LIT 006 Exams

You are to choose two topics and compose essays based from it. Your essays should consist of 300-400 words per topic. Construct your own title and post them on your respective blogs before December 25, 2010. You will be graded using this criteria; CONTENT-15  ORGANIZATION-10  DICTION &MECHANICS-10.   Topics 1.What do myths  tell us about love? 2. Male dominancy in Greek literature. 3. The Role of Women in Greek Mythology 4. The Influence of Mythology on Literature and Society 5. The Relationship between Gods and Mortals in Mythology

LIT 006

Pygmalion & Galatea

Mythology 

Choose one of the Eight Brief Tales of Lovers in Chapter 6. Read the story and choose one scene or event from the story that you like most. Create a one-page script based from the chosen scene/ event.(500-600 words) Post your script on your blog on or before Dec. 10, 2010.

LIT 004

LIT 004- Teaching of Literature

Share your own view of Vygotsky’s Principle of Social Constructivism. Choose only 2 of the 4 principles. Post it on your blog on or before Dec. 10, 2010.

1. Learning and development is a social, collaborative activity.
2. The Zone of Proximal Development can serve as a guide for curricular and lesson planning.
3. School learning should occur in a meaningful context and not be separated from learning and knowledge children develop in the "real world.".
4. Out-of-school experiences should be related to the child's school experience.

ENG 40

LIT 004

LIT 004- Teaching of Literature

First blog entry 

Write an essay about the topic, “My Philosophy As An Educator?

Click below for some guidelines to write an effective philosophy essay

Guidlines 1 

Guidelines 2

You will be scored using the following ;

ORGANIZATION-10

CONTENT-15

DICTION-10

MECHANICS-5

Post your essays on your blog on or before Dec. 07, 2010.

LIT 006

Mythology

Choose one version on the stories of How the World and Mankind Were Created. Identify two specific scenes from the version and be able to identify and explain the symbolism while relating it to real life situation.

Post your activity on your blog on or before Dec. 5, 2010.

LIT 004- Teaching of Literature

Topics for Shared-discussion

 Different Theories of Teaching Literature

A. Transmission Theories

Bacal

Namocot

Besas

Ortiz

Pacleb

Tago

B. Student Centered

Panal

Tagapulot

Gonzalez

Bacor

Brua

Aquino

C. Socio-Cultural Learning Theory

Letchejan

Lagahit

Enriquez

Del Rosario

Salcedo

D. Modelling and Scaffolding Practices

Mancawan

Bayon

Pasco

Dacutanan

Lopez

E. Engaging Students based on Collective Experiences

Gil

Rabago

Serina

Ng

Josol

Magno

You may search at the library on Teaching Literature books or browse online for your topics. Here’s also a helpful link for you, teachingliterature.org. By group, prepare a one-page cheat-sheet (hand-out) on your topic which you will then distribute to each of your classmates on Wednesday. November 24, 2010.

Story Ladder

Assignment for LIT 004

LOCKED IN

English 40 Assignment
 LOCKED IN
Ingemar Gustafson

      All my life I lived in a coconut,
      It was cramped and dark.
      Especially in the morning when I had to shave.

But what pained me most was that I had no way
to get in touch with the outside world.
If no one out there happened to find the coconut,
if no one cracked it, then I was doomed
to live all my life in the nut, and maybe even die there.

      I died in the coconut.
      A couple of years later they found the coconut,
      cracked it, and found me shrunk and crumpled inside.

      "What an accident!"
      "If only we had found it earlier...."
      "Then maybe we could have saved him."
      "Maybe there are more of them locked in like that...."
      "Whom we might be able to save,"
they said, and started knocking to pieces every coconut
within reach.

      No use! Meaningless! A waste of time!
A person who chooses to live in a coconut!
Such a nut is one in a million!

But I have a brother-in-law who lives in an acorn. 

To ENG 40(Intro to Media w/ Theater Arts) class

Read and analyze the poem.

You are to perform a dramatic monologue relating to the poem.

The target skill of this activity is to build up a lonesome emotion. 

Imagine your life inside a coconut shell. What will you do if you will be in this situation?

How will you deal with your life? What will be your emotion?

Your are to perform it in not less than five minutes. Good luck!

Mythology: Important Part of History

     Bullfinch once said "Mythology is the handmaid of literature...". That

means that mythology is necessarily subservient or subordinate to literature.

I personally think that is not true. Let me introduce myself. My name is Aphrodite, goddess of beauty and sexual desire. Mythology is important and

interesting . In fact, I think I may be the most interesting of all the gods. Well, at least the most beautiful. In this auto biographical paper I will

reveal to you who I am, how I relate to mythology, and a famous story about

myself.

     Let me start with my birth. Many think I was born out of murder. They
say that when Cronos butchered his father he flung the dismembered body into the
sea, where it floated spouting blood and foam. From the foam rose me, a tall
beautiful maiden with long blond hair the color of daffodils. Other legends say
that I am the daughter of Cronos and Rheia or Jupiter and Dionne. I am married
to Hephaestus, god of fire and metal work. Shortly after birth my poor husband
was cast out of Olympus because of his deformities. My son is the famous arrow
shooting Cupid. We are almost always together and Cupid is always shooting
darts of desire in to the bosoms of Gods and men. I hate to admit it but in a
way I am responsible for the Trojan War. One day Discord threw an apple on to
Olympus to be given to the most beautiful goddess. Hera, Athene, and I all
tried to claim the title. Each of us tried to persaude the judge, Paris, in our
favor. Hera told him he would be a powerful ruler, Athene promised him that he
would receive great military fame, and I guaranteed him Helen of Troy's hand in
marriage. He then declared me the fairest of all, and abducted Helen of Troy
thus beginning the Trojan War. I have also inspired many paintings,
sculptures, and poetry. The most famous painting featuring me is the Birth of
Venus. It is a very famous painting from the Renaissance. As you can see I am
one of the most important goddess and have influenced mythology immensely.

     I relate to mythology by being the goddess of love and beauty. My Roman
name is Venus. My work is my pleasure, my profession, and my hobby. I think
about nothing but love and nobody expects any more from me. My job is to make
other gods and goddess fall in love with each other. I am ashamed to say that I
have had many lovers and have had children from these other men. They are
Lyrus, Eryt, Beroe, Herophilus, and many others. It must be that darn magic
girdle. It enables the wearer to have any man or god she chooses under her
spell just by him saying her name or catching a glimpse of her. As you can see
it causes me a lot of trouble and embarrassment. I think being the goddess of
love and beauty was an important role in mythology that left its effect on the
rest of civilization.

     One of the most famous stories about me is one that includes my lover
Ares. One day Helios the sun god, who sees everything, noticed me and my lover
Ares lying side by side. He told my husband Hephaestus who said nothing. Later
that night he prepared an invisible net, which he spread around my bed. When I
went to bed with my lover the net closed around us and we found ourselves
completely immobilized. My husband then summoned all the gods to come and view
the spectacle. When he released me I ran off in shame and embarrassment.
Another one of my famous stories is about me starting the Trojan War which I
already mentioned. Being a goddess can be exciting but also scandalous!!

     Revealing to you who I am, how I relate to mythology, and famous
anecdotes about myself was the main theme of my paper. Now you know a little
about me and mythology. Mythology is an important part of our history and
understanding mythology will help you to understand many works of literature and
poetry. This paper is only a brief piece of all the parts of mythology and I
encourage you all to go out and discover about the Greek gods and goddess of
long ago!

"Mythology: Important Part Of History."  

GOD SEES THE TRUTH, BUT WAITS

GOD SEES THE TRUTH, BUT WAITS
by: Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910)

The following story is reprinted from Best Russian Short Stories. Ed. Thomas Seltzer. New York: Boni & Liveright, 1917.

In the town of Vladimir lived a young merchant named Ivan Dmitrich Aksionov. He had two shops and a house of his own.
Aksionov was a handsome, fair-haired, curly-headed fellow, full of fun, and very fond of singing. When quite a young man he had been given to drink, and was riotous when he had had too much; but after he married he gave up drinking, except now and then.
One summer Aksionov was going to the Nizhny Fair, and as he bade good-bye to his family, his wife said to him, "Ivan Dmitrich, do not start to-day; I have had a bad dream about you."
Aksionov laughed, and said, "You are afraid that when I get to the fair I shall go on a spree."
His wife replied: "I do not know what I am afraid of; all I know is that I had a bad dream. I dreamt you returned from the town, and when you took off your cap I saw that your hair was quite grey."
Aksionov laughed. "That's a lucky sign," said he. "See if I don't sell out all my goods, and bring you some presents from the fair."
So he said good-bye to his family, and drove away. When he had travelled half-way, he met a merchant whom he knew, and they put up at the same inn for the night. They had some tea together, and then went to bed in adjoining rooms.
It was not Aksionov's habit to sleep late, and, wishing to travel while it was still cool, he aroused his driver before dawn, and told him to put in the horses.
Then he made his way across to the landlord of the inn (who lived in a cottage at the back), paid his bill, and continued his journey.
When he had gone about twenty-five miles, he stopped for the horses to be fed. Aksionov rested awhile in the passage of the inn, then he stepped out into the porch, and, ordering a samovar to be heated, got out his guitar and began to play.
Suddenly a troika drove up with tinkling bells and an official alighted, followed by two soldiers. He came to Aksionov and began to question him, asking him who he was and whence he came. Aksionov answered him fully, and said, "Won't you have some tea with me?" But the official went on cross-questioning him and asking him. "Where did you spend last night? Were you alone, or with a fellow-merchant? Did you see the other merchant this morning? Why did you leave the inn before dawn?"
Aksionov wondered why he was asked all these questions, but he described all that had happened, and then added, "Why do you cross-question me as if I were a thief or a robber? I am travelling on business of my own, and there is no need to question me."
Then the official, calling the soldiers, said, "I am the police-officer of this district, and I question you because the merchant with whom you spent last night has been found with his throat cut. We must search your things."
They entered the house. The soldiers and the police-officer unstrapped Aksionov's luggage and searched it. Suddenly the officer drew a knife out of a bag, crying, "Whose knife is this?"
Aksionov looked, and seeing a blood-stained knife taken from his bag, he was frightened.
"How is it there is blood on this knife?"
Aksionov tried to answer, but could hardly utter a word, and only stammered: "I--don't know--not mine." Then the police-officer said: "This morning the merchant was found in bed with his throat cut. You are the only person who could have done it. The house was locked from inside, and no one else was there. Here is this blood-stained knife in your bag and your face and manner betray you! Tell me how you killed him, and how much money you stole?"
Aksionov swore he had not done it; that he had not seen the merchant after they had had tea together; that he had no money except eight thousand rubles of his own, and that the knife was not his. But his voice was broken, his face pale, and he trembled with fear as though he went guilty.
The police-officer ordered the soldiers to bind Aksionov and to put him in the cart. As they tied his feet together and flung him into the cart, Aksionov crossed himself and wept. His money and goods were taken from him, and he was sent to the nearest town and imprisoned there. Enquiries as to his character were made in Vladimir. The merchants and other inhabitants of that town said that in former days he used to drink and waste his time, but that he was a good man. Then the trial came on: he was charged with murdering a merchant from Ryazan, and robbing him of twenty thousand rubles.
His wife was in despair, and did not know what to believe. Her children were all quite small; one was a baby at her breast. Taking them all with her, she went to the town where her husband was in jail. At first she was not allowed to see him; but after much begging, she obtained permission from the officials, and was taken to him. When she saw her husband in prison-dress and in chains, shut up with thieves and criminals, she fell down, and did not come to her senses for a long time. Then she drew her children to her, and sat down near him. She told him of things at home, and asked about what had happened to him. He told her all, and she asked, "What can we do now?"
"We must petition the Czar not to let an innocent man perish."
His wife told him that she had sent a petition to the Czar, but it had not been accepted.
Aksionov did not reply, but only looked downcast.
Then his wife said, "It was not for nothing I dreamt your hair had turned grey. You remember? You should not have started that day." And passing her fingers through his hair, she said: "Vanya dearest, tell your wife the truth; was it not you who did it?"
"So you, too, suspect me!" said Aksionov, and, hiding his face in his hands, he began to weep. Then a soldier came to say that the wife and children must go away; and Aksionov said good-bye to his family for the last time.
When they were gone, Aksionov recalled what had been said, and when he remembered that his wife also had suspected him, he said to himself, "It seems that only God can know the truth; it is to Him alone we must appeal, and from Him alone expect mercy."
And Aksionov wrote no more petitions; gave up all hope, and only prayed to God.
Aksionov was condemned to be flogged and sent to the mines. So he was flogged with a knot, and when the wounds made by the knot were healed, he was driven to Siberia with other convicts.
For twenty-six years Aksionov lived as a convict in Siberia. His hair turned white as snow, and his beard grew long, thin, and grey. All his mirth went; he stooped; he walked slowly, spoke little, and never laughed, but he often prayed.
In prison Aksionov learnt to make boots, and earned a little money, with which he bought The Lives of the Saints. He read this book when there was light enough in the prison; and on Sundays in the prison-church he read the lessons and sang in the choir; for his voice was still good.
The prison authorities liked Aksionov for his meekness, and his fellow-prisoners respected him: they called him "Grandfather," and "The Saint." When they wanted to petition the prison authorities about anything, they always made Aksionov their spokesman, and when there were quarrels among the prisoners they came to him to put things right, and to judge the matter.
No news reached Aksionov from his home, and he did not even know if his wife and children were still alive.
One day a fresh gang of convicts came to the prison. In the evening the old prisoners collected round the new ones and asked them what towns or villages they came from, and what they were sentenced for. Among the rest Aksionov sat down near the newcomers, and listened with downcast air to what was said.
One of the new convicts, a tall, strong man of sixty, with a closely-cropped grey beard, was telling the others what be had been arrested for.
"Well, friends," he said, "I only took a horse that was tied to a sledge, and I was arrested and accused of stealing. I said I had only taken it to get home quicker, and had then let it go; besides, the driver was a personal friend of mine. So I said, 'It's all right.' 'No,' said they, 'you stole it.' But how or where I stole it they could not say. I once really did something wrong, and ought by rights to have come here long ago, but that time I was not found out. Now I have been sent here for nothing at all... Eh, but it's lies I'm telling you; I've been to Siberia before, but I did not stay long."
"Where are you from?" asked some one.
"From Vladimir. My family are of that town. My name is Makar, and they also call me Semyonich."
Aksionov raised his head and said: "Tell me, Semyonich, do you know anything of the merchants Aksionov of Vladimir? Are they still alive?"
"Know them? Of course I do. The Aksionovs are rich, though their father is in Siberia: a sinner like ourselves, it seems! As for you, Gran'dad, how did you come here?"
Aksionov did not like to speak of his misfortune. He only sighed, and said, "For my sins I have been in prison these twenty-six years."
"What sins?" asked Makar Semyonich.
But Aksionov only said, "Well, well--I must have deserved it!" He would have said no more, but his companions told the newcomers how Aksionov came to be in Siberia; how some one had killed a merchant, and had put the knife among Aksionov's things, and Aksionov had been unjustly condemned.
When Makar Semyonich heard this, he looked at Aksionov, slapped his own knee, and exclaimed, "Well, this is wonderful! Really wonderful! But how old you've grown, Gran'dad!"
The others asked him why he was so surprised, and where he had seen Aksionov before; but Makar Semyonich did not reply. He only said: "It's wonderful that we should meet here, lads!"
These words made Aksionov wonder whether this man knew who had killed the merchant; so he said, "Perhaps, Semyonich, you have heard of that affair, or maybe you've seen me before?"
"How could I help hearing? The world's full of rumours. But it's a long time ago, and I've forgotten what I heard."
"Perhaps you heard who killed the merchant?" asked Aksionov.
Makar Semyonich laughed, and replied: "It must have been him in whose bag the knife was found! If some one else hid the knife there, 'He's not a thief till he's caught,' as the saying is. How could any one put a knife into your bag while it was under your head? It would surely have woke you up."
When Aksionov heard these words, he felt sure this was the man who had killed the merchant. He rose and went away. All that night Aksionov lay awake. He felt terribly unhappy, and all sorts of images rose in his mind. There was the image of his wife as she was when he parted from her to go to the fair. He saw her as if she were present; her face and her eyes rose before him; he heard her speak and laugh. Then he saw his children, quite little, as they: were at that time: one with a little cloak on, another at his mother's breast. And then he remembered himself as he used to be--young and merry. He remembered how he sat playing the guitar in the porch of the inn where he was arrested, and how free from care he had been. He saw, in his mind, the place where he was flogged, the executioner, and the people standing around; the chains, the convicts, all the twenty-six years of his prison life, and his premature old age. The thought of it all made him so wretched that he was ready to kill himself.
"And it's all that villain's doing!" thought Aksionov. And his anger was so great against Makar Semyonich that he longed for vengeance, even if he himself should perish for it. He kept repeating prayers all night, but could get no peace. During the day he did not go near Makar Semyonich, nor even look at him.
A fortnight passed in this way. Aksionov could not sleep at night, and was so miserable that he did not know what to do.
One night as he was walking about the prison he noticed some earth that came rolling out from under one of the shelves on which the prisoners slept. He stopped to see what it was. Suddenly Makar Semyonich crept out from under the shelf, and looked up at Aksionov with frightened face. Aksionov tried to pass without looking at him, but Makar seized his hand and told him that he had dug a hole under the wall, getting rid of the earth by putting it into his high-boots, and emptying it out every day on the road when the prisoners were driven to their work.
"Just you keep quiet, old man, and you shall get out too. If you blab, they'll flog the life out of me, but I will kill you first."
Aksionov trembled with anger as he looked at his enemy. He drew his hand away, saying, "I have no wish to escape, and you have no need to kill me; you killed me long ago! As to telling of you--I may do so or not, as God shall direct."
Next day, when the convicts were led out to work, the convoy soldiers noticed that one or other of the prisoners emptied some earth out of his boots. The prison was searched and the tunnel found. The Governor came and questioned all the prisoners to find out who had dug the hole. They all denied any knowledge of it. Those who knew would not betray Makar Semyonich, knowing he would be flogged almost to death. At last the Governor turned to Aksionov whom he knew to be a just man, and said:
"You are a truthful old man; tell me, before God, who dug the hole?"
Makar Semyonich stood as if he were quite unconcerned, looking at the Governor and not so much as glancing at Aksionov. Aksionov's lips and hands trembled, and for a long time he could not utter a word. He thought, "Why should I screen him who ruined my life? Let him pay for what I have suffered. But if I tell, they will probably flog the life out of him, and maybe I suspect him wrongly. And, after all, what good would it be to me?"
"Well, old man," repeated the Governor, "tell me the truth: who has been digging under the wall?"
Aksionov glanced at Makar Semyonich, and said, "I cannot say, your honour. It is not God's will that I should tell! Do what you like with me; I am in your hands."
However much the Governor! tried, Aksionov would say no more, and so the matter had to be left.
That night, when Aksionov was lying on his bed and just beginning to doze, some one came quietly and sat down on his bed. He peered through the darkness and recognised Makar.
"What more do you want of me?" asked Aksionov. "Why have you come here?"
Makar Semyonich was silent. So Aksionov sat up and said, "What do you want? Go away, or I will call the guard!"
Makar Semyonich bent close over Aksionov, and whispered, "Ivan Dmitrich, forgive me!"
"What for?" asked Aksionov.
"It was I who killed the merchant and hid the knife among your things. I meant to kill you too, but I heard a noise outside, so I hid the knife in your bag and escaped out of the window."
Aksionov was silent, and did not know what to say. Makar Semyonich slid off the bed-shelf and knelt upon the ground. "Ivan Dmitrich," said he, "forgive me! For the love of God, forgive me! I will confess that it was I who killed the merchant, and you will be released and can go to your home."
"It is easy for you to talk," said Aksionov, "but I have suffered for you these twenty-six years. Where could I go to now?... My wife is dead, and my children have forgotten me. I have nowhere to go..."
Makar Semyonich did not rise, but beat his head on the floor. "Ivan Dmitrich, forgive me!" he cried. "When they flogged me with the knot it was not so hard to bear as it is to see you now ... yet you had pity on me, and did not tell. For Christ's sake forgive me, wretch that I am!" And he began to sob.
When Aksionov heard him sobbing he, too, began to weep. "God will forgive you!" said he. "Maybe I am a hundred times worse than you." And at these words his heart grew light, and the longing for home left him. He no longer had any desire to leave the prison, but only hoped for his last hour to come.
In spite of what Aksionov had said, Makar Semyonich confessed, his guilt. But when the order for his release came, Aksionov was already dead.

click here

Secret Lover

a man leaves his lover but she comes back ...for her,  their love was too great.

It was a chilly evening, wet and windy. The rain fell through the gusts of wind. Leading assemblies of leaves down the road. I had gotten out of a dull and tedious day at work and finally arrived home. ‘What I need is a smoke, a good book by the fireplace, a touch of whiskey and I shall be content.’ I walked over to the library, not bothering to take me coat off, eager to relax.

The reading room was a tall and fairly large room, and I have not the intention of bragging but my library was larger than the average household, for I am an avid reader and specialize in rare books. The fire was already blazing in the fireplace and the flames beckoned to me, as their shadows danced upon the spines of the many books lining the walls. Just as I sit down I hear a voice,

"Welcome home my love. Your lover has returned to you. Aren’t you happy? I missed you so much. Did you miss me? It was so dark down there. There where you placed me. I was scared, scared that you didn’t want me, that you didn’t love me. But no, I realized that that can’t be true. Our love is far too great, just a test this was. We shall never be apart, my love."

That voice, I could never forget, that voice. But why? Why is she here? I sit in my chair erect, chills going up and down my spine. My body is going numb, my hands are cold and sweaty. I try to say something but my lips are numb and clammy. My heartbeat is irregular now, as I struggle to breathe calmly.

"Why are you so silent? Why do you not look upon the face of your lover? Here I stand, the earth upon my feet, my robe of red embracing my pale skin, dripping to the ground. Perfumed of the soil; of nature.

Look. Am I not the one whom you took to bed? Did you not whisper sweet words into my ear during lonely night? You reassured me that you would love me forever. Now will you not act on it? I came for you my love, to be reunited with you. Why? Why do you look so tense? Do you not want me here? I’m sorry then. I will leave - after only I’ve got what I wanted."

She has gotten closer now. As she whispers in my ear, the stench of soil invades my nostrils. I didn’t think she could get out, I didn’t think she would come back. I thought she was gone! My breath is coming in silent hitches, harmonizing to my irregular heartbeat. My mind becomes foggy in panic. She’s come back - she’s come back for me! My eyes are becoming unfocused but I’m too afraid to move to rub them into focus.

"Don’t worry my love, nothing shall ever separate us again. We’ll be together forever." Slowly she walks around the chair to face me, ever so slowly does she walk, so silent. No! I don’t want to look, don’t come here! Go away! "Together forever," she murmurs to me as I recognize an icy hand stroking my face and stone cold lips against my own, then all goes black.

It was a sunny and bright day, despite the violent storm that appeared last night. The maid walked into the library humming as she went about her tasks. She then recognized the reclining form her master in the chair. "Oh, I’m sorry sir, I hadn’t realized you were -" when suddenly she screamed. The butler and another maid rushed in, wondering why the young girl screamed, they then caught the sight of their master. He lay in the chair, mouth-open and his eyes were misted and rolled back. His lips has a blue-ish color to them, bits of dirt sprinkled upon them, and his skin was pale and grey in color. He was dead.

The wind blew in sounds of laughing children and chirping birds into the somber room. The young maid sank to the floor sobbing, as the butler rushed out to get the police. The older maid just stood there in shock as the wind ruffled her hair. 

more at buzzle.com

Unconditional

A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents from San Francisco.

"Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home with me."

"Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him."

"There's something you should know the son continued, "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mind and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us."

Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.

Loneliness

Are you lonely? Depressed? Do you feel abandoned? Forsaken by family and friends? Our loving Heavenly Father has words of comfort and hope for you! Hear these words with your heart:
God has promised, "Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me." [Psalm 27:10] And "a father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling." [Psalm 68:5]
God caress about justice: "But you, O God, do see trouble and grief; you consider it to take it in hand. The victim commits himself to you; you are the helper of the fatherless." Psalm 10:14 and "You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more." [Psalm 10:17, 18]
Our Father cares for the stranger, the one who has come from a far place: "The LORD watches over the alien and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked." [Psalm 146:9]
God will deliver you from depression: "He brought them out of darkness and the deepest gloom and broke away their chains." [Psalm 107:14] and "But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds,' declares the LORD, because you are called an outcast... for whom no one cares.'" [Jeremiah 30:17]
Would you like a personal relationship with God, our Father? You can through His Son, Jesus: "Jesus answered, 'I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.'" [John 14:6]
God promised to end your loneliness: Psalm 68:6 says, "God sets the lonely in families..." You have a family right here at The Father's Heart Ministry Center. Come join us... and welcome home!

The Window

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man  was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and   families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military  service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the  man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where  his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and  color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while  children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite  detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.  Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive  words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: Why should hehave all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see  anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt  ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He   began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that  window - and that thought now controlled his life.
Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window  began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man   watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking  stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence--deathly silence.
The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away--no  words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he  could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his   first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.


What we should learn:
The pursuit of happiness is a matter of choice...it is a positive attitude we consciously choose to express. It is not a gift that gets delivered to our doorstep each morning, nor does it come through the window. And I am certain that our circumstances are just a small part of what makes us joyful. If we wait for them to get just right, we will never find lasting joy.
The pursuit of happiness is an inward journey. Our minds are like   programs, awaiting the code that will determine behaviors; like bank vaults awaiting our deposits. If we regularly deposit positive, encouraging, and uplifting thoughts, if we continue to bite our lips  just before we begin to grumble and complain, if we shoot down that seemingly harmless negative thought as it germinates, we will find that there is much to rejoice about.

final blog entry

Your final blog entry is an essay about your philosophy in life.

The type of essay required for this blog is descriptive.

What do I mean about Philosophy in Life?

Accordingly, philosophy in life will vary depending on one’s life experience. And, it is believed that no two people will have seen life in the same way. The way we experience life will let us identify who we are, what we are, and who we want to become.

Philosophy in life answers this question- What is my purpose in life?

That’s a question that we all deal with- Why are we here? What is the point of life? What realizations do I have about life?

There are so many questions too that maybe involved every time we are asked about our philosophy in life. But the main goal is to be able to identify who we are, why and what is our purpose.

Since this is your final essay, I encourage you to apply everything you have learned in class. From the discussions, to the sharing of significant experiences regarding the themes of the different literary genres we have taken. All of those imply about life. In writing a good philosophy paper, you need to be concise but at the same time explain yourself fully.

To improve, review on how descriptive essays are written. And the same drill, they should include the basic parts it. Write your own title for your essay as well.

Your essay should consist of 400-600 words. Make sure that it will be posted on or before October 22, 2010 at 12midnight HK time. If you have clarifications about your task, you may email me personally at ignatiusjosephestroga@gmail.com or you may see me anytime at your convenience at the CAS faculty room. Have fun! :-)

We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep…
William Shakespeare, The Tempest

LIT001 6th Blog Project

LIT001 6th Blog Project

Your sixth blog entry is to write a essay about the conflict of a drama.

The sixth blog entry requires you to share your own idea and significant experiences from the conflict of the drama "Tatarin"  by Nick Joaquin.

The type of essay required for this blog is narrative. Take note on how narrative essays are written from the previous blog entries you made. It should also include the basic parts of an essay.

Your essay should consist of 300-500 words. Make sure that it will be posted on or before October 16, 2010. Good luck.

Drama and its Elements

Drama is a literary composition involving conflict, action crisis and atmosphere designed to be acted by players on a stage before an audience. This definition may be applied to motion picture drama as well as to the traditional stage.

A drama is ideally enacted in a theater, open or closed, and the performances are by actors, live, before an audience that either sits around or before the stage. A single drama is a collaborative effort. The cumulative efforts are pooled for the various modes of production, flow of the text and research in the form of literature adopted.

Types of Drama:

1. Tragedy -- In general, tragedy involves the ruin of the leading characters. To the Greeks, it meant the destruction of some noble person through fate, To the Elizabethans, it meant in the first place death and in the second place the destruction of some noble person through a flaw in his character. Today it may not involve death so much as a dismal life, Modern tragedy often shows the tragedy not of the strong and noble but of the weak and mean,
2. Comedy -- is lighter drama in which the leading characters overcome the difficulties which temporarily beset them
3. Problem Play -- Drama of social criticism discusses social, economic, or political problems by means of a play.
4. Farce -- When comedy involves ridiculous or hilarious complications without regard for human values, it becomes farce.
5. Comedy of Manners -- Comedy which wittily portrays fashionable life.
6. Fantasy -- A play sometimes, but not always, in comic spirit in which the author gives free reign to his fantasy, allowing things to happen without regard to reality.
7. Melodrama -- Like farce, melodrama pays almost no attention to human values, but its object is to give a thrill instead of a laugh. Often good entertainment, never any literary value.

Types of Drama of Historical Interest:

1. Medieval mystery plays -- dealt with Bible stories and allegorical mysteries.
2. Chronicle plays -- dealt directly with historical scenes and characters.
3. Masques -- were slight plays involving much singing and dancing and costuming. .
   
   
   
   Elements of Drama                           
   Plot                                                              
   Character                                                  
   Point of View                                               
   Language                                                      
   Tone                                                             
   Symbolism                                               
   Theme
    Structures of Play 
   Exposition 
   Complication 
   Crisis 
   Climax 
   Catastrophe 
   Resolution
   
   
    

   Drama Literary Terms

   
   

   ---

   1. Allusion - an indirect reference by casually mentioning something that is generally familiar (In literature we find many allusions to mythology, the Bible, history, etc.)
   2. Aside - Lines whispered to the audience or to another character on stage (not meant to be heard by all the characters on stage)
   3. Catastrophe - the final event in a drama (a death in a tragedy or a marriage in a comedy)
   4. Comedy - A light play with a happy ending
   5. Comic Relief - A bit of humor injected into a serious play to relieve the heavy tension of tragic events
   6. Crisis or Climax - the turning point in the plot (This occurs when events develop either for or against the main character and a crucial decision must be made.)
   7. Dramatic Irony - occurs when the audience knows something that the character on stage is not aware.
   8. Foreshadow - Lines that give a hint or clue to future events (It doesn't tell the future but hints at it.)
   9. Irony - A method of expression in which the ordinary meaning of the word is opposite to the thought in the speaker's mind . Events contrary to what would be naturally expected

10. Metaphor - an implied comparison between two different things; identifying a person or object as the thing to which it is being compared.

11. Metonymy - a figure of speech whereby the name of a thing is substituted for the attribute which it suggests. Example: The pen (power of literature or the written word) is mightier than the sword (force).

12. Nemesis - agent of retribution (the person who punishes)

13. Personification - giving the quality of life to inanimate things

14. Poetic Justice - The operation of justice in a play with fair distribution of rewards for good deeds and punishment for wrong doing

15. Simile - an expressed comparison between two different things using 'like' or 'as' -

16. Soliloquy - A single character on stage thinking out loud (a way of letting the audience know what is in the character's mind)

17. Tragedy - A serious play having an unhappy ending

18. Tragic Flaw - A character trait that leads one to his/her own downfall or destruction

DRAMA and its History

Drama is a literary composition involving conflict, action crisis and atmosphere designed to be acted by players on a stage before an audience. This definition may be applied to motion picture drama as well as to the traditional stage.

A drama is ideally enacted in a theater, open or closed, and the performances are by actors, live, before an audience that either sits around or before the stage. A single drama is a collaborative effort. The cumulative efforts are pooled for the various modes of production, flow of the text and research in the form of literature adopted.

Athenian Drama:

Athenian drama or Western drama was originated in Greece. The city-state of Athens is credited with the production of tragedy, comedy, and satyr. Drama in Athens was institutionalized through competitions. The Greeks came up with the idea of an actor who speaks and impersonates. The main lead was expected to deliver dialogue while interacting with the chorus. This form of drama involved non-dramatic poetry and complete texts. The Persians, by Aeschylus, is a historical tragedy that is also the oldest surviving drama. 

Roman Drama:

Early Roman theater was not only more varied than Greek drama, but also more extensive. Initially, they were sophisticated works of Roman literature, tragedies and comedies. In the 2nd century BCE, drama was part and parcel of the Roman culture. There was a writers' guild who delivered dialogue and text for even plays that were set on street corners and crossings. They contributed to a variety of poetic forms and complex plots. The bifurcation of the production work thus led to the enaction of double-plots, involving the complexity of human behavior.

 Medieval Drama:

Medieval drama basically involved religious enactment. These plays were enacted within the premises of the cathedrals. They were usually miracle and mystery plays. They focused on propagating morality with the help of specially interspersed interludes. Many of the plays were then written in verse. Ben Jonson and Christopher Marlowe were prominent playwrights of this era. The plays highlighted past kings and Tudor monarchy.

Modern Drama:

Modern drama is the result of innovative contributions, like the roles of imitators. Modernist drama is realist and has scope for experimentation and social critique.Important playwrights of Modern drama include Anton Chekhov, Maurice Maeterlinck, George Bernard Shaw and Arthur Miller, among many.
Photo Left. Victor Hugo's Les Miserable, a story of Jean Valjean, escaped convict whose life is transformed and turned toward goodness by an act of Christian charity. 

Other Shades of Dramatics:

While Indian drama initially involved dramatic episodes, it evolved to include human concerns. The earliest form of theory on drama is the Natya Shastra by Bharata. Chinese theater has stuck by the popular opera from Beijing. Japanese drama developed only in the 15th century. The musical instruments and techniques were handed down generations by word of mouth. Drama is one of the types of literature that has gained popularity during the years. Among the various forms of drama, Western opera grew and thrived during the Renaissance in Italy. Music and theater were combined. Pantomimes told of fables. In a pantomime, there is always a lesson to be learned, as the hero emerges victorious.  Photo Right, Miss Saigon

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BUTTERFLY

A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could, and it could go no further.

So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon.

The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.

The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.

Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.

What the man, in his kindness and haste, did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were God's way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.

Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our lives. If God allowed us to go through our lives without any obstacles, it would cripple us.

We would not be as strong as what we could have been. We could never fly!