Observational Essay Essay

Observations are a type of primary research that involves spending time watching people or other creatures interact with each other and the world around them. Observations are used in nearly every field and can be incredibly useful in gathering information. Types of Participation Before observing, consider how you as an observer may alter the event being observed.  ·How fully will you participate in the event?  ·Will you simply sit, watch, and take notes with no interaction?  ·Will you interact with the participants?  ·Will you become a participant yourself? These different choices can radically change what you end up observing. The mere presence of an observer may alter the events–and if you interact with participants, you further risk changing what takes place. The other side to this is that by not participating in an event, you may not gain a complete understanding of that event. How to Observe When observing, it is especially important to separate observations from your feelings or reactions to observations. A good way to do this is to take your observations in a double-entry notebook. A double-entry notebook has two columns, one for what is directly observed and one is for what the observer interprets from the events. Here is an example: Observation: The teacher walks around the circle and speaks to each student individually. Interpretation: The teacher seems to want to make sure that each student understands the assignment. If you are observing a group that is not found in public (such as a group of card players, a sports team, or a special-interest group), it may be wise to plan to spend multiple sittings with the group. This will allow the group some time to adjust to your presence (and hence, for you to get more accurate observations). Recordings vs. Note-taking How will you be observing? Will you be taking notes in a notebook? With a laptop? Will you be recording your observations in some way (with a digital camera, video camera, digital recorder, etc? How you choose to observe is  another important consideration that can affect the quality and results of your observations. Remember that you cannot capture everything that takes place with a recording or by even by taking detailed notes. What to Observe Observational skills require some practice! The key to being a good observer is to pay attention to the details of a situation, write as much as you can, and write it as detailed as possible. Before you observe, you should consider how you will focus your observations–because you can’t focus on everything! Research is required for this essay. Read the sample observational essays and note how the students integrated research into their work. source: http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/559/07/ Write an observational essay about an intriguing place, person, or activity in your community. Your essay may be a brief profile of an individual based on one or two interviews: a description of a place or activity observed once or twice; or a longer, more fully developed profile of a person, place, or activity based on observational visits and interviews conducted over several days. Observe your subject closely, and then present what you have learnedin a way that both informs and engages readers. Use lots of description. Possible topicideas for observation (see your text for more ideas): -a church or temple (interview the minister/members) -a classroom (interview teacher/students) -a popular hangout -a hospital -any place that’s different or gets you outside of your comfort zone -a ride along with an officer -an AA meeting -a protest -a jail -hospice -homeless shelter -shelter for abused women with children

The Lost Symbol Chapter 93-97

CHAPTER 93 Franklin Square is located in the northwest quadrant of downtown Washington, bordered by K and Thirteenth streets. It is home to many historic buildings, most notably the Franklin School, from which Alexander Graham Bell sent the world's first wireless message in 1880. High above the square, a fast-moving UH-60 helicopter approached from the west, having completed its journey from the National Cathedral in a matter of minutes. Plenty of time, Sato thought, peering down at the square below. She knew it was critical that her men got into position undetected before their target arrived. He said he wouldn't be here for at least twenty minutes. On Sato's command, the pilot performed a â€Å"touch-hover† on the roof of the tallest building around–the renowned One Franklin Square–a towering and prestigious office building with two gold spires on top. The maneuver was illegal, of course, but the chopper was there only a few seconds, and its skids barely touched the gravel rooftop. Once everyone had jumped out, the pilot immediately lifted off, banking to the east, where he would climb to â€Å"silent altitude† and provide invisible support from above. Sato waited as her field team collected their things and prepared Bellamy for his task. The Architect was still looking dazed from having seen the file on Sato's secure laptop. As I said . . . an issue of national security. Bellamy had quickly understood Sato's meaning and was now fully cooperative. â€Å"All set, ma'am,† Agent Simkins said. On Sato's command, the agents ushered Bellamy across the rooftop and disappeared down a stairwell, heading for ground level to take up their positions. Sato walked to the edge of the building and gazed down. The rectangular wooded park below filled the entire block. Plenty of cover. Sato's team fully understood the importance of making an undetected intercept. If their target sensed a presence here and decided just to slip away . . . the director didn't even want to think about it. The wind up here was gusty and cold. Sato wrapped her arms around herself, and planted her feet firmly to avoid getting blown over the edge. From this high vantage point, Franklin Square looked smaller than she recalled, with fewer buildings. She wondered which building was Eight Franklin Square. This was information she had requested from her analyst Nola, from whom she expected word at any moment. Bellamy and the agents now appeared, looking like ants fanning out into the darkness of the wooded area. Simkins positioned Bellamy in a clearing near the center of the deserted park. Then Simkins and his team melted into the natural cover, disappearing from view. Within seconds, Bellamy was alone, pacing and shivering in the light of a streetlamp near the center of the park. Sato felt no pity. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag, savoring the warmth as it permeated her lungs. Satisfied that everything below was in order, she stepped back from the edge to await her two phone calls–one from her analyst Nola and one from Agent Hartmann, whom she had sent to Kalorama Heights. CHAPTER 94 Slow down! Langdon gripped the backseat of the Escalade as it flew around a corner, threatening to tip up on two tires. CIA agent Hartmann was either eager to show off his driving skills to Katherine, or he had orders to get to Peter Solomon before Solomon recuperated enough to say anything he shouldn't say to the local authorities. The high-speed game of beat-the-red-light on Embassy Row had been worrisome enough, but now they were racing through the winding residential neighborhood of Kalorama Heights. Katherine shouted directions as they went, having been to this man's house earlier that afternoon. With every turn, the leather bag at Langdon's feet rocked back and forth, and Langdon could hear the clank of the capstone, which had clearly been jarred from the top of the pyramid and was now bouncing around in the bottom of his bag. Fearing it might get damaged, he fished around inside until he found it. It was still warm, but the glowing text had now faded and disappeared, returning to its original engraving: The secret hides within The Order. As Langdon was about to place the capstone in a side pocket, he noticed its elegant surface was covered with tiny white gobs of something. Puzzled, he tried to wipe them off, but they were stuck on and hard to the touch . . . like plastic. What in the world? He could now see that the surface of the stone pyramid itself was also covered with the little white dots. Langdon used his fingernail and picked one off, rolling it between his fingers. â€Å"Wax?† he blurted. Katherine glanced over her shoulder. â€Å"What?† â€Å"There are bits of wax all over the pyramid and capstone. I don't understand it. Where could that possibly have come from?† â€Å"Something in your bag, maybe?† â€Å"I don't think so.† As they rounded a corner, Katherine pointed through the windshield and turned to Agent Hartmann. â€Å"That's it! We're here.† Langdon glanced up and saw the spinning lights of a security vehicle parked in a driveway up ahead. The driveway gate was pulled aside and the agent gunned the SUV inside the compound. The house was a spectacular mansion. Every light inside was ablaze, and the front door was wide open. A half-dozen vehicles were parked haphazardly in the driveway and on the lawn, apparently having arrived in a hurry. Some of the cars were still running and had their headlights shining, most on the house, but one askew, practically blinding them as they drove in. Agent Hartmann skidded to a stop on the lawn beside a white sedan with a brightly colored decal: PREFERRED SECURITY. The spinning lights and the high beams in their face made it hard to see. Katherine immediately jumped out and raced for the house. Langdon heaved his bag onto his shoulder without taking the time to zip it up. He followed Katherine at a jog across the lawn toward the open front door. The sounds of voices echoed within. Behind Langdon, the SUV chirped as Agent Hartmann locked the vehicle and hurried after them. Katherine bounded up the porch stairs, through the main door, and disappeared into the entryway. Langdon crossed the threshold behind her and could see Katherine was already moving across the foyer and down the main hallway toward the sound of voices. Beyond her, visible at the end of the hall, was a dining-room table where a woman in a security uniform was sitting with her back to them. â€Å"Officer!† Katherine shouted as she ran. â€Å"Where is Peter Solomon?† Langdon rushed after her, but as he did so, an unexpected movement caught his eye. To his left, through the living-room window, he could see the driveway gate was now swinging shut. Odd. Something else caught his eye . . . something that had been hidden from him by the glare of the spinning lights and the blinding high beams when they drove in. The half-dozen cars parked haphazardly in the driveway looked nothing like the police cars and emergency vehicles Langdon had imagined they were. A Mercedes? . . . a Hummer? . . . a Tesla Roadster? In that instant, Langdon also realized the voices he heard in the house were nothing but a television blaring in the direction of the dining room. Wheeling in slow motion, Langdon shouted down the hallway. â€Å"Katherine, wait!† But as he turned, he could see that Katherine Solomon was no longer running. She was airborne. CHAPTER 95 Katherine Solomon knew she was falling . . . but she couldn't figure out why. She had been running down the hall toward the security guard in the dining room when suddenly her feet had become entangled in an invisible obstacle, and her entire body had lurched forward, sailing through the air. Now she was returning to earth . . . in this case, a hardwood floor. Katherine crashed down on her stomach, the wind driven violently from her lungs. Above her, a heavy coat tree teetered precariously and then toppled over, barely missing her on the floor. She raised her head, still gasping for breath, puzzled to see that the female security guard in the chair had not moved a muscle. Stranger still, the toppled coat tree appeared to have a thin wire attached to the bottom, which had been stretched across the hallway. Why in the world would someone . . . ? â€Å"Katherine!† Langdon was shouting to her, and as Katherine rolled onto her side and looked back at him, she felt her blood turn to ice. Robert! Behind you! She tried to scream, but she was still gasping for breath. All she could do was watch in terrifying slow motion as Langdon rushed down the hall to help her, completely unaware that behind him, Agent Hartmann was staggering across the threshold and clutching his throat. Blood sprayed through Hartmann's hands as he groped at the handle of a long screwdriver that protruded from his neck. As the agent pitched forward, his attacker came into full view. My God . . . no! Naked except for a strange undergarment that looked like a loincloth, the massive man had apparently been hiding in the foyer. His muscular body was covered from head to toe with strange tattoos. The front door was swinging closed, and he was rushing down the hall after Langdon. Agent Hartmann hit the floor just as the front door slammed shut. Langdon looked startled and whirled around, but the tattooed man was already on him, thrusting some kind of device into his back. There was a flash of light and a sharp electrical sizzle, and Katherine saw Langdon go rigid. Eyes frozen wide, Langdon lurched forward, collapsing down in a paralyzed heap. He fell hard on top of his leather bag, the pyramid tumbling out onto the floor. Without so much as a glance down at his victim, the tattooed man stepped over Langdon and headed directly for Katherine. She was already crawling backward into the dining room, where she collided with a chair. The female security guard, who had been propped in that chair, now wobbled and dropped to the floor in a heap beside her. The woman's lifeless expression was one of terror. Her mouth was stuffed with a rag. The enormous man had reached her before Katherine had time to react. He seized her by the shoulders with impossible strength. His face, no longer covered by makeup, was an utterly terrifying sight. His muscles flexed, and she felt herself being flipped over onto her stomach like a rag doll. A heavy knee ground into her back, and for a moment, she thought she would break in two. He grabbed her arms and pulled them backward. With her head now turned to one side and her cheek pressed into the carpet, Katherine could see Langdon, his body still jerking, facing away from her. Beyond that, Agent Hartmann lay motionless in the foyer. Cold metal pinched Katherine's wrists, and she realized she was being bound with wire. In terror, she tried to pull away, but doing so sent searing pain into her hands. â€Å"This wire will cut you if you move,† the man said, finishing with her wrists and moving down to her ankles with frightening efficiency. Katherine kicked at him, and he threw a powerful fist into the back of her right thigh, crippling her leg. Within seconds, her ankles were bound. â€Å"Robert!† she now managed to call out. Langdon was groaning on the floor in the hallway. He lay crumpled on his leather bag with the stone pyramid lying on its side near his head. Katherine realized the pyramid was her last hope. â€Å"We deciphered the pyramid!† she told her attacker. â€Å"I'll tell you everything!† â€Å"Yes, you will.† With that, he pulled the cloth from the dead woman's mouth and firmly stuffed it into Katherine's. It tasted like death. Robert Langdon's body was not his own. He lay, numb and immobile, his cheek pressed against the hardwood floor. He had heard enough about stun guns to know they crippled their victims by temporarily overloading the nervous system. Their action–something called electromuscular disruption–might as well have been a bolt of lightning. The excruciating jolt of pain seemed to penetrate every molecule of his body. Now, despite his mind's focused intention, his muscles refused to obey the command he was sending them. Get up! Facedown, paralyzed on the floor, Langdon was gulping shallow breaths, scarcely able to inhale. He had yet to lay eyes on the man who had attacked him, but he could see Agent Hartmann lying in an expanding pool of blood. Langdon had heard Katherine struggling and arguing, but moments ago her voice had become muffled, as if the man had stuffed something in her mouth. Get up, Robert! You've got to help her! Langdon's legs were tingling now, a fiery and painful recovery of feeling, but still they refused to cooperate. Move! His arms twitched as sensation started to come back, along with feeling in his face and neck. With great effort, he managed to rotate his head, dragging his cheek roughly across the hardwood floor as he turned his head to look down into the dining room. Langdon's sight line was impeded–by the stone pyramid, which had toppled out of his bag and was lying sideways on the floor, its base inches from his face. For an instant, Langdon didn't understand what he was looking at. The square of stone before him was obviously the base of the pyramid, and yet it looked somehow different. Very different. It was still square, and still stone . . . but it was no longer flat and smooth. The base of the pyramid was covered with engraved markings. How is this possible? He stared for several seconds, wondering if he was hallucinating. I looked at the base of this pyramid a dozen times . . . and there were no markings! Langdon now realized why. His breathing reflex kick-started, and he drew a sudden gasp of air, realizing that the Masonic Pyramid had secrets yet to share. I have witnessed another transformation. In a flash, Langdon understood the meaning of Galloway's last request. Tell Peter this: The Masonic Pyramid has always kept her secret . . . sincerely. The words had seemed strange at the time, but now Langdon understood that Dean Galloway was sending Peter a code. Ironically, this same code had been a plot twist in a mediocre thriller Langdon had read years ago. Sin-cere. Since the days of Michelangelo, sculptors had been hiding the flaws in their work by smearing hot wax into the cracks and then dabbing the wax with stone dust. The method was considered cheating, and therefore, any sculpture â€Å"without wax†Ã¢â‚¬â€œliterally sine cera–was considered a â€Å"sincere† piece of art. The phrase stuck. To this day we still sign our letters â€Å"sincerely† as a promise that we have written â€Å"without wax† and that our words are true. The engravings on the base of this pyramid had been concealed by the same method. When Katherine followed the capstone's directions and boiled the pyramid, the wax melted away, revealing the writing on the base. Galloway had run his hands over the pyramid in the sitting room, apparently feeling the markings exposed on the bottom. Now, if only for an instant, Langdon had forgotten all the danger he and Katherine faced. He stared at the incredible array of symbols on the base of the pyramid. He had no idea what they meant . . . or what they would ultimately reveal, but one thing was for certain. The Masonic Pyramid has secrets left to tell. Eight Franklin Square is not the final answer. Whether it was this adrenaline-filled revelation or simply the extra few seconds lying there, Langdon did not know, but he suddenly felt control returning to his body. Painfully, he swept an arm to one side, pushing the leather bag out of the way to clear his sight line into the dining room. To his horror, he saw that Katherine had been tied up, and a large rag had been stuffed deep into her mouth. Langdon flexed his muscles, trying to climb to his knees, but a moment later, he froze in utter disbelief. The dining-room doorway had just filled with a chilling sight–a human form unlike anything Langdon had ever seen. What in the name of God . . . ?! Langdon rolled, kicking with his legs, trying to back away, but the huge tattooed man grabbed him, flipping him onto his back and straddling his chest. He placed his knees on Langdon's biceps, pinning Langdon pain fully to the floor. The man's chest bore a rippling double-headed phoenix. His neck, face, and shaved head were covered with a dazzling array of unusually intricate symbols–sigils, Langdon knew–which were used in the rituals of dark ceremonial magic. Before Langdon could process anything more, the huge man clasped Langdon's ears between his palms, lifted his head up off the floor, and, with incredible force, smashed it back down onto the hardwood. Everything went black. CHAPTER 96 Mal'akh stood in his hallway and surveyed the carnage around him. His home looked like a battlefield. Robert Langdon lay unconscious at his feet. Katherine Solomon was bound and gagged on the dining-room floor. The corpse of a female security guard lay crumpled nearby, having toppled off the chair where she was propped. This female guard, eager to save her own life, had done exactly as Mal'akh commanded. With a knife to her throat, she had answered Mal'akh's cell phone and told the lie that had coaxed Langdon and Katherine to come racing out here. She had no partner, and Peter Solomon was certainly not okay. As soon as the woman had given her performance, Mal'akh had quietly strangled her. To complete the illusion that Mal'akh was not home, he had phoned Bellamy using the hands- free speaker in one of his cars. I'm on the road, he had told Bellamy and whoever else had been listening. Peter is in my trunk. In fact, Mal'akh was driving only between his garage and his front yard, where he had left several of his myriad cars parked askew with the headlights on and the engines running. The deception had worked perfectly. Almost. The only wrinkle was the bloody black-clad heap in the foyer with a screwdriver protruding from his neck. Mal'akh searched the corpse and had to chuckle when he found a high-tech transceiver and cell phone with a CIA logo. It seems even they are aware of my power. He removed the batteries and crushed both devices with a heavy bronze doorstop. Mal'akh knew he had to move quickly now, especially if the CIA was involved. He strode back over to Langdon. The professor was out cold and would be for a while. Mal'akh's eyes moved with trepidation now to the stone pyramid on the floor beside the professor's open bag. His breath caught, and his heart pounded. I have waited for years . . . His hands trembled slightly as he reached down and picked up the Masonic Pyramid. As he ran his fingers slowly across the engravings, he felt awed by their promise. Before he became too entranced, he put the pyramid back in Langdon's bag with the capstone and zipped it up. I will assemble the pyramid soon . . . in a much safer location. He threw Langdon's bag over his shoulder and then tried to hoist Langdon himself, but the professor's toned physique weighed much more than anticipated. Mal'akh settled on grabbing him beneath the armpits and dragging him across the floor. He's not going to like where he ends up, Mal'akh thought. As he dragged Langdon off, the television in the kitchen blared. The sound of voices from the TV had been part of the deception, and Mal'akh had yet to turn it off. The station was now broadcasting a televangelist leading his congregation in the Lord's Prayer. Mal'akh wondered if any of his hypnotized viewers had any idea where this prayer really came from. † . . . On earth as it is in heaven . . .† the group intoned. Yes, Mal'akh thought. As above, so below. † . . . And lead us not into temptation . . .† Help us master the weakness of our flesh. † . . . Deliver us from evil . . .† they all beseeched. Mal'akh smiled. That could be difficult. The darkness is growing. Even so, he had to give them credit for trying. Humans who spoke to invisible forces and requested help were a dying breed in this modern world. Mal'akh was dragging Langdon across the living room when the congregation declared, â€Å"Amen!† Amon, Mal'akh corrected. Egypt is the cradle of your religion. The god Amon was the prototype for Zeus . . . for Jupiter . . . and for every modern face of God. To this day, every religion on earth shouted out a variation of his name. Amen! Amin! Aum! The televangelist began quoting verses from the Bible describing hierarchies of angels, demons, and spirits that ruled in heaven and hell. â€Å"Protect your souls from evil forces!† he warned them. â€Å"Lift your hearts in prayer! God and his angels will hear you!† He's right, Mal'akh knew. But so will the demons. Mal'akh had learned long ago that through proper application of the Art, a practitioner could open a portal to the spiritual realm. The invisible forces that existed there, much like man himself, came in many forms, both good and evil. Those of Light healed, protected, and sought to bring order to the universe. Those of Dark functioned oppositely . . . bringing destruction and chaos. If properly summoned, the invisible forces could be persuaded to do a practitioner's bidding on earth . . . thus instilling him with seemingly supernatural power. In exchange for helping the summoner, these forces required offerings–prayers and praise for those of Light . . . and the spilling of blood for those of Dark. The greater the sacrifice, the greater the power that is transferred. Mal'akh had begun his practice with the blood of inconsequential animals. Over time, however, his choices for sacrifice had become more bold. Tonight, I take the final step. â€Å"Beware!† the preacher shouted, warning of the coming Apocalypse. â€Å"The final battle for the souls of man will soon be fought!† Indeed, Mal'akh thought. And I shall become its greatest warrior. This battle, of course, had begun long, long ago. In ancient Egypt, those who perfected the Art had become the great Adepts of history, evolving beyond the masses to become true practitioners of Light. They moved as gods on earth. They built great temples of initiation to which neophytes traveled from around the world to partake of the wisdom. There arose a race of golden men. For a brief span of time, mankind seemed poised to elevate himself and transcend his earthly bonds. The golden age of the Ancient Mysteries. And yet man, being of the flesh, was susceptible to the sins of hubris, hatred, impatience, and greed. Over time, there were those who corrupted the Art, perverting it and abusing its power for personal gain. They began using this perverted version to summon dark forces. A different Art evolved . . . a more potent, immediate, and intoxicating influence. Such is my Art. Such is my Great Work. The illuminated Adepts and their esoteric fraternities witnessed the rising evil and saw that man was not using his newfound knowledge for the good of his species. And so they hid their wisdom to keep it from the eyes of the unworthy. Eventually, it was lost to history. With this came the Great Fall of Man. And a lasting darkness. To this day, the noble descendants of the Adepts soldiered on, grasping blindly for the Light, trying to recapture the lost power of their past, trying to keep the darkness at bay. They were the priests and priestesses of the churches, temples, and shrines of all the religions on earth. Time had erased the memories . . . detached them from their past. They no longer knew the Source from which their potent wisdom had once flowed. When they were asked about the divine mysteries of their forebears, the new custodians of faith vociferously disowned them, condemning them as heresy. Have they truly forgotten? Mal'akh wondered. Echoes of the ancient Art still resonated in every corner of the globe, from the mystical Kabbalists of Judaism to the esoteric Sufis of Islam. Vestiges remained in the arcane rituals of Christianity, in its god-eating rites of Holy Communion, its hierarchies of saints, angels, and demons, its chanting and incantation, its holy calendar's astrological underpinnings, its consecrated robes, and in its promise of everlasting life. Even now, its priests dispelled evil spirits by swinging smoke-filled censers, ringing sacred bells, and sprinkling holy water. Christians still practiced the supernatural craft of exorcism–an early practice of their faith that required the ability not only to cast out demons but to summon them. And yet they cannot see their past? Nowhere was the church's mystical past more evident than at her epicenter. In Vatican City, at the heart of St. Peter's Square, stood the great Egyptian obelisk. Carved thirteen hundred years before Jesus took his first breath–this numinous monolith had no relevance there, no link to modern Christianity. And yet there it was. At the core of Christ's church. A stone beacon, screaming to be heard. A reminder to those few sages who remembered where it all began. This church, born of the womb of the Ancient Mysteries, still bore her rites and symbols. One symbol above all. Adorning her altars, vestments, spires, and Scripture was the singular image of Christianity–that of a precious, sacrificed human being. Christianity, more than any other faith, understood the transformative power of sacrifice. Even now, to honor the sacrifice made by Jesus, his followers proffered their own feeble gestures of personal sacrifice . . . fasting, Lenten renunciation, tithing. All of those offerings are impotent, of course. Without blood . . . there is no true sacrifice. The powers of darkness had long embraced blood sacrifice, and in doing so, they had grown so strong that the powers of goodness now struggled to keep them in check. Soon the Light would be entirely consumed, and the practitioners of darkness would move freely through the minds of men. CHAPTER 97 â€Å"Eight Franklin Square must exist,† Sato insisted. â€Å"Look it up again!† Nola Kaye sat at her desk and adjusted her headset. â€Å"Ma'am, I've checked everywhere . . . that address doesn't exist in D.C.† â€Å"But I'm on the roof of One Franklin Square,† Sato said. â€Å"There has to be an Eight!† Director Sato's on a roof? â€Å"Hold on.† Nola began running a new search. She was considering telling the OS director about the hacker, but Sato seemed fixated on Eight Franklin Square at the moment. Besides, Nola still didn't have all the information. Where's that damned sys-sec, anyway? â€Å"Okay,† Nola said, eyeing her screen, â€Å"I see the problem. One Franklin Square is the name of the building . . . not the address. The address is actually 1301 K Street.† The news seemed to confound the director. â€Å"Nola, I don't have time to explain–the pyramid clearly points to the address Eight Franklin Square.† Nola sat bolt upright. The pyramid points to a specific location? â€Å"The inscription,† Sato continued, â€Å"reads: `The secret hides within The Order–Eight Franklin Square.'† Nola could scarcely imagine. â€Å"An order like . . . a Masonic or fraternal order?† â€Å"I assume so,† Sato replied. Nola thought a moment, and then began typing again. â€Å"Ma'am, maybe the street numbers on the square changed over the years? I mean, if this pyramid is as old as legend claims, maybe the numbers on Franklin Square were different when the pyramid was built? I'm now running a search without the number eight . . . for . . . `the order' . . . `Franklin Square' . . . and `Washington, D.C.' . . . and this way, we might get some idea if there's–† She stalled midsentence as the search results appeared. â€Å"What have you got?† Sato demanded. Nola stared at the first result on the list–a spectacular image of the Great Pyramid of Egypt– which served as the thematic backdrop for the home page dedicated to a building on Franklin Square. The building was unlike any other building on the square. Or in the entire city, for that matter. What stopped Nola cold was not the building's bizarre architecture, but rather the description of its purpose. According to the Web site, this unusual edifice was built as a sacred mystical shrine, designed by . . . and designed for . . . an ancient secret order.

High School and Graduation Essay

Graduation is a goal that everyone wants to accomplish in life. Whether it is from daycare, middle school, high school, or college, it’s a major accomplishment. Graduation from high school was something that I always looked forward to. The fact that it took twelve years of grading school to get a diploma made it more exciting and made me more anxious. Graduation also comes with an emotional impact. Especially when you’ve spent half of your life growing and learning to love your fellow classmates. From making best friends in kindergarten, to making pointless enemies in middle school. We never know how big of a deal it is until high school. That is when we realize that it starts the countdown of how many days that we have left with each other. We never really realize how much we will miss everyone and everything until the closer we approach graduation. Cherish every moment! The actual day of graduation contains the most emotion for some and most excitement for others. For me, it was both. I remember the exact feeling of waking up that morning. The smell of a huge breakfast meal aroused me. It was my day. I was beyond anxious and excited. Almost so anxious to the point of an anxiety attack but so excited to the point of a panic attack. Waking up and realizing that this was my first official day of a graduate was so amazing. I was going to college. I was getting the chance to fulfill my dreams. I remember walking into the kitchen and seeing the meal and looking at my momma and crying. I sure was going to miss this. The home cooked meals and family gatherings would be missed the most. After graduation, the summer before my new beginning, was different. I felt like an adult. My parents treated me more like an adult. Going out with friends and staying out late was great. I still remember going to Orientation at Ole Miss. Meeting new people and learning the campus. Not having to worry about high school and going to meet teachers was wonderful. Life was beginning for me! Graduating from high school has changed my life dramatically. I am now a freshman in college and I love it. My first week was amazing, everything was crazy. My legs are still sore as I type this. The University of Mississippi should be named the University of Hills. There are hills galore! It seems as if everything is always busy on campus. People running around like headless chicken. I also enjoy the freedom of college. No curfew is great! As far as family goes, I miss them like crazy! Phone calls from my mother comes in seem to come like every ten minutes. So, as far as graduating goes, it’s a great experience. Comes with many different emotions. Some good emotions and some bad emotions. We realize how much we actually care for your peers. It is always fun and a great learning experience to begin a new chapter in life. I will never forget my graduation day, from beginning to end. Walking across the stage with the biggest Kool-Aid smile, hearing loved ones scream and chant my name, and looking my principal, Mike Martin, in the eyes as he hand me my diploma telling me congratulations. I’ve learned to cherish every moment I spend with my peers. I never knew I’d miss something that I hated doing so much. As I said before, cherish EVERY moment!!

Ben Franklin Norris

Ben Franklin Norris Essay Benjamin Franklin Norris, one of the leading figures in the naturalistic style of writing, was born in Chicago in 1970. During his teenage years he moved to 1822 Sacramento Street to live with his father in San Francisco. He traveled to Paris and studied Art and was first exposed to one of his influential writers Emile Zola. He returned to San Francisco and studied the philosophy of evolution at the University of California at Berkley. He transferred to Harvard and took writing classes under Lewis E Gates. Upon graduating he attempted to make a name for himself as a travel writer. He traveled to South Africa and wrote an article about the Boer war. His plans to stay there were cut short as he was captured by the Boer army and deported back to the United States. When he returned to San Francisco, Norris began writing for the magazine The Wave. It was at The Wave that he wrote his first published article that later turned into a novel. Norris continued to work as a journalist, covering the Spanish-American war and he published a few more novels. In 1900, he began work on his second trilogy and most influential set of writings called The Epic of Wheat. The first book of his trilogy, The Octopus, was published in 1901. The second novel, The Pitt, was just near finished when he suffered from appendicitis and had to go under the knife to have his appendix removed. Unfortunately he never recovered from his surgery, and the third book of his trilogy was never written. Norris was married to a girl named Jeanette, and had bought a ranch ten miles west of Gilroy, California along route 152. Because of his death, he never got to stay there and continue writing as planned. His body is buried at the foot of Piedmont Avenue in Oakland, California, plot twelve, lot 105, site 11, on the cemetery map. Although Benjamin Franklin Norris, or Frank Norris as his gravestone reads, died at the young age of 32. He still managed to be recognized to be one of the best naturalistic writer s at the turn of the century. Norris had a short life, but it was packed full of things that had a huge impact on him. He witnessed different wars, and the industrial revolution firsthand. As a naturalistic writer, your experiences are what drive your work. Norris writing was very creative as a result of his experiences. You also could tell about his life by looking at the themes in Norris fiction books. A great example of this, is the impact of the industrialization on what he thought of as peaceful agricultural communities. The chaos of the people who lived in those communities was an expression of Norris discomfort of what was going on in his life at that time. These themes are best showcased in his novel, The Octopus. The tentacles of the octopus are a metaphor for the twisting steel tracks of the railroad choking the countryside. Norris got the idea for The Octopus from the Santa Carla valley___ where he stayed on extended vacation. It was that valley where he became aware of t he struggle between the farmers who grew wheat and the railroad monopoly that controlled the transportation of it. In The Octopus, the war is fought out in the open with violence and also behind closed doors with bribes. With this novel, Norris single handedly created a social drama in American literature. This was done through his interpretation of the ruthless era. The Octopus is hailed by many critics as Norris most impressive work or as Warren French said, A magnificent, imaginative achievement, one of the few American novels to bring a significant episode from our history to life. According to Norris, realism is the literature of the normal and the representative. The smaller details of everyday life, things that are likely to happen between lunch and supper. He says naturalism brings together the best from realism, romanticism, while displaying detailed accuracy and philosophical depth. It is a school by itself, unique, somber, powerful beyond words. Its Naturalism NorrisWord s/ Pages : 726 / 24 READ: Quick History Of Art Essay Research Paper

Breast cancer- human diease- epidemiology Dissertation

Breast cancer- human diease- epidemiology - Dissertation Example The term ‘cancer’ refers to an uncontrolled growth of abnormal cells, which are known as malignant cells that proliferate until they form a tumour, which is an abnormal mass of tissue or can be described as a swelling. This causes the malignant cells to break away from the tumour and travel through blood or the lymphatic system to other organs such as the lungs, where the uncontrolled growth cycle repeats itself. The report of a working group to the Department of Health defines breast cancer as a â€Å"primary malignant neoplasm of the breast excluding those arising from connective tissue† (Breast Cancer: Report of a Working Group to the Department of Health, 2000). This being a major problem that affects a considerable percentage of the population, it gains significance as a public health issue and needs to be addressed from that perspective. In this context, the following data published by the NHS, National Institute for Clinical Excellence, appended below in ta bulated form, is relevant: Country No of Registrations (1998) Incidence: Crude Rate Per 100,000 (1998) No of Deaths (2000) Mortality: Crude Rate Per 100,000 (2000) England 32,908 131.0 10,609 41.9 Wales 1,914 128.05 731 48.7 (Guidance on Cancer Care Services: Improving Outcomes in Breast Cancer, 2002). ... Thus, the data reveals that the problem of breast cancer, though it affects female population largely, has to be recognized as a serious public health problem. Detailed region-wise graphical data has been appended as Annexure-I to VI to this paper. The Information Centre for Health and Social Care of the NHS has published data relating to current status of breast screening programmes in heir publication titled, Breast Screening Programme, England 2009-10 as under: (Breast Screening Programme, England 2009-10, 2011) From the above it transpires that 76.9 women in England, who fall within the age group of 53-70, have undergone the screening process for checking breast cancer. On the other hand, the percentage in London shows a downward trend at 67%. Remaining regions also show the rates around 80. While this is a good percentage, considering the issue’s relevance as a major social problem, efforts need to be made to provide coverage to more women through such programmes. The rep ort further projects data for 2002-2010, with the breakup of women into three categories based on age, as under: (Breast Screening Programme, England 2009-10, 2011) From this data, it emerges that the coverage for women in the age group of 53-64 has varied by a mere 1.1% from 76.1 in 2002 to 77.2 in 2010, while that of women 65-70 has increased considerably by 44.5% from 31.7 in 2002 to 76.2 in 2010. The average coverage of both groups put together registers an increase of 16.4% from 63.5 in 2002 to 76.9 in 2010. Thus, the overall trend is encouraging while there is still scope for including more women in the purview of breast screening programmes. This growth of cancer is classified as metastatic spread as the cancer cells leave an area and form a tumour in another body

Select a product of popular culture and identify and discuss the Essay

Select a product of popular culture and identify and discuss the ideology that it gives expression to - Essay Example For such a reason, it is in good terms with the corporate acceptance. It is because of such a reason, that it excludes any formal and official gatherings as a potential target market. There are interesting aspects of culture in the identity of Red Bull. Red Bull has expressed different culture and cult in various parts of the world. Red Bull main market routes include pubs and bars. Red Bull has built up connections and associations with other alcoholic drinks in Western Europe. It has kept distance association with other alcoholic drinks in the Asian markets. This displays the different cultural aspects it is regarded with, in different places. Red bull’s entry into the market followed a strategy rooted firmly on its brand identity. It is based on the principle that Red Bull is Yin and Yang. It proposes a concept of balance. The concept is represented by two forces or bulls that merge in opposition. Through vigorous fighting, they develop to complement and accommodate each other. They become strong, and both strive to reach the peak and perfection. This philosophy is again duplicated in the presentation of Red Bull. The presentation displays a product that attains balance between the mind and body. This implies that when one uses it, development in the body and mind is enhanced. Red Bull maintains good body and mind state, despite it being an alcoholic drink. It uses various techniques in convincing people of its benefits. Such a technique is physique. The drink promises to â€Å"vitalize the body and body†. Its close association with sports and its display that it â€Å"gives you wings† is both convincing and inspirational. It further convinces people of its ideology by distinguishing it from carbonated drinks. The carbonated drinks often contain kids and adolescent connotations. Another convincing physique aspect of the drink is in its packaging. The drink comes packed in a thin and lean can. This gives a look that is both vibrant and flexible. This

History Research Paper Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1500 words

History - Research Paper Example The Minoan civilization is the oldest Greek and the oldest European civilization. Many characteristics define the Minoan civilization. One, there are palaces everywhere to be found and it stretches to the whole entire island. Every city has no walls around it. There is no fear of foreign attack and no domestic enemies of war. Every road is paved. It is during this time that the first flushable toilet is made since France in 1701 AD. The Minoan civilization is also engaged in a lot of trade and is rich and healthy. Every home has two stories. The Minoan civilization declines due to many factors. In 1628 BC, there is a massive volcanic eruption, which is two hundred miles away. The explosion and the waves destroy the Minoans’ city. It is felt from China all the way to California. By 1500 BC, the Minoans tries to rebuild their city. The problem is that they cannot rebuild because of a weakened city. In 1450 BC, the Minoan world is invaded by a civilization, the Mycenaeans. The Mycenaeans will finish off the Minoans’ world. They were the second oldest group of Greeks. In 1871 AD, Heinrich Schliemann goes and seeks the legendary city of Troy. He carries with him one book entitled Iliad written by Homer. In the same year, he goes to Western Turkey in Hissar. There he finds a gigantic mound. He begins to dig straight down and discovers nine ancient cities. Some of them are older than Troy. 1873, he states that he discovers the legendary city of Troy and he goes to search for the legendary Greek king, Agamemnon who destroys the city of Troy. He later goes to Peloponnesus in 1878 and he discovers five bodies which he thinks is the legendary king, but is not. He instead discovers the city Mycenae and the Mycenaeans. The Mycenaeans build cities on top of hills which are about nine hundred feet high. There are gigantic walls around their cities. The walls are