Pedro Diary Entry

In spite of Alex leaving home and not informing his family, he was fairly close with his family especially his younger sister, Carine. This reminds me of how close I am with my older sister, Mckenna. She moved to Florida in January to go to art school, and although I still got

Heartache, misery and sorrow; the death of a loved one can be expressed using these three simple terms. But, can the death of a loved one really be described? Alice W. Terry writes the exceptional journal about the stages of grief, how to cope and how it truly feels to lose a loved one, a daughter to be exact. Not having experienced the physical loss of someone as close to me as a daughter is to her mother, this journal gave me a personal perspective of the anguish experienced by those who are grieving.

The graphic novel, Pedro and Me by Judd Winick, is a tribute to his friend Pedro Zamora, as well as his own story of personal growth. It is an inspiring story that shows the true meaning of friendship and love. It also displays information about HIV/AIDS and how to truly protect oneself against it. Pedro was a young, gay, HIV-positive Cuban American who spent his time educating people about the disease. They both appeared on MTV’s The Real World: San Francisco and chance put Judd and Pedro in the same bedroom, where they became good friends. The book chronicles their friendship. Pedro Zamora changed lives as he taught millions of viewers about being gay, living with AIDS, and how to overcome it. “The format is enticing, with images that

It was dark and gloomy outside and I was laying in my bed mourning the tragic loss of my dear Lenore. I couldn’t go asleep because thoughts of her kept emerging in my head. I was lost in my thoughts thinking about the snow that was about to be drizzling down upon the ground, and how she loved the snow. I look around and see the picture of her and me enjoying what we didn’t know would be our last time together. They say this time of year is the worst to lose somebody you care deeply about, and I could tell you now that they were absolutely right. All I can do now is to think about something else, but my thoughts of her are cemented in my head. I will just lay here in this haze I cannot describe, and mourn the passing of my dear Lenore.

The main characters fit the descriptions about the characters with what the book say about the Mexicans. The characters used rituals to heal the burns of Pedro. The characters of this film used traditional food to cure any flue. Those traditions are still use today because the traditions are pass generation to generation. Mom elena was really religious that after death she cursed her daughter Tita about having a relationship with Pedro. The film showed that the grandmother told Tita to use a kind of plan to cure the burns. The midwife use in the film was as decribe in the book. Gertrudis gave birth at home and not in a hospital. The traditional food fits the description of the film. For example, the film showed how proud they were with their

Pedro Paramo by Juan Rulfo is an important piece of literature to the development of Mexican novels and authors. Its blending of traditional setting and ideas with mystical elements generated the genre of mystical realism; now a cornerstone of Latin Literature. Pedro Paramo is widely one of the most difficult works in translation to study; its broken chronology and shifting narrators classifies it as a literary labyrinth with many flashes of social commentary. Juan Rulfo’s Pedro Paramo uses irony in the church and the conflicting character of Father Renteria to communicate the corruption of the Catholic church and the perverse role of religion in society.

Your eyes follow her. She's honestly too much for you. She's so innocent and earnest, you're caught between the urge to corrupt her and the urge to protect her from the evils of the world, including yourself. You force yourself to look away, before your eyes can linger on her tight spats for too long. You look down at your hands, slowly flexing your fingers as you contemplate life and its difficult choices. “Why does she have to be so cute?” you question aloud. Beside you, your uneaten super sea snails

Today was funeral day. My mom’s funeral. It was a dark October thursday, the clouds were brewing a storm. A slight breeze disturbed my neck. My uncomfortable suit sleeves bellowed in the cold breeze.. I hadn’t felt any emotions since the day of her death, which was weeks ago, almost as if my emotion is grey. It was warm then, as my mind was too. Nowadays, up until today, my mind has been a dark fog, as if my mind was released into the sky, darkening everyone’s day, arriving at my mom’s funeral or just to cuddle up with their friends and family in front of a warm crackling fire, telling the stories of their childhood and how times were better. Not me, my dad usually ignored me and he only worked on managing my mom’s fortune. Yeah. My mom’s

You can feel Her presence hovering above you, Her intake of breath slow and measured. Your eyes are glued shut, if death was to come, you wish it to be now, make the torment end, but alas, She was notorious for prolonging pain and despair. As you peel your eyes open you lower your gaze to the cracked and grimy tiles. You watch, entranced, as the beginnings of a shadow loom over you, taking the form of a colossal, yet striking woman. “Hello there dear Charlie, I see you have been lashing out, how undesirable of you,” She whispered in Her eerily sweet voice, “I suppose you are due for a punishment.” The shudder that ran through you was undeniable, She was cruel and relentless, and there was no escaping. Suddenly, you had a strong inclination to face Her; you were not going to go down without a battle. With a bruised and battered body, you rose to stand before Her. Once standing, you heard a resounding voice that surged through you, beckoning you to cease provoking Her, and flee, so that is exactly what you

The primary awareness is of absence. Both the other and the part of oneself that especially related to that other are experienced as missing.” (Sabar, 2000) Common feelings and emotions that arise from bereavement are deprivation, loneliness, rejection, abandonment and grief.

I can clearly remember the last day I saw him. His heart was growing weaker and weaker as the months went by, so I started to visit him more often. I walked up the narrow dirt path up to his quaint old house. The vivid yellow roses that once covered his lawn, were all shriveled up. He was lying in bed when I came in. His face looked washed-out, and his body

The cold wind seemed to blow

What could she ask for, right? “The bath was the most delightful, the food the most delicious, she had ever enjoyed” (H. Edith 124). She literally everything any person would kill to have. All I asked her to do was to unconditionally love her husband, the only thing she could’t have was myself. Confidentiality was what prevented us from being like normal other couple, but I was fine with that.

My poem is about Dom Pedro I denouncing General Jorge Avilez because he instigated riots across Brazil after Pedro’s announcement he did at 9th January 1822 in which Pedro didn’t want to go to Portugal because, “as the open mockery and humiliation of Dom Pedro [I] continued at the hands of the Cortes, the prince drew further and further away from his homeland, gradually shifting his loyalties to Brazil” (“Brazilian Independence”). Dom Pedro I is the fourth son of King Dom João VI of Portugal and Queen Carlota Joaquina of Spain. In the years of 1707 to 1708 during his childhood, “wishing to avoid the fate of the ruling family of Spain, who were “guests” of Napoleon, the Portuguese royal family and court fled to Brazil” (Minster, Christopher), where the royal family moved their capital city from Lisbon to Rio de Janeiro for seven years to protect themselves from Napoleonic invasions. Meanwhile, this poem is written several years after the movement of the capital city, at the year 1822 after Pedro I declared independence from

The feeling when you are lost. When not a soul is there to support you. Every back turned in your direction. I had never expected that such a joyous moment would turn out so sorrowful… Roughly 4 months ago, I wasn’t in the comfort of my snug and cluttered home in Sunnyvale, CA, where I had my family right by my side. Where the beds were not rock hard, or made of plastic, or donated from a cheap funeral home. Instead I was in the mountains, far, far away, in temperatures more blistering than our old, food crusted oven. It seemed as if every individual within 1 mile or less was vexed at me in some way! But trust me, even though I was leaving the luxuries of my humble house, it was all worth it.