"Don't blame Montana!" he said. "Don't ever blame Montana!"
I feel that this is the most important quote of the novel, because it shows how proud the family is of Montana and how much they really loved it after all the events that transpired there. Through everything that happened, from their family being destroyed to Marie and Frank dying in the very house they lived in, the Haydens still love Montana and are not ashamed of anything that happened there. They don't want the blame being left on anyone or anything but themselves. Wes was born and raised in Montana and he doesn't want people to think that what happened is just a "wild west" type of thing, and laugh it off as such. After all these years the family still feels as strong as they did back then, and although they brush it under the rug it will never truly be gone. This quote shows how the Haydens have taken full responsibility for everything that happened in the novel.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Character Sketch
I find it nearly impossible to narrow it all down, and find only one person who influenced my life most. If I really had to choose, however, I can give a rough estimate on who had the most impact. My sister, Kristen Ann, has been such a huge part of my life that I'm sure it could be her. Being older than me, I can not remember a single part of my life where she has not been there for me. From our biggest verbal and physical fights, to the most loving moments a brother and sister can have without being weirded out, I don't regret any of it.
Through thick and thin we can always seem to get out of it alright. I remember when I was younger, after we had saved up enough chore money to buy a nintendo 64, and I could not seem to win the game against her no matter how hard I tried. Out of frustration I took the approximately five pound controller and threw it as hard as I could directly at her head. Not only did I break our new nintendo controller on my own sisters head, but I caused a huge bump to erupt, in the same place where I would recieve a similar injury from her. (We were arguing and she shoved my head into an unlit fire place, where it struck one of the metal prongs that holds the logs.)
Although we dont always get along we are very similar in our music taste and our personality, and even looks according to other people. I feel like I can tell her anything without fear of being judged and no matter what we will always be there for eachother. Although lately we have drifted apart after she moved out, and we don't quite miss eachother yet, I feel that eventually things will be normal again. I am so thankful for my sister in the fact that she is one of the only people in my life that I feel like I can rely on and trust, and for this reason I am willing to believe she is one of the most important people in my life.
I find it nearly impossible to narrow it all down, and find only one person who influenced my life most. If I really had to choose, however, I can give a rough estimate on who had the most impact. My sister, Kristen Ann, has been such a huge part of my life that I'm sure it could be her. Being older than me, I can not remember a single part of my life where she has not been there for me. From our biggest verbal and physical fights, to the most loving moments a brother and sister can have without being weirded out, I don't regret any of it.
Through thick and thin we can always seem to get out of it alright. I remember when I was younger, after we had saved up enough chore money to buy a nintendo 64, and I could not seem to win the game against her no matter how hard I tried. Out of frustration I took the approximately five pound controller and threw it as hard as I could directly at her head. Not only did I break our new nintendo controller on my own sisters head, but I caused a huge bump to erupt, in the same place where I would recieve a similar injury from her. (We were arguing and she shoved my head into an unlit fire place, where it struck one of the metal prongs that holds the logs.)
Although we dont always get along we are very similar in our music taste and our personality, and even looks according to other people. I feel like I can tell her anything without fear of being judged and no matter what we will always be there for eachother. Although lately we have drifted apart after she moved out, and we don't quite miss eachother yet, I feel that eventually things will be normal again. I am so thankful for my sister in the fact that she is one of the only people in my life that I feel like I can rely on and trust, and for this reason I am willing to believe she is one of the most important people in my life.
Essay of Place
The smell of chemical enriched water swirling in the shade, with tiny squirming vines climbing the walls, trying to reach the sun. A clear blue sky lights the yard as two young dogs fight for a chew toy. A fortress of plastic and air floats lazily around in the pool, holding my sister up to bake in the heat. In the corner flowers bloom and burst with color, as a the mighty lime tree rises above all. The sound of children splashing and birds chirping.
All these images coincide gracefully in my head as I remember my childhood. When I was six my family moved to Brazil, where we stayed for four years. I can remember the lazy, warm afternoons with white curtains whimsically drifting in the breeze, and in the nights when my dad would cook out on our churrascaria in the guest house. And the seemingly always full moon illuminating our pool outside my ceiling-height windows. I remember whacking the neighbors flower bushes, whose wounds would leak a white, glue like substance (which I later found was poisonous).
I can also remember the oppressive, glass tipped walls that separated our neighborhood from the poor neighborhood, whose vines I was sure contained monstrous insects. And the actual insects I saw, fangs tipped orange and usually the size of a small bird, often required gardening hoes or larger object to kill. I can still hear the town officers yelling at me in an unknown language, as I cried tears of confusion. Yes, my house in Brazil left a huge impact on me.
The whole life style of the people who live there is completely different. It is more relaxed and hospitable, and always has a pleasant twinkle of the sun whether it be raining or clear out. In Brazil I was exposed to so much so fast, and mixed with such a diverse group of people going to an International school, that I was almost forced to mature. I feel that thanks to my time spent there, I look at things differently than most people would and can often see different sides of the same situation. People there were different, and often accepted people no matter what. Although I do love living back here in America, I will never cease to miss Brazil and the life I had there.
The smell of chemical enriched water swirling in the shade, with tiny squirming vines climbing the walls, trying to reach the sun. A clear blue sky lights the yard as two young dogs fight for a chew toy. A fortress of plastic and air floats lazily around in the pool, holding my sister up to bake in the heat. In the corner flowers bloom and burst with color, as a the mighty lime tree rises above all. The sound of children splashing and birds chirping.
All these images coincide gracefully in my head as I remember my childhood. When I was six my family moved to Brazil, where we stayed for four years. I can remember the lazy, warm afternoons with white curtains whimsically drifting in the breeze, and in the nights when my dad would cook out on our churrascaria in the guest house. And the seemingly always full moon illuminating our pool outside my ceiling-height windows. I remember whacking the neighbors flower bushes, whose wounds would leak a white, glue like substance (which I later found was poisonous).
I can also remember the oppressive, glass tipped walls that separated our neighborhood from the poor neighborhood, whose vines I was sure contained monstrous insects. And the actual insects I saw, fangs tipped orange and usually the size of a small bird, often required gardening hoes or larger object to kill. I can still hear the town officers yelling at me in an unknown language, as I cried tears of confusion. Yes, my house in Brazil left a huge impact on me.
The whole life style of the people who live there is completely different. It is more relaxed and hospitable, and always has a pleasant twinkle of the sun whether it be raining or clear out. In Brazil I was exposed to so much so fast, and mixed with such a diverse group of people going to an International school, that I was almost forced to mature. I feel that thanks to my time spent there, I look at things differently than most people would and can often see different sides of the same situation. People there were different, and often accepted people no matter what. Although I do love living back here in America, I will never cease to miss Brazil and the life I had there.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Quote of Place
But the wind has a different smell here. In North Dakota it always smelled like dirt. Even in the middle of winter with all that snow there could still be the smell of dirt in the air. As if the wind came from some place that never froze. But here the wind smells like the mountains. Like snow. Like stone. No matter how far away the mountains are, I still feel them out there. I can't get used to it. I never will.
But the wind has a different smell here. In North Dakota it always smelled like dirt. Even in the middle of winter with all that snow there could still be the smell of dirt in the air. As if the wind came from some place that never froze. But here the wind smells like the mountains. Like snow. Like stone. No matter how far away the mountains are, I still feel them out there. I can't get used to it. I never will.
Metaphor quote
As I had so often been advised by my parents, I never believed any of my grandmother's supernatural stories. Until the day Marie died. That night I lay in bed and couldn't breathe. The room felt close, full, as though someone else was getting the oxygen I needed.
I turned on the light and got slowly, cautiously out of bed and opened my window wider. That brought no relief. The curtain stuck tight to the screen as if the wind was in the house blowing out.
As I had so often been advised by my parents, I never believed any of my grandmother's supernatural stories. Until the day Marie died. That night I lay in bed and couldn't breathe. The room felt close, full, as though someone else was getting the oxygen I needed.
I turned on the light and got slowly, cautiously out of bed and opened my window wider. That brought no relief. The curtain stuck tight to the screen as if the wind was in the house blowing out.
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