The grim faced man lay on his cot, in his bright orange jumpsuit.  He stared, unmoving, at the ceiling, listening to the whispers and sounds of his fellow inmates in adjacent cells.  Separated only be thin walls, he could hear the goings on of the state prison.  The janitors sweeping up the day's dinner of fish sticks, and the cries and moans of fellow prisoners as they talked in their sleep.  It was his first night in the joint, with countless more to follow.  His cell was sparsely furnished, with a toilet and a sink in one corner, and a broken A/C unit sitting alone and forlorn in the dead, still, Georgia air.  The entire cell was solid grey concrete, save for the formidable iron bars of his door, pillars of oppression blocking any hope of escape.  he wished he was Peter, from the Bible stories he'd learned by heart in his youth.  Peter was imprisoned for his beliefs, but God freed him with a powerful earthquake.  if only that would happen to him now, imprisoned for preventing a white man from stealing his car.  The argument had escalated, until the man lay dead, killed in the conflict.  He had hoped then for a fair trial, but no he counted himself lucky he was merely beaten by the cops and not lynched by the mob.  He dreamed of it often, the light of the torches flickering, reflecting off of the shards of broken glass, fragmented over the dead man's head.  His bloodied hands tied, the noose around his neck.  The hate-driven crowd gesturing angrily at him, urging the violence on.  He would always awake then, into an even more hopeless situation.  He awoke now, sweat dripping from his face (sploosh! sploosh!).  He clutched his thin, rough blanket, though it provided him no comfort.  Everything had deserted him, his hope, his God, his very sanity.  With a great heave he tore his blanket in half, chest rising and falling with rage.  He fell back into his cot, great sobs escaping his cracked lips.  His life was over, he had nothing else to look forward to, not his family, friends, or his church.  He was going to die here alone, after living out his life in seclusion, alone.

Writing Assignment #2

The man lay on his cot, in his bright orange jumpsuit.  He stared, unmoving, at the ceiling, listening to the whispers and sounds of his fellow inmates in adjacent cells.  Separated only by thin walls, he could hear the goings on of the state prison.  The janitors sweeping up the day's dinner of fish sticks, and the cries and moans of fellow prisoner as they talked in their sleep.  It was his first night in the joint, with countless more to follow.  He cell was sparsely furnished, with a toilet and sink in one corner, and a broken A/C unit sitting alone and forlorn in the dead, still, Georgia air.  The entire cell was solid grey concrete, save for the formidable iron bars of his door, pillars of oppression blocking any hope of escape.  He wished he was Peter, from the Bible stories he'd learned in his youth, imprisoned by the government and freed by an earthquake.  If only that would happen to him, imprisoned for preventing a white man from stealing his car.  The argument had escalated, until the white man lay dead, killed in the conflict.  He had hoped then for a fair trial, but now he could count himself lucky he was merely beaten by the cops and not lynched by a mob.  He dreamed of it often, the light of the torches reflecting off the shards of broken glass, fragmented over the dead man's head.  He bloodied hands tied back, the noose around his neck, the rough cord wet with blood as it bit cruelly into his neck.  The hateful crowd gesturing angrily at him, urging the violence on.  He would always awake then, into an even more hopeless situation.  He awoke now, sweat dripping from his face, (sploosh! sploosh!)  clutching his thin blanket with all his strength, for all else had deserted him. His life over, nothing to look forward to in the future, not his family, his friends, his church.  He had nothing now that made him who he was.  No hope, nothing to live for.  If only the mob had had their way.  

Writing Assignment #2

The man lay on his prison cot, in his prison issue jumpsuit.  He stared, unmoving, at the ceiling, listening to the whispers and sounds of his fellow inmates in adjacent cells.  Separated only by thin walls, he could here the goings on of the state prison.  The janitors sweeping up the day's dinner of fish sticks, the cries and moans of fellow prisoners as they talked in their sleep.  It was his first night, with many more hopeless nights to follow.  His cell was sparsely furnished, with a toilet and sink in the corner, and a broken A/C unit sitting forlorn and alone in the dead, still, Georgia air.  The entire cell was solid grey concrete, save for the formidable iron bars of his door, pillars of oppression blocking any hope of escape.  He wished to be Peter, from the Bible stories he had learned in his youth, imprisoned and freed by an earthquake, freed by his beliefs.  If only that would happen to him, imprisoned for preventing a white man from stealing his car.  The argument escalated, the man lay dead, killed in the conflict.  He had hoped then for a fair trial,but now he could think himself lucky was was merely beaten by cops and not lynched by a crowd.  He dreamed of it often, the light of the torches reflecting off the shards of broken glass, fragmented over the dead man's head.  His bloodied hands tied back, the noose around his neck, the rough cord wet with his blood, biting into his neck.  The crowd gesturing at him, urging the violence on.  He would always awake then, waking into an even for hopeless situation.  He awoke now, sweat dripping from his face, clutching his thin blanket like a greedy boy would a sweet.  He could hear his family at home, despair in their faces as they cried for him, to protect them against the forces that imprisoned him.  He fell asleep again.  His family would never wake up.  

When I was sitting at my computer, listening to Obama's speech at the democratic national convention, I was filled with a great sense of hope. It was one of the most inspiring things I had ever heard. He spoke powerfully, with so much emotion, you could tell the crowd was into it. It was infuriating every time You tube failed to load the video fast enough. The entire speech was incredible. It's no wonder he is able to move massive crowds of people, and to bring so many people out to see him speak.

His delivery was as powerful as his words. I was listening to it, thinking "damn, this guys going to be the next president, and here I am listening to him speak right now". Somehow president Bush never really did that for me. Whether or not he was and is a good president is debatable, but anyone will admit that he is no great public speaker. Perhaps it's because its not as relevant now, but even Lincoln's famous speeches didn't move me as much as this one did.

I've never been a person who enjoys listening to people speak in public. I get plenty of that in church, thank you very much. But this was something else entirely. I wasn't listening to it because I felt that I had to or because my parents told me to. He made me actually care what he was saying, he made me think about the words coming out of his mouth. When he accepted the nomination, his words "With profound gratitude, and great humility. I accept your nomination, for presidency of the United States." were some of the most gratifying I had ever heard.

Obama's speech should go down in the history books, as one of the greatest speeches of our century. If Obama wins, there is a good chance that will happen. If he loses, however, his speeches will be forgotten in 5 years. I suppose thats how all history is written. There were probably many great moments in history that were never recorded because they were spoken or done by the losing side. Our great nation desperately needs the change that Obama can bring. Next all we'll need is an Asian president, and then we'll be all set.

Emotional Release-Second Draft

When I heard Obama talking at the democratic national convention, I was filled with a great sense of hope. I wasn't actually there, but I saw it afterwards. It was one of the most inspiring things I've ever heard. He spoke so powerfully, with so much emotion, and the crowd was so into it. The entire speech was incredible. It's no wonder he is able to move massive crowds of people, and to bring so many people out to see him speak.

I've never been a person who enjoys listening to people speak in public, I got plenty of that in church, thank you very much. But this was something else entirely. I wasn't listening to it because I felt that I had to or because my parents told me to. He made me actually care what he was saying, he made me think about the words coming out of his mouth.

His delivery was as powerful as his words. I was listening to it, thinking "damn, this guys going to be the next president, and here I am listening to him speak right now". Somehow president Bush never really did that for me. Perhaps it's because its not as relevant now, but Lincoln's famous speeches didn't move me as much as this one did either.

Obama's speech should go down in the history books, as one of the greatest speeches of our century. If Obama wins, there is a good chance that will happen. If he loses, however, his inspiring words will be forgotten in 5 years. I suppose thats how all history is written. There were probably many great moments in history that were never recorded because they were spoken or done by the losing side. Our great nation desperately needs the change that Obama can bring. Next all we'll need is an Asian president, and then we'll be all set.

the last time i can remember being filled with hope is when i heard obama talking at the democratic national convention. i wasn't actually there, but i saw it afterwards. it was one of the most inspiring things id heard. he spoke so powerfully, with so much emotion, the crowd was so into it, the whole thing was incredible. its no wonder he is able to move massive crowds of people, and to bring so many people out to see him speak. i wanted to become a young liberal on the spot. i've never been a person who enjoys listening to people speak in public, i got plenty of that in church, thank you very much. but this was something different. i wasn't listening to it because i felt that i had to or for a school assignment. he actually made me care what he was saying, he made me listen to the ideas he was putting into my head. not just the words, but the delivery as well was powerful. i was listening to it, and i was like "damn, this guys going to be the next president, and im listening to him speak right now. somehow president Bush never really did that for me. maybe it's because its not as relevant now, but lincoln's famous speeches didn't move me as much as this one did. it should go down in the history books, as one of the greatest speeches of our century. if obama wins, his speech is going to be in all the textbooks. if he loses, it will be forgotten in 5 years. i suppose thats how all history is written. there were probably many great moments in history that were never recorded because they were spoken or done by the losing side. that's a sad thought. that's also why we have to vote obama into office in november. not just because of that, but because of the change he can bring to our country. next all we need is an asian president, and then well be all set.