How to Write My Paper - Easiest Ways to Get It Done

How to Write My Paper - Easiest Ways to Get It DoneA lot of students struggle with the issue of writing papers in a night or even a day. Not only do they find it extremely hard to write their papers and finish them, but they often find themselves in this predicament because they have very little time in which to get a good grade on the assignments that they need to get done.The best thing you can do is find ways in which you can either cut down on your time off in which you do not have to spend with your family. There are many alternatives for doing something you need to do so that you can write your paper in a day or less time. Read on to find out how to accomplish that goal.- If you don't have any spare time, then you could take up some writing as a hobby. This is perfect for those students who want to find out if they really love to write. Try to find an interesting topic or anything that you think would interest you.- Another fun thing you could do is visit an online course. This is one of the best ways to learn how to write an essay. You can sign up with a course online and study them so that you get all the tips and ideas you need to be able to complete your assignment.- If you are one of those students who would like to study more so that you could write more, then enroll in a workshop or presentation. These could help you learn new skills that you can use for writing your papers. You will not only learn how to organize your thoughts and to stay focused, but you will also gain some practical knowledge which you could use for school.- Talk to your parents if you want to teach them some lessons. Show them what you know and let them help you solve the issues you are facing with your assignment.All these are ways you can use in order to help you write your paper in a day or less time. You can make sure that you finish your assignments on time.

A Dirty Job Chapter 13 Free Essays

13 CRY HAVOC, AND LET SLIP THE GOGS OF WAR! Watching Madeline Alby die had shaken Charlie. It wasn’t her death so much, it was the life he’d seen in her minutes before she passed. He thought: If you have to stare Death in the eye to be able to take the life out of your moments, then who better to do it than the man who shaves Death’s face? â€Å"Cheese wasn’t in the book,† Charlie said to Sophie as he walked her out of the shop in her new runner’s stroller – which looked like someone had crossbred a carbon-fiber bicycle and a baby carriage and ended up with a vehicle you could use to take a day trip to Thunderdome – but it was strong, easy to push, and kept Sophie safely wrapped in an aluminum frame. We will write a custom essay sample on A Dirty Job Chapter 13 or any similar topic only for you Order Now Because of the cheese, he didn’t make her wear her helmet. He wanted her to be able to look around, see the world around her, and be in it. It was watching Madeline Alby eat cheese with every ounce of her being, like it was the first and best time, that made him realize that he had never really tasted cheese, or crackers, or life. And he didn’t want his daughter to live that way. He’d moved her into her own room the night before, the bedroom that Rachel had decorated for her with clouds painted on the ceiling and a happy balloon carrying a happy bunch of animal friends across the sky in its basket. He hadn’t slept well, and had gotten up five times during the night to check on her, only to find her sleeping peacefully, but he could lose a little sleep if Sophie could go through life without his fears and limitations. He wanted her to experience all the glorious cheese of life. They strolled through North Beach. He stopped and bought a coffee for himself and some apple juice for Sophie. They shared a giant peanut-butter cookie, and a crowd of pigeons followed them down the sidewalk feasting on the river of crumbs that flowed from Sophie’s stroller. The World Cup soccer championships was playing on televisions in bars and cafs, and people spilled out onto the sidewalks and out into the street, watching the game, cheering, jeering, hugging, swearing, and generally acting out waves of elation and dejection in the company of new companions who were visiting this Italian-American neighborhood from all around the world. Sophie cheered with the soccer fans and shrieked with joy because they were happy. When the crowd was disappointed – a kick blocked, a play foiled – Sophie was distressed, and would look to her daddy to fix it and make everyone happy again. And Daddy did, because a few seconds later, they were all cheering again. A tall German man taught Sophie to sing â€Å"Goooooooooooooooooooooal!† the way the announcer did, practicing with her until she got the full five-second sustain, and she was still practicing three blocks away, when Charlie had to shrug at confused onlookers as if to say, The kid’s a soccer fan, what can you do? As naptime approached, Charlie looped through the neighborhood and headed up through Washington Square Park, where people were reading and lounging in the shade, a guy played guitar and sang Dylan songs for change, two white Rasta boys kicked a Hacky Sack around, and people were generally settling in for a pleasant and windless summer day. Charlie spied a black kitten sneaking out of a hedge near busy Columbus Avenue, stalking a wild McMuffin wrapper, it appeared, and he pointed it out to Sophie. â€Å"Look, Sophie, kitty.† Charlie felt bad about the demise of Bear, the cockroach. Maybe this afternoon he’d go to the pet shop and get a new friend for Sophie. Sophie screamed with glee and pointed to the little cat. â€Å"Can you say ‘kitty’?† Charlie said. Sophie pointed, and gave a drooly grin. â€Å"Would you like a kitty? Can you say ‘kitty,’ Sophie?† Sophie pointed to the cat. â€Å"Kitty,† she said. The little cat dropped on the spot, dead. Fresh Music,† Minty Fresh answered the phone, his voice a bass sax sketch of cool jazz. â€Å"What the fuck is this? You didn’t say anything about this? The book didn’t say anything about this? What the fuck is going on?† â€Å"You’ll be wanting the library or a church,† Minty said. â€Å"This is a record store, we don’t answer general questions.† â€Å"This is Charlie Asher. What the fuck did you do? What have you done to my little girl?† Minty frowned and ran his hand over his scalp. He’d forgotten to shave this morning. He should have known something was going to go wrong. â€Å"Charlie, you can’t call me. I told you that. I’m sorry if something has happened to your little girl, but I promise you that I – â€Å" â€Å"She pointed at a kitten and said ‘kitty’ and it fell over, stone dead.† â€Å"Well, that is an unfortunate coincidence, Charlie, but kittens do have a pretty high mortality rate.† â€Å"Yeah, well, then she pointed to an old guy feeding the pigeons and said ‘kitty’ and he dropped over dead, too.† Minty Fresh was glad that there was no one in the store right then to see the look on his face, because he was sure that the full impact of the willies dancing up and down his spine was blowing his appearance of unflappable chill. â€Å"That child has a speech disorder, Charlie. You should have her looked at.† â€Å"A speech disorder! A speech disorder! A cute lisp is a speech disorder. My daughter kills people with the word kitty. I had to keep my hand over her mouth all the way home. There’s probably video somewhere. People thought I was one of those people who beats their kid in department stores.† â€Å"Don’t be ridiculous, Charlie, people love the parents who beat their kids in department stores. It’s the ones who just let their kids wreak havoc that everybody hates.† â€Å"Can we stay on point, Fresh, please? What do you know about this? What have you figured out in all your years as a Death Merchant?† Minty Fresh sat down on the stool behind the counter and stared into the eyes of the cardboard cutout of Cher, hoping to find answers there. But the bitch was holding out. â€Å"Charlie, I got nothin’. The kid was in the room when you saw me, and you saw what it did to you. Who knows what it did to her. I told you I thought you were in a different league than the rest of us, well, maybe the kid is something else, too. I’ve never heard of a Death Merchant who could just ‘kitty’ someone to death, or cause anyone to die outside of normal, mortal means. Have you tried having her use other words? Like puppy?† â€Å"Yeah, I was going to do that, but I thought it might fuck up property values if everyone in my neighborhood suddenly fell over dead! No, I didn’t try any other words. I don’t even want to make her eat her green beans for fear she’ll kitty me.† â€Å"I’m sure you have some kind of immunity.† â€Å"The Great Big Book says that we’re not immune to death ourselves. I’d say the next time a kitten comes on the Discovery Channel my sister could be picking out caskets.† â€Å"I’m sorry, Charlie, I don’t know what to tell you. I’ll check out my library at home, but it sounds like the kid is a lot closer than we are to how all the legends portray Death. Things tend to balance, however, maybe there’s some positive side to this, uh, disorder she has. In the meantime, maybe you should head over to Berkeley, see if you can find anything at the library there. It’s a repository library – every book that’s printed goes there.† â€Å"Haven’t you tried that?† â€Å"Yes, but I wasn’t looking for something specific like this. Look, just be careful going over. Don’t take the BART tunnel.† â€Å"You think the sewer harpies are in the BART tunnels?† Charlie asked. â€Å"Sewer harpies? What’s that?† â€Å"It’s what I call them,† Charlie said. â€Å"Oh. I don’t know. It’s underground, and I’ve been on a train when the power goes out. I don’t think you want to risk it. It feels like their territory. Speaking of that, from my end they’ve been conspicuously silent for the last six months or so. Not a peep.† â€Å"Yeah, the same here,† Charlie said. â€Å"But I suppose this phone call might change that.† â€Å"Yeah, it probably will. But with your daughter’s condition, we might be in a whole new game, too. You watch your ass, Charlie Asher.† â€Å"You, too, Minty.† â€Å"Mr. Fresh.† â€Å"I meant Mr. Fresh.† â€Å"Good-bye, Charlie.† In his cabin on the great ship, Orcus picked his teeth with the splintered femur of an infant. Babd combed his black mane with her claws as the bullheaded death pondered what the Morrigan had seen from the drain on Columbus Avenue: Charlie and Sophie in the park. â€Å"It is time,† said Nemain. â€Å"Haven’t we waited long enough?† She clacked her claws like castanets, flinging drops of venom on the walls and floor. â€Å"Would you be careful,† Macha said. â€Å"That shit stains. I just put new carpet in here.† Nemain stuck out a black tongue. â€Å"Washerwoman,† she said. â€Å"Whore,† Macha replied. â€Å"I don’t like this,† Orcus said. â€Å"This child disturbs me.† â€Å"Nemain is right. Look how strong we’ve become,† Babd said, stroking the webbing that was growing back between the spikes on Orcus’s shoulders – it looked as if he had fans mounted there, like some ornate samurai armor. â€Å"Let us go. The child’s sacrifice might give you your full wings back.† â€Å"You think you can?† â€Å"We can, once it’s dark,† said Macha. â€Å"We’re stronger than we’ve been in a thousand years.† â€Å"Just one of you go, and go in stealth,† said Orcus. â€Å"Hers is a very old talent, even in this new body. If she masters it, our chance may have passed for another thousand years. Kill the child and bring its corpse to me. Don’t let her see you until you strike.† â€Å"And her father? Kill him?† â€Å"You’re not that strong. But if he wakes to find his child gone, then maybe his grief will destroy him.† â€Å"You don’t have any idea what you’re doing, do you?† said Nemain. â€Å"You stay here tonight,† said Orcus. â€Å"Dammit,† said Nemain, slinging steaming venom across the wall. â€Å"Oh, pardon me for questioning the exalted one. Hey, head of the bull, I wonder what comes out of the other end?† â€Å"Ha,† said Babd. â€Å"Ha. Good one.† â€Å"And what kind of brain do you find under the feathers?† said Orcus. â€Å"Oh! He got you, Nemain. Think about how bad he got you when I’m killing the child tonight.† â€Å"I was talking to you,† Orcus said. â€Å"Macha goes.† She came in through the roof, tearing up the bubble skylight over the fourth floor and dropping into the hallway. She moved as silent as a shadow down the hall to the stairs, then appeared to float down, her feet barely touching the steps. On the second floor she paused at the door and examined the locks. There were two strong dead bolts in addition to the one in the main plate. She looked up and saw a stained-glass transom, latched with a tiny brass latch. A claw slipped quickly through the gap, and with a twist of the wrist the brass lock popped off and clattered on the hardwood floor inside. She slithered up and through the transom and flattened herself against the floor inside, waiting like a pool of shadow. She could smell the child, hear the gentle snoring coming from across the apartment. She moved to the middle of the great room, and paused. New Meat was there, too, she could sense him, sleeping in the room across from the child. If he interfered she’d tear his head from his body and take it back to the ship as proof to Orcus that he should never underestimate her. She was tempted to take him anyway, but not until she had the child. A night-light in the child’s room sent a soft pink band of light across the living room. Macha waved a taloned hand and the light went out. She trilled a small purr of self-satisfaction. There had been a time when she could extinguish a human life in the same way, and maybe that time was coming again. She slid into the child’s room and paused. By the moonlight streaming through the window she could see that the child lay curled on her side in her crib, hugging a plush rabbit. But she couldn’t see into the corners of the room – the shadows so dark and liquid that even her night-creature eyes couldn’t penetrate them. She moved to the crib and leaned over it. The child was sleeping with her mouth wide open. Macha decided to drive a single claw through the roof of her mouth into her brain. It would be silent, leave plenty of blood for the father to find, and she could carry the child’s corpse that way, hooked on her claw like a fish for the market. She reached down slowly and leaned into the crib so she’d have maximum leverage for the plunge. The moonlight sparkled off the three-inch talon and she drew back, and she was distracted for an instant by its pretty shininess when the jaws locked down on her arm. â€Å"Motherfu – † she screeched as she was whipped around and slammed against the wall. Another set of jaws clamped onto her ankle. She twisted herself into a half-dozen forms, which did nothing to free her, and she was tossed around like a rag doll into the dresser, the crib, the wall again. She raked at her attacker with her claws, found purchase, then felt as if her claws were being ripped out by the root, so she let go. She could see nothing, just felt wild, disorienting movement, then impact. She kicked hard at whatever had her ankle and it released her, but the attacker on her arm whipped her through the window and against the security bars outside. She heard glass hitting the street below, pushed with all her might, shape-shifting at a furious rate until she was through the bars and falling to the pavement. Ouch. Fuck!† came the shout from out on the street, a female voice. â€Å"Ouch.† Charlie flipped on the light to see Sophie sitting up in her crib holding her bunny and laughing. The window behind her had been shattered, and the glass was gone. Every piece of furniture except the crib had been overturned and there were basketball-sized holes in the plaster of two walls, the wooden lath behind it splintered as well. All over the floor there were black feathers, and what looked like blood, but even as Charlie watched, the feathers started to evaporate into smoke. â€Å"Goggy, Daddy,† Sophie said. â€Å"Goggy.† Then she giggled. Sophie slept the rest of the night in Daddy’s bed while Daddy sat up in a chair next to her, watching the locked door, his sword-cane at his side. There was no window in Charlie’s bedroom, so the door was the only way in or out. When Sophie awoke just after dawn, Charlie changed her, bathed her, and dressed her for the day. Then he called Jane to make her breakfast while he cleaned up the glass and plaster in Sophie’s room and went downstairs to find some plywood to nail over the broken window. He hated that he couldn’t call the police, couldn’t call someone, but if this is what one phone call to another Death Merchant was going to cause, he couldn’t risk it. And what would the police say anyway, about black feathers and blood that dissolved to smoke as you watched? â€Å"Someone threw a brick through Sophie’s window last night,† he told Jane. â€Å"Wow, on the second floor, too. I thought you were crazy when you put security bars all the way up the building, but I guess not so much, now. You should replace the window with that glass with the wire running through it, just to be safe.† â€Å"I will,† Charlie said. Safe? He had no idea what had happened in Sophie’s room, but the fact that she was safe amid all the destruction scared the hell out of him. He’d replace the window, but the kid was sleeping in his room from now until she was thirty and married to a huge guy with ninja skills. When Charlie returned from the basement with the sheet of plywood and hammer and nails, he found Jane sitting at the breakfast counter, smoking a cigarette. â€Å"Jane, I thought you quit.† â€Å"Yeah, I did. A month ago. Found this one in my purse.† â€Å"Why are you smoking in my house?† â€Å"I went into Sophie’s room to get her bunny for her.† â€Å"Yeah? Where’s Sophie? There might still be some glass on the floor in there, you didn’t – â€Å" â€Å"Yeah, she’s in there. And you’re not funny, Asher. Your thing with the pets has gone completely overboard. I’m going to have to do three yoga classes, get a massage, and smoke a joint the size of a thermos bottle to take the adrenaline edge off. They scared me so bad I peed myself a little.† â€Å"What in the hell are you talking about, Jane?† â€Å"Funny,† she said, smirking. â€Å"That’s really funny. I’m talking about the goggies, Daddy.† Charlie shrugged at his sister as if to say, Could you be any more incoherent or incomprehensible? – a gesture he had perfected over thirty-two years, then ran to Sophie’s room and threw the door open. There, on either side of his darling daughter, were the two biggest, blackest dogs he had ever seen. Sophie was sitting, leaning against one, while hitting the other in the head with her stuffed bunny. Charlie took a step toward rescuing Sophie when one of the dogs leapt across the room and knocked Charlie to the floor, pinning him there. The other put itself between Charlie and the baby. â€Å"Sophie, Daddy’s coming to get you, don’t be afraid.† Charlie tried to squirm out from under the dog, but it just lowered its head and growled at him. It didn’t budge. Charlie figured that it could take the better part of one of his legs and some of his torso off in one bite. The thing’s head was bigger than the Bengal tigers’ at the San Francisco zoo. â€Å"Jane, help me. Get this thing off of me.† The big dog looked up, keeping its paws on Charlie’s shoulders. Jane swiveled on her bar stool and took a deep drag on her cigarette. â€Å"No, I don’t think so, little brother. You’re on your own after springing this on me.† â€Å"I didn’t. I’ve never seen these things before. No one’s ever seen these things before.† â€Å"You know, we dykes have very high dog tolerance, but that doesn’t give you the right to do this. Well, I’ll leave you to it,† Jane said, gathering up her purse and keys from the breakfast bar. â€Å"You enjoy your little canine pals. I’m going to go call in freaked out to work.† â€Å"Jane, wait.† But she was gone. He heard the front door slam. The big dog didn’t seem to be interested in eating Charlie, just holding him there. Every time he tried to slither out from under it, the thing growled and pushed harder. â€Å"Down. Heel. Off.† Charlie tried commands he’d heard dog trainers shout on TV. â€Å"Fetch. Roll over. Get the fuck off me, you beast.† (He ad-libbed that last one.) The animal barked in Charlie’s left ear, so loud that he lost hearing and there was just a ringing on that side. In his other ear he heard a little-girl giggle from across the room. â€Å"Sophie, honey, it’s okay.† â€Å"Goggie, Daddy,† Sophie said. â€Å"Goggie.† She stumbled over and looked down at Charlie. The big dog licked her face, nearly knocking her over. (At eighteen months, Sophie moved like a small drunk most of the time.) â€Å"Goggie,† Sophie said again. She grabbed the giant hound by its ear and dragged it off Charlie. Or more accurately, it let her lead it by the ear off of him. Charlie leapt to his feet and started to reach for Sophie, but the other hound jumped in front of him and growled. The thing’s head came up to Charlie’s chest, even with its feet flat on the ground. He figured the hounds must weigh four or five hundred pounds apiece. They were easily twice the size of the biggest dog he’d seen before, a Newfoundland that he’d seen swimming in the Aquatic Park down by the Maritime museum. They had the short fur of a Doberman, the broad shoulders and chest of a rottweiler, but the wide square head and upturned ears of a Great Dane. They were so black that they appeared to actually absorb light, and Charlie had only ever seen one type of creature that did that: the ravens from the Underworld. It was clear that wherever these hounds had come from, it wasn’t from around here. But it was also clear that they were not here to hurt Sophie. She wouldn’t even make a good meal for animals this size, and they certainly could have snapped her in two long before now if they’d meant her harm. The damage in Sophie’s room the night before might have been caused by the hounds, but they had not been the aggressors. Something had come here to hurt her, and they had protected her, even as they were now. Charlie didn’t care why, he was just grateful that they were on his side. Where they’d been when he first rushed into the room after the window broke, he didn’t know, but it appeared that now that they were here, they were not going to go away. â€Å"Okay, I’m not going to hurt her,† Charlie said. The dog relaxed and backed off a few steps. â€Å"She’s going to need to go potty,† Charlie said, feeling a little stupid. He just noticed that they were both wearing wide silver collars, which, strangely, disturbed him more than their size. After the stretching it had gotten over the last year and a half, his Beta Male imagination fit easily around two giant hounds showing up in his little girl’s bedroom, but the idea that someone had put collars on them was throwing him. There was a knock at the front door and Charlie backed out of the room. â€Å"Honey, Daddy will be right back.† How to cite A Dirty Job Chapter 13, Essay examples

Symbolism in Hedda Gabler Essay Example For Students

Symbolism in Hedda Gabler Essay The mid-nineteenth century realist playwright Alexandre Dumas wrote the following about his drama. IfI can exercise some influence over society; if, instead of treating effects I can treat causes; if, for example, while I satirize and describe and dramatize adultery, I can find means to force people to discuss the problem, and the law-maker to revise the law, I shall have done more than my part as a poet, I shall have done my duty as a man.We need invent nothing; we have only to observe, remember, feel, coordinate, restore.As for basis, the real; as for facts, what is possible; for means, what is ingenious; that is all that can rightfully be asked of us. Along with the realist dramatists of his time, Dumas wrote his plays with a noble mission: to ignite social change and to raise social awareness of a problem or issue through realistic dramatization of his environment. Like Dumas, Henrik Ibsen concerned himself with problems of human behavior and morality in society. And like his pre decessors, Ibsen used naturalistic writing to exhibit human beings as they really are and as they really behave in the culture of his time. But the reasons why Ibsen was more effective and successful at Dumas objective that was Dumas himself was because he abandoned happy and acceptable resolutions to his plays, confronted human behavior with honesty and acute observation, often raising disturbing and embarrassing questions, and left out the didactic solutions to the problems in question in favor of offering no solution, leaving his questions open to thought and interpretation. Ibsen saw his wild success as a playwright well before he died, and it was in great part due to his rejection of realist proponents like the emphasis of mainly external detail and his uproar-causing and shocking resolutions to his plays. But in addition and I think more importantly, Ibsens triumph was because of his reach ahead of his time and his inclusion of symbolist elements in his drama. While at the bas e a naturalist play, the symbols and images in Hedda Gabler bring immeasurable weight and power his naturalistic depiction of a woman constricted by her society and, whether because of this constriction or simply because of her inherent nature, intent on similarly sucking the life out of other individuals. Ibsen did not strive to write a symbolist play. Naturalist drama is much better suited for social change than is symbolist drama. But the blending of a naturalistic portrait of a womans dilemma and symbolic language, images and characterization makes for a particularly powerful, provoking piece of theatre that packs a bigger visceral punch than either a purely realistic play or a purely symbolic one. We will write a custom essay on Symbolism in Hedda Gabler specifically for you for only $16.38 $13.9/page Order now Like Dumas, Ibsen was strongly influenced by the French author of the well-made play, Eugene Scribe. His best plays reflect the structured formulaic presentation of a conflict, complication and resolve, but he innovatively disguised and altered Scribes structure and left out any resolve whatsoever in favor of deliberate ambiguity, leaving the audience open to their own unguided interpretations. This is perhaps one of the most elementary ways in which Ibsen dipped his pen into the symbolic ink jar. Instead of didactically coercing his audience to buy a completely subjective argument and wasting time proving why its correct, he instead chose to present the problem as it is, and offering no solution, simply illustrated the consequences of the problem. And neither did he placate his viewers with a palatable morally acceptable ending to his plays, but ended them with a bang and left us clinging to the edge of our seats at the drop of the curtain. The thesis plays of Dumas didnt work becau se they instructed people how to think instead of leaving that to them. .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 , .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 .postImageUrl , .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 , .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69:hover , .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69:visited , .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69:active { border:0!important; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69:active , .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69 .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .ua3ea5288bea828be142b5d6184a36d69:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Why The Crucible Remains Important Today EssayOf course, complete and utter objectivity is nearly impossible. The French naturalist Emile Zola once defined art as a corner of life seen though a temperament, most likely meaning that a playwrights personality shines though his work whether he likes it or not. In adopting symbolism, Ibsen consciously enhanced his descriptive ability and thus made his settings, characters and situations more rich, textured and multi-faceted and yet very identifiable. What he also brought to the table, whether consciously or not, was more subjectivity, as his choice of symbols in his plays says so much about Ibsen himself and his attitudes towa rd his work. But just as much as purely realist drama is of little help to implement social change on its own, purely symbolic drama does less. Ibsens gift was his ability to, within one carefully written play, use seemingly realistic speech with unrealistic symbolic language and description to unleash a powerful message. The Belgian playwright Maurice Maeterlinck, considered to be one of the two major symbolist dramatists (along with French poet/playwright Paul Claudel), wrote theoretical essays to be presented in conjuncture with his plays, supposed to offer elucidation to his work. If Maeterlinck felt that an auxiliary disclaimer was necessary for his drama to be understood, then in a sense, it has already failed. Maeterlincks plays are by themselves unknowable because the intricacy of symbols eventually becomes convoluted and meaningless. An audience cannot be moved if its subject matter is undecipherable. Above anything else, the emphasis of Ibsens work is on psychological conflict. Any exte rnal action is present only as a response to internal anguish or as a stimulus for it. At the same time though, he goes to great lengths to describe the settings, characters appearances, giving detail to the external and physical. As far as detail is concerned, that of his characters is the best. Symbols are a magnificent tool in description of psychological stitch work, and just as Ibsen has a knack for describing great interior room settings and visually creating specific bodily attributes, he likewise has a crafty and firm handle on symbolic description of human character and more generally, human nature. One of the most pressing and popular questions in psychology at that time, which had only just emerged as a scientific discipline, was the ways in which human nature was formed by experience. Its no wonder why Ibsen created such intricate and significant character histories that occur long before the curtain rises. Given that Freud published his first major work Studies in Hyste ria in 1895, and Hedda Gabler appeared five years earlier in 1890 (A Dolls House was staged as early as 1879), isnt it quite plausible that Freuds launching pad was the psychological drama of the late nineteenth century that Ibsen championed? Much of the work of a certain white-bearded cokehead/hero of the twentieth century, while brilliant and ground-breaking, might never have existed without Ibsens darkest plays like Hedda Gabler, which explore the fierce struggle between those who demand that everyone face unpleasant realities, confronting their fear and uncertainty, and those who construct illusions to make life bearable in spite of a past trauma or a repressed horrible experience. Freud later published his ideas on the significance of symbols in dreams in his Interpretation of Dreams, on repression in Studies in Hysteria and on why late nineteenth century women in Western Europe found such little satisfaction in their social lives in Civilization and its Discontents. Among the most prominent and powerful symbols in Hedda Gabler, one is General Gablers pistols. They symbolize Heddas upbringing in an aristocratic and militaristic milieu and simultaneously stand for her masculine nature. They also show her rejection of social codes of conduct and provide nice images for her fending off the sexual advances of Brack and Lovborg, them being the only two people she shoots at. Lets not forget how phallic and Freudian these images are. The pistols represent Heddas intense desire to be less feminine as well as the male world that opposes her. These two things at once indirectly lead to her death, and the pistols quite literally kill her. .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 , .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 .postImageUrl , .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 , .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7:hover , .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7:visited , .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7:active { border:0!important; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7:active , .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7 .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .uf787d5a8d1428a036e738f24e0468fe7:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Agatha Christie: A Study on Gender and Racial Roles EssayThe stage directions provide plenty of symbols, most notably the hair of both Hedda and Mrs. Elvsted. It may at first appear to be insignificant. But Ibsens description of his womens hair can be seen as representative of their very personalities. Heddas hair is an attractive medium brown in colour, but not particularly ample. It is tied back when receiving visitors. It exhibits sexual restraint, at least it comparison to Mrs. Elvsteds strikingly fair, almost whitish-yellow, and unusually rich and wavy hair. Mrs. Elvsteds hair exudes sexual impulsiveness. These details are not to be taken for granted. No detail should in Ibsens drama. Hair was an extremely important ingredient in womens sexuality and courtship and indeed still is. Ejlert Lovborgs book is another fine example of Ibsens brilliant symbolism. This book is key to the unfolding of the plot in this play, but it also allows Ibsen to deal with the subject of the future of civilization in quite an inspirational and stylized way. The book never was published, having been hidden from Ejlert and burnt by Hedda. Because it never made it to publication it can be seen as a work in progress, a child another way in which it stands for the future. And what are we to make of a future rewritten by Tesman, one of the most hilarious and staggering fools Ive ever come across in drama? What exactly does Ibsens symbolism bring to his naturalism? What does it allow him to do that pure naturalists couldnt do? An enormous amount. The marriage of naturalistic speech and setting with heightened, symbolic and efficient speech, imagery, allusion, metaphor, is a powerful, profound and visceral experience. Hedda Gabler is abound with symbols that allow its characters to reveal the internal workings of their minds without addressing the audience or breaking out into long poetic speeches. And thats why it caused such uproar: because it was powerfully delivered and believably true.

Critical Analysis on an extract of The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee William

Critical Analysis on an extract of The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee William "The Glass Menagerie" by Tennessee Williams shows a scene where Amanda (the mother) confronts Tom (her son) who made a grave mistake in match making Laura (his sister) and his best friend, who happens to be engaged. All this events happen within the comfort of the family home, displaying the intense feeling of something ominous just about to happen- the family conflict. This is demonstrated through the failure in the family's ability to communicate and comprehend each other. This creates familiarity within the audience as well as sympathy, as the audience is able to relate to the happenings as depicted. Sympathy wells up within them too as the break up of the family is about to happen, showing how the characters become disappointed and the sense of guilt breaks out within them, in which their only reaction is to flee from it.The extract opens with Amanda facing her son, Tom who appears to be totally nonchalant and self-righteous.Performance Saratov Puppet Theatre "Teremok" Â «Gla... The sarcasm in her tone showed the awkwardness and the escalated tension in the whole event. The opening lines "Come in here a minute. I want to tell you something awfully funny" shows how the use of oxymoron emphasize on the distant nature between mother and son, fencing a barrier between them, as a result of their inability to communicate, finally ending in the contrasting interests between them.What more, Tom's lines of "The warehouse is where I work, not where I know things about people!" shows his inability in relating to others, including his family. This stirs up sympathy from the audience towards Tom as his inability to feel belonged to someplace force him to become entrapped in his own world as suggested by the lines "You don't know things anywhere! You live in a dream; you manufacture illusions!"...

Nyasasaurus - Facts and Figures

Nyasasaurus - Facts and Figures Name: Nyasasaurus (Greek for Nyasa lizard); pronounced knee-AH-sah-SORE-us Habitat: Plains of southern Africa Historical Period: Early Triassic (243 million years ago) Size and Weight: About 10 feet long and 100 pounds Diet: Unknown; probably omnivorous Distinguishing Characteristics: Long, lithe build; exceptionally long tail About Nyasasaurus Announced to the world in December of 2012, Nyasasaurus is an exceptional find: a dinosaur that lived in the southern continent of Pangaea during the early Triassic period, about 243 million years ago. Why is this such stunning news? Well, scientists previously believed that the earliest true dinosaurs (such as Eoraptor and Herrerasaurus) arose in middle Triassic South America, at a remove of 10 million years and 1,000 or so miles. Theres still a lot we dont know about Nyasasaurus, but what we do know points to an unmistakably dinosaurian lineage. This reptile measured about 10 feet from head to tail, which may seem enormous by Triassic standards, except for the fact that fully five feet of that length was taken up by its unusually long tail. Like other early dinosaurs, Nyasasaurus clearly evolved from a recent archosaur ancestor, though it may have represented a dead end in dinosaur evolution (the true dinosaurs we all know and love still being descended from the likes of Eoraptor). One thing about Nyasasaurus that remains a mystery is this dinosaurs diet. The earliest dinosaurs preceded the historic split between saurischian and ornithischian varieties (saurischians were either carnivorous or herbivorous, and all ornithischians, as far as we know, were plant-eaters). It seems most likely that Nyasasaurus was omnivorous, and its descendants (if any) evolved in more specialized directions. It may yet turn out that Nyasasaurus is technically classified as an archosaur rather than a true dinosaur. This would not be an unusual development, since theres never a firm line that separates one type of animal from another in evolutionary terms (for example, which genus marks the transition from the most advanced lobe-finned fish to the earliest tetrapods, or the small, feathered, fluttery dinosaurs and the first true birds?)

Hourseco- strategic Human Resource Management Essay

Hourseco- strategic Human Resource Management - Essay Example n an integrated manner through building the strong contractual relationship between the manpower of the organisation and the organisational system rather than focusing on strategies itself (Walonick, 2014). The traditional organisations were mostly causal and goal orientated, where various conventional models were adopted with the aim of delegating workers with the assigned job instructions and managers were engaged in planning the organisational goals (University of North Florida, 2014; Krebs, 2007). The growing innovation in the field of technology has been recognised to influence the behaviour of individuals associated with an organisation. Globalisation and technological factors have also reformed management structure as well as management practices in accordance with the present business requirements (Ivanko, 2013; Bittner, 1986). The change in the organisational structure and management practices owing to human resource management has also altered in a significant manner. Correspondingly, in the changing environment, organisations are determined towards hiring and retaining a pool of talented and skilled human resource in order to sustain in the competitive advantage in the market. Besides, due to the changes in the environment, workforce, profitability, growth, technological changes and business are anticipated to be influenced immensely. These factors have significantly led the organisation to emphasis over the managing human resources management. Thus, in the changing scenario insufficiency in the proper management of the human resource administration and failure in the strategic integration reduces competitive advantage (Armstrong, 2006). In this regard the concept of Strategic Human Resource Management (SHRM) is a practice through which an organisation strategically manages its human resources through aligning the strategic framework with the human resource of the organisation in order to the support the long-term objectives and goals. The appro ach of

For developing countries what are the advantages and disadvantages of Assignment

For developing countries what are the advantages and disadvantages of participating in the global garment industry - Assignment Example creasing development in this industry is due to the availability of a cheap work force, ready market and easy transportation due to its negligible weight (TAYLOR, 2009). Developing countries have maximized their raw materials and there has been dramatic increase in the production which now accounts for about 70% of the world export on clothing. However, the garment industry is not left far behind as it accounts for about 3.2% of the world’s manufacturing export (TAYLOR, 2009). Developing countries’ involvement in the global trade, especially in the garment industry has both positive and negative impacts. On the positive impacts is the fact that this industry has increased the level of employment reducing unemployment in developing countries, which has been one of the major epidemics. For example, in Bangladesh, about 1.5 million workers are absorbed in these industries which are about 65% of the total workforce (Hoque, 2005). In Morocco, about 40% of the total human resources are also absorbed into this industry. Second advantage is the increased level of foreign exchange or export earnings. These increased earnings are very vital in any developing countries since it is a source of revenue through which the government injects into development projects so as to improve the living standards of its citizens (TAYLOR, 2009). In Bangladesh, this industry contributes to about 75% of the country’s total export earnings. In Mauritius, it is about 64%, while in Sri Lanka it is about 50%, and in Tunisia it is about 40%. Next is that it has some considerable total added value of merchand ise exports. This is evident in countries such as Bangladesh which is about 55%, Turkey being 28%, while in Morocco and Pakistan it is 20% (TAYLOR, 2009). On the other hand, linearization of trade has disadvantages in all industrial sectors, garment industry being inclusive. First is that these developing countries have removed all the trade barriers which may later lead to