ronald and i thought he was gone until a ransom note was slipped under our door. They wanted 10 million dollars in exchange for his life.now this was a problem considering that there are no components...
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...Another day has gone I'm still all alone How could this be You're not here with me You never said goodbye Someone tell me why Did you have to go And leave my world so cold Everyday I sit and ask myself How did love slip away Something whispers in my ear and says That you are not alone For I am here with you Though you're far away I am here to stay You are not alone I am here with you Though we're far apart You're always in my heart You are not alone All alone Why, oh Just the other night I thought I heard you cry Asking me to come And hold you in my arms I can hear your prayers Your burdens I will bear But first I need your hand So forever can begin Everyday I sit and ask myself How did love slip away Then something whispers in my ear and says That you are not alone For I am here with you Though you're far away I am here to stay For you are not alone I am here with you Though we're far apart You're always in my heart And you are not alone Whisper three words and I'll come runnin' And girl you know that I'll be there I'll be there You are not alone I am here with you Though you're far away I am here to stay You are not alone I am here with you Though we're far apart You're always in my heart You are not alone For I am here with you Though you're far away I am here to stay For you are not alone For I am here with you Though we're far apart You're always in my heart For you are not...
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...trauma. The stare has a history as long as war itself; the cause has had many names including soldier’s heart, irritable heart, traumatic neuroses, shell shock, war hysteria, combat stress reaction, Vietnam veterans syndrome, and fright neuroses, today it is called combat post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD. Personally, I have been diagnosed with combat PTSD and I have professionally treated other victims of combat PTSD, making it a very...
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...created a demand for a new visionary technology which is fast, convenient and more important up to date. As the movement away from printed media increase and the explosion of PDA devices into the market, there is potential for a new company to link the media world with wireless technology. A new innovative software allowing users to subscribe to the most up to the minute information in an easy user friendly fashion and directly on a piece of hardware that is essential in everyone’s lives, is exactly the answer. I write to you today, The New AT&T, the leading cell phone provider with the most international capabilities to ask that you consider funding our SIT software (stay in touch), which in turn will be implemented on your PDA hardware devices. Our SIT software compatible with your PDA device will enable users to view the most instant and accurate information of newspapers, magazines, bloggs and specialty media sources from all around the world. To this end, I will argue that in the future this technology will offer a powerful tool for individuals that want multiple sources of information from around the world that is easily presented on the hardware device they already own. Being well aware that there are other concepts similar to ours that already exist, we will support our vision by applying concepts from IS research to the constantly evolving world of technology. In particular, we will relate our vision to the concepts of the socio-technical model in two separate models...
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...Gard Professor Standifer Composition I, Argument Essay November 1, 2010 Corey Gard Professor Standifer Composition I, Argument Essay 1 November 2010 Denial Is The Root Of All Evil Row along you rower of sorts, row fast and row slow, row until you can row no more, then row somemore. Row hard enough that your arms fill with cramps and your hair turns white with stress, row until your back pains with your incessant, consistent, ritualistically morbid and mentally dangerous norms. But, row long enough and you will become tired of this ridiculous method of transportation and long for something better, a propellor perhaps to do the rowing for you? And as you sit peacefully behind the wheel of your new vessel, somewhere inside of your newly relaxed mind, ideas emerge, that incredible longing for the different. You may awaken from a restful night of sleep, peer out the window and glimpse this “reality” this life that we have found ourselves with which was built from the backs and necks of our parent’s parents’ parents…etc. and realize many questions that lie just below the surface, these questions of which we are simply unable, until this moment, to ask. Questions like, why exactly is our society does the mighty dollar have the final say? Why are our minds structured by absolutes? (hell no! or hell yes!) Why, even though the idea in itself is morally wrong, do we accept ourselves as part of a Capitalist union? Or even, why we simply “sit back and plug-in” to our next fix when...
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...I've watched her. For so long I have seen her struggle and fight. Demons and monsters rip her apart each night, and every morning she puts on that same bright smile and cheers everyone up. I watch as the room becomes slightly brighter when she walks in with a smile as warm as the sun. Her friends don't see past her happy mask she puts on before school. They haven't seen the mental scars the creatures leave each night, and how fast she makes them heal because she knows no one should see. They shouldn’t see what she goes through. They shouldn’t see how much she puts others before herself. She loves them, loves everything. She has the biggest heart. The monsters come along soon after the lights go out though. They tell her how ugly she is, and how no one will actually care for her if they knew what happened to her each night. They tell her she will be alone, and that is what scares her most. She fears solitude, she fears isolation. Right now she is sitting on a bridge, throwing pebbles to see how they ripple so magically in the water. She's making ripples and connecting it with some sort of deeper meaning. Philosophizing about the world around her. She wonders about the trees in the wind; about the ants on the ground; just...
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...least not on my part. It just happens. I don’t want to believe… but they’ve forced themselves on me. (Thoughtful) Perhaps the old Indian woman did it to me. I lived in her house too long as a child. (Looks at ceiling) At night, footsteps paced the ceiling. Over and over, an impatient march, forever in step to the silent drum. If only this had been my only encounter, I could dismiss it. “The house is settling,” my mother said… but this wasn’t all the house did. (Lights slightly flicker) Lights dimmed and glowed. Her ghostly will stronger than the new world magic conjured by GE. Sometimes she preferred a blackout. She didn’t care for my brother’s taste in music. Blackout! (Blackout) My brother was scared turdless. (Lights come up dimly again. She smiles at the memory of her brother. She is thoughtful a moment and her expression darkens) These spirits are on me like dogs on turds. Always sniffing around. Marking me. (Goes to sofa. Sits and slowly makes her way under the quilt and lays her head sleepily against the back of the sofa during the following) I slept in my room. Well, not really slept. Sleep was never something I did much of, especially early on. My worries at seven far outweighed my need for sleep. Awake. Forever awake. My father had left me. My mother… (Sits up. Then gets up and crosses to coffin) I was always worried mother would leave me too. (She touches the coffin lovingly. Then stops looking very tired) I wish the ghosts would go. But they linger...
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...“The wind,” I say slowly. Michael nods. “It’s like…” I pause, searching for the words. “Crip,” Michael adds. “Exactly,” I sigh, nodding. “Almost like..” Michael frowns “red?” “With a hint of yellow,” I say. “Right, yellow, I keep forgetting that one,” Michael spoke softly “A lot of things are yellow,” I turn to Michael, frowning. “Not where I come from,” Michael paused, “Things are mostly blue-black there” I wince, “I can’t even begin to imagine that.” “Don’t,” Michael shakes his head, “Don’t even try.” “Believe me,” I reisure him, “I don’t want to” “Good,” Michael sits straight up, craning his neck to me, “My mom coming?” I ask, Michael nods, standing up. “Keep it short, okay?” He glances over at me, moving to hide deeper into the treehouse....
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... Smoking is Fun What is the nature of this psychological pleasure? It can be traced to the universal desire for self-expression. None of us ever completely outgrows his childhood. We are constantly hunting for the carefree enjoyment we knew as children. As we grew older, we had to subordinate our pleasures to work and to the necessity for unceasing effort. Smoking, for many of us, then, became a substitute for our early habit of following the whims of the moment; it becomes a legitimate excuse for interrupting work and snatching a moment of pleasure. "You sometimes get tired of working intensely," said an accountant whom we interviewed, "and if you sit back for the length of a cigarette, you feel much fresher afterwards. It's a peculiar thing, but I wouldn't think of just sitting back without a cigarette. I guess a cigarette somehow gives me a good excuse." Smoking is a Reward Most of us are hungry for rewards. We want to be patted on the back. A cigarette is a reward that we can give ourselves as often as we wish. When we have done anything well, for instance, we can congratulate ourselves with a cigarette, which certifies, in effect, that we have been "good boys." We can promise ourselves:...
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...this essay I will be discussing a teaching activity that I carried out in clinical placement which was breathing exercises and relaxation techniques for a client who suffers from anxiety. I chose this activity because in my clinical placement many clients in the services suffer from anxiety. I researched on methods which could be used for clients who suffer from anxiety such as:- breathing exercises, yoga, anxiety management, massages, taking up exercises, CBT(Cognitive behavioural therapy), having a healthy life style and talking about feelings and thoughts which all help to reduce the symptoms of anxiety. I chose a 66 year old lady who suffers from anxiety and will be naming her Catherine to maintain confidentiality. The code: Standards of conduct, performance and ethics for nurses and midwives’ (2008) states: "You must respect people's right to confidentiality”. I will be using a Gibbs (1988) reflective model as his model incorporates: - “description, feelings, evaluation, analysis, conclusion and action plan” (Gibbs, 1988). Catherine suffers from anxiety and would feel anxious in the morning and if she would have to go out to the shops or for a day out to the park. Catherine feels she can’t go out due to changes in her life because she lives alone and her husband passed away a year ago; they use to go out together, everywhere. Catherine does not feel anxious when she is accompanied by a friend or a team member from services, but tends to feel anxious when she is alone. Catherine...
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...The one alone girl..... This story is about the girl who learned to live alone. She used to sit alone in her classroom and outside She used to walk alone because she likes to be alone and don't like talking to anyone She used to be alone all the time I don't know about her very well but She was tired of the pain she had inside Time change her life some follow her and some ignore her She was tired of the way she chooses to fight with her pain She used to cry all night I think She used to stair the walls all the time and remember her pain and the past memories she had in her life She is not good enough for that one human being She was so tired of trying and she started loosing interest in almost everything It was all too much for her and she wasn't able to bear her pain more and more She realized if she will always keep in her mind that she is alone in this world then there will be no one to hurt her no one to give her pain no one to break the trust and promises again and she will not have to cry all night for her pain She realized that she has to learn to live alone in this world because the only person who can help her is she herself Only she can help herself and pick herself up whenever she falls down she hugged herself tight and promised herself that she will never leave herself alone and she will fight alone with whole world because she does not have to worry about the pain anymore as she is learning to live alone all on her own.... :) I want her to know...
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...USA, or harmed in other countries. We are expected to sit quietly and listen in church, but get on our feet, get vocally loud and rowdy at sporting events. Some families eat super at the table, while talking and catching up on everyone’s day. Other families sit quietly during a meal. Any set of laws, or even house rules are the norm for that specific place. My company has two break/lunch room shared by all three shifts, which is about 400 people total. There are many norms in these rooms. The smaller breakroom is where the smokers go. Their norm is everyone talking, and laughing. They are a loud rowdy bunch. If you go in there, you will stick out like a sore thumb. The larger room-smokers sit tends to be real quiet, there isn’t a lot of socialization in the larger room. I quit smoking many years ago, but still go into the smaller breakroom at times, strictly for the social aspect. For my experiment I sat down at a table alone, in the larger quiet breakroom, early in the morning. I picked a time when it was as quiet as a graveyard to do my experiment. If any other conversations were going on it was in quiet hushed tones, which was the norm. I pulled out my cell phone and made a phone call. I spoke in a louder voice, laughing and carrying on for about 15-20 minutes. I made it very obvious it was a social call. I kept up this behavior for a few days, at the same time every day. I received stares while they whispered about me. I would receive dirty looks throughout the day. It was...
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...As Gregor Samsa´s alarm went off, he awoke from his few hour night sleep. Gregor feels that waking up early every single day makes someone stupid. It did not seem real that his alarm clock already said four in the morning. Staying at home is what he wanted to do. His family could stay at home all day because they did not work. ¨I wish that was me,¨ he thought. As one of the company's best traveling salesmen, he did not miss work. ¨Maybe I could call in sick today,¨ Gregor thought. Sick of the traveling he always had to do, he just is ready for a break. Gregor did not even like his boss because he does not take any excuses for missing work and how overbearing. That thought about calling in sick only lasted a couple seconds because...
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...Through the flicker of the carriage window I see the pale somnolent face, hollow darkened eyes and jet-black hair of my reflection. The sweeping coat, worn leather boots and thick woolen scarf that encircles my neck rests haggard about my slouching frame. I reach up and try to rub away a smudge of dirt from my cheek. It doesn’t budge; instead the pitiful image stares back at me unchanged through the train’s darkened glass. Alone in the compartment I sit and stare through the limp reflection. Counting down the minuets, the tunnels, the passing lampposts that fly past. Each one brings the moment closer when I will have to leave the sanctuary of the train and step out into the frozen world. Soon the train has stopped and the carriage door...
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...Tashira Smith Ms.Rush English 9- A Block Mastery Work 1 “You left me…here all alone.” Those were Tashira’s first words of my mother’s eulogy. She wept, cried, and has gone crazy. My mother was in the hospital for two months before being declared dead on December 25th, 2005. Was this the family Christmas gift? Her death was a big tragedy. It affected the family, but had an even bigger effect on my daughter Tashira. She and Tashira were very close and did everything together. Tashira only came up to my mother’s waist, but always pushing to sit beside her. They were the best of friends; Tashira was at my mother house every weekend. While I’ll be at work, they’ll be out somewhere shopping or eating ice cream. Her grandmother gave her the world. Tashira’s grandmother was her favorite person and losing her was hard. As I sit here and watch Tashira break down, I think of everything I can do to get her back to the old her. The girl that didn’t chatter much, but was always shy, until she got around her grandmother. Now she’s just completely mute and depressed. The memories they shared together even makes me break down here and there. It sucks to see my daughter Tashira sad all the time. My princess was only 5, how could God take such an important person out of...
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