Comparing National and Personal Security

Comparing National and Personal Security Why national security is more important than personal security. What if national security was gone tomorrow? Some people would automatically assume the worst.Although we wouldnt be invaded by another country   in a month or be any more likely to be attacked as a country,the people of America would be in a great deal of danger. When a natural disaster strikes a populated area,the first people to respond are firefighters,paramedics,and police officers.Even in the event of the area being completely leveled,they still have to keep order and keep the civilians safe.Without them,most people who are stranded or in need would never be found or die,although many times civilians help in search and rescue.Its obvious that American emergency services plays the defining role of how many people survive a natural disaster,and are employes of the government,even if their pay comes from taxpayers.Besides wanting to help its people,the only reason the United States   government would have to send help to civilians after a disaster is national security,which is the belief that the government and parliaments should protect its people through various means and powers. Of all the powers Congress has,the most they have has to do is with national security,like investigations and declaring war,so its apparent that national security is important to the United States government.But with great power comes great responsibility.A natural reaction to the United States government protecting its people from crisis is going too far. Luckily,there are limitations to what they can do.For example,the 4th amendment stops the government or government workers from searching your body,belongings,home or other possessions without reasonable cause or a warrant from a judge and the 5th allows the right to remain silent.Even in cases like executive order 9066 (japanese american civilians   locked up after Pearl Harbor) or Guantanamo Bay (prisoners tortured after and for information on 9/11) where personal rights were crushed under a boot of national security,it was all in an attempt to keep the people safe.Yes,the 2 two events above were horrible and should have n ever happened,but the intents were still good. In 1915,german submarines sunk a United States ship,leading Congress to declare war on Germany,showing a successful national security response as Germany had killed Americans and were a threat to the nation.Similarly,after the attack on Pearl Harbor Congress once again declared war in a response to a threat to national security.When 9/11 occurred many inactive veterans would step back on the battlefield since the attack on the Trade Towers was a national crisis,falling under a national security matter.If the government had not reacted in the way they did,there would have been many more attacks like the ones above. Not every occasion where national security overtakes personal rights is bad. When a shooter and his wife were killed after killing 14 people in San Bernardino, the FBI recovered an Iphone from one of the bodies.When they demanded Apple, the famous company that makes the phones, to help them crack the phone by making a back door,they said no. If they did help,they could have potentially saved lives, but there personal right to say no prevented that, stopping the FBI from doing their jobs because the phone could have helped they find more shooters/information. Many people are also skeptical of national security because of how secret and over powered they think it is. But this isnt necessarily the case. No matter if everyone in the world saw and recorded someone blowing up a building,the terrorist would still have to right to a trial in the United States and someone would have to prove, without a reasonable doubt, that he did in fact blow up the building, according to the 5th amendment of the United States constitution. And to make it even harder for national security,due to the same amendment, the terrorist wont have to testify against himself/herself, so all the evidence must come from someone/something else.Much criticism of national security comes from the secrecy and the reluctance of the United States government to release information to the public.Although it is only right for a countrys people to fully   know of the problems plaguing national security,many times the secrecy is absolutely necessary.It is to ensure that Unied S tates methods and analysis of receiving and decoding information are not revealed to other nations.For example,on July 17 1950, at the peak of United States fear Julius Rosenberg was arrested for allegedly passing Russian secrets to Russia.About a month later his wife was arrested as well.They He worked for the United States Army Signal Corps and was an engineer, making him seem ordinary.During their trial however, a majority of the evidence presented was weak and didnt seem to be nearly enough to send them to the electric chair for the crimes they seemed to not have done.But nearly forty years after the trial,evidence that was classified at the time was released to the public,revealing that the United States had been listening in on Russian transmissions and Julius Rosenberg (wifes role still unknown) had indeed been giving Atomic secrets to Russia.If   the United States government had released the information during the trial to the public to appeal to their personal right to know if the Rosenbergs were actually guilty or not,the Russians would have known that they were being listened in to and the United States would have lost any future oppertunities to gather any infromation.It is also important to note that the Rosenbergs have avoided death by admitting to their espionage. Even with some of the necessary secrecy, National security still isnt as secret as most people think it to be.In the United States,about one point four million people have access to top secret information.Although this sounds scary, contradictory to public assumption, top secret is not the highest level of secret information.There are multiple levels of sensitive information clearance higher than top secret including sensitive compartment information and special access programs. In the end, national security is more important than personal rights because without it, the government would have little reason to help its people and would most likely end up working for itself instead of their people. References Constitute. Constitute, Constitute Project, www.constituteproject.org/constitution/United_States_of_America_1992. Executive Order 9066. Britannica School, Encyclopà ¦dia Britannica, 9 Feb. 2009. school.eb.com/levels/high/article/Executive-Order-9066/473853?opensearch=executive%20order%209066. Accessed 15 Feb. 2017. Okita, Dwight. In Response to Executive Order 9066: All Americans of Japanese Descent Must Report to Relocation Centers. Breaking Silence: An Anthology of Contemporary Asian-American Poets, edited by Joseph Bruchac, Greenfield Review Press, 1983, p. 211. LitFinder, go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?p=LITFsw=wu=j020902v=2.1id=GALE%7CLTF0000508187WKit=rasid=0c318a462d4449dbc9f55f57ba1a9a13. Accessed 15 Feb. 2017 The Powers of Congress. Ushistory.org, Independence Hall Association, www.ushistory.org/gov/6a.asp.

Essay on Mother as Villain and Victim in Amy Tans The Joy Luck Club

Mother as Villain and Victim in Joy Luck Club      Ã‚  Ã‚   In The Joy Luck Club, Amy Tan focuses on several mother-daughter relationships. One of the relationships explored is that between an immigrant Chinese mother and her American born daughter Jing-mei.   The mother expects Jing-mei to be a prodigy child - while pursuing this dream she unintentionally creates a serious conflict between her and her daughter.    To fulfill her unrealistic expectations, the mother pushes Jing-mei to be the best in anything and everything. At first, the reader may perceive the mother as the villain in the story; however, the mother just wants her daughter to have the life that she never had. Jing-mei does not understand her intentions.    Jing-mei's mother thought opportunity was everywhere in America, "America was where all my mother's hopes lay" (Tan 1208). The mother lost everything when she moved from China to San Francisco in 1949. In China she lost her family, her spouse, and she had to abandon her twin baby girls (Tan 1208). This implies that her mother had a difficult life and wanted to start a new life in America.    Unfamiliar with the customs of America, she had been brought up in a strict Chinese culture. Her mother probably raised her the same way, and therefore, that is where she learned her parenting skills. The Chinese life is strict, more so than the American life, and that was the only way the mother knew how to raise her daughter. The mother seemed to be the villain in the story, but she was only trying to be the caring parent the best way she knew how. She only wanted her daughter to be the best, but a conflict started when the daughter failed to meet her expectations.    In the beginning Jing-mei, th... ...he wanted to see her daughter become something better than what she had become. Instead of encouraging her daughter to become someone who she wanted to be, she ends up pushing her in the wrong direction. I think that Jing-mei finally realized why her mother did what she did. I agree with Ghymn when she states that "Jing-mei does care deeply what her mother thinks of her" (84). It is obvious that even though they were two kinds from two different cultures they still found forgiveness in the end.    Work Cited Souris, Stephen. "'Only Two Kinds of Daughters:'" Inter-Monologue Dialogicity in The Joy Luck Club." Melus 19.2 (Summer 1994):99-123. Tan, Amy. The Joy Luck Club. Vintage Contemporaries. New York: A Division of Random House, Inc. 1993. Willard, Nancy. Asian American Women Writers. Ed. Harold Bloom. Chelsea House Publishers, Philadelphia 1997.

The Indigo Spell Chapter Fifteen

MS. TERWILLIGER WAS WAITING in the lobby when Julia and I returned to the dorm. â€Å"Seriously. Do you have a tracking device on me?† I asked. Julia took one look at our teacher's serious expression and quickly made an exit. â€Å"Just excellent timing,† Ms. Terwilliger replied. â€Å"I understand you have news.† â€Å"Surprisingly, yes.† Ms. Terwilliger's face was hard as she led me back outside to more privacy and yet another top secret outdoor meeting. These days, she hardly resembled the scattered, hippie teacher I'd met when I first started at Amberwood. â€Å"Tell me the news,† she ordered. I told her about Alicia's call, and her dismayed expression didn't really inspire me. I'd kind of hoped she'd reveal some amazing, foolproof plan she'd secretly been concocting. â€Å"Well, then,† she said once I'd finished. â€Å"I suppose I'll have to go out there.† â€Å"I'll go out there,† I corrected. She favored me with a small smile. â€Å"You've done more than enough. It's time I step up and deal with Veronica.† â€Å"But you sent me to that place before.† â€Å"When we weren't even sure where it was or what she was doing there. This time, we have an eyewitness confirming she's there right now. I can't waste this opportunity.† She glanced at a clock near the door and sighed. â€Å"I'd go tonight if I could but haven't made the necessary preparations. I'll start working on them now and go in tomorrow evening. Hopefully I won't miss her again.† â€Å"No.† The defiance in my voice surprised even me. I didn't contradict teachers – or any kind of authority – very often. Okay, never. â€Å"She eluded us before. Let us scout it out. You don't want to tip your hand yet, just in case something goes wrong. You'll be ready tomorrow night? Then let us go in the day . . . I mean, provided someone could get me out of school. . . .† A little of that tension faded, and she laughed. â€Å"I suppose I could do that. I hate that I keep putting you in danger, though.† â€Å"We passed that point a long time ago.† She couldn't argue against that logic. I made arrangements for Adrian to pick me up the next day – after first scolding â€Å"Jet† for giving out â€Å"Taylor's† number. When morning came, Ms. Terwilliger was true to her word. I'd been excused from classes for a â€Å"research trip.† The thing about being a star pupil was that none of my teachers had any problems with me skipping classes. They knew I'd get the work done. I probably could've taken the rest of the semester off. During the drive, I told Adrian that I'd managed to score a trip to St. Louis in order to pursue Marcus's daunting task. Adrian's expression grew darker and darker, but he stayed silent on the matter. I knew what a conflict it was for him. He didn't like Marcus. He didn't like me taking on this potentially dangerous mission. However, he also trusted me to make my own decisions. Contradicting me or telling me what to do wasn't in his nature – even though he secretly may have wanted to. His only comment was one of support. â€Å"Be careful, Sage. For God's sake, be careful. I've seen you pull off some crazy shit, but this is extreme, even for you. You're probably the only one who can manage this, but still . . . don't let your guard down, even for a moment.† When I told him about how I was hoping to use Ian to get more in-depth access, Adrian's troubled look turned to one of incredulity. â€Å"Hold on here. Let me make sure I'm following this. You're going to seduce some guy to help you with your espionage.† Seduce Ian? Ugh. â€Å"Don't jump to conclusions,† I warned. â€Å"I'm just going to try to use his feelings for me to get what I want.† â€Å"Wow. Cold, Sage. Very cold.† â€Å"Hey, now.† I felt a little indignant at the accusation. â€Å"I'm not going to promise to marry him or something and then dump him later. He wrote me about going to dinner when I'm there. We'll have a nice time, and I'll try to talk him into letting me tour the facility. That's it.† â€Å"And ‘talking him into it' doesn't involve putting out?† I glared at him and hoped he could see me in his periphery. â€Å"Adrian. Do I really seem like the kind of person who'd do that?† â€Å"Well – † He stopped, and I suspected he'd held back from some snarky comment. â€Å"No, I suppose not. Certainly not with a guy like him. Did you get a dress?† Here we were again, Adrian randomly jumping topics. â€Å"For dinner and the service? I've got plenty.† â€Å"I guess that answers my question.† He seemed to wage a great mental battle. At last, he said, â€Å"I'm going to give you some advice.† â€Å"Oh no.† He looked over at me again. â€Å"Who knows more about male weakness: you or me?† â€Å"Go on.† I refused to directly answer the question. â€Å"Get a new dress. One that shows a lot of skin. Short. Strapless. Maybe a push-up bra too.† He actually had the audacity to do a quick assessment of my chest. â€Å"Eh, maybe not. But definitely some high heels.† â€Å"Adrian,† I exclaimed. â€Å"You've seen how Alchemists dress. Do you think I can really wear something like that into a church service?† He was unconcerned. â€Å"You'll make it work. You'll change clothes or something. But I'm telling you, if you want to get a guy to do something that might be difficult, then the best way is to distract him so that he can't devote his full brainpower to the consequences.† â€Å"You don't have a lot of faith in your own gender.† â€Å"Hey, I'm telling you the truth. I've been distracted by sexy dresses a lot.† I didn't really know if that was a valid argument, seeing as Adrian was distracted by a lot of things. Fondue. T-shirts. Kittens. â€Å"And so, what then? I show some skin, and the world is mine?† â€Å"That'll help.† Amazingly, I could tell he was dead serious. â€Å"And you've gotta act confident the whole time, like it's already a done deal. Then make sure when you're actually asking for what you want that you tell him you'd be ‘so, so grateful.' But don't elaborate. His imagination will do half the work for you. â€Å" I shook my head, glad we'd almost reached our destination. I didn't know how much more I could listen to. â€Å"This is the most ridiculous advice I've ever heard. It's also kind of sexist too, but I can't decide who it offends more, men or women.† â€Å"Look, Sage. I don't know much about chemistry or computer hacking or photosynthery but this is something I've got a lot of experience with.† I think he meant photosynthesis, but I didn't correct him. â€Å"Use my knowledge. Don't let it go to waste.† He seemed so earnest that I finally told him I'd consider it, though I had a hard time imagining myself wearing anything like he'd described. My answer satisfied him, and he said no more. When we reached the bed-and-breakfast, I put on the brown wig so that we could be Taylor and Jet again. I braced myself as we approached the door. â€Å"Who knows what we're walking into?† I murmured. I'd been very brave while speaking to Ms. Terwilliger, but the reality that I might be going right up to an evil sorceress was sinking in. I had yet to develop the ability to sense magic in others, so I could very well be taken by surprise if she had a way to hide her appearance too. All I could do was have faith that Adrian's spirit and Ms. Terwilliger's charm would mask me. If Veronica was there, we'd just seem like an ordinary couple. I hoped. Alicia was reading another magazine when we walked in. She still sported the same hipster glasses and clutter of gaudy necklaces. Her face lit up when she saw us. â€Å"You're back.† Adrian's arm immediately went around me. â€Å"Well, when we heard Veronica was in town again, we wanted to come see her right away. Right, honeydew?† â€Å"Right,† I said. At least he was going with healthier nicknames today. â€Å"Oh.† Alicia's sunny smile dimmed a little. â€Å"She just left.† â€Å"You have got to be kidding,† I said. How could our luck be this bad? â€Å"So, she checked out?† â€Å"No, she's still renting out the Velvet Suite. I think she was just running errands. But. . . .† She turned sheepish. â€Å"I may have, uh, ruined the surprise.† â€Å"Oh?† I asked very carefully. I felt Adrian's hold on me tense, but there was nothing romantic about it. â€Å"I couldn't resist. I told her she might have some unexpected visitors soon. Good visitors,† she added. â€Å"I wanted to make sure she didn't stay out too long.† â€Å"That's very nice of you,† said Adrian. His smile looked as strained as mine felt. In trying to â€Å"help† us, Alicia might very well have ruined everything. What did we do now? I was saved from an immediate decision when a middle-aged woman walked through the door. â€Å"Hello,† she told Alicia. â€Å"I wanted to get some information about hosting a wedding here. For my niece.† â€Å"Of course,† said Alicia, glancing back and forth between all of us. She looked a little flustered over who to help, and I was quick to jump in. â€Å"Hey,† I said. â€Å"Since we're here, can we look at the Bunny Suite again? We can't stop talking about it.† Alicia frowned. â€Å"I thought you were going to the coast for your anniversary?† â€Å"We were,† said Adrian, following my lead. â€Å"But then Taylor was thinking about Cottontail the other night, and we thought we should reconsider.† I had to give him credit for jumping in and going along with the story I was making up on the spot. Of course, you'd think he'd remember the name of the fake rabbit he had created. â€Å"Hopper,† I corrected. â€Å"Is the Bunny Suite still vacant?† he asked. â€Å"We can just take a quick peek in while you help her.† Alicia hesitated only a moment before handing over a key. â€Å"Sure. Let me know if you have any questions.† I took the key and headed toward the stairs with Adrian. Behind us, I could hear the woman asking if it'd be okay to set up a tent in the backyard and how many hot plates the inn could hold before it became a fire hazard. Once we were on the second floor and out of earshot, Adrian spoke. â€Å"Let me guess. You want to go prowl through the Velvet Suite.† I rewarded him with a grin, pleased that he'd guessed my plan. â€Å"Yup. Pretty good idea, huh? Hopefully Alicia will be distracted for a while.† â€Å"I could have just compelled her,† he reminded me. â€Å"You're using too much spirit already.† I found the Velvet Suite and put the key in the lock, hoping Alicia had given us the master key and not one specifically for the Bunny Suite. When she had shown us around last time, she'd only used one key. A click told me we'd lucked out and wouldn't have to use any metal-burning chemicals today. We'd seen the Velvet Suite during our last visit, and for the most part, it looked the same. Velvet bedding, velvet-covered furniture, and even velvet-textured wallpaper. Only, this time, the room wasn't in the pristine and unoccupied state as before. Signs around the room showed recent use. The bed was unmade, and the scent of shampoo from the bathroom indicated a shower not too long ago. â€Å"Alicia might have been wrong about Veronica checking out,† said Adrian. He opened drawer after drawer and found nothing. In the closet, he discovered high-heeled shoes tucked into a corner and a belt on a hanger – things that might be easily missed with frantic packing. â€Å"Someone left here in a hurry.† My hopes plummeted. In accidentally revealing our â€Å"surprise,† Alicia had apparently scared Veronica into skipping out on the room. We found no sign that Veronica would actually return, and as Adrian had said, she seemed to have taken off quickly, based on the kinds of easy-to-forget things that were left behind: a razor in the shower, a bottle of perfume on the bathroom counter, and a stack of takeout menus on the nightstand. I sat on the bed and sifted through the menus, not really convinced they'd tell me much. Chinese, Indian, Mexican. Veronica had diverse tastes, at least. I reached the bottom of the stack and threw them on the ground. â€Å"She left,† I said. I couldn't hide from the truth any longer. â€Å"That idiot Alicia tipped her off, and now we've lost her again.† Adrian sat down beside me, his face mirroring my dismay. â€Å"We'll find her. We've slowed her down by hiding the others. Maybe it'll buy us time until the next full moon so you can scry again.† â€Å"I hope so,† I said, though I wasn't optimistic. He brushed aside the wig's hair and turned my face toward him. â€Å"Everything's going to be okay. She doesn't know about you.† I knew he was right, but it was hollow comfort. I leaned my head against his shoulder, wishing I could fix everything. That was my job, right? â€Å"All that means is that someone else could suffer in my place. I don't want that. I need to stop her once and for all.† â€Å"So brave.† He gave me a small smile. His fingertips slid down from my face, lightly stroking the line of my neck, down toward my shoulder. Everywhere he touched, a trail of goose bumps appeared. How did he keep doing this to me? Marcus – who made every girl in the world swoon – had zero effect on me. But one whisper of a touch from Adrian completely undid me. â€Å"You could give Castile a run for his money,† he added. â€Å"Stop that,† I warned. â€Å"Comparing you to Castile?† â€Å"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it.† His hands were too dangerous, as was being with him on a bed. Terrified I might be kissed again, I jerked away, and the sudden movement caught him by surprise. His fingers got tangled in my hair, as well as in my two necklaces, which resulted in him snapping both chains and nearly pulling off the brown wig. I quickly caught the garnet before it could fall off, but the cross slipped away. Thank God I'd kept the important one on. â€Å"No more kissing,† I warned. I refastened the charm and straightened the wig. â€Å"You mean no more kissing unless it's a romantic place,† he reminded me. â€Å"Are you saying this place doesn't scream romance?† He nodded around to our tacky velvet surroundings. He then picked up the small cross and held it in the air, growing thoughtful as he studied the way the light played off the gold surface. â€Å"You gave this to me once.† â€Å"And you gave it back.† â€Å"I was angry.† â€Å"And now?† He shrugged. â€Å"Now I'm just determined.† â€Å"Adrian.† I sighed. â€Å"Why do you keep doing this? The touching . . . the kissing . . . you know I don't want it.† â€Å"You don't act that way.† â€Å"Stop saying that. It's obnoxious. Next you'll be saying I'm ‘asking for it.'† Why did he have to be so infuriating? Okay . . . I hadn't really sent a clear message back at the sorority. Or Pies and Stuff. But this time I'd done better. â€Å"I just pulled away. How much more direct do I have to be?† â€Å"It's not your actions, exactly† he said. He still clutched the cross in his hand. â€Å"It's your aura.† I groaned. â€Å"No, no, not that. I don't want to hear about auras.† â€Å"But I'm serious.† He shifted over and stretched out on the bed, lying on his side. He patted the bed near him. â€Å"Lie down.† â€Å"Adrian – â€Å" â€Å"I won't kiss you,† he said. â€Å"I promise.† â€Å"How stupid do you think I am?† I said. â€Å"I'm not falling for this.† He gave me a long, level look. â€Å"Do you really think I'd assault you or something?† â€Å"No,† I said quickly. â€Å"Of course not.† â€Å"Then humor me.† Warily, I lay down on my side as well, facing him with only a few powerful inches between us. An enraptured, slightly distracted look appeared in his eyes. He'd given himself over to spirit. â€Å"Do you know what I see in you now? The usual aura. A steady golden yellow, healthy and strong, with spikes of purple here and there. But when I do this. . . .† He rested a hand on my hip, and my whole body tensed up. That hand moved around my hip, slipping under my shirt to rest on the small of my back. My skin burned where he touched me, and the places that were untouched longed for that heat. â€Å"See?† he said. He was in the throes of spirit now, though with me at the same time. â€Å"Well, I guess you can't. But when I touch you, your aura . . . it smolders. The colors deepen, it burns more intensely, the purple increases. Why? Why, Sydney?† He used that hand on me to pull me closer. â€Å"Why do you react that way if I don't mean anything to you?† There was a desperation in his voice, and it was legitimate. It was hard for me to talk. â€Å"It's instinct. Or something. You're a Moroi. I'm an Alchemist. Of course I'd have a response. You think I'd be indifferent?† â€Å"Most Alchemist responses would involve disgust, revulsion, and holy water.† That was an excellent point. â€Å"Well . . . I'm a little more relaxed around Moroi than most Alchemists. Probably this is just some purely physical response driven by hormones and years of evolution. My body doesn't know any better. I'm as susceptible to lust as anyone else.† There was probably a book about that or at least an article in Cosmopolitan. The hint of a smile played over his lips. He was fully in tune with me again. â€Å"No, you aren't. I mean, you are, but not without reason. I know you well enough to realize that now. You're not the kind of person who's ‘susceptible to lust' without some emotion to back it.† He moved his hand back to my hip, sliding it down my leg. I shuddered, and his face moved closer to mine. There was so much in his eyes, so much desire and longing. â€Å"See? There it is again. My flame in the dark.† â€Å"Don't kiss me,† I whispered. It was the only defense I could muster. If he kissed me, I'd be lost. I closed my eyes. â€Å"You said you wouldn't.† â€Å"I won't.† His lips were only a breath away. â€Å"Unless you want me to.† I opened my eyes, ready to tell him no, that it didn't matter what my aura allegedly said . . . this couldn't keep happening. There was no emotion backing this desire, and I tried to cling to my earlier argument. I was so comfortable around Moroi now that clearly some primal part of me kept forgetting what he was. This was a base instinct. I was simply having a physical reaction to him, to his hands, to his lips, to his body. . . . He caught hold of my arm and rolled me over. I closed my eyes again and wrapped my arms around his neck. I felt his lips touch mine, not quite a kiss, just the barest brush of – The door opened, and I flinched. Alicia stepped inside, gasped, and put a hand up over her mouth to cover a shocked squeal. â€Å"O-oh,† she stammered. â€Å"I'm so sorry . . . I . . . I didn't realize . . .† Adrian and I jerked away and sat up. My heart was ready to beat out of my chest, and I knew I was blushing. I quickly patted my wig and was relieved to feel it was still in place. He recovered his voice more quickly. â€Å"Sorry . . . we kind of got carried away. We started checking out the other rooms and decided to, uh, try them out.† Despite his sheepish words, there was a smug look on his face, the kind you'd expect from a guy who'd just made a conquest. Was it part of the act, or did he really think he'd gotten away with something? Alicia looked as uncomfortable as I felt. â€Å"I see. Well, this room's occupied. It's – † She frowned and did a double take. â€Å"It's Veronica's. It looks like she left.† I finally managed to speak. â€Å"That's why we thought it was empty,† I said hastily. â€Å"There was nothing in here.† Alicia thankfully seemed to have forgotten about our compromising position. â€Å"That's weird. She didn't formally check out. I mean, she paid in advance in cash, but still. It's so strange.† We made a hurried escape of our own after that, once again feeding Alicia lines about how we'd be in touch. Neither of us spoke much when we got in the car. I was lost in my own thoughts, which were equal parts frustration over Veronica and confusion over Adrian. I refused to acknowledge the latter, though, and opted for my usual tactic. The sooner that moment was forgotten, the better. I was pretty sure I could keep telling myself that. Some part of me – nearly as snarky as Adrian – suggested I pick up a book on denial the next time I was in the self-help section. â€Å"Another dead end,† I said once we were on the road. I texted Ms. Terwilliger: V's gone. No need for action. Her response came a few minutes later: We'll keep trying. I could practically feel her disappointment through the display on my phone. She wasn't the only one. Adrian seemed particularly melancholy on the drive back. He responded whenever I spoke, but it was clear he was distracted. When he dropped me off at Amberwood later that night, I found everything mercifully quiet. No crises, no dangerous missions. It felt like it had been ages since I had a moment to myself, and I curled up on my bed, taking solace in the ordinary tasks of homework and reading. I fell asleep with my face on my calculus book. I experienced one of those nonsensical dreams that everyone has. In it, my family's cat could talk, and he was driving Adrian's Mustang. He asked me if I wanted to take a road trip to Birmingham. I told him I had a lot of homework to do but that if he wanted to go to Fargo, I'd consider it. We were in the middle of negotiating who'd pay for gas when the dream suddenly dissolved to blackness. A cold feeling swept over me, followed by a feeling of dread that rivaled the time Adrian and I had faced down Strigoi in his apartment. A woman's laughter rolled around me, foul and sickening, like some sort of toxic smoke. A voice came out of the darkness, echoing in my mind. She's kept you well hidden, but it can't stay that way forever. You can't conceal power like yours forever. I've caught your trail. I'll find you. Hands suddenly reached out of the darkness for me, wrapping around my throat and cutting off my air. I screamed and woke up in my own bed, surrounded in books. I'd left the light on, and it chased some of the dream's terror away. But only some. Sweat poured off me, making my shirt stick to me. I touched my neck, but there was nothing wrong with it. The garnet hung in place but not my cross. No need to fear a dream, I thought. It didn't mean anything, and really, with everything going on lately, it was a wonder I didn't have nightmares more often. But thinking back on it, I wasn't so sure. There had been something so terrible and real about it, a horror that seemed to reach into my very soul. I didn't want to sleep after that, so I made a cup of coffee and tried to read again. It worked for a while, but somewhere around four, my body couldn't take it anymore. I fell asleep on my books again, but this time, my sleep stayed dream free.

Christopher McCandless Rebellious, Suicidal Narcissist

Transcendentalism is a religious, philosophical, literary, and social movement of the nineteenth century. Essentially, this movement was based upon the ideals of the â€Å"sixth sense,† nature, and non-conformity, as well as individualism, intuition, idealism, imagination, and inspiration. A few of the works featured in the transcendental unit include Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, Song of Myself by Walt Whitman, and Walden by Ralph Waldo Emerson. The primary focus of this essay is to provide an opinion on a strikingly debatable topic; Whether or not Christopher McCandless, hero of Krakauer’s Into the Wild, was a true transcendentalist. Despite the bold actions of Chris McCandless on his daring Alaskan odyssey, he turned out to be far from a true transcendentalist, failing to meet the definition of transcendentalism, being solely concerned with himself, and acting out of revenge rather than seeking self discovery - nothing more than a childish suicidal rebel. To begin with, McCandless did not present the slightest interest in religion. An issue is created here due to the fact that religion was a large portion of the transcendental movement. Transcendentalists believed that there is a unity between nature and God; That one may discover God through immersing themselves in nature. They also held the belief that God is present in each individual; That humans as a whole form God because a fragment of Him is within each human being. Christopher McCandless did not share these beliefs.