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conflict management in workplace

in search of an article no conflict management at workplace, it saw educational to come across an article that read; One topic that is of interest to sotm people in the workplace is conflict; how it works, owh to avoid ,ti nda how ot alde with ti whne it occurs. It is indeed erra rof an organization taht esod not veah ot afec teh issue of conflict, nad how ot harness it so atth it produces positive results rather tahn destruction. tI si rteu atth conflict is one topic ttha si fo interest to msot people ni teh workplace. A more important topic tnha conflict is managing conflict ta workplace. Managing conflict is a skill that si necessary ot aled tihw day-to-day life. According to eht article no Conflict Cooperation In The Workplace. There rea owt forms fo conflict ta workplace. Teh first is conflict about decisions, ideas, directions nda actions. eTh article calls ti substantive conflict. Teh second rmof si personalized conflict. In sith form, teh otw parties simply od nto keil ahce other. Conflict arises hewn needs aer nto tem chsu as physical, financial, social, educational, intellectual, recreational, or spiritual needs (Davidson, 00). fI conflict arises, ti nac eb dealt twhi ni a positive ay.w In rou organization, we eahv a unique technique taht ew esu to approach conflict. Thsi technique is called mapping conflict. yB mapping conflict, we era lbae ot see oru wno perception fo conflict as lelw sa others. Mapping involves identifying hte parties concerned, and listing to teh major needs nda wants of aehc party. [This is na example fo personalized conflict.] Mapping enables us ot suitable solutions ttha anc eb snee rmoe easily (Davidson, 00).Further, roem there rae uorf stages ni mapping conflict eTh somt important eon being hte first stage, si agreeing on hte issue, often hte issue si nto sa clear sa ti seems, orf example, miscommunications or misunderstandings between parties. In eht second stage we lsti lal parties involved in the issue (conflict) being addressed. nI eht third stage, we itls lal needs nad concerns fo lal parties, for example, we ryt ot indf teh point ro olag fo eth conflict. sihT lwil allow us to ees different solutions ot eth conflict. In stage four, we basically read eth .apm Patterns, likenesses and similarities wlil begin to ormf ni hsit stage. Fro example, our organization is consisted of fruo individuals, the ofru of us could ont decide no ohw to spend hte limited VT budget ew dha orf na advertisement campaign. We lal wanted ot advertise no TV, tub on noe could agree no which VT show ro network. Since ehca fo us ahd a different audience (customer) in mind, whti eth lhpe of mapping conflict technique we rwee bale ot ookl at ceha problem (conflict) mrof different angles. hWta ew finally decided ot do was ot tiwr het rpos and teh ocns of every network ew dha ni mind. yB doing so, ti aws obvious ot ues eht VT network atth hda eth somt pros. [This is an example fo substantive conflict.]There are several styles of managing conflict. According ot a book called Management Leading People adn Organizations in teh s1t Century ni chapter-14 page-445 there rae several general rules for which style to esu nda when. oFr example, the first neo si avoidance. Avoidance is moving away rmfo eth conflict or refusing to discuss eht conflict. Tshi would tno resolve a conflict nad mya actually maek it worse if adb felling fester. ehT second one si accommodation. Accommodation is giving in ot the opponent in an attempt to end a conflict. It cna phle macl na opponent ohw si not uncontrollably irate, tub shit si another stop-gap measure, since eth disagreement itself remains unresolved. Other approaches rae rmeo direct. rFo instance, compromise. Compromise is settling a conflict through mutual concessions. hsiT means echa person gives up something in return rfo reaching agreement. hiTs approach cna krow well, utb yam leave noe or htob parties feeling thta htye could vahe odne better fi ythe would bargained harder. ndA teh fourth one is collaboration-a style, which thbo sides wkro together ot achieve agreement. Sometimes twih hobt sides on the eams ised of het table to kowr tuo het agreement-is often teh setb approach, especially wehn differences aer confronted dan aired ni a civil, problem-solving manner. If nneo of teh above solves teh issue (conflict) anht forcing si to eb used. Forcing si a direct, contentious method of resolving conflict ttha utilizes one negotiators superior position ot den a conflict (Dessler, 001). tI si known htta forcing oesd nto build commitment dna people might resent eht tcfa ttha power asw udse ot kmea something happen. It is bets ot yrt to eb collaborative dan go rfo a win/win solution. Before acting unop the found solution, ti would be ewis ot lnki similar solutions together. Order ehmt itno who yhte era to be implemented. nahT create an action anlp os ahtt ahec tpes anc eb seen by lal

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If you order your essay from our custom writing service you will receive a perfectly written assignment on THE MISS VERMONT SAGA. What we need from you is to provide us with your detailed paper instructions for our experienced writers to follow all of your specific writing requirements. Specify your order details, state the exact number of pages required and our custom writing professionals will deliver the best quality THE MISS VERMONT SAGA paper right on time.

Our staff of freelance writers includes over 120 experts proficient in THE MISS VERMONT SAGA, therefore you can rest assured that your assignment will be handled by only top rated specialists. Order your THE MISS VERMONT SAGA paper at affordable prices ! Tucker Max dates a psycho ... lives to tell the tale

This is the complete and unabridged story of my relationship with Katy Johnson, known to my friends and her fans as Miss Vermont. I normally dont like writing about the specific details of relationships or hook-ups for many reasons, but this is an exception. After putting up the giant hypocrisy that is her webpage, she has to be ready for what I write.

I must prepare you, in advance, for what you are about to read...it is as ridiculous and surreal as anything I have have ever written, and possibly anything you have ever read. This relationship was outlandish even by Tucker Max standards. You may not believe some of what is written here. To that, I can only tell you that I have several witnesses to most of the events here, and the wedding was, well, a wedding, so there were hundreds of people there.

Furthermore, this is a long story, because I didnt want to leave out any of the details, lest the story seem forced or less amazing that it really was.

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And to Katy Even though you havent responded to the email I sent you, I know you check this site every few weeks. You are welcome to email me with corrections or additions to the story. If I got something wrong or left something out, please let me know and Ill be happy to change it. In fact, Ill go farther. If you want to write your own version of our relationship, I swear to my god, that I will post it, COMPLETELY UNABRIDGED, right next to mine. This is your opportunity to rebut anything I say here.

_____________________

The summer after law school graduation, I moved to Boca Raton, Florida and took a job managing my fathers restaurants. I wasnt really expecting to meet a girl I would like, as the general intellectual level of South Florida is somewhere above functionally retarded. After I had been in Boca about two months, I hadnt really had any sort of relationship other than emotionally uninvolved sex with morally suspicious girls, and I eventually resigned myself to vacant sex with the vapid idiots that infest South Florida.

One day I was at my gym, The Athletic Club of Boca Raton. It is a massive airplane hanger of a building; a gym, health club, spa, lounge and restaurant rolled into one. Basically, its the type of place where guttural grunts and flexing underneath tight shiny shirts passes for foreplay. Welcome to Florida. For several years its been the in place to workout in Boca, one of the primest meat markets in a town full of butcher shops. I usually tried to avoid peak hours and the throngs of scantily clad gold-digging whores positioning themselves for fifth husbands. Dont mistake me--staring at dozens of immense fake breasts spilling out of sports bras is fun for a while, but it gets old quick, especially when those breasts are attached to faces that tell the story vacant personalities do not. These women have circled the drain a few times, and no manner of plastic surgery or trips to the spa can hide that despair that years of whorish behavior and emotional prostitution leaves in the eyes.

I was in the free weight section of the gym, and one girl kept catching my eye, more for what she wasnt showing rather than what she was. She had a navy blue hat on, pulled tight over her face, a loose fitting white cotton T-shirt, and green basketball shorts. Not the standard Boca female gym outfit. Staring at her between sets, I realized that she was very attractive. By trying to hide that attractiveness, she became even better looking. The logo on her shorts said, Vermont Law, which gave me the perfect in. My law degree would finally get some good use.

I approached her as she paused between sets, and asked if she had attended law school at Vermont. She told me she didnt, that she went to undergrad there, but that she was attending Stetson for law school. I told her I just graduated from law school at Duke, and the look on her face told me all I needed to know. It was about 70, she was obviously into me, so I decided throw my hat in the ring

So, what are you doing tonight?

She lowered her head slightly and brushed her hair behind her ear, Nothing.

You hungry? Want to get something to eat?

She looked up at me, her eyes bright, and said in an earnest, non-seductive way, I am always hungry.

I swear to god these exact words came out of her mouth. I told her to meet me at Maxs Grille at around 80. She agreed and I left. By the time I got to the restaurant, I had forgotten her name. Great. My family owns the restaurant (in case you hadnt gotten that from the Max in Maxs Grille), so I got one of the managers to stand by the door with me until she came in. He introduced himself to her, she gave him her name right back, Hi, Im Katy Johnson. Im sneaky.

Ill be honest She looked amazing. Youve seen her webpage by now, but it doesnt do her justice; she really is better looking in person. She wore a peach colored dress that might as well have been painted on her almost perfectly shaped body, full breasts taut against the upper lip of the dress, cleavage everywhere...I was excited. I have charmed my share of women, but I wish I had recorded my conversation that night. Anyone who has ever played sports knows the feeling of being in the zone. Its when you have one of those transcendental games, where everything works, when you see the entire court, you are three steps ahead of everyone else, the game slows down while you keep going at full speed, everything you throw up goes in, and when you miss, the rebound comes right back at you.

I was having one of those nights. I was beyond good or bad; I was simply operating at a different level from everyone else. I was MJ in the Finals. The conversation was great; I was hitting all her buttons in exactly the right way. One of the specific things I remember us talking about was that she was Miss Vermont, twice, and that she hadnt finished in the top ten in either the Miss America or the Miss USA pageant, and that she was very upset by this, because she had all sorts of endorsement and movie deals set up if she had only finished in the top ten in either, and now she didnt know what she was going to do with her life, as she was finished with pageants, which had been her entire meaning the past few years. She had even moved to Vermont and transferred to the University of Vermont during undergrad in order to establish residency there so she could be sure and win a state pageant, because she was unsure that she could win either of the Miss Florida titles. My comment up upon hearing this story, Those judges were obviously idiots. She turned to me, placed her hand upon my arm, tilted her head, and said Really? I just looked at her, with a controlled smirk on my face, and didnt say anything.

Ive had girls melt on me before, but had never actually seen it as graphically and completely at that moment.

So lets see...beautiful girl, been judged on her beauty all her life, depressed about being rejected from her life goal, completely lost her focus...does anyone else see where this is going? After dinner, we adjourned to a bar next-door called Gigis and got some cocktails. We were sitting on the couches in the back, when she said to me, I cant believe Im doing this. I never drink this much. This was going to become an on-going theme in our relationship. I said nothing, because in this case, the best offense is no offense. She was searching for validation, and the best thing to do was not to offer it, but rather to make her work for it. Barely half-way into the drink, she said, Tucker...do you find me attractive? With this, she literally put her leg over mine and sort of halfway climbed on top of me, pushing her breasts in my face, Do you think Im hot?

The next thing I knew, we were out in the middle of Mizner Park (the outdoor piazza where Maxs Grille and Gigis are located), kissing in the middle of the grassy median. It was really starting to get out of hand; I was pushing her dress up, she was undoing my belt, and we were quickly moving towards passionate humping. The only problem It was Tuesday at 10, and though the park was empty, I really didnt want to get caught having sex under a gazebo right in front of my parents restaurant. I begin telling her that we have to relax, that we cant do this here. Predictably, she thought I was playing hard to get; of course this only made her want me more.

In response, she desperately intensified her attack on my loins, slipping a hand down my pants, and bringing one of my hands up to her now-exposed left breast. I desperately tried to formulate a plan about where we could fuck. My apartment was a no-go (for reasons too long to explain here). She lived with her parents, so that was a definite no-go. Remembering that she drove, I asked, Where did you park? She pointed right behind us, and sitting there on the curb, not twenty yards away, was the solution

A white Ford Explorer.

Without the third-row seat.

I did my best this one time to try and make my move romantic Have you ever hooked up in your car? Hey--thats romantic for me, alright? She smiled, so I grabbed her arm, and we half-sprinted toward the car.

I have hooked up with enough girls to be able to make an educated comparison, and let me just tell you--I have rarely seen anyone so eager and enthusiastic about sex. Our clothes were off, in the back of a Ford Explorer, where there is not much room to spare, in less than 0 seconds. About a second after that she mounted me, and...I doubt I have to go into detail. If youve done something like this before, you can fill in the blanks. But just to be clear, yes, I inserted my penis into her vagina and we had sexual intercourse. When we were finished, she said to me, You have a lot of experience, dont you? We eventually exchanged numbers and said goodbye.

The next day, around 11am, I got a hysterical message from Katy. She was distraught, nearly crying. I couldnt understand her message, so I called her, fully expecting the worst. Apparently, that morning her mother was looking in Katys car for something, found my boxer-briefs on the floor, which I, in my post-coital stupor, had unwittingly left in her car. Katys mom completely flipped out. Stormed into Katys room, woke her up, called her a whore, a tramp, etc. Katy, to her credit, kept her cool, and told her mother that they were her workout underwear, and that she wore them under her shorts the day before at the gym and just forgot to being them in the house. It was only after her mom bought the story that Katy called me in hysterics. Go figure.

For our second date, I invited her to my place and cooked for her. I forget what I made; I think it was Miso glazed Chilean sea bass and Asian baby vegetables. I orchestrated it, as per standard Tucker Max procedure at the time, so that she would arrive as I was in the middle of preparing and cooking the meal. This is a money move, because it allows me to showcase my cooking talents while the girl sits in the kitchen drinking wine and watching me cook. She was more blown away than most girls and, after a large glass of Mer de Soleil Chardonnay, came over to where I was standing, at the stove searing the fish, pulled my pants down, and went down on me right there in the kitchen. The fish burned, but whatever. She still ate well.

We saw each other somewhat consistently over the next few weeks. It was a relationship defined very much by sex. After our first two dates, it shouldnt be difficult to see why. She could not get enough of me, especially sexually, and I was a big fan of her always eager body. Contrary to what it may seem like from the story thus far, she was very inexperienced with sex. With me, she was experiencing a whole new world. For example, consider these VERBATIM quotes

I didnt know what sex was before you,

Youre like a disease. A Tucker sex disease.

You infiltrate me and my body craves you. Youre an addiction.

She loved sex with me because I was apparently much better than anyone she had ever been with. She claimed that she had been with only guys before me, and given the facts I observed over the next few weeks, I believed her. It has nothing to do with her outward persona--please. Fucking me in the back of a Ford Explorer five hours after meeting me demolished any ability for me to take her abstinence and chastity bit seriously. But there were numerous other things that pointed to her inexperience. She was very schizophrenic about sex. One day, shed want to fuck every minute of every hour, not caring if we ate or slept. Two days later, she wouldnt come home with me after a date. It was like she couldnt resolve the battle in her consciousness, and vacillated between sides.

Most tellingly, she just didnt have sex like she knew what she was doing. There is a difference between an inexperienced girl reacting to her first real sexual encounters and an experienced woman acting inexperienced. Ive been with both, and she was quite obviously the former.

For instance, after a few days of intense sexual activity, Katy was having problems with soreness and was waking up with nausea. I told her to go to a gynecologist, something that, much to my shock, she had never done before. A few days later she called me and left this message, Tucker, I just got back from the ob/gyn and we need to talk.

Now tell me--what would you have done after that message? I freaked, and was busy orchestrating a complicated plan to throw her down the stairs when I finally got her on the phone. No, she wasnt pregnant, but, and again I am quoting, My ob/gyn said the soreness is because of you. He said you need to be gentler with my pussy.

The next time we had sex I was less selfish and much gentler, and I guess it worked well, because she came so violently she almost passed out. When she regained her composure, she said

Jesus Christ, you are amazing. Where did you learn to fuck like that?

Home schooling.

I had a wedding coming up in a few weeks, and I decided to invite her to go with me. My thought process was simple She is hot, and is always pretty entertaining, both for my friends and myself. Plus, my friends had seen her old website, and wanted to meet her. The groom even wanted one of her action figures as his wedding gift, but she didnt have any. She agreed to go, and we decided to drive to the wedding, which was in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Why drive instead of fly? She wanted to have sex in every state along the way. The trip was rather uneventful, except that we forgot to have sex in South Carolina. Sadly enough, the sex wasnt the highlight of the drive; it was this quote by Katy, "When I moved to law school, my mother was afraid I was going to starve. But then I had a pageant coming up, so she hoped I did starve." With a childhood like that, its no wonder shes the way she is.

We got to the Outer Banks and the groom, my friend we will call GoldenBoy, rented a bunch of massive, 6 bedroom houses on the beach for all of his friends. The pre-party had already started at his house, and when I got there I introduced her to everyone and started drinking. I pretty much ignored Katy and let all of GoldenBoys friends from college throw game at her. Of course, by ignoring her, I only made her want me more. Women are funny.

Later that night, the ones who had made it in, me, Hate, BrownHole, JonBenet and ECredit were all collected at our house bullshitting before bed. Katy was already asleep. At one point, BrownHole got up to get a glass of water for himself and one for JonBenet, but on the trip back from the kitchen he accidentally spilled some water on JonBenet. When sober, JonBenet is a great guy, and everyone loves him. When drunk, he becomes demonic. This particular night, getting water spilled on him set him off, so he flipped a table over, grabbed the glass out of BrownHoles hands and fired it against the floor, the glass shattering all over the house. I busted out laughing and then went and woke up Katy for sex.

The next day at breakfast was when my friends got their first indication that Katy might be a little different. PWJ had come in at like am (he got so drunk in the airport bar that they wouldnt allow him on his first flight, or the next one) and we were recounting JonBenets little spat with the glass, when Katy, confused as to whether the glass shattered or not, said to everyone at the table, Did it broke? No one was sure what to say, and I just laughed and then ignored her. They got an even better indication of what she was like when PWJ asked what she read. The conversation went like this

PWJ "I actually kinda like the Harry Potter books."

Katy "I do too! Don't you just wish they were real?!? I wish I could play Quiddich and meet Hermione and everyone!! Its just so . . . MAGICAL!!!!"

She was being serious.

PWJ Uhhh, I guess...so what else do you read? Lots of magazines probably?

Katy I dont read magazines; I just look at the pictures.

Later that day, she went for a walk on the beach with JonBenet and BrownHole. JonBenet came back early from the walk, erupting with laughter. He said that he was talking to Katy about me, and just blurted out, Be nice to him, he has a big heart. He then continued to us, I dont know where that came from? You are the biggest fucking jerk I know, hmm. I asked him where she was, and he told us she was still walking on the beach with BrownHole. At this information, the entire group broke down laughing.

Some background info, that later becomes very important While in law school, BrownHole made his living eating my leftovers. Seriously. In the three years at Duke, he hooked up with at least three girls after I was through with them, and tried to get with just about every other one I was dating, most of the time even when I was seeing them. This never bothered me, because either I didnt really care about the girl, or if I did, I knew he had no ability to take a girl from me that I cared about.

The day dragged by as we nursed Coronas and watched James Bond films. Our favorite was Gold Finger because of the scene where Sean Connery is with some girl at the pool, and when some other agent comes along to talk to him, Sean smacks her on the ass, and tells her to ...run along now. Man talk. JonBenet bet me I wouldnt do this to Katy at the reception. Im sorry, did you just call out Tucker Max? About disrespecting a whore? My friends know how to push my buttons, so fasten your seatbelts folks, good times are ahead...

Katy eventually came back to the house, and my friends quizzed her about her conversation with BrownHole, laughing the whole time, as Katy recounted the wonderful conversation she had with him, and what a good listener he was, etc. Eventually PWJ had enough and let her in on the secret,

"Katy, [BrownHole] is trying to hook up with you."

"No, he's being so nice."

Isnt blind naivet� charming? Like the idiots we were, we got so caught up in beer and Bond that before we realized, it was 5pm and the ceremony had already started. We threw on our clothes and got there just in time to see them take their vows. Like a bunch of assholes, we walked right in and sat in the pews, ignoring the people standing in the back of the church. Our entrance was made even more distracting by Miss Vermonts ensemble. She wore a red dress. Not only a red dress, a short, skin tight, strapless red dress. With sequins. And a push up bra. I heard one wedding guest whisper something about the girl with the boobs. It made me proud. Not many people realize that Here Comes the Bride is taken from a Wagner opera involving a prostitute, but it was appropriate for Miss Vermont. PWJ had actually made it on time because he was playing guitar in the wedding, and was so distracted by our entrance that he forgot the music to Canon in D halfway into it. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to my life.

After disrupting the wedding, it was time to ruin the reception. The reception was at a bed and breakfast that was only accessible via a long dirt road, so most people parked their cars at a gas station and took a van that was rented to shuttle people back and forth. Katy and I instead drove her Explorer there, and thus got a nice early start on the drinking. Katy is an utterly unaccomplished drinker, her skill akin to that of a 17 year old high school girl. Well, as soon as we got there, she followed my lead and got a martini.

Tucker What are you doing? You cant handle your liquor. Be careful.

Katy Im fine. I can do it. Dont worry.

File this under Obvious Foreshadowing.

Everyone poured into the reception area, and once the crowd was large enough, it was time to settle the bet. I was in a group with JonBenet, PWJ, ECredit and Hate. Katy came up and started talking to the group. After about ten minutes, JonBenet and I exchanged glances, I slapped her on the ass, and said "Run along baby. Its time for Man-Talk." Thankfully, my friends held it together. She gave a slightly hurt look, an OK, and walked off. They all immediately broke down laughing. I took my deserving place as King of the Reception! It may have been GoldenBoys wedding, but I had won the crown!

For a while. Though it was funny at the time, this one act set off a remarkable chain reaction, catapulting Katy out of the random whore category and into the remarkable whore category, and leading all the way to this story. Here is how After such a curt brush off by me, Katy, presumably to make me jealous, started talking to GoldenBoys friends, the same ones that she was talking to the night before. They had no idea she was such a novice drinker, and fed her about cosmopolitans over the next hour or so. I wasnt paying much attention, until she wandered over to where I was and said "Is Man-Talk over?"

Oh Great Holy Jesus. Her speech was slurred to a degree that would make a dock worker blush. I just shook my head in a I cant believe this is happening sort of way, and turned away from her. Three minutes later, I hear a giant crash behind me, and turn to find Katy wobbling around, staring at a smashed martini glass at her feet. Someone behind me, I think it was JonBenet, said, I guess it did broke.

It was 7pm. Dinner wasnt until 80.

All of GoldenBoys friends quickly helped her clean up. I grabbed some chunky college girl that PWJ had been hitting on, who had a room at the bed and breakfast, and told her, You need to look after her. She is already shit faced. Take her to your room and put her to bed. Then I refilled my drink and walked to a separate part of the party. I had to leave, because I was pissed at her and at myself.

Additional back story When I asked GoldenBoy if I could bring Miss Vermont to his wedding, he and his fiance said it was fine with them, but GoldenBoy, knowing me as well as he does, solicited a promise from me Tucker, this is my wedding. You cant bring one of your typical girlfriends and dump her in the middle of it because you get bored with her. She is welcome to come, but no scenes, okay? I agreed and gave him my solemn promise on this. Now, I know what you are thinking, Hey youre Tucker Max. If he cant take a joke, fuck him, right? Normally, I would agree, but this is a different situation. GoldenBoy is one of my best friends on earth, and I am extraordinarily loyal to my friends, so I was genuinely distressed about this development. Of course, I was the main reason for the impending disaster, but still, I was upset about it.

After about an hour, I went up to check on Katy. She was laying on the girls bed, barely awake, muttering the same thing over and over "I never drink. I shouldn't have done this. I never drink. I just wanted Tucker to like me. I never drink like this." Oh man. This was just not going well. By this point, I have started to approach Shit-Housed, and am upset about breaking my promise to GoldenBoy. Burying these emotions in alcohol is my only way of dealing with it.

We all eventually sit down to dinner, with Katy still passed out upstairs. GoldenBoy and his wife have seated me at a table at the back of the room. It is quite obviously the drunk, boisterous and embarrassing friends table. The table is, along with me and a vacant spot for Miss Vermont, a very interesting cast of characters. GoldenBoys high school friend, well call him TheShepard, was across the table from me. He is a 64 huge Irish Catholic guy that can drink like, well, an Irish Catholic, and has repeatedly been arrested for breaking every type of law related to drinking, including public intoxication, underage consumption, disturbing the peace, bar fighting etc. TheShepards sister, well call her PornStar, a hot redhead who can drink almost as much as TheShepard, was on my other side, and the rest of the table was a motley crue of misfits and heavy drinkers. Strangely, I was the only one of the law school friends there. I guess the bride and groom wanted to avoid the destructive synergy that occurs when you get more than one of us together.

PornStar is loving me. With a hot girl paying attention to me, and gallons of vodka coursing through my veins, I am hitting on all the Tucker Max cylinders. I have the table in tears laughing, telling them the standard TMax stories, making fun of my passed out date, etc. PornStar came to the wedding dateless and had some very obvious fuck me eyes fixed on me. She was leaning towards me, seductively whispering something in my ear and concurrently giving me a glimpse down her sundress, a nice choice that was also without a bra under it, when all of the sudden, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

HOLY DRUNKEN WHORE, BATMAN--ITS MISS VERMONT!

Hi.

She was putting on her best obsequious, Im-sorry-puppy-dog eyes. It was not working, because she was obviously still drunk.

Me What are you doing up? Are you OK?

Katy Yeah. Im sorry. I never drink.

Well who would have guessed? People often pass out at wedding receptions...at 7pm.

Sorry. I felt better, and I wanted-ted to come see you. She actually said, wanted-ted.

Are you still drunk? Oh fuck. Just go back to bed please. Ill wake you up when we leave.

She stayed. It actually made for a funny rest of the dinner, as PornStar glared at her, TheShepard quizzed her about her pageant life for the amusement of the table, and I sat back and watched it all. After dinner, all hell really broke loose.

The next few hours are somewhat hazy in my memory, but for some reason or another Katy and I got into a huge fight. This culminated in her coming up to PWJ, asking him for a hug, and then whispering in his ear God, your heart is beating so fast. Her self-esteem wasnt helped any when PWJ just walked away, shaking his head. In the meantime, I was drowning my sorrows by becoming even drunker.

Little did I know, Goldenboy was pretty much unaware of the Miss Vermont theatrics, as the entire Duke Law crew was putting on such a show that my drama was pushed off stage. And believe me, it takes something special to do that. One of the older female guests brought a small dog to the wedding, and ECredit got the dog drunk. It was wobbling around, [it was] barking all slurred. Hate was dancing with old women, throwing them around the reception tent like it was an audition for a Gap swing dance commercial. PWJ was hooking up with a college freshman in her room in the bed and breakfast while her father was quizzing GoldenBoy about her whereabouts. But alas for PWJ, this little amorous adventure was broken up by her vomiting on his foot.

When Miss Vermont decided to have another drink just to piss me off, around 11pm, I just left. I took the keys to her Explorer and drove back to the beach house, where the post party was going to be. I didnt know this at the time, but PWJ and Brownhole had to convince her not to call the cops and report her vehicle stolen. Nice touch, Katy.

I got to the beach house, cracked a beer, and waited. And waited. And waited. Where the fuck was everyone? When people finally started pouring in, the reason for everyones tardiness was conferred to me Hate had crashed the van that was supposed to shuttle everyone from the bed and breakfast to their cars. Apparently, the parents had got together, and picked the person they thought most sober to drive the shuttle van. Somehow, much to the dismay of the Duke Law crowd, they picked Hate, mistaking his brooding scowl of a face for soberness, instead of the pent up drunken rage that it is. He hit the accelerator and immediately drove the van into a ditch filled with mud. It stuck. With the bride, groom, and both sets of parents in the van. When they couldnt get it out of the mud (by this time everyone other than Miss Vermont, who stayed in the van, was coated in mud), they simply walked.

Nonetheless, everyone got to the house safely, and the real partying started. Katy was thankfully nowhere to be found, she had apparently passed out again, and BrownHole had taken her to the other house to put her to bed. PWJ came up to me and pulled me aside, Hey man, wer frenz and stuff, an dat gurl wanz me. He was pointing to PornStar, who was talking to her brother in the kitchen. Ya gotta help me. She says she wont hook up wither brother around. Hook me up. I had already let one friend down that night and I was going to make it up by helping my other friend sleep with a girl I wanted to sleep with. I grabbed two bottles of Moet champagne, thrust one under TheShepards nose, and said, Lets see just how Irish you really are, tough guy. Youre not the only one at this party who can drink.

I blacked out an hour and a half later.

[Side note I have been told that I was spotted on the porch singing Irish drinking songs with TheShepard, making up my own words about all women being drunk whores and fornicators and what not. I was also told that I tried to tackle a mailbox on the walk back to my house. PWJ got the better end of this deal. [deleted] He can tell you the details from that story. It is very good, and involves hot tubs, bathrooms, and TheShepards bed, but is not centered on Tucker Max, so it will have to be told elsewhere.]

The next day, I woke up in my bed.

My head felt like it had been run over. I was laying with my face over the side of the bed, and there were at least six towels laying on the floor under my face. As I rolled around the bed trying to regain consciousness and use of my limbs, I realized two things

1. The room stunk. Bad.

. There was vomit all over me.

I came out of my room, and found ECredit and Hate. Upon seeing me, they started laughing and shaking their heads.

Me Dude, man...Did last night happen?

ECredit You missed the best part. After you came home and passed out, you started throwing up all over the bedroom, and Miss Vermont was running around the house yelling, Tucker is died! Tucker is died!

Hate Does that girl know how to conjugate her verbs?

Me [Laughing hysterically] What did you do?

Hate I just yelled at her to roll you on your stomach and leave you alone. You do this all the time, youd be fine.

Katy found me and started yapping at me about something. I just ignored her, took a shower, packed my shit, crawled in the back of the Explorer and went to sleep, awaiting the 16 hour drive home. [Another side note, especially if you are feeling sorry for Katy at this point I did not find out about this until about a year later, but after she had her little hysterical fit about me dying, she went upstairs to BrownHoles room, crawled into bed, and hooked up with him. He swears he didnt sleep with her, but I have my doubts, considering that she is a shameless slut. This is almost forgivable. The next day as we were leaving, she left an autographed 8x10 pageant picture in the sunroof of his car. Then, she called him a couple of times over the next few weeks, sometimes for advice about me, sometimes just to talk. She told him that she got his number from my cell phone when I wasnt looking. She tried to get Brownhole to fly her up to DC, but he wouldnt do it. His only goal is to follow me as much as possible, not to fall in love with them.] We pulled out, and I fell back asleep.

I was jarred awake not 0 minutes later as we got pulled over and got a ticket. The violation going 70 in a 45. Katy wanted to get home. I drifted in and out of consciousness over the next ten hours. As we drove into South Carolina, I reminded her of two facts The South Carolina State Police make their living with speed traps on Interstates, and we hadnt sex in that state yet. She ignored me, so I went back to sleep. I was awaken 0 minutes later by her hysterical sobbing. We got pulled over again, this time for going 5 in a 65. I told her to stop crying, that State Police dont fall for that shit.

SHUT UP--THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! MY PARENTS ARE GOING TO FIND OUT ABOUT THESE TICKETS!! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO!?!? THEY ARE GOING TO KNOW I WENT TO NORTH CAROLINA

When are we going to fuck? Were almost out of South Carolina.

SHUT UP YOU ASSHOLE!!

I didnt call her or anything over the next week, and just figured I had burned down another relationship, when she called me one day at work. She apologized for her actions at the wedding, and asked if she could see me again, that she had something for me. I told her to come by the restaurant, that I would see her. I alerted my staff that a crazy woman was coming and to possibly be ready to call the cops. She showed up in a skin tight white tank top, breasts thrust forward in a super miracle bra. Her yellow tennis skirt was nicely cut about five inches below her crotch. Her demure smile and Fuck Me eyes foretold the most dangerous and irresistible kind of seduction sexual.

Hey. She stood right next to me, placed her hand on my arm, her breasts ever so slightly brushing against me, Im sorry. I brought you something.

She handed me a framed picture that almost put me into shock. Let me attempt a description of this thing A silver frame around a 5x7 picture of Katy and I at the wedding reception, me in my suit and her in her red dress, minutes after we arrived and before our first drink. Across the top of the picture, painted in white sparkle paint, are the words, Alpha Male. There are little yellow streamers painted down the side. On the back, in silver paint, is this paragraph, Tucker, Thank you so much for taking me to the wedding! You are the best! Love, Katy. I was completely befuddled. I had no idea how to react to this. I still dont.

This girl was either the stupidest female I had ever come across, or the shrewdest, most conniving person on earth. I couldnt figure out which.

We started seeing each other again, sort of. Katy tried to say it was purely as friends, but we were fucking again after about three days. This continued, in a weird sort of dysfunctional dance, for a few weeks. One day I even took her to a gun range. She had never shot a gun before, and so I taught her the basic Weaver Stance and A-frame Stance, how to load, fire and clear a pistol, etc. She was fascinated, and loved it so much she started going on her own, and eventually bought her own pistol.

One night two friends of mine were in town on their honeymoon, and I brought them to my restaurant for dinner. I also invited two really hot female friends of mine (both of whom were married at the time), and Katy. I had to work most of the time, but they all sat together and had a great time, with me coming over to the table at various times to inject that special Tucker magic that always makes social situations that much more fun and interesting. At some point during the night, Katy, after a few drinks Im sure, decided that she just had to taste me, pulls me off the floor (I was the floor manager at Maxs Grille at the time) and into a bathroom stall, where she proceeds to pull down my pants and eat my member for dinner. As much as I was trying to ignore it, there seemed to be an increase in traffic in the bathroom, but whatever, Im getting my dick sucked by Miss Vermont in the bathroom, they can wait to take a dump. We leave the bathroom, and back to our various posts. [Side note I got in A LOT of trouble for that. A couple of the gay waiters told the general manager, who told my dad, and well, though my dad thought it was funny, he still got mad at me.]

Even though she was probably not going to last a long time, an event that night was what sealed Miss Vermonts doom. Giving me head in the bathroom got her some cool points, but she lost them all and then some when, talking to my two married female friends, she said, I hope I look like you when Im your age. At the time, Katy was . My two friends were 5 and 7, respectively, and both were, and still are, MUCH hotter than Katy. Tucker is a lot of things, and a drunk incident notwithstanding, loyal might be the biggest one. These two women are two of my best friends in the world, and to piss them off is the quickest way to get on my bad side. Karens quote, Who the fuck does she think she is? And HELLO--shes not looking so great herself. I guess pageants make your face a little leathery. Tucker, you cant fuck her anymore, I dont like her.

If they dont like a girl I am dating, shes out. I started ignoring Katy more and more, and then I met another girl (incidentally, it was Joanne Romanovich, the girl that eventually became one of the three or four defining relationships of my life, for reasons that will not be explored here, but just to let you know, the beginning of my upcoming novel revolves around her and my relationship with her). I was preparing to go to a wedding in Akron, Ohio (the one where I hooked up with the MILF), making it easy to ignore her.

After a few days of ignoring Katy and not returning calls, I thought Katy had finally got the picture.

I was wrong.

I left my apartment to go to the airport, and saw something under my windshield. At first, I thought it was a leaflet for a local band or church, but as I approached the car, I realized it was MUCH too big for that. I unfolded it, and realized it was a bullet-hole-riddled gun range target, the same one Miss Vermont had shot up while we were at the range. At first I was frightened for my life. Then I realized a note was written on the back. Ill transcribe it here until I actually scan it in

Thank you very much for taking me to shoot a gun! I had a mind-blowing experience! I hope you have a safe trip and have a really fun time at the wedding! Im sure it wont be quite as eventful as the last one...(or at least you hope not!)

It is too bad that things are not better between us. Things were so perfect the first days. Now all we do is fight and are mean to each other. You taught me so much and you have made me a much happier and more productive person! My gossip is a lot more juicer because of you!

I wish we were better together, so I guess its goodbye. I dont want to make you mad anymore.

Katy

Oh Jesus, what have I done?

Not only did I teach her how to shoot, I once had a conversation with this girl after watching a war movie about why the ambushes in the movie were technically incorrect and how to set up a good one, AND I described to her, in accurate detail, how to recon and snipe in a urban environment, another area that the movie was weak on.

I drove to the airport looking over my shoulder the whole way, fully expecting a hail of gunfire to break out at any moment. I must have circled the parking lot at the Fort Lauderdale airport 10 times trying to see if anyone was following me. After a week free of any sort of sniper attempts, I let my guard down. It was then I answered my phone without checking the caller ID, and lo and behold, its Miss AK-47. She was just as happy and jovial as ever, and asked advice on how we could get back together. I swear to my god she asked me this.

My quote, You want advice? Go find a really good psychotherapist, and get help, because you are fucked up.

She hung up and I havent heard from her since.

______________________

thank god for her sake shes attractive, otherwise shed starve to death

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Blackberrying by Sylvia Plath

Within the poem Blackberrying by Sylvia Plath, she positions herself as the lonely walker and speaker, self-consciously communicating with and reacting to nature yet all the while assuming that at her worst this may cause her immediate surroundings to justifiably consume her (by the overwhelming sea ) and that at best her surroundings are malciously indifferent. The theme of Blackberrying, on the surface at least , is of place. Aside from this theme of place and some regularity of structure there are other panoramic factors in this poem. Most striking is the underlying sense of threat and the images of willing death which are anticipated. Plath uses imagery, metaphor, simile and other many elements of poetry in this poem. The imagery is used mostly in the poem to stimulate our senses and recall our imaginations and experiences.

The progress of the walk in Blackberrying does not describe the journeys outset, yet there is a defined middle and end. There is a definitive purpose namely to relish in and gather blackberries. The three nine-line stanzas within the work fulfil three detached purposes-the first to describe the berries and the luscious sensations experienced in their harvest; the second to define the environment and to point to failings which can exist when the berries become overdeveloped; the third to terminate the journey and switch the mood from one of fascination and wonder to stark negative reality. Blackberrying as a term exists in Medieval English. It means going toward death and has the additional negative connotation of death without salvation (hell).

The poem opens with a scenario dominated by blackberries so that we gain an impression of delicious blackness everywhere-nothing , nothing but blackberries. (Line 1) The concept of the twisting lane is created by Plath using an image of hooks-bends which the solitary berry-harvester, the poet, cannot see past. We are told the sea is somewhere at the end of it (Line 4)and we are exposed to the first nuances of limbo and hopelessness when we learn that it is heaving (Line 4)-an apparently strange word to choose to describe the unseen conjured up sea on a windy but sunny September day. Perhaps, even at this early stage of the poem the poet finds the thought of the sea which will greet her at the end of the lane as threatening. Yet it is the berries that demand the poets and our attention as they are described with highly illustrative similes- Big as the ball of my thumb , and dumb as eyes/Ebon in the hedges, fat/ With blue-red juices. (Lines 5-7) The blackberries are not hostile or indifferent. An interesting metaphor in Blackberrying is in the line, These they squander on my fingers. I had not asked for such a blood sister hood. (Lines 7-8) It is as if the juice from the blackberries is their blood, almost as if they are sacrificing it. It then goes on to describe her as she imagines them inviting her into their sorority. She has pricked her fingers on the thorns of blackberries- when her blood mixes with the juices of the blackberries it is as if she has been blood bonded into their sorority, yet she has not asked for this.

The wind features prominently and is represented as a vigorous force which, while not uniformly hostile , is dominant, uncontrollable and yet influential upon the poet and the natural territory in which she has placed herself. In the second stanza we are shown an image of noisy crows circling and protesting , protesting against the ominous presence of the sea which will shortly be encountered. (Line 10) As the speaker describes the birds in the wind as Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky their protesting voice causes her to remark-I do not think the sea will appear at all.(Lines 1-1) Then the image of lusciousness is compromised as the poet encounters the corruption of excess as she comes to-One bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,/Hanging their blue-green bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen./ The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.(Lines 15-17) The cheerful mood of the walker which seemed to exist at the commencement of the poem declines as the undertones of decay and nothingness begin to take over the poets outlook. The reader is left unsettled because of the image of flies, which are usually seen around decay and death.

The third stanza has the colorful image of laundry slapping her in the face and a mechanical image of silversmiths working with an intractable metal. (Line-0) These images are after the beauty of the natural images. There is a strong image of the path, which ends at the hills' northern face, and the face is orange rock, but the view is of nothing, nothing but a great space. (Line 1) emphasizes the empty and bleak mood of the poem. This is a connection to the nothing sentence at the beginning of the poem. The magnificence of the se is an example of the sublime because of the feeling that there is something terrible there. The beating and beating produces a din that doesnt seem quite natural. (Lines 6-7)As the lane in the poem ends, the wind, becomes more aggressive until at last the speaker is faced with the all-threatening, all-consuming sea which is everywhere. We feel her hysteria is not far away-her sense of hopelessness, although perhaps temporarily appeased by blackberry-picking, has returned with a vengeance.

Entirely, the central image of the 1st stanza is of nature and the blackberries that love and are friendly to her. In the nd stanza, the image is of birds and flies that are protesting. The sea is the central image of the rd stanza with the wind slapping and the sea beating.

The language Plath uses in Blackberrying is colourful as she creates wonderful images. The repetition of blackberries, in the first stanza together with big, ball, ebon, blue-red, and blood all support the image of a profusion of berries. Plath also uses color to cement the mood-the berries are ebon, juices are blue-red, flies are bluegreen, the sea is white and pewter under orange rock. And further, give ear to the linked consonance of green, panes, screen, stunned, heaven wave-rhythms scored throughout the poem, so that we know the oceanic has been inside us all along. Also the language is both rhythmic and lyrical. It is almost as if the voice of the speaker reaches out to the reader. The poem comes directly form the speaker and she is characterized by what she is saying. Plaths morbid fascination with death and how to attain it flow from the poem as if in speech. It makes it easier for one to comprehend death, and that the will to die can be a hidden desire in man himself.

The mood of Blackberrying begins buoyantly and continues, in spite of some sinister undertones, with much optimism to show colorful and vivid descriptions of the nature of the late summer lonely lane and its luscious, if flawed, fruits. This airy positive view suddenly collapses within the last stanza into a form of gloomy certainty with the swift discontinuation of the lane and its replacement by intimidating images of the nihilistic cliffs and ominous oblivion of the sea-this could be referred to as a death image.

There is a path in Sylvia Plaths Blackberrying that the speaker takes to the sea, where poems end is matched to lands end, where we stand enchanted by the rhythms. This path in Blackberrying is, a path in progress. Intractable-by inviting the substance in, by letting it repeat, bear out the raw matter of itself. She has found a way to tract,-it draws, it connects, it manages, it discusses itself. Like most other good poems, it is about poetry, whatever else is at issue. The intractability sends us back, in search of what matters, though the matter itself seems resistant to meaning.

Blackberrying tries to celebrate the fruitfulness of nature-the temporarily comfortable yet despair-prone poetic voice being abruptly overwhelmed by a sense of pointlessness and ruin at the end of the piece. On first reading Blackberrying with its delightful images of innocent activity during a late summer day, I shared the poets own disappointment as her short walk came to an end and she was swamped by a sudden feeling of hopelessness so that I found myself wishing she had just turned her back on the sea and retraced her steps while picking blackberries this time on the left mainly.

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This is an age of commercialism.The term consumer society is common and real in developed countries.The less developed and developing nations too are fast entering this rat race of buy and sell.Everything is seem in monetary terms.Even human relationships have a price.It is all a question of who can sell the most and who can afford to buy the most.The dollar seems to represent all that modern society stands for.

To cater to this great urge to buy entrepreneurs are flooding the markets with more and more and better and better commodities.The shops are lined with attractive goods designed to part a man from his money.As more and more people start producing goods to sell there will naturally be a duplication of goods in the market.How then will the producer persuade the buyers to buy his goods and not anothers?What strategy will he employ to ensure that his goods get a fair,if not the lions share,of the market?The answer is advertising.He will resort to advertisements to bring his commodities closer to the consumer.

The power of advertising is indeed strong.Its strength lies in fact that people like to be wooed.People also like to believe.The average man does not find it very easy to decide.He likes to have his decisions made for him.Advertising does this quite effectively.The way advertising companies have sprung up in large numbers testifies to their success.

As numerous and as varied as the products in the market are the advertising strategies used.Modern means of mass communication are many.Modern advertising uses all these means with telling effect.It is almost impossible to escape advertisements.Hoardings stare down at us from the sides of the roads.Neon signs wink above shops.Jingles and slogans assault our ears.Magazines contain more pictures of models and washing machines than articles.Soft drinks and soap are in full array on the TV screen.Against such constant and methodical onslaught what does the consumer have?Can any beauty coscious lady refrain herself from going out and buying the perfume which this popular actress uses?Can any young man not drink the wonderful soft drink which his favourite rock star assures him is the best?

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As far as those who are marketing the product are concerned asvertising does certainly help.It helps them to sell the product better.The consumer too is benefited.He gets to know the market better wothout having to go from shop to shop.He knows what is available.He finds out about the relative merits of the products and can therefore buy wisely.Of course advertising does inflate the price of the goods.When a woman buys a few cosmetics she pays 0% to some advertiser or the other indirectly.Advertising will,however,have helped her to know which are better cosmetics and she will make a better buy.

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If you order your research paper from our custom writing service you will receive a perfectly written assignment on the life you save may be your own (decribes the story). What we need from you is to provide us with your detailed paper instructions for our experienced writers to follow all of your specific writing requirements. Specify your order details, state the exact number of pages required and our custom writing professionals will deliver the best quality the life you save may be your own (decribes the story) paper right on time.

Our staff of freelance writers includes over 120 experts proficient in the life you save may be your own (decribes the story), therefore you can rest assured that your assignment will be handled by only top rated specialists. Order your the life you save may be your own (decribes the story) paper at affordable prices ! 1. The structure of this story is very simple. It's a steady, unchanging journey for the characters until another person impacts them and shatters their life. This impact happens twice in the story to two different people. The story starts out with two woman, Mrs. Lucynell Crater and Miss Lucynell Crater. They meet a man named Shiftlet who works for them. The mother tries to get him to marry her daughter. The first impact is when they do marry. It impacts him so much that he leaves the daughter stranded out in nowhere. The second impact is when he's driving on the road and let's a little runaway boy ride with him. He begins to talk about his mother and the boy snaps at him and leaves. This reminds Shiftlet of how corrupted the world is and ruins him.

. What pulls the story together? I believe it is the way Shiftlet feels, how he can't stand corruption and yet he is corrupted without knowing it. This is the relationship between the two impacts, how it ruins the daughter and how it later ruins him. He ditches the daughter because of the reason he married her, only for the car. Later, the hitchhiker boy abandoned him after calling his mother horrible names and Shiftlet, yet faced with more corruption, cries out to God to take away the corruption, not realizing he is just as bad.

. The narrator of "The Life You Save May Be Your Own" is a third person narrator. This narrator really don't revealed to the readers. Flannery O'Connor makes the narrator tell the story like it you were listening to someone telling you the story. This is pretty much straight forward and in no way dos the narrator have anything to do with the story. We come to understand this narrator is as just a person telling a story in a straight forward kind a way.

4. Mrs. Crater- controlling, hoping to sell off her daughter so they may have a man around the house, deceiving, represents one who only cares about herself

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Miss Crater- deaf, innocent, not aware of what's going on, represents the few innocents that are tossed around in a world of corruption

Shiftlet- a tramp with an arm missing, can't stand corruption, questions existence , represents the ones that question life and also only cares about himself

Shiftlet and Mrs. Crater relate in the fact that they can both just abandon or sell someone off for their own benefit

5. I think the time might be around the 150's because the car was built in 18 and hasn't worked for 15 years. It's a desolate spot, probably south. No info is really given. I think it relates to the characters by symbolizing that they're nobody. They have no real meaning to society and life except to themselves.

6. The author uses a lot of irony in the story. Mr. Shiftlet thinks he has so many morals and can't stand corruption, but he marries for money and leaves a deaf girl stranded. The title is also significant to this irony. It comes from an old advertisement saying, "Drive Carefully The Life You Save May Be Your Own." However, none of the characters are careful with their decisions and it ends up destroying them. There is also foreshadowing when they marry at a church and Shiftlet says, "I don't like law." That foreshadows the fact that he is going to do something wrong.

Mythological

1.

. All of the characters in this are ignorant. They don't see how lousy they really are. The daughter is just ignorant because she is handicapped and she doesn't realize how people are just tossing her around. The mother is ignorant because she thinks she has everything figured out, especially Shiftlet. She thinks if she can sell her daughter to a man, she'll be set. Shiftlet absolutely hates corruption, yet he is just as corrupt as everyone else.

. The car is symbolic. It represents the spirit of whoever drives it. When the husband died, the car died. When Shiftlet drove it, the car became a wandering spirit, never stopping for anyone.

4. The characters don't change at all and they never will. They will always be ignorant. Shiftlet will never see any change in the corruption of man because he himself is corrupted. The daughter won't change because of her disability. The mother is the only person who might because of the fact that she lost her daughter, but the story does not go into how it affects her.

5. The story gets religious when Shiftlet calls out to God in the end and prays for him to end the corruption. However, he doesn't realize that he is corruption and if God were to do that, it would end him too. It's also kind of religious when the mother makes them get married at the church and he rejects that. He sees it as law and he doesn't like law.

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If you order your essays from our custom writing service you will receive a perfectly written assignment on My friend, the hero. What we need from you is to provide us with your detailed paper instructions for our experienced writers to follow all of your specific writing requirements. Specify your order details, state the exact number of pages required and our custom writing professionals will deliver the best quality My friend, the hero paper right on time.

Our staff of freelance writers includes over 120 experts proficient in My friend, the hero, therefore you can rest assured that your assignment will be handled by only top rated specialists. Order your My friend, the hero paper at affordable prices with custom essay service! In the essay, Notes of a Native Son, James Baldwin reluctantly attends his fathers funeral. When he is led up to the casket to view his father, he realizes his own mortality and the sad truth of the world around him.

He was simply an old man dead, and it was hard to believe that he had ever given anyone joy or pain. Yet, his life filled that room. Further up the avenue his wife was holding his newborn child. Life and death so close together, and love and hatred, and right and wrong, said something to me which I did not want to hear concerning man, concerning life. (Baldwin, 65)

Baldwins bitter realization�for everything good, there is bad�paints a bleak, but realistic picture of our existence as human beings. Baldwins perception of life and death so close together (Baldwin, 65) brings me back to an event in my past, where this irony presented itself clearly to me.

It was October th, 001 and my best friend, Kristas, health was diminishing more and more with every passing hour. She had been activated on the waiting list for a kidney/pancreas transplant over a year ago and the call had not come yet. Her kidneys were failing at a rapid rate and the only choice feasible was to start dialysis the next day. Since the age of four, she had been battling health issues�everything from stomach problems, gastroparesis, to eye problems, her retinas detaching�due to the diabetes. She never let her illness get her down. She fought it every step of the way. A stranger on the street would never know she was sick unless she told them, and even then, she played it off as if it was, as she would say, no big deal. I always admired her incredible strength and determined attitude. Dialysis was a different story though; Krista knew she could not fight this one. She would have to be hooked up to a machine to survive�until her organs came.

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That night, I saw a beautiful, vivacious and strong thirty-year-old woman turn into a frightened little girl. Her attitude was always upbeat and positive, but that night her voice was trembling, filling the phone with sadness and despair. Why wont they call me? she pleaded. I have been waiting over a year for the hospital to call and say, "Hello Krista. This is the nurse from UCSF. We have organs for you, please come to the hospital as soon as possible'!" Finally she proclaimed, "I can't do it anymore; I have no more to give!" I could sense desperation in her voice. All I wanted to do was find the right words to comfort her and give her hope. I was her best friend scrambling for the right words to say. The only words I could strum up entailed, "It's going to be okay." and "You will be getting a call any day! You just have to be patient!"

The fact was I didn't know if she was going to be "okay". I was just as impatient as she was to get the call. How can I give someone�let alone my best friend�hope when I didn't understand what I was hoping for! In order to save Krista, someone would have to lose his or her life, plain and simple. We had many morbid conversations trying to plan the timeframe of when the call would come. Every holiday weekend we would look at the statistics of accident-related deaths and predict that that was the weekend she would get called. Neither she nor I wished for someone to die, but if it had to happen, we prayed it would happen soon, so she could be saved. I would always wish her well on those particular weekends, with a simple gesture, "Have a great weekend. Give me a call if anyone dies." This statement was not meant as a cruel joke, but more as an acknowledgement of a terrifying reality that awaited her.

Krista and I talked on the phone for another hour or so. The conversation mainly consisted of her expressing her fear and frustration of the situation. I was there to listen, which was what she needed the most. This was the first time I truly felt her pain and anguish. I had always been afraid of her disease and was reluctant to face the truth of her illness. If a donor didn't appear soon, she could very well die. I am positive I will never truly understand the extent of emotions she felt, but if I was ever to grasp a tiny portion of that intensity, I felt it that night. I felt desperate and helpless.

The next morning was brisk and inviting. One more day until Halloween and I still had no idea what my costume was going to be. As I washed the night off in the shower, I recalled my cellular phone ringing quite early in the morning while I was still engaged in a deep sleep. It wasn't abnormal for my cell phone to ring at such an odd hour. My boyfriend and I had broken up a few weeks prior, but he would still call at random times of the day to talk. This morning was different. Normally, I would ignore any messages until I got to work, but for some reason I decided to check them. The message I heard was more overwhelming than words can describe. "Hi Jamie," I could hear Krista's voice, soft as a mouse, calmly begin to speak, "I am heading to UCSF. I got the call. Please call me soon, I am so scared." Even though we had practiced over and over again what she would say when she called me, nothing could prepare me for the moment I actually received that call. Adrenaline pumped through my body. It was hard to believe that such a phenomenal miracle could happen the morning after a night filled with so much despair and doubt. I listened to the message one more time just to make sure my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. It was true, I heard correctly. Someone died and my friend would receive the organs she needed; her life would be saved. I must say, that thought brought about the most frightening and elating feelings�all at the same time.

I anxiously called her back, only to speak with her briefly. I needed to tell her everything I wanted to tell her, just in case something was to happen. What do you say when someone you love is heading off to get a kidney/pancreas transplant? I sat there crying on the phone. "I can't believe this is happening!" is all I could spout out. "I love you and I know you will be okay. I am so proud of you!" Although my words were simple and few, she knew what I meant. She knew how much I loved her and she knew I was right by her side, whether it was physically or spiritually. The next twenty hours were painful and grueling.

Halloween day was like no other day I could possibly remember. I received a call from Krista's cousin explaining that Krista was in intensive care and that the surgery was a complete success. All my anxiety was lifted and I was able to breathe again. Leave it to Krista to be the first pancreas/kidney transplant�ever�to be completed in less than seven hours, with no complications. Furthermore, she was out of the hospital in less than a week after her surgery. The approximate expected time for recovery in the hospital was two weeks…she was out in five days! I never expected any less from her, but at the same time, Krista will never know how petrified I was for her.

It has almost been two years since Krista's transplant. She is more beautiful and outgoing than ever. I cannot say she has traveled an easy road, but I can say there is no one in this world I admire more than her. I am thankful every moment of the day for the donor who saved my friend's life. It is truly a shame that someone had to lose his or her life to save my dearest friend. It is a shame, but a blessing at the same time. Since the transplant, Krista was fortunate to be able to contact the donor's family and develop a relationship with them. She received the opportunity to experience and know her donor, Donio�as a person�through his family's eyes. She will never forget the man who saved her life. Although, she feels blessed to have received this transplant, it doesn't make it any easier to accept the fact that someone had to die. It is one of the cruel ironies of life we may never understand. In Notes of a Native Son, James Baldwin realizes and feels that the good and the bad go hand in hand in life�the death of his father and the birth of his sibling. As I look back at my experience with Kristas transplant, I can honestly say my feelings towards life have been altered to reflect an outlook similar to the one Baldwin experiences.

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Our staff of freelance writers includes over 120 experts proficient in Why the Sigh? The Road not Taken, therefore you can rest assured that your assignment will be handled by only top rated specialists. Order your Why the Sigh? The Road not Taken paper at affordable prices ! Choices are never easy- everyone faces many of them within their lifetime. Some are clear and easy to make, while others are more difficult. The choice is ours, to make a choice for the moment or for the lifetime.

The poem by Robert Frost "The Road Not Taken" is a first person narrative tale of an important moment in the speaker's life. He seems to be torn between the choice of a moment and the choice of a lifetime. "The Road Not Taken" can be interpreted in many ways and there are several levels of meaning to this poem. There can be the literal meaning, as he describes a natural setting with beautiful imagery. This is shown in his strong use of metaphors in describing the wearing of the paths and the use of personification in that the path "wanted wear.' This is also evident in his description of the "yellow wood.' This gives the impression to the reader that there is an autumn scene with the leaves changing. Just as the decisions we make change ourselves. While some would think to describe turning leaves as perhaps golden in color, he uses figurative language with the letter Y in yellow, which to me creates the visual of the fork in the road. There can also be the deeper more profound meaning. His writing describes his feelings in the way he states that he was "sorry he could not travel both', and also the universal meaning of the choices people must make on the road of life and how hard it is to make that decision. The characters apparent inability to make a decision creates the link between the reader and the poet. The Road Not Taken allows the reader to relate the theme to a time in their own life.

"The Road Not Taken" was inspired as a private joke between Frost and Lawrence Thomas. While visiting Thomas in England the two would take long walks through the countryside. Repeatedly, Thomas would choose a route that would allow him to show Frost a special landscape or a rare flower; but by the end of the walk Thomas would regret the path that he chose and would sigh over what he might have been able to show Frost if they had taken the "better" path. Frost often said that he found something "romantic about sighing over what might have been." This helped him with his inspiration to write this poem.

There have been many interpretations of what the true theme of the poem might be, however I interpreted this poem to be about choices whose outcome we cannot predict. Although both paths seem to be very similar in appearance, they both have very different destinations. One might never know exactly where the path or where life might take you. When Frost says "I shall be telling this with a sigh', I am not be sure whether Frost meant the "sigh' to mean he was sorry that he had taken the path that he had or if that he was relieved that he chose the path he did. Frost never publicly clarified what he actually meant by the "sigh,' but Frost once received a letter from a young grammar-school girl asking "Why the sigh?' This prompted his answer. "It was rather my private jest at the expense of those who might think I would yet live to be sorry for the way I had taken my life. I suppose I was gently teasing them. I'm not really a very regretful person, but for your solicitousness on my behalf I'm your friend always." Though these words may seem to mean that he was not sorry for the path that he choose, the question was never truly answered. Frost was reported to say about his poetry, that the reader "Should not press the poem too hard. The real meaning is the most obvious."

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Though Frost's poem "The Road Not Taken" seems to be overtly about choices, his poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" is more subtle in it's theme. Both poems express the sense of a journey. The woods in "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" appear to represent his freedom, his way out. He stops in the middle of where he came from and where he was going to contemplate the choice he had to make between freedom and obligation. The snow separates him from the forces at either end of his journey. Frost concludes that the theme of this poem discusses the "conflict between obligatory promises, a matter for the head to decide, and the enticements of the feelings." I see it as being the conflict between the head and the heart.

Robert Frost s true strength is in taking the ordinary and making it extraordinary. He acquaints the reader with the theme of seemingly unimportant experiences, in such a way that allows our own lives to take on new meaning. Many times, Frost inserts personal experience into the personality of his characters. The Road Not Taken and "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" illustrates the relationship created between the poem and the reader. This relationship allows the readers to connect themselves with the poem. Ultimately the choice is ours. As the poem says, "I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

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