<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386</id><updated>2011-04-21T15:47:22.777-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Natalie's Notebook</title><subtitle type='html'>This is where my unfortunate homework for Barr's class will be contained.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>131</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-115799191381417585</id><published>2006-09-11T12:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T12:25:13.826-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>// hate me</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/115799191381417585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/115799191381417585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2006_09_10_archive.html#115799191381417585' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-112822049622388911</id><published>2005-10-01T22:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-01T22:34:56.223-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ugly - ways</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/112822049622388911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/112822049622388911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2005_09_25_archive.html#112822049622388911' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-112822031713155214</id><published>2005-10-01T22:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-01T22:34:10.046-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ugly - ways</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/112822031713155214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/112822031713155214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2005_09_25_archive.html#112822031713155214' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-107877484225852071</id><published>2004-03-08T14:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-08T14:42:56.140-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Scarred</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/107877484225852071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/107877484225852071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2004_03_07_archive.html#107877484225852071' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77976365</id><published>2002-06-20T08:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-20T08:36:15.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Quotes from Socratic:"Poor people just inhereit poor stuff. Poor equals poor. Rich equals rich." ~Alex"How can you find spiritual worth?""One of the roots of America is freedom of religion.""America is a land where people can call themselves Catholic and not have to go to Church every day."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77976365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77976365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_16_archive.html#77976365' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77954609</id><published>2002-06-19T19:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-19T19:15:53.456-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>THIS IS MY FINALWhile no one knows why or how people were created, or why we ended up where we are, there is one thing that is true of pretty much every country – that we know for sure; every country, that is, except America. When a person thinks of England, they think of English people, when someone thinks of Canada, they think of Canadians, and so on and so forth. But when a person thinks of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77954609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77954609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_16_archive.html#77954609' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77910394</id><published>2002-06-18T19:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-18T19:43:38.056-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Challenge – you said this book was worth 40 points!!TESTAlice’s Adventures in WonderlandCharacter matching1. Duchess2.Chessire Cat3. Queen of Hearts4. The Caterpillar5. The White Rabbit6. Mad Hatter 7. Alice8. The Judge9. Mock Turtle10. guinea-piga. was a jurorb. Liked to take people’s heads offc. Told a very long storyd. Liked to cause trouble wherever Alice went.e. Gave a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77910394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77910394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_16_archive.html#77910394' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77906264</id><published>2002-06-18T17:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-18T17:42:02.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CHALLENGEThis has been coming for a while. Is there anything wrong with this? If you were the yearbook editor, how would you handle it? (5)I think that the article in only a problem to those people who do not wish do discuss important issues, and would rather have themselves and their children remain in the dark – which would probably result in an early pregnancy, or some such nonsense. Other</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77906264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77906264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_16_archive.html#77906264' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77905526</id><published>2002-06-18T17:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-18T17:24:47.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Chris Nolan told me that doing these questions would get me 75 challenge points. I hope he wasn’t joking, because if these do not count then I am going to have to kick someone’s ass…1. Twain has a good time tweaking the widows. Why?Twain obviously does not like people who live by other’s standards, which is exactly what those widows are doing. He thinks that to be civilized it to be doing just</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77905526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77905526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_16_archive.html#77905526' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77898165</id><published>2002-06-18T14:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-18T14:11:10.410-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>challengesWrite another chapter. I purposely wrote in the way I did, as the narrator of the story was not that well educated. The Color Purple Dear God, I decide to leave Mr. _____ and go get help with the Reverend Mr. ______ and his wife and me baby. I wish Celie coulda seen the way I stand up up to Mr. _____! I tell him that I ain’t gonna take it no more, and that I gonna go and live </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77898165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77898165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_16_archive.html#77898165' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77854077</id><published>2002-06-17T14:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-17T19:50:20.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>THIS IS MY FUCKING STORY ABOUT MEETING THE CLASSMATE!!!!The salty smell of the sea, the gentle rolling of the boat, the sound of small waves lapping against the sides. The day seemed beyond perfect, with the sun shining down on our unprotected heads, our bare arms shining white, as though challenging the sun to brown them without our permission. Valley of the Dolls and a bottle of chilled </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77854077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77854077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_16_archive.html#77854077' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77852422</id><published>2002-06-17T13:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-17T13:58:38.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Natalie Barrett Huck Finn Quiz "It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a-trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself: "All right, then, I'll go to hell" Chain of Why’s 1. Why does Huck think he will go to Hell? Because he is helping to free a black man.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77852422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77852422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_16_archive.html#77852422' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77849148</id><published>2002-06-17T12:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-17T19:45:20.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SATIREBarr - I changed what you said I should.Life as a waitress is often hard. We get paid so little, and have to deal with the horrible rudeness of many of our customers. They think that just because they are tourists, they are our saviors. Nevertheless, I always managed to keep a cool head and a smile on my face. I managed to finagle a sizable tip from many of my customers. There was one </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77849148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77849148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_16_archive.html#77849148' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77622725</id><published>2002-06-11T16:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-11T16:18:07.366-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Barr - please let me make up last night and tonight's homework tomorrow. I can not tell u why on the blog...too much shit.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77622725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77622725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_09_archive.html#77622725' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77420629</id><published>2002-06-06T11:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-06T11:20:49.390-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Why questions off of thesis statement:Why is America a land of imagrants?Because everyone runs here.Why does everyone run here?Because America is "free."Why is America "free"?Because it was available when people needed freedom.What if freedom?Freedom is being able to create who you want to be. Freedom is also the knowledge that a person can be who they want to be, and can feel safe with </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77420629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77420629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_02_archive.html#77420629' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77400196</id><published>2002-06-05T22:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-05T22:00:06.120-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“That night they had a big supper, and all them men and women were there, and I stood behind the king and duke’s chairs and waited on them, and the ******* waited on the rest.”This is not a very good quote, but I am not very good at picking out quotes. Ok I think that this quote again tells the reader that Huck is a very good person. He knows that the king and duke are not real kings and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77400196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77400196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_02_archive.html#77400196' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77378705</id><published>2002-06-05T12:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-05T12:07:57.390-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>America is different because we're the only nation made out of different nations.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77378705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77378705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_02_archive.html#77378705' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77305352</id><published>2002-06-03T18:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-03T18:36:04.740-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>   "Did you want to kill him, Buck?"    "Well, I bet I did."    "What did he do to you?"    "Him? He never done nothing to me."    "Well, then, what did you want to kill him for?"    "Why, nothing -- only it's on account of the feud."    "What's a feud?"    "Why, where was you raised? Don't you know what a feud is?"    "Never heard of it before -- tell me about it." This was an exchange </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77305352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77305352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_06_02_archive.html#77305352' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77187064</id><published>2002-05-31T12:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-31T12:14:09.243-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I think that most kids that grow up on Nantucket think that the world revolves around them. As I was growing up, I thought that my parents had an endless flow of cash, could get me whatever I wanted, and were happy with doing for me whatever I wanted. I thought, most of all, that everyone would love me and do the same. As I started to grow up, I never really grew out of that phase, but I would </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77187064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77187064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_26_archive.html#77187064' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77164122</id><published>2002-05-30T21:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-30T21:32:03.016-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FOR THURSDAY NIGHT“I begun to think how dreadful it was, even for murderers, to be in such a fix. I says to myself, there ain't no telling but I might come to be a murderer myself yet, and then how would I like it?”Huck is obviously a very considerate person. He runs into a group of murderers, and almost gets stuck in a wrecked boat with them, and yet he still wants to save them. He </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77164122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77164122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_26_archive.html#77164122' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77105120</id><published>2002-05-29T12:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-29T12:15:43.036-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Why does Pap think Huck’s money belongs to him?	Because Huck is his son, and everything Huck owns, his father owns.How does Pap figure Huck is his son, when he did not raise him? Is Huck really his son?	Huck does not consider himself to be his Father’s son.Why then does he stay with Pap for so long?	Because no matter what, he will always have some love for his father.Why do people </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77105120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77105120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_26_archive.html#77105120' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-77083554</id><published>2002-05-28T20:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-28T20:14:47.280-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“…I got to thinking that if I could fix up some way to keep pap and the widow from trying to follow me, it would be a certainer thing than trusting to luck to get far enough off before they missed me…”This is Huck thinking of a way to get out of the cabin. I find it very interesting that Huck can not decide as to whether or not he wants to live with the widow or his abusing father. This </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77083554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/77083554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_26_archive.html#77083554' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76927459</id><published>2002-05-24T12:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-24T12:04:29.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>500 word FridayHow would the school be different if Nantucket allowed slavery?I think Nantucket High School would be extremely different if there were slaves allowed on Nantucket. People would definitely not be treated the same, and certain ways of thinking, books, and movies would not be taught. We would not be taught to treat other the way we ourselves would like to be treated. That would</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76927459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76927459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_19_archive.html#76927459' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76884385</id><published>2002-05-23T11:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-23T11:06:13.236-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I think that Main Street, on August 22nd, 2002, would be totally deserted if we had slaves. Slavery is looked down upon by a lot of people now, and this island relies on tourists. If we didn’t have people coming here because they look down upon slavery, then this island would go to Hell. Most of the stores would be closed, no one would be buying houses, etc.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76884385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76884385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_19_archive.html#76884385' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76802643</id><published>2002-05-21T12:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-21T12:23:12.496-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>									Natalie Barrett; Antonia Quiz1.	"We reached the edge of the field, where our ways parted. I took her hands and held them against my breast, feeling once more how strong and warm and good they were, those brown hands, and remembering how many kind things they had done for me. I held them now a long while, over my heart. About us it was growing darker and darker, and I had to look hard </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76802643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76802643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_19_archive.html#76802643' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76770673</id><published>2002-05-20T17:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-20T17:03:24.226-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FOR THURSDAY NIGHT:“’Mother uses the to make kolaches,’…Leo, in a low voice, tossed off some scornful remark in Bohemian…’You think I don’t know what kolaches are, eh? You’re mistaken, young man. I’ve eaten your mother’s kolaches long before that Easter Day you were born.’”During the point when the quote was said, they were in their cellar, showing Jim everything, and one of the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76770673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76770673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_19_archive.html#76770673' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76661799</id><published>2002-05-17T11:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-17T12:13:53.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You should use DeadJournal.com next  year instead of Blogger, Barr.QUOTE(S) OF THE MOMENT:"After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music."Aldous Huxley (1894 - 1963)"I don't know anything about music. In my line you don't have to."Elvis Presley (1935 - 1977)"We make war that we may live in peace."Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC), Nichomachean Ethics</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76661799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76661799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_12_archive.html#76661799' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76661491</id><published>2002-05-17T11:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-17T11:49:37.526-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.”God decided to create man first. To makes matters even worse, he decided to make Eve out of a tiny piece of one of Adam’s rib. Therefore, women starts out in great debt to man.However, a person could look at that story from another point of view. God created Eve because Adam could not handle tending to things on his own. So Eve pitched in, and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76661491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76661491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_12_archive.html#76661491' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76596144</id><published>2002-05-15T19:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-15T19:54:04.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>WEDNESDAY NIGHT'S HOMEOWORKPg 218 was a fucking weird place to stop, Barr.“’The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, hundreds of times when I don’t realize it. You really are a part of me.’…’How can it be like that, when you know so many people, and when I’ve disappointed you so? Ain’t it wonderful, Jim, how much people can mean to each other?...You’ll always </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76596144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76596144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_12_archive.html#76596144' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76553279</id><published>2002-05-14T19:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-15T11:35:37.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“Lena was at least a woman, and I was a man.”Jim has grown so since we were first introduced to the boy who had not yet accepted his parents untimely deaths. He was barely eleven, and was constantly teased by Antonia for being so young. Before the quote, he says talks about how he and Lena would go to the theatre constantly. It kind of makes a person think that maybe Jim is forgetting all </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76553279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76553279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_12_archive.html#76553279' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76400288</id><published>2002-05-10T12:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-13T11:05:59.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The salty smell of the sea, the gentle rolling of the boat, the sound of small waves lapping against the sides. The day seemed beyond perfect, with the sun shining down on our unprotected heads, our bare arms shining white, as though challenging the sun to brown them without our permission. 	Valley of the Dolls and a bottle of chilled Heineken in hand, I wander the deck listlessly, trying to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76400288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76400288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_05_archive.html#76400288' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76391407</id><published>2002-05-10T06:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-10T06:51:52.640-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FOR THURSDAY NIGHT“’I could shovel just as fast as that fat Andern boy that drove the other wagon.’”This quote, to me, tells a lot about Antonia. This is something that has come up, time and again. Antonia (along with every other member of her family) is very vain. It was probably expressed much better in some other quote, but this happened to be the one which I came across.HOMEWORK </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76391407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76391407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_05_archive.html#76391407' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76345700</id><published>2002-05-09T11:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-09T11:35:07.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>1. Why do they all blame Fuchs for the woman having all of the babies?2. 3. 4.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76345700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76345700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_05_archive.html#76345700' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76339171</id><published>2002-05-09T06:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-09T06:55:53.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FOR WEDNESDAY NIGHT"It was the first time Mrs. Shimerda had been to our house, and she ran about examining our carpets and curtains and furniture, all the while commenting upon them to her daughter in an envious, complaining tone."THe passage goes on to talk about how Mrs. Shimerda took a pan, and told the Grandmother that if she had as many things as they did, then she would cook </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76339171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76339171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_05_archive.html#76339171' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76299697</id><published>2002-05-08T06:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-08T07:04:40.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FOR TUESDAY NIGHT"So in reality it was a mock adventure; the game was fixed for me by chance, as it probably was for many a dragon - slayer."I read once that in order to truely "grow up"; to really become an adult, one had to hve at least a single good laugh at themselves. And that is precisely what the boy in My Antonia was doing in the above quote. He may have let the killing of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76299697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76299697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_05_05_archive.html#76299697' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76043054</id><published>2002-05-01T12:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-01T12:14:00.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>NOTES: Self is different from God. God is manmade. A person can not obey themselves and God. ROUGH:  	Any story a person reads, whether it be in the Bible or somewhere else, or any movie a person can see, will always illustrate the fact that it is ingrained in people to go against God. Some people believe that in order to have a free will, there can be no God. This, however, can not be all </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76043054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76043054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_28_archive.html#76043054' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76041258</id><published>2002-05-01T11:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-01T11:16:09.163-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"The unharming sharks, they glided by as if with padlocks on their mouths; the savage sea-hawks sailed with sheathed beaks. "</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76041258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76041258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_28_archive.html#76041258' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76035413</id><published>2002-05-01T06:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-01T06:57:37.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FOR TUESDAY NIGHT"For the third time my soul's ship starts upon this voyage, Starbuck."This quote was said by Ahab. In it, he is talking about the hunting of Moby Dick, his long time foe. It’s interesting, because we all only know about the one time that he hunted the whale – when his leg was bitten off. He is saying that this is the third.I am guessing that hunting the whale for </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76035413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76035413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_28_archive.html#76035413' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-76035267</id><published>2002-05-01T06:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-05-01T06:42:54.890-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>NOTES: Self is different from God. God is manmade. A person can not obey themselves and God.ROUGH: Any story a person reads, whether it be in the Bible or somewhere else, or any movie a person can see, will always illustrate the fact that it is ingrained in people to go against God. Some people believe that in order to have a free will, there can be no God. This, however, can not be all </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76035267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/76035267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_28_archive.html#76035267' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75850586</id><published>2002-04-26T11:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-30T11:05:13.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A person can not obey themselves and God. Basically the paper is all about God. Most people will obey themselves before God.Three things I need to say in order to prove this:Job did what he wanted, and he ended up inside a whaleAhab thought that in order to worship God, one has to disobey him. Ahab also ended up dying at the hands of his God at the end of the book.People naturally want to</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75850586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75850586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75850586' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75827269</id><published>2002-04-25T20:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-26T07:04:19.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hey...this is one kick ass website... HOMEWORK FOR THURSDAY NIGHT ""Oh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On such a day- very much such a sweetness as this- I struck my first whale- a boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty- forty- forty years ago!- ago! Forty years of continual whaling! forty years of privation, and peril, and storm-time! forty years on the pitiless sea! </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75827269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75827269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75827269' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75812031</id><published>2002-04-25T12:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-25T12:00:00.330-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Question: If you were trying to get the one thing you really wanted, and someone desperately asked you for help, would you continue trying to get that one thing you really want the most, or would you stop and help them? ~ AimeeI like this question. I think that in order to be able to answer it, however, a person must first be in that situation. It also depends upon the situation. For example; </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75812031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75812031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75812031' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75789287</id><published>2002-04-24T21:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-24T21:03:24.836-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I hope I am not made fun of for looking into that stupid quote too much. Anways, I did more work on The Sermon, but it isn't up there. I think it is looking alright now. But of course I would think that.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75789287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75789287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75789287' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75789251</id><published>2002-04-24T21:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-25T12:00:17.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FOR Wednesday NIGHTTHE NEEDLE‘”Ha, ha, my ship! thou mightest well be taken now for the sea-chariot of the sun. Ho, ho! all ye nations before my prow, I bring the sun to ye! Yoke on the further billows; hallo! a tandem, I drive the sea!’”I think I suck at picking quotes. Ok…I picked this quote because I believe that it shows how much Ahab feels he owns the world. I could, however,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75789251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75789251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75789251' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75769398</id><published>2002-04-24T11:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-24T11:03:46.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Five things that have happened to me since 6th grade:My dog diedWent White Water Rafting in MaineMy cat ate my frogMy dad had a heart attackWent to New York</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75769398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75769398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75769398' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75743222</id><published>2002-04-23T18:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-23T18:38:23.946-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“But as all else in him thinned, and his cheek-bones grew sharper, his eyes, nevertheless, seemed growing fuller and fuller; they became of a strange softness of lustre; and mildly but deeply looked out at you there from his sickness, a wondrous testimony to that immortal health in him which could not die, or be weakened.”This quote says a lot about Queequeg. It just goes to show the reader how</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75743222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75743222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75743222' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75742269</id><published>2002-04-23T18:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-23T18:12:58.193-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MONDAY NIGHT’S HOMEWORK“You might almost say, that this strange uncompromisedness in him involved a sort of unintelligence; for in his numerous trades, he did not seem to work so much by reason or by instinct, or simply because he had been tutored to it, or by any intermixture of all these, even or uneven; but merely by kind of deaf and dumb, spontaneous literal process”There was more to this</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75742269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75742269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75742269' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75741560</id><published>2002-04-23T17:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-23T17:55:14.116-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I got my new computer two days early! I am now going to catch up on my homework...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75741560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75741560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75741560' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75729550</id><published>2002-04-23T11:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-23T11:39:46.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Why my chapter is significant The SermonI really don’t think my chapter is significant, but I guess I will write about what could be significant about it.In the chapter, Father Mapple talks a lot about God. He gives everyone the message that they must all obey God, even if it is something that they do not want to do. The perfect example is Jonah; God told him to do something, he didn’t want</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75729550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75729550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75729550' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75689597</id><published>2002-04-22T12:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-22T12:08:28.443-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>IF I WERE TO MAKE A MOVIE BASED ON THE BOOK MOBY DICK (I would shoot myself. Just kidding.)THE SERMONThe church that the scene takes place in is very rough. It is made to look like a boat, all out of wood. There are several roads of roughly hewn benches. There are several different cameras. There is one right in front of the pulpit, so that there is an angle of just Father Mapple, who is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75689597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75689597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75689597' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75466200</id><published>2002-04-16T11:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-22T11:02:44.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MONDAY'A HOMEWORK "As he mounted the deck, Ahab abruptly accosted him, without at all heeding what he had in his hand; but in his broken lingo, the German soon evinced his complete ignorance of the White Whale."This quote is from the chapter Pequod Meets the Virgin. I think that I may be looking into this a little too much, as I do with everything Ishmael says, and we all know that no one </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75466200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75466200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_14_archive.html#75466200' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75328493</id><published>2002-04-12T11:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-12T11:58:31.360-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CHALLENGEApparently, we are developing an odor bomb. Why? (5)The obvious answer to this question is to evacuate areas. People are repulsed by bad smells, so they would leave the area in which the bomb was released. This makes sense. Another, less obvious reason, is that we could be developing this just to get ahead of other nationalities, to have though of something they haven’t. Even if </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75328493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75328493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_07_archive.html#75328493' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75327893</id><published>2002-04-12T11:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-12T11:39:29.626-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CHALLENGEWhy did they kill Kenny off for good (5)“We had so many other interesting characters," Stone says, "but we always had to service this Kenny guy." This quote about sums up the answer to the question.The producers – or artists, or whatever they were – got sick of tailoring to one character, that didn’t really do anything in the show. They had so many characters that they couldn’t put </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75327893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75327893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_07_archive.html#75327893' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75327138</id><published>2002-04-12T11:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-12T11:16:03.500-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>„Squeeze! squeeze! squeeze! all the morning long; I squeezed that sperm till I myself almost melted into it; I squeezed that sperm till a strange sort of insanity came over me; and I found myself unwittingly squeezing my co-laborers' hands in it, mistaking their hands for the gentle globules. Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this avocation beget; that at last I was </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75327138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75327138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_07_archive.html#75327138' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75263533</id><published>2002-04-10T19:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-10T19:29:18.240-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FROM WEDNESDAY NIGHT“He was full of the fire of the hunt. He hated Pip for a poltroon. Snatching the boat-knife from its sheath, he suspended its sharp edge over the line, and turning towards Stubb, exclaimed interrogatively, "Cut?" Meantime Pip's blue, choked face plainly looked, Do, for God's sake! All passed in a flash. In less than half a minute, this entire thing happened. "Damn </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75263533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75263533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_07_archive.html#75263533' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-75249267</id><published>2002-04-10T12:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-11T11:11:41.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ESSAY ON QUOTES"Obviously when they're watching these movies, they're thinking 'Oh, this is cool.'" ~Grey"As soon as something happens, and it's related to media, they're saying this media is bad."  ~JaredBoth of these quotes express how willing society is to blame anything on the violence that is erupting around us. Violence in the media had been around for quite a long time. When King </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75249267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/75249267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_04_07_archive.html#75249267' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11472157</id><published>2002-04-04T20:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-05T06:40:18.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I hope you will accept Fellowship of the Rings for challenges!Character MatchingI Bilbo Baggins		A. Frodo’s clumsy but smart companionF Frodo Baggins		B. Sleeps with his eyes openD Gandalf			C. Lives in the forestA Sam Gamgee		D. Falls into Moria and diesJ Merry			E. Racist against elvesG Pippin			F. Inherits the ring from BilboH Aragorn			G. Gets eaten by a treeE Gimli (the dwarf)		H. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11472157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11472157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11472157' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11469363</id><published>2002-04-04T18:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-04T18:35:44.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I SHOULD HAVE THE BIG 1  5  0 NOW!!! BUT I WILL DO EXTRA (MAYBE) JUST IN CASE...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11469363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11469363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11469363' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11469195</id><published>2002-04-04T18:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-04T18:34:50.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CHALLENGE(5) Question: What should the surgeon General do? (You spelt surgeon wrong, Barr)“...the Surgeon General should go sit on the Food Guide Pyramid.” Yup, that about sums up my sentiments. Maybe the surgeon should get off his over inflated ass and do something!!!Maybe he should make things with too much of a fat content illegal, or put a warning on them like the one on cigarettes. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11469195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11469195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11469195' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11468369</id><published>2002-04-04T18:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-04T18:03:43.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CHALLENGE(5) Question: Do you think this is a degree that will have value or not?As soon as these people get their degrees from these classes, what they have learned will no longer be applicable. In this sense, the degree in question won’t have value.I think, however, that speculation on whether or not game design can be learned is bull shit. Even if not learned in the class room, they were </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11468369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11468369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11468369' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11467557</id><published>2002-04-04T17:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-04T17:38:02.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CHALLENGE10) Question: is this a good thing or a bad thing? Explain.The extensive trade which Parker depicts so well is both a blessing and a curse to AfricaThe fact that Americans ship out so much used clothing a year- the fact that second-hand shops are overflowing is a sad thing. We are cramming things that we will never again see into our closet, while people across the globe are </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11467557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11467557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11467557' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11466044</id><published>2002-04-04T16:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-04T16:50:26.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>BARR,This should be about 25 pts, but I will bring the book in tomorrow to show you.Assignment 4: Playwright Take the climax of the novel and rewrite it as a script. make sure you include• Lines of dialogue• Stage directions• Set Descriptions.BRAVE NEW GIRL(It is kind of hard to understand them and why they are a big deal without reading the book.)SCENE: All-American-type family </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11466044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11466044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11466044' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11464187</id><published>2002-04-04T15:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-04T15:52:49.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CHALLENGE5) why did this girl go to school in the morning?In the article, it doesn’t say whether actually made it to the school in the morning. I personally don’t know enough about this particular case to know when the attack occurred. All it says is that she left for the half-hour walk to school, and that later in the afternoon her father was informed she killed herself and two others.I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11464187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11464187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11464187' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11463740</id><published>2002-04-04T15:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-04T15:38:06.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CHALLENGE(5) With a talented basketball player poised to make millions, why should they go to college?There are a million reasons as to why these boys should go to college before playing pro ball, and playing in the college leagues first.The key word in that sentence is this; boys. These guys that are entering into the NBA when they’re barely eighteen are just not mature or experienced </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11463740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11463740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11463740' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11431859</id><published>2002-04-03T19:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-03T19:44:29.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CHALLENGE FROM BREAKFAST (which I HOPE we didn’t do for homework, and if we did, then I should get credit for it now....please...)“However, a good laugh is a mighty good thing, and rather too scarce a good thing; the more's the pity. So, if any one man, in his own proper person, afford stuff for a good joke to anybody, let him not be backward, but let him cheerfully allow himself to spend and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11431859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11431859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11431859' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11431489</id><published>2002-04-03T19:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-03T19:27:43.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FROM STUBB'S SUPPER“If moody Ahab was now all quiescence, at least so far as could be known on deck, Stubb, his second mate, flushed with conquest, betrayed an unusual but still good-natured excitement.” Stubb is almost the complete opposite of Ahab. While Ahab only went on the voyage to get the White Whale, Stubb went along for the purpose of killing as many as possible, and making </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11431489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11431489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11431489' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11385625</id><published>2002-04-02T15:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-02T15:03:28.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Volume too loud,Stakes too high.I know this isn't my time to die.One more second ticked,another hour passed.I just realized I picked something half-assed.I never knew the value of anything gone by,but I know now that this life will fly.So give to me some time,and I'll throw down my cards.And then I'll sigh,and pick up the shards.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11385625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11385625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11385625' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11379719</id><published>2002-04-02T11:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-04-02T11:21:05.020-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Socratic Questions:1. Can anyone own a beach?lieve t2. Would Emerson believe a person can own land?3. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11379719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11379719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11379719' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11230612</id><published>2002-03-28T20:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-28T20:05:07.410-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"To sit alone with my conscience will be judgment enough for me."- Charles William Stubbs"If you haven’t got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit next to me."- Alice Roosevelt Longworth (1884-1980)"I love Mickey Mouse more than any woman I have ever known."- Walt Disney (1901-1966)"Imitation is the sincerest form of television."- Fred Allen (1894-1956)“Originality is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11230612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11230612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_24_archive.html#11230612' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11230214</id><published>2002-03-28T19:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-28T19:49:14.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I did some makeup HW. I hope it is alright...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11230214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11230214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_24_archive.html#11230214' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11230005</id><published>2002-03-28T19:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-28T19:42:20.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FROM THE MAT-MAKER“...aye, chance, free will, and necessity- wise incompatible- all interweavingly working together. The straight warp of necessity, not to be swerved from its ultimate course- its every alternating vibration, indeed, only tending to that; free will still free to ply her shuttle between given threads; and chance, though restrained in its play within the right lines of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11230005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11230005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_24_archive.html#11230005' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11229588</id><published>2002-03-28T19:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-28T19:29:14.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FOR THE QUARTER-DECK“’To be enraged with a dumb thing, Captain Ahab. seems blasphemous‘...‘How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the White Whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there’s naught beyond.’” Ahab really is insane. Not only insane, but possessed by this thing which he so despises. This White Whale, to which he so </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11229588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11229588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_24_archive.html#11229588' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11228625</id><published>2002-03-28T18:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-28T18:54:26.246-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FROM (the chapter) MOBY DICK“...such hunters, perhaps, for the most part, were content to ascribe the peculiar terror he bred, more, as it were, to the perils of the Sperm Whale fishery at large, than to the individual cause. In that way, mostly, the disastrous encounter between Ahab and the whale had hitherto been popularly regarded.” This quote shows how stuck up Ahab really was, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11228625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11228625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_24_archive.html#11228625' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11222174</id><published>2002-03-28T15:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-28T15:26:50.210-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Barr - I should now have about ninety challenge points, or 50 plus however much MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA is worth, which shoul dbe 40...I hope...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11222174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11222174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_24_archive.html#11222174' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11211773</id><published>2002-03-28T09:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-28T09:49:54.976-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>QUOTE(S) OF THE MOMENT:``We don't KNOW that smoking is making these people sick ... it could be air pollution ...'' -- Head of the R.J.Reynolds Health Department"Smoking areas in restaurants are like peeing areas in swimming pools."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11211773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11211773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_24_archive.html#11211773' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11211655</id><published>2002-03-28T09:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-28T09:45:46.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>YAY MORE CHALLENGES!! (I should have 50 now.)How much of an effect do you really think these textbooks had? (5)There is so much on the news these days about Afghanistan. Too many people have been contemplating why they did what they did, and even giving asinine reasons. I think that this article is a perfect example of this. The writer is looking for ways that the minds of the Afghanistan </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11211655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11211655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_24_archive.html#11211655' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11146116</id><published>2002-03-26T15:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-26T15:24:13.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FROM AHAB"More than once did he put forth the faint blossom of a look, which, in any other man, would have soon flowered out in a smile."This quote tells the reader a lot about Ahab. From the sense of it, it kind of seems as though Ahab is playing with his crew; making them think he is happy, and about to smile and praise them. But, at the last second, the smile isn’t formed, and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11146116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11146116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_24_archive.html#11146116' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11141662</id><published>2002-03-26T12:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-26T12:07:44.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“Speak but speak!—Aye, aye! They silence, then that voices thee. (aside) something shot from my dilated nostrils, he has inhaled it in his lungs. Starbuck now is mine; cannot oppose me now, without rebellion.”This chapter begins with Ahab announcing that he only wants to kill Moby Dick. This is what they are arguing about in the quote. We get the sense that the crew is on the ship’s deck, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11141662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11141662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_24_archive.html#11141662' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11139077</id><published>2002-03-26T10:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-26T12:08:23.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>my computer is being fixed today, so I will post last nights HW tonight. Lovely Lovely...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11139077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11139077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_24_archive.html#11139077' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-11006151</id><published>2002-03-22T08:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-28T19:50:21.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MONDAY NIGHT'S HOMEWORK (The Ship)"She was a thing of trophies. A cannibal of a craft, tricking herself forth in the chased bones of her enemies"This quote is referring to the Pequod. It is covered in the parts of the whales that the men that had been her passengers in the past killed. When you think about it, it is actually rather disgusting. These men - or rather the owners and captain of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11006151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/11006151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#11006151' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10978013</id><published>2002-03-21T14:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-21T14:22:35.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"...an utterly fearless man is a far more dangerous comrade than a coward."I think this is an excellent quote. In it, Ishmael is refering to a fear of whales, or lack of.A man that is scared of whales will take precautions towards them, and will be mor likely to survive than those who don't. They will approach the whal like it could rip their head off, which is obviously true. He will have </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10978013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10978013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10978013' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10977837</id><published>2002-03-21T14:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-21T14:15:45.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"Never did those sweet words sound more sweetly to me than then...Soite of this frigid winter night in the boisterious Atlantic, spite of my wet feet and wetter jacket, there was yet, it seemed to me, many a pleasure haven in store..."This quote shows that they all still have hope, even though they know of the perils that lay ahead. It also shows that Ishmael, no matter how hard he tries to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10977837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10977837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10977837' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10974017</id><published>2002-03-21T12:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-21T12:05:53.120-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"Do people that are on water all the time think there's truth on land?""It is so indefinite, nobody knows if they're really dead. So how is that glorious?" ~Priscilla</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10974017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10974017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10974017' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10972982</id><published>2002-03-21T11:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-21T11:45:17.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"But as in landlessness alone resides highest truth, shoreless, indefinite as God- so better is it to perish in that howling infinite, than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, even if that were safety!"1. What is the "highest truth?" 2. Does Ahab die a glorious death?3. 4. Is it more glorious to die working in the World Trade Center than to die while flying the planes?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10972982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10972982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10972982' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10900806</id><published>2002-03-19T12:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-19T12:01:36.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“Maybe Ishmael is just into traveling and not really into whaling…”</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10900806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10900806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10900806' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10899709</id><published>2002-03-19T11:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-19T11:26:34.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"Can'st thou see the world from where you stand?1. Does it matter where he stands??2. Will Ishmael always be able to see the world as the story continues?3. Can a couch potato see the world through television?4. Can Stevie Wonder see the world?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10899709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10899709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10899709' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10767561</id><published>2002-03-15T12:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-15T12:07:07.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"People fuck up every day and don't get punished, and people do one little thing and do get punished." ~Kari"What about the fact that God just screws with people because he thinks it's funny? If I was God I would make Chris Nolan's bike get stolen because I think it would be funny." ~Nick </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10767561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10767561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10767561' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10744053</id><published>2002-03-14T20:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-14T20:17:03.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FOR THURSDAY1. Why is he grieving at the end?I am assuming that “he” is referring to Father Mapple. I think he is grieving because he thinks that to not sin is impossible, as it is in human nature....? (Figawi High Honor Roll right there, Barr...) Why is he contradicting himself?He is contradicting himself because it is impossible to obey ourselves and God at the same time - </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10744053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10744053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10744053' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10742518</id><published>2002-03-14T19:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-14T19:57:55.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Barr,For some reason, I tried to hand this in to you on paper, before vacation. Of course, you didn't accept it, so I decided to post it or send. One thing led to another, and I forget. Believe me or nor, give me credit or not, I don't really care. But here it is at long last...EMERSON’S HOUSEThe title above is rather contradictory, as Emerson would probably have no house. And, if absolutely</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10742518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10742518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10742518' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10736608</id><published>2002-03-14T12:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-14T12:01:36.080-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>THE SERMON questions1. Why did the whale spit Jonah out?2. How is the story Jonah similar to the story Abel and Cain?3. Will Ishmael become like Jonah?4. Does God punish us everyday for our sins? </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10736608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10736608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10736608' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10703824</id><published>2002-03-13T15:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-13T15:36:36.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“But all the things that God would have us do are hard for us to do- remember that- and hence, he oftener commands us than endeavors to persuade. And if we obey God, we must disobey ourselves; and it is in this disobeying ourselves, wherein the hardness of obeying God consists.”In the story of Jonah, (in the Bible) which Father Mapple is talking about, Jonah is asked by God to do something hard</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10703824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10703824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10703824' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10634588</id><published>2002-03-11T18:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-11T18:56:45.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>QUOTE(S) OF THE MOMENT:As said to Elvis Presley:"Stick to driving a truck, because you'll never make it as a singer." "If you take out the killings, Washington actually has a very very low crime rate." "The laws in this city are clearly racist. All laws are racist. The law of gravity is racist." "What right does Congress have to go around making laws just because they deem it necessary?"</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10634588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10634588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10634588' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10622335</id><published>2002-03-11T12:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-11T18:52:22.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Who ain’t a slave? Tell me that.I know since Barr chose this quote, it seems rather obvious. Even so, I really like this quote. I think it very true. I think that Melville is saying that no matter who you are, no matter how high the station the person is positioned in, they are al ways working for someone else.Even those considered to be the top of the top, such as Prince William or President</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10622335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10622335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10622335' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10508341</id><published>2002-03-07T18:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-07T18:51:28.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FOR THURSDAY NIGHT"One could do worse than be a swinger of birches."This quote, for me, is the best thing said in the entire poem. I believe it is the entirety of the poem, summed up in a few words. Frost talks about boys conquering trees (rather sexually, I might add), and of girls drying hair. The whole thing is about the carefree (and careless) days of childhood, and the scars </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10508341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10508341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10508341' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10502359</id><published>2002-03-07T16:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-07T18:15:05.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>QUOTE(S) OF THE MOMENT:"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever. " - Napoleon Bonaparte (1769-1821"Nothing defines humans better than their willingness to do irrational things in the pursuit of phenominally unlikely payoffs. This is the principle behind lotteries, dating, and religion." - Scott Adams "It was a slow day, and the sun was beating on the soldiers by the side of the road. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10502359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10502359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10502359' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10493405</id><published>2002-03-07T11:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-07T12:05:39.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>1. Why did his "brother" leave the tuft of flowers for him?2. Does Emerson agree that men work together when they're apart?3. How are the workers of Essex Village bad custodians?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10493405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10493405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10493405' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10454358</id><published>2002-03-06T12:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-07T16:12:26.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I am assuming that the poem took place during the beginning of the 1900's. This is important because that it what helps me imagine what they are wearing, and their mannerisms. I see the woman as being in her mid-twenties,, or late-twenties, maybe twenty-six. She has long brown hair, and it is pinned up in a slightly messy bun. The woman is wearing long, thick skirts, with many layers beneath.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10454358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10454358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10454358' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10429843</id><published>2002-03-05T20:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-05T20:24:04.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOMEWORK FOR TUESDAY NIGHT“’...it is not the stones, But the child's mound--'“ I believe that this quote is what the entire poem is all about. It is the first time this poor woman’s husband understood her suffering, what she was starring at and was so afraid of. The poem doesn't say how long ago the child died, but by the way in which Frost wrote about it, it sounds as though the child was </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10429843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10429843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10429843' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10429064</id><published>2002-03-05T20:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-05T20:06:17.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>QUOTE(S) OF THE MOMENT:"People demand freedom of speech to make up for the freedom of thought which they avoid. " - Soren Aabye Kierkegaard (1813-1855) "In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends. " - Martin Luther King Jr. (1929-1968) "The only difference between me and a madman is that I'm not mad." - Salvador Dali (1904-1989) "I'm all </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10429064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10429064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10429064' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302386.post-10412347</id><published>2002-03-05T12:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-03-05T12:11:00.673-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The picture this poem forms in my mind is of (obviously) a spider sitting on a flower. The spider has a dying moth struggling in its clutches. Both the spider and flower are white.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10412347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3302386/posts/default/10412347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nhsfigawi.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10412347' title=''/><author><name>Natalie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11698599198730719844</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
