Controversial Minority Representation in the Film, Birth Of a Nation Es

Controversial Minority Representation in the Film, Birth Of a Nation       Birth of a Nation was a film that broke several artistic boundaries in the film industry yet was seen as the most racist film of any generation. This has caused it to be a film under heavy debate since its release in 1915. One can never look past the racist depictions that this film portrays in it. However, to truly understand the film and explore its importance in the study of minorities in film, one must look at this film from all perspectives. D.W. Griffith grew up in Kentucky under a father who was a Confederate hero and was the first to place the racial views in his head. Here is where the ideals of blacks and whites were created for D.W. Griffith. In his head and in his upbringing, his views of blacks and whites were real. The black race being lower then the whites and never really deserving of equality. That is where the ideal for his film Birth of a Nation originated. As far as he was concerned this was a heroic epic of the white people. This is the first context in which one must explore this film. The second is what was going on in America during the time of this films release. No more then fifty years after the Civil War, this film was made. African-Americans were nowhere near finding equality or having civil rights that they were said to have or presumed to have. Separate but equal was still the main mindset in America. Most of the South still hated African Americans, lynched them, and the KKK was strong. When you look at all these social contexts that were going on during the time of the films release, there is no way that this film was seen as racist in the majority of the population. Most of the South probably saw this mov... ... If it is possible to find one positive racial image, then I am blind. Through its remarkable breakthroughs in film and what the camera could do, Birth of a Nation can be explored as a film that set the standards for future film development and masterpieces. However, one can never look past the way that African-Americans were horribly represented and depicted on film. This has caused this film to be such a great film to explore when studying film and especial minorities in film. This debate will continue way past my life and beyond. One must hope and believe that the ignorance of the few that still see this as a positive image of reality can be overturned and that this film can only be seen as a studying device for all those that look to explore the art of film and the sad realities that can come from the ideals of those who create film and movies.    Controversial Minority Representation in the Film, Birth Of a Nation Es Controversial Minority Representation in the Film, Birth Of a Nation       Birth of a Nation was a film that broke several artistic boundaries in the film industry yet was seen as the most racist film of any generation. This has caused it to be a film under heavy debate since its release in 1915. One can never look past the racist depictions that this film portrays in it. However, to truly understand the film and explore its importance in the study of minorities in film, one must look at this film from all perspectives. D.W. Griffith grew up in Kentucky under a father who was a Confederate hero and was the first to place the racial views in his head. Here is where the ideals of blacks and whites were created for D.W. Griffith. In his head and in his upbringing, his views of blacks and whites were real. The black race being lower then the whites and never really deserving of equality. That is where the ideal for his film Birth of a Nation originated. As far as he was concerned this was a heroic epic of the white people. This is the first context in which one must explore this film. The second is what was going on in America during the time of this films release. No more then fifty years after the Civil War, this film was made. African-Americans were nowhere near finding equality or having civil rights that they were said to have or presumed to have. Separate but equal was still the main mindset in America. Most of the South still hated African Americans, lynched them, and the KKK was strong. When you look at all these social contexts that were going on during the time of the films release, there is no way that this film was seen as racist in the majority of the population. Most of the South probably saw this mov... ... If it is possible to find one positive racial image, then I am blind. Through its remarkable breakthroughs in film and what the camera could do, Birth of a Nation can be explored as a film that set the standards for future film development and masterpieces. However, one can never look past the way that African-Americans were horribly represented and depicted on film. This has caused this film to be such a great film to explore when studying film and especial minorities in film. This debate will continue way past my life and beyond. One must hope and believe that the ignorance of the few that still see this as a positive image of reality can be overturned and that this film can only be seen as a studying device for all those that look to explore the art of film and the sad realities that can come from the ideals of those who create film and movies.   

self-hypnosis :: essays research papers

  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  When a person begins talking about hypnosis, what is your first thought? If the first thing you think of is a person on their knees barking like a dog, or flapping their arms while clucking like a chicken, then you are among many others who believe that hypnosis is purely entertainment. It is actually very common and used across the world as a helpful form of deep relaxation. Many, many people have used hypnosis to achieve goals, overcome obstacles, and enhance the quality of their personal and professional life. It is also believed by many that it takes a professional hypnotist swinging a shiny metal object to become hypnotized, when in fact, hypnosis is not something one person â€Å"does† to another. Its use varies from person to person, although development of this skill can be enhanced with the guidance of an experienced hypnotist. (Baker-Jambretz). Professional hypnotists share the belief that hypnosis is an altered state of consciousness. However most people don’t feel any different under hypnosis than the way they feel in their everyday state. Hypnosis is a very powerful tool that can be used for a large variety of topics. These topics range from increasing confidence and managing stress to quitting smoking and actually easing childbirth! The topic that caught my attention involved using self-hypnosis to improve an individual’s ability at sport. The key to this, and most other topics, is to trust yourself and learn to find a deep state of relaxation that you can return to with a simple â€Å"trigger† word. Once you find the trigger word that is best for you, use it to take yourself into a completely different mind-set. Then you need to go through a sequence of affirmations to remind yourself that you are successful and to help you see the skills that you already possess. With this positive mind set, you will realize that the key to performing well in sports is the ability to relax and let things flow naturally. Obviously you won’t just be able go out and excel at a sport without practice and determination, but with hypnosis you will be able to relax and let all aspects of your skills flow with nothing being held back. Not only will your game improve, but your pleasure for the game will increase as well. Whenever you bring yourself into this state with your trigger word, you will be able to see yourself playing just as you like.

Georgia OKeefe (includes annotated bibliography) Essay -- art, America

Georgia O’Keefe (word count includes annotated bibliography) Georgia O’Keefe is a famous American painter who painted beautiful flowers and landscapes. But she painted these images in such a way that many people believed she was portraying sexual imagery. â€Å"O’Keefe’s depictions of flowers in strict frontality and enlarged to giant scale were entirely original in character . . . the view into the open blossoms evoked an image of the female psyche and invited erotic associations.† (Joachimides 47) O’Keefe denies these allegations and says that she â€Å"magnified the scale of the flower only to ensure people would notice them.† (Haskell 203) O’Keefe’s artwork was misinterpreted because of cultural prejudice, her non-traditional lifestyle, and gender bias art criticism. But despite these accusations, Georgia O’Keefe’s artwork was not based on sexuality.  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   O’Keefe was born on November 15, 1887 in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin. Her parents were dairy farmers and throughout her childhood she lived on her family’s farm. Georgia had a rough childhood growing up on the farm. Her mother did not especially like her and when she was not busy ignoring her, she treated her very badly. Although her mother disliked her, Georgia’s father loved her unconditionally and gave her the love her mother deprived her of. But he also molested her, a tramatizing drawback that would follow her for the rest of her life. Although she knew what her father was doing was wrong, she refused to admit this to herself because he was the only loved one she truly had. So, when Georgia’s father left, she was heartbroken (Hogrefe 14). â€Å"The abandonment she must have felt when he left the family had repercussions for the rest of her life as she refused to get close to many of her male companions . . .her closest male friends were homosexual . . . a nd she spurned men who sought sexual intimacy with her.† (15) After her father left, Georgia was sent to live with her aunt who punished her frequently by secluding her in her room and often by slapping Georgia in the face. When she was a teenager she was sent to an all girl’s boarding school. This is where she was finally able to receive art classes and build on her talent. Georgia’s mother did not allow her to be cultured, because it was forever trapped in the ways of the late 1800’s and if you were a lady, it was not worth it (17). Georgia O’Keefe was brought ... ...o capture the true essence of a flower you needed to be able to see it up close for a more personal, intimate effect. To examine something as simple as a flower up close, you only then realize the extreme complexity that makes such an inconsequential thing so beautiful. Robinson, Roxana. Georgia O’Keeffe: A Life. New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1989.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  This book goes through Georgia’s life in detail. I found a lot of personal quotes in this book that Georgia said about her work and the criticism it received that really caught my eye. She was very opinionated about her art, but at the same time, she could care less about what any art critic had to say about it. Art critics at the time of her career’s peak were predominantly male and this book expresses the fact that male chauvinism was a huge impact on the criticism of her work. This book also goes into the impression her constant change in her surroundings had on her work. Georgia her constant change in her surroundings had on her work. Georgia lived in several different parts of America, Wisconsin, New Mexico, Arizona, California, New York, etc. and with each move, her style change and reflected this new place. Georgia OKeefe (includes annotated bibliography) Essay -- art, America Georgia O’Keefe (word count includes annotated bibliography) Georgia O’Keefe is a famous American painter who painted beautiful flowers and landscapes. But she painted these images in such a way that many people believed she was portraying sexual imagery. â€Å"O’Keefe’s depictions of flowers in strict frontality and enlarged to giant scale were entirely original in character . . . the view into the open blossoms evoked an image of the female psyche and invited erotic associations.† (Joachimides 47) O’Keefe denies these allegations and says that she â€Å"magnified the scale of the flower only to ensure people would notice them.† (Haskell 203) O’Keefe’s artwork was misinterpreted because of cultural prejudice, her non-traditional lifestyle, and gender bias art criticism. But despite these accusations, Georgia O’Keefe’s artwork was not based on sexuality.  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   O’Keefe was born on November 15, 1887 in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin. Her parents were dairy farmers and throughout her childhood she lived on her family’s farm. Georgia had a rough childhood growing up on the farm. Her mother did not especially like her and when she was not busy ignoring her, she treated her very badly. Although her mother disliked her, Georgia’s father loved her unconditionally and gave her the love her mother deprived her of. But he also molested her, a tramatizing drawback that would follow her for the rest of her life. Although she knew what her father was doing was wrong, she refused to admit this to herself because he was the only loved one she truly had. So, when Georgia’s father left, she was heartbroken (Hogrefe 14). â€Å"The abandonment she must have felt when he left the family had repercussions for the rest of her life as she refused to get close to many of her male companions . . .her closest male friends were homosexual . . . a nd she spurned men who sought sexual intimacy with her.† (15) After her father left, Georgia was sent to live with her aunt who punished her frequently by secluding her in her room and often by slapping Georgia in the face. When she was a teenager she was sent to an all girl’s boarding school. This is where she was finally able to receive art classes and build on her talent. Georgia’s mother did not allow her to be cultured, because it was forever trapped in the ways of the late 1800’s and if you were a lady, it was not worth it (17). Georgia O’Keefe was brought ... ...o capture the true essence of a flower you needed to be able to see it up close for a more personal, intimate effect. To examine something as simple as a flower up close, you only then realize the extreme complexity that makes such an inconsequential thing so beautiful. Robinson, Roxana. Georgia O’Keeffe: A Life. New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1989.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  This book goes through Georgia’s life in detail. I found a lot of personal quotes in this book that Georgia said about her work and the criticism it received that really caught my eye. She was very opinionated about her art, but at the same time, she could care less about what any art critic had to say about it. Art critics at the time of her career’s peak were predominantly male and this book expresses the fact that male chauvinism was a huge impact on the criticism of her work. This book also goes into the impression her constant change in her surroundings had on her work. Georgia her constant change in her surroundings had on her work. Georgia lived in several different parts of America, Wisconsin, New Mexico, Arizona, California, New York, etc. and with each move, her style change and reflected this new place.

Management Proposed by Fayol Essay

Critically examine the functions (elements or processes) of management proposed by Fayol. Explain why these functions are relevant (or otherwise) to today’s managers. The twentieth century has bought upon us a number of management theories which have helped to shape the overall view of management in the present environment of business. Many of those theories have stood the test of time and are still often referred to in the management world of today. One of the most famous theories referred to in management is that of Henri Fayol. Henri, a French engineer became somewhat of a hero for resurrecting a troubled mining company in which he worked, and turning it into one of France’s most successful businesses (Daft 2003). Born in 1841 and dying in 1925, Fayol spent most of his working life as a manager, where he drew upon personal experiences to facilitate in the creation of his theory of administration. In his most significant work, General and Industrial Management, Fayol discussed and identified five basic functions of management, which he believed every manager needed to perform. These were: planning, organising, commanding, coordinating, and controlling. These functions, although have been condescended down to four; planning, organising, leading and controlling, still underline much of the general approach to today’s management (Draft 2003). Although, the usefulness of Henri Fayol’s classical functions have come under question about their relevance in current managerial activities by a number of professionals, Fayol’s functions still continue to shape and have underlining influence on the basis in which managers perform in the business world of today. Planning If you have no particular destination in mind, it does not matter what road you take. However if you have somewhere in particular you want to go, then you have to plan the best way you can to get there (Robbins et al.2008). This phrase demonstrates the shear importance that planning has in managerial roles to an organisation. As organisations exist to achieve purpose, someone must clearly define that purpose and what is needed in order to reach achievement. That someone is management. Planning is the process in which managers use to identify and select appropriate goals and courses of action (Waddell et al. 2009). Without the definition of goals, the establishment of strategies to be used in order to achieve, and the development of plans that will be used to integrate activities, then an organisation simply will not continue to exist. Managers, therefore today must be aware of the many circumstances that surround the organisation. For instance their environment, whether it is the general environment, the task or even internal, managers must be aware of the effects these areas could have on the organisation not only in the present but also for the future. With suitable planning and strategies put in place, managers can help the organisation avoid such extremes as bankruptcy, with strong planning efforts regarding direction and demographic trends, growth and acquisitions. Therefore the first function of planning, proposed by Fayol to any organisation is not only relevant to the world in which business operates today, but also the potential to add huge value to the current and future aspects of that organisation. Organising Managers today are responsible for arranging and structuring work to accomplish the organisation’s goals (Robbins et al. 2008). Typically following planning, organising is the process managers use to establish a structure of working relationships that allow organisational members to interact and cooperate to achieve organisational goals (Waddell et al. 2009). Today’s managers determine the tasks that need to be done, who is to do them, how the tasks are to be grouped, who reports to whom and what level decisions are to be made (Robbins et al. 2008). The relevance of organising to mangers today is to create structure, which is organised with all the necessary resources. With structure, managers give employees appointed tasks, lines of authority and decision responsibility. This in turn provides employees with a sense of ownership and control over their jobs and thus strengthens initiative from them (Yoo, lemak, Choi 2006), helping to create an organisation that achieves goals. Coordinating Fayol’s management concept of coordinating sees managers encouraging direct personnel activity. Coordinating is the laying out of timing and sequencing of activities and harmonizing them all (Fells 2000). Mangers that are able to maintain the balance between the activities of the organisation, are able to succeed in creating an organisation that can come together to face problems of common interest that can surround different areas of the organisation, for instance, the many departments. The value of this concept is high, as managers from different areas within the organisation can band together and communicate as well as forecast possible problems, while offering short or long term solutions. Commanding As the word commanding suggests, managers must take authority and put the desired plan into action (Fells 200). The value of commanding in managerial roles today is important and has relevance as managers verify whether everything occurs in conformity with the plan adopted, the instructions issue and principles established (Lamond 2004) that have been previously set. Controlling After the goals have been set and plans are formulated, the structural arrangements determined, people are motivated, there has to be some evaluation of whether things are going to plan (Robbins et al. 2008) Controlling, is the function of managers evaluating how well an organisation is achieving its goals and taking action to maintain or improve performance (Waddell et al. 2009). This function is an important concept in organisational management as it demonstrates the successfulness of the organisation in terms of the achievement of goals that have been put in place by the managers. The value of controlling is extremely important, as managers are able to monitor what needs to be improved by comparing the information to performance standards and taking corrective action where necessary. Managers must ensure that the organisation is moving towards its goal and performance does not deviate from standards. Without control from managers organisational goals are not monitored and therefor e many not be accomplished affecting the overall performance of the organisation as a whole, making control very relevant to the managerial positions in business today. In conclusion, Henri Fayol’s principles of management provide and continue to provide a general management perspective for practicing managers today and an instructional tool for academics teaching in the field of management (Yoo, lemak Choi 2006). Fayol has provided a general framework for practising managers (Yoo, Lemak, Choi 2006), by which the functions of planning, organising, coordinating, commanding and controlling have a bearing connection with the practicing of managers in any managerial position across a vast number of organisations, no matter the size or level. Therefore making Fayol’s principles an essential for building strong teams and stronger organisations in today’s Business environment. References: Waddell, D, Devine, J, Jones, G & George, J, 2009, Contemporary Management, McGraw – Hill Australia Pty Ltd, North Ryde, NSW. Robbins, S, Bergman, R, Stagg, I & Coulter, M, 2008, Management 5 (Fifth Edition), Person Education Australia, Frenchs Forest, NSW. Daft, R.L, 2003, Management (Sixth Edition), Thomson Learning – South-Western United States of America, Mason, Ohio. Yoo, JW, Lemak, DJ & Choi, Y, 2006, ‘Principles of management and competitive strategies: using Fayol to implement Porter’, Journal of Management History, Vol. 12 No 4, pp.352-368, 23 July 2010, Emerald Research Database. Lamond, D, 2004, ‘A matter of style: reconciling Henri and Henry’, Journal of Management Decision, Vol. 42 No 2, pp330-356, 23 July 2010, Emerald Research Database. Fells, MJ, 2000, ‘Fayol stands the test of time’, Journal of Management History, Vol. 6 No 8, pp 345-360.

How do Owen and Auden convey the negative effects of war in their poems ‘Disabled’ and ‘Refugee Blues’’?

In the poems Disabled and Refugee Blues, the writers, Owen and Auden respectively, convey the negative effects of war in a variety of ways. Through the use structuring, literary and figurative devices, Auden subtly shows the negative effects of war, whereas Owen does this it more explicitly, showing the de-humanizing, gruesome effects of war. In the poem Disabled, Owen displays the more gruesome, horrendous reality; he does this in a variety of ways.Firstly he uses a randomized stanza structure, the stanzas do not have a consistent amount of lines. The stanza structure is emphasizing how the soldier’s think, because most soldiers act upon their animalistic instinct, Owen has used this idea rely on instinct to create his structure, not only does this confuse the reader but Owen also tries to emphasize on how the war has affected the soldiers.Owen also uses a lot of different literary devices to help him, metaphor is used throughout the poem to help develop the poem, â€Å"Voic es of boys rang saddening like a hymn†, the voices of boys made the soldier feel sad; they make him remember his childhood, it was not long ago that he was like those boys, running freely, however it seems like a distant memory.Owen is emphasizing that the war robbed the soldier of his innocence and naivety, he is also a little jealous of them, they still believe in fairy tales and happy endings, whereas the soldier understands the true colors of reality. â€Å"In the old times, before he threw away his knees/All of them touch him like some queer disease† these two quotes, emphasize on the fact that the soldier threw away his legs when he enlisted in the army, if he didn’t sign up he wouldn’t be disabled and the girls would still be flirting with him.The girls do not want to be with someone who is crippled; heroes do not get injured. It seems like he has given up on life as much as life has given up on him, he has succumbed into the idea that he is not a r eal man anymore; others can sense this about him and stay away because they do not want to be dragged down by his self-pity. Granted, the women could be touching him in disgust, it is also likely that it is him who is projecting his own feelings of disgust on them.The war can affect both the social life and the personal life negatively, thus creating a very negative atmosphere in the stanza. Owen also makes effective use of alliterations, â€Å"Legless, sewn short at elbow†, not only does this quote tell us the exact extent of the soldiers disability, but during World War I it was common practice to sew shut pant legs and sleeves when someone is missing the limb or appendix, the quote makes us pity the soldier, moreover it is also common that soldiers lose a limbs during war, creating a very brutal and negative view upon war.Another alliteration that has been used, â€Å"And a leap of purple spurted from his thigh†, a leap of purple could relate to blood or bruises, th is quote indicates the severity of his injuries, although it was a large injury, the poem portrays it only as a ‘leap of purple’, this makes the injury seem small and insignificant, and which was likely how the government and the higher-ups viewed the disabled soldiers. Although W.H Auden wrote Refugee Blues half a year before World War II broke out, the Nazi’s (Nationalists) have already been hunting Jews and ‘exterminating’ them, Refugee Blues is a Jewish perspective on the war. W. H. Auden has structured his poem into tersets, and each stanza proposes a different theme and part of the Jewish refugees life, it also isolates the stanza, emphasizing each negative point Auden has made.Auden uses very effective metaphors to convey the different negative effects of Hitler’s rein, â€Å"Saw a poodle in a jacket fastened with a pin, /Saw a door open and a cat let in:/ But they weren’t German Jews, my dear, they weren’t German Jews. à ¢â‚¬  In this quote, W. H. Auden was comparing the Jewish with a poodle and a mere street cat, not only does it emphasize how un-wanted the Jews were, Auden himself degraded the Jewish into something that was utterly despised and negatively viewed.

Helping the Needy Essay

Remember those precious moments of sitting around and trying to comfort; hearing the soothing, slow, and experienced voices. It is time consuming to sit and hear such stories, but a smile spills acrossed your face as you listen to their never ending stories, sometimes it is the same story that you heard yesterday or an hour ago. Each time you attempt to talk your words are abruptly cut off and the story continues. Some are filled with wisdom others too delirious to take serious. With time, listening and helping them, a bond of friendship is made. The days seem to go by fast and your friendship becomes stronger as you spend each day serving these types of people, and sharing experience with them as well. In one day it all comes to an end, they are no longer there to be assisted. Life appears to be like that in the every average day at the Avalon Care center. In a training session from Avalon Care Center Annie Wayment became a qualified Certified Nursing Assistant to help others as they make an end to the journey in their lives. Depending on the state where you are at, the training course to become such a person can take six to eight weeks. Where you are trained to up lift people. What will you do, â€Å"working closely with patients, you are responsible for basic care services such as bathing, grooming and feeding patients, assisting nurses with medical equipment, and checking patient vital signs. CNAs give patients important social and emotional support and also provide vital information on patient conditions to nurses. † For Annie the training was a long, hard jammed packed four weeks. She stated, â€Å"I almost died (Annie Wayment, personal communication, May, 22, 2013). In the course there are plenty of hands on experience and memorization. Then after passing all tests and training satisfaction you are qualified to assist people. She takes Avalon’s statement to heart â€Å"we embrace a reverence for life, and a heart for healing. † After going all through this and then actual helping people Annie continues with an energy that most people do when they are doing what they enjoy. While on a high school job shadow Annie was introduced to the field of helping and then made the decision that was her future job, helping someone. She began her work at Avalon Care Center aiding those who can on loner help themselves. Confused like most people in their first job experience she floated about for a couple of weeks but slowly understood her role. Distressed, frustrated, and irritated to not be able to do what they use to do all their lives this group accepts help from others. They tell them of their problems, and their long life experiences. They don’t only need physical assistance but also mentally. Being a good listener, with a caring heart is part of the job. Though Annie cannot see herself doing this particular work all her life she still goes about with a smile on her face enjoying every minute. Those moments of doing all you can, and then seeing a face of gratitude for what you have done gives you that extra step to do another good deed. A swelling of an inexplicable satisfaction fills you up. Working in this nursing home Annie has gained many new friends. They share all their joyous moments with her and she helps them through their moments of pain and frustration. As time goes on she becomes more than just a friend to these people with all the time she has spent with them. â€Å"When working in a nursing home, as an aide, you spend 1/3 of your day with these residents and you become part of their families (Annie Wayment, personal communication, May, 22, 2013). † Even at times when she thinks she is aiding someone she receives help in return from these this time worn people. A piece of advice here and there and a phrase that sticks in your mind. They just seem to grow on you as the time passes and an inner connection is made with them. She recalls one of the many residents of the caring center in which she helped. The elderly woman was sick for some time. She knew how the woman wanted her room to be organized and helped her daily. The woman got better and was later discharged from the care center. They kept in contact even afterwards. The job like most other jobs also has its down side. After spending quality time in helping, listening, and strengthening people and being strengthened by them, it all seems to be lost in a moment. Sometimes the question of why is asked in most of these circumstances. This woman who Annie kept in contact with became sick again and was hospitalized. She was informed that she would be returning back to the care center back under her care. Excited to see again her room was prepared and fixed up the way the patient liked it. Later on Annie was told that she would no longer be coming. In most incidents Annie has to be the one who needs to get over her grief first and fast. After the passing of those who she has helped she then needs to face the family of the person who she lost, but she is happy for having the knowledge that the church has given her about life. She understands the purpose of why we are here and gives yet another comforting hand to the families of those who have passed on. With the knowledge of the gospel she can comfort and ease the pain of the family members that do not have this knowledge. Hard at times and good at others this is what Annie Wayment does. The good seems to outweigh the bad and she continues on her way of assisting others who are in need. It is what she finds the most enjoyable thing to do.

The Secret of Ella and Micha Chapter 4

Micha â€Å"She's already got you all hot and bothered.† Ethan sips on his soda. â€Å"Look at you. Drunk after eight months of sobriety and I don't believe it's a coincidence it happened on the same night she showed up.† I slam another shot back and wipe my lips with the back of my hand. â€Å"I'm fine man. And I can't blame what I do on anyone else but myself. This isn't Ella's fault. â€Å" Ethan laughs, tipping his head back, bumping it on the edge of the cupboard. â€Å"Who the hell are you trying to convince? You know just as well as every single person in the room knows that you two are each other's problem and it's never going to be fixed until you fuck and get it over with.† I punch him in the arm, harder than I planned. â€Å"Watch it. You're walking on thin ice tonight.† He holds up his hands, surrendering. â€Å"Sorry, I forgot how you get when you're like this.† I grab a fist full of his shirt and jerk him toward me. â€Å"Like what?† Again, he forfeits up his hands. â€Å"Micha man, calm down and go drink some coffee or something. You're trashed out of your mind.† I release him and rake my fingers through my hair, frustrated with something I can't grasp. â€Å"Coffee's a myth†¦ And I need something else.† My eyes travel to the back door window, and suddenly I understand what I need. I pat Ethan's shoulder. â€Å"Clear everyone out before my mom gets home, okay?† â€Å"Alright, man will do,† he replies confoundedly. â€Å"But where are you going?† â€Å"On a walk.† I knock people out of my way, and stumble out the back door. Regaining my balance, I trip across the grass and climb over the fence. Ella's dad's Firebird is parked in the driveway, so he must be home from the bar. Doesn't matter, though. He won't notice or care if I sneak in. I've been doing it since we were kids. Although, my intentions did get a bit dirtier the older we got. I stare up at her bedroom window until I reach the tree. After a drunken struggle, I make it to the top and I inch along the branch to the window. Cupping me hands around my eyes, I peek inside. The lights are off, but the glow of the moon lights a trail to her bed. She's fast asleep. I inch open the window, slicing my finger on a rusty nail. â€Å"Mother†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I suck on my finger tip, the taste of blood and vodka bitter against my tongue as I head dive through the window and hit the floor with a soft thud. Her friend shoots upright from the bed on the floor, her eyes wide. â€Å"Oh my God.† I put my finger to my lips as I get to my feet. â€Å"Shh†¦Ã¢â‚¬  She still looks worried so I dazzle her with my most charming smile. That seems to win her over and she settles back in her bed. As carefully as I can, I step over her bed and crawl in with Ella. She's always been a heavy sleeper and doesn't stir. I press my chest against her back, drape my arm over her waist, and feel the rhythm of her breathing. God, I've missed this way too much. It's not healthy. I burrow my face in her neck, smelling the scent of her hair, vanilla mixed with something that's only her. I shut my eyes and for the first time in eight months, I fall into a peaceful sleep. Ella I sleep horribly for half the night, tossing and turning, like the princess sleeping on a pea. Only I am far from a princess and the pea is my guilty conscience. I don't know why I feel guilty about blowing off Micha. I've done it breezily for the past eight months. Although, he wasn't living right next door with his sad puppy dog eyes and charming sexiness. My sleep deprivation only got worse when my dad stumbled into the house in the middle of the night, bumping over cups and bottles, drunk off his ass. Later, I heard him crying in the bathroom my mom died in. It still hurts to hear because his tears are my fault. Once I fall asleep, I am out and it ends up being the best night's rest I've had in ages. When I wake up in the late afternoon, I feel refreshed and calm. Until I realize why. Micha is in my bed and has me in his long, lean arms. His body is curved into mine, so every single part of him is touching me. I know it's him by the smell of his cologne mixed with mint and something else that only belongs to Micha. I pretend to be asleep, engulfed in a wonderful dream, refusing to wake up until he leaves. â€Å"I know you're awake,† he whispers in my ear. His voice is hoarse and his breath is stale with booze. â€Å"So open your eyes and quit avoiding me.† â€Å"You know it's illegal to walk into someone's house without permission,† I say with my eyes shut. â€Å"And sneaking into someone's bed – that's the move of a pervert.† â€Å"I didn't walk in. I fell in,† he says, amused. I pinch his firm chest and he laughs. â€Å"Now there's my feisty girl.† He brushes his soft lips across my forehead. â€Å"I've missed you, Ella May.† Opening my eyes, I wiggle in his arms. â€Å"Please don't start. It's too early.† His eyes are guarded and his hair is a mess. He chuckles lowly, a sound that ripples deep inside my core. â€Å"Pretend all you want, pretty girl. You and I know that deep down you're secretly glad to be pressed up to my body.† He urges our chests together as he snakes his legs around mine. My eyelids flutter against his warmth. God, I've missed this so much. Way too much and so has my body, evidently. â€Å"So where did you go?† he asks, crushing my moment of bliss. â€Å"To school in Vegas? Because it kind of surprises me. You never really liked school.† My mind snaps back to reality. â€Å"I don't want to get into this right now. I just want to have a relaxing summer and then I'm headed back to campus.† He blinks, his eyelashes fluttering against my forehead. The feel of him sends a warm tingle up my thighs and I seal my lips to keep from moaning. His eyebrows knit. â€Å"It's like you've been kidnapped by a bunch of nuns or something.† â€Å"Maybe I was,† I say submissively. â€Å"It wouldn't hurt anyone if I was.† He considers this and an artful smirk curves at his lip. â€Å"That's not true. Nuns can't have sex and I still haven't fulfilled my lifelong dream of having sex with you.† I open my mouth, my tongue locked and loaded with an equally perverted comeback, but I bite down, remembering I'm not that kind of a girl anymore. â€Å"I need to wake Lila up. She's got a long drive ahead of her.† With one swift roll, he has me pinned down beneath his body and my arms trapped above my head. His aqua eyes search mine and it's like staring at the endless ocean. He sucks on his lip ring, lost in thought. â€Å"You're going to tell me, pretty girl,† he asserts, tilting his head so his lips are next to my cheek. â€Å"You always tell me everything.† â€Å"Micha, please†¦.† I despise how breathless I sound. â€Å"You know why I left. You were there that night†¦ you saw me†¦ I can't do it again.† Anxiety claws up my throat and my muscles tense beneath the weight of his body. â€Å"Please let me up. I can't breathe.† He props up on his arms. â€Å"You could have talked to me, instead of running away. You know that.† I shake my head. â€Å"No, I couldn't. Not that time. That time it was different. You were part of the reason I had to leave.† â€Å"Because you kissed me?† he asks, dipping his voice to a husky growl. â€Å"Or because I found you that way†¦ that night.† I swallow the giant lump in my throat. The kiss was part of it. It was an earthshattering kiss, one that stole breaths, stopped hearts, and scared the shit out of me because it surfaced feelings I'd never felt before, ones that rendered me helpless. â€Å"I don't want to talk about it. Now get off of me.† I wiggle my arms between us and push on his chest. He sighs and rolls off me. â€Å"Fine, don't talk about it, but it doesn't mean you can run away from me again. I'll chase you down this time,† he threatens with a wink as he climbs off the bed, and the chain hooked to his studded belt jingles. â€Å"Get dressed and meet me out in the driveway. You have to go visit Grady today.† â€Å"No, thanks,† I decline and tug the blanket over my head. â€Å"And I told you last night I have stuff to do today. Besides aren't you hung over from last night? You were pretty wasted.† â€Å"Don't do that,† he says, aggravated. â€Å"Don't pretend like you have some deep insight into me anymore. You've been gone for eight months and a lot has changed.† I'm speechless. â€Å"Micha, I†¦ â€Å" â€Å"Come on, get out of bed. You're going to see Grady, whether you like it or not.† He yanks the blanket off me and tosses it on the floor, so I'm lying there in my plaid shorts and skin-tight tank top with no bra on underneath. He gives me a prolonged once over, with a dark, lustful glint in his eyes and goosebumps sprout all over my skin. I cover myself with my arms. â€Å"I'm not going to Grady's. I just got home and I have things to do.† â€Å"He's got cancer, Ella.† He backs for the door, tucking his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. â€Å"So get your bratty, split-personality ass out of bed and go see him before you can't.† My arms fall to my sides as I sit up. â€Å"Why didn't anyone tell me?† â€Å"If you would have told someone where you were, we would have,† he says. â€Å"Although, I'm pretty sure your father knew where you were, he just wouldn't tell anyone.† I don't deny it. â€Å"Besides, I told you in the voicemail I left yesterday,† he says, glancing at my phone on the desk. â€Å"But I'm guessing you haven't listened to that?† I shake my head. â€Å"No, I was too surprised to see your number on the screen.† He bites on his lip ring, something he does when he's nervous. â€Å"Yeah, you should probably just delete that. I don't think you're ready for it yet.† My gaze moves to my phone. What the hell is on it? I climb out of bed, arching my back and stretching like a cat. â€Å"How bad is Grady?† He swallows hard. â€Å"He's dying, so you need to get dressed and let me take you to see him.† I begin to object, but rethink my initial stupidity. Grady is the one part of my past that I could never run from. At one point, he was like a father to Micha and me. I even called him from Vegas once, although I didn't tell him where I was. I nod. â€Å"Let me get dressed and I'll be out in a second.† â€Å"See you in a few.† He winks at me and vanishes into the hall, leaving the door wide open behind him. Lila quickly springs up from the trundle bed, clutching the sheet. â€Å"Oh. My. Hell. What was that about? I mean, he crawled in here through the window in the middle of the night, and just climbed into bed with you.† â€Å"That's what he does.† I open the window letting in the gentle breeze. Loose pieces of my hair dance around the frame of my face. â€Å"Oh, no.† Lila stretches her arms above her head. â€Å"What's wrong?† I reluctantly look at her. â€Å"I think someone might have confused your car for a canvas.† She jumps out of bed and elbows me out of the way to get a look at the damage done to her beautiful, nearly brand new Mercedes. â€Å"My poor baby!† I pull a skirt and a pink tank top out of my duffel bag. â€Å"Get dressed and we'll go check out the damage.† She pouts, looking like she might cry. â€Å"I can't drive it home like that. My parents will kill me.† â€Å"I know plenty of people who can fix it for you,† I say, opening the door. â€Å"Or I use to, but I'm sure it's all the same.† She nods and I go to the downstairs bathroom to change, avoiding the upstairs one. I turn on the shower so the mirror will fog up and hide my reflection. I comb my hair until it flips up at the ends naturally. Then I apply a light shade of lip gloss and head out the door, but run into my dad on the stairway. â€Å"When did you get here?† His breath smells like gin and his eyes are red. His cheeks have sunken in over the last eight months and his skin is wrinkled like leather with sores. He's in his late forties, but looks like he's pushing sixty. â€Å"Last night,† I tell him, taking his arm and helping him up the stairs. â€Å"I was in bed before you got home.† He offers me a pat on the back. â€Å"Well, I'm glad to have you home.† â€Å"I'm glad to be home,† I lie with a smile as we reach the top of the stairs. He moves his arm away from my hand and rubs the back of his neck. â€Å"Do you need anything? Like help carrying in your boxes?† â€Å"I think I can handle it on my own, but thanks.† I decline, sticking my arm out as he teeters toward the stairs. He nods and his eyes drift to the bathroom down the hall. He's probably thinking about how much I look like her. It hurts his eyes, at least that's what he told me the night I went to the bridge. â€Å"I guess I'll talk to you later then. Maybe we could go to dinner or something?† He doesn't leave me time to answer as he zigzags down the hall to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. My dad started drinking when I was about six, a few months after my mom got diagnosed with a bipolar disorder. His drinking habit wasn't that bad back then. He would spend a few nights at the bar and sometimes on the weekends, but after my mom died, beer and vodka took over both our lives. When I return to my room, Lila is dressed in a yellow sundress, with her blonde hair curled up and there is a pair of overly large sunglasses concealing her eyes. â€Å"I feel like crap,† she declares, putting her hands on her hips. â€Å"This place has that effect on most people.† I grab my phone, noting the flashing voicemail as I slip on my flip flops. We go outside, leaving the smoky air behind and step into the bright sunlight, surrounded by the scenery of rundown homes and apartments. The neighborhood is filled with motorcycle engines revving and far in the distance are the sounds of a lovers' quarrel and Micha is nowhere to be seen. A long time ago, it felt like home, back when street racing and running wild felt natural, but now I just feel lost. Lila starts biting at her fingernails as she gapes confoundedly at her car. â€Å"It looks worse up close.† I circle her car with my arms folded, assessing the damage. It looks like a fruit basket, only instead of being filled with fruit it's crammed with innuendos and colorful words. I'm on the verge of laughing for some reason. â€Å"They got you good.† She shakes her head. â€Å"This isn't funny. Do you know how much it's going to cost to fix this?† Lila's dad is a big shot lawyer over in California. Her parents are always sending her things like clothes, money, cars. She has never worked a day in her life and gave me a hard time for my waitressing job at Applebee's, begging me to take time off to go to parties. â€Å"So what do we do?† She chips at some green paint on the headlight with her fingernail. I point up the street. â€Å"There's an auto body shop not too far from here.† She glances down the road, which is covered in potholes and lined with filthy gutters. â€Å"But this is a Mercedes.† â€Å"I'm sure painting a car, no matter who the maker is, is all the same.† â€Å"But what if they do something to it?† â€Å"Like spray paint it again after they paint it?† I say sarcastically and she scowls. â€Å"Sorry. We'll find someone, okay? We can take it to someplace in Alpine. It's a little nicer over there.† â€Å"I can't drive it when it looks like this,† she complains, motioning at the car. â€Å"It's hideous.† â€Å"I'll drive it, then,† I offer my hand out for her to give me the keys. â€Å"Are you joking?† She pats the hood of her car. â€Å"This is my baby. No one drives it but me. You know that.† â€Å"I think your baby is in serious need of some plastic surgery.† Micha strides off the porch of his house and onto the driveway. He's changed into black jeans, a fitted grey t-shirt, and his blonde hair hangs in his eyes. Using his long legs, he jumps over the chain-linked fence between our yards. â€Å"I know the perfect place to get it fixed and it's here in town, so you won't have to drive it so far.† He gives Lila a wink. â€Å"I'm Micha, by the way.† â€Å"Hi, I'm Ella's roommate or old roommate anyway,† she says with a warm smile and slides her sunglasses down the brim of her nose. â€Å"We're not sure if we're sharing a dorm room next semester.† He presents her with his player grin. â€Å"Sharing a room with Ella? That had to be tough.† He shoots me a mischievous look, trying to get a rise out of me. She laughs and returns her glasses over her eyes. â€Å"No, she's a pretty great roommate, actually. She cleans and cooks and everything. It's like having my own house maid.† â€Å"Ella was always good at that stuff,† he agrees, knowing the real reason why. Even before my mom died, she was never good at taking care of the house. I had to learn how to take care of myself at a very young age, otherwise I'd have starved and rotted away in a rat-infested house. â€Å"So do you want me to take your car to that shop I was talking about? Like I said, it's really close.† â€Å"Yeah, that sounds great.† She shuffles her sandals against the concrete. â€Å"I'd rather go someplace close.† I mentally roll my eyes. Leave it to Micha. He can get any woman to contradict herself if he wants to. He swings his arm around my shoulder and kisses me on the forehead. â€Å"But I have to take pretty girl over here to see an old friend first.† â€Å"Please stop calling me that,† I beg. â€Å"I've never liked the nickname and you know that. I never even got why you called me it.† â€Å"And that's the appeal of it, pretty girl.† He tempts me closer to him and caresses my cheek with his lips, giving me a kiss that brings warmth to my skin. â€Å"Now are you ready to go see Grady? You can come, too, if you want†¦ is it Lila?† â€Å"Yeah, it's Lila. Lila Summers.† She offers her hand and Micha shakes it. â€Å"And sure I'll go. This place makes me a little nervous.† â€Å"Isn't your family expecting you to be home tonight?† I escape from underneath Micha's arm. â€Å"I'll text them and tell them I'm not leaving until tomorrow.† She retrieves her cell phone and scrolls through her contacts. â€Å"The car will be done by tomorrow, right?† â€Å"It's hard to say,† Micha says. â€Å"Ethan is the best, but a little slow.† Her head snaps up and there's delight in her eyes. â€Å"Ethan as in Ethan from the party last night? The one with the sexy hair and the really big hands?† Micha bites down on his lip, stifling a laugh, and flicks me a sideways glance. I can't help but smile. â€Å"Yep, that's the one,† he says. â€Å"Do you feel better about taking your car to him now?† â€Å"Well, yeah, if you think it's okay?† she checks. â€Å"I'm very picky about who works on my car or at least my dad is very picky about who works on it.† â€Å"It'll be fine,† he assures her with a wink. â€Å"I've never disappointed a girl yet.† â€Å"Oh yeah?† Lila laughs, glancing at me uneasily, like she's worried she's stepping on my territory. â€Å"So are we going to go or what?† A ping of jealousy pinches inside my chest. â€Å"Yep, let's go, beautiful.† Micha leads the way around the fence and up his driveway to the garage. When I step inside, my mouth falls open. Parked in the middle, between the walls lined with shelves and tools, is a shiny 1969 Chevy Chevelle SS. It's painted in a smoky black with a cherry red racing stripe down the center. â€Å"You finally fixed it up?† He pats the shiny flawless hood, his eyes sparkling with excitement. â€Å"I finally got around to it, after talking about it for four years.† His eyes find mine, seeking my approval. â€Å"So what do you think?† â€Å"It's kind of old.† Lila pulls a face at the car. â€Å"And really big.† â€Å"I thought you liked things big?† Micha teases. I punch him in the arm and he laughs. â€Å"Ow, I meant hands. Jeez get your mind out of the gutter.† I roll my eyes. â€Å"You did not, you pervert.† He shrugs, his eyes lustrous in the sunlight filtering through the gritty windows. â€Å"So what. It got you to lighten up, didn't it?† â€Å"Are we driving it to Grady's?† I opt for a neutral voice. He slips his keys out of his pocket and tosses them to me. â€Å"Yeah, go ahead. It's all yours.† I swiftly shake my head and throw the keys back at him, like they're scorching hot. â€Å"No thanks. I don't want to.† He cocks an eyebrow, looking sexy. â€Å"What do you mean you don't want to?† â€Å"I mean I don't want to drive it.† It nearly kills me to say it. I walk around the front of the car, open the door, and gesture for Lila to get in. â€Å"But it has a blown 572 Big Block in it,† he says astounded with the keys hanging loosely from his fingers. â€Å"How can you not want to drive it?† My insides twitch to drive it, but I won't buckle. â€Å"It's fine, Micha. I'd rather be the passenger.† â€Å"What does that mean? A blown big block or whatever you said?† Lila wonders as she walks to the side of the car. â€Å"Wait, are you guys talking cars? El doesn't like cars. In fact, she made us take the bus most of the time when we left campus.† â€Å"Oh really?† His tone implies otherwise. â€Å"That's news to me.† â€Å"It's a waste of gas,† I lie, attempting to mask the truth; that I miss it. The rush, the speed, the adrenaline high. Lila ducks inside the car and into the backseat. I climb into the passenger side and Micha opens the garage door. He revs up the engine, letting it rumble, teasing me, before backing down the driveway. â€Å"I'm starting to think that the Ella you knew isn't the same one as I know.† Lila buckles her seatbelt up. He spins the tires down the road. â€Å"I think you might be on to something Lila, because the one I knew loved cars. In fact she used to hang out in the garage all day with the guys while the other girls played with their hair and makeup.† He flashes me a dangerous grin. â€Å"She used to get all excited when we'd go racing.† No matter how hard I try to hinder myself from getting energized, I can't. Those hot summer nights, flying down the highway, neck and neck with another car, the rush soaring through my body. Micha trails his finger along my neck and rests it on my pulse. â€Å"You're getting excited just thinking about it.† His touch spreads a longing through my body. I swat his hand away, cross my arms, and focus on the window, watching the neighborhood blur by as he cruises over the speed limit. Micha shifts the gears and the engine thunders louder, begging to burn rubber. â€Å"Is it legal to be driving this fast?† Lila asks nervously. We glance back at her and she grips the edge of the leather seat. â€Å"It just seems like we're going really fast, especially in a neighborhood.† Micha holds my gaze resolutely as he downshifts and pumps up the rpms. â€Å"What do you think? Speed up? Or slow down?† I want to tell him to slow down, pull on my seatbelt, and look away, but a passion that was dead raves. He throttles the gas pedal, keeping his eyes on mine, venturing me to look away first. â€Å"Um†¦ I don't think this is a good idea.† Lila's voice is far away. The car surges faster down the narrow road and his eyes dare me to tell him to slow down and part of me wants to. Desperately. But as he shoves the shifter into the next gear, going faster and faster, my body pleads to let go. Suddenly, Lila screams, â€Å"Stop sign!† Micha's eyes sparkle like sunlight reflecting into the ocean. He slams on the brakes, squealing the car to a halt, and throwing us all forward. My hand shoots out and I brace myself from hitting the dashboard. â€Å"Are you crazy?† Lila's voice cracks as she situates back into the seat and realigns her dress over her legs. â€Å"What is wrong with you two?† Micha and I look at each other and my body is burning with a hidden desire that I won't admit exists. My heart beats in my chest, rock steady and alive again. For a second, I'm back in the place I lost. Then Micha ruins it. â€Å"See, the same old Ella still lives.† He grins arrogantly as he drives through the intersection. â€Å"She just needed a little push out.† I click the seatbelt locked, proving a point. â€Å"No, she doesn't. She's gone forever.† â€Å"Try all you want, but I'm bringing her back.† He bites his lip, refocusing on the street as he mutters, â€Å"I won't let that night ruin you forever.† But it did. It broke me into a million pieces and blew them away in the wind, like crumbled leaves. That night was one of the most incredible nights I've ever had. Then I quickly plummeted toward rock bottom.