Seeing Through the Grey Mist of Cal Poly
On an early Monday morning my sleepy classmates and I met at the gate to Poly Canyon. The thick marine layer circled around our group as our professor led us into the dense grey fog. A crisp breeze stung my bare cheeks sending a chill down my body. We walked past the Cerro Vista apartments, the last buildings of Cal Poly that I would see for two hours. A feeling of excitement ran through me as we began our walk down the service road and into the canyon, a place just down the street from my dorm that I had never known existed.
As we trekked deeper in to the thick mist, a hidden part of Cal Poly began to reveal itself. Walls of serpentine rock rose on either side of the road and the creek below began to fill with water. Four does and a buck looked down on us from the steep slopes above. Eucalyptus trees sent a sweet fragrance through the air, and chirping birds provided soft background music for the hike. Worries of school began to fade away.
The trail got rough as we started climbing up Poly Mountain. My eyes were glued to the ground. Rocks were constantly sliding under foot waiting for an opportunity to take my feet out from under me. My breath was getting shorter and my legs began to burn from the first real exercise they had gotten since leaving home. I did not know if I was going to make it up the hill.
When we finally stopped for our first break, I collapsed onto the nearest rock and took some time to observe the land around me. I realized I had not looked up once throughout the first quarter of the hike. When we sat down to write I had nothing to describe or to meditate on. The thick fog had erased the trail behind us and everything surrounding it. I was filled with regret.
As we continued, I made certain to look around more often. Golden grasses, patches of yucca, grand rock formations, and a solitary tree dotted the landscape. We took our second break in a community of yucca. When I sat down, one stabbed me in my thigh. Its green leaves sat motionless as though nothing had happened.
Tannen points out “a greater percentage of discussion time is taken by men’s voices.” (2) She tells us why this is a disadvantage to the women in the classroom. She then continued to separate the two genders into their given stereotypes. Girls tend to separate themselves from large groups; they talk amongst
My life so far has been like a good hiking path. A path that is winding and twisting and encompassed with plenty of beauty. A path that is lined with trees like angels protecting you from the mysteries in the deep forest and that keep you rooted on the path you are destine to take. One that is filled with deep troughs and the most beautiful peaks you could ever image. Sometimes the path is rocky and hurts the soles of your feet until they crack and bleed, but other times it’s covered with a soft green moss that lifts your steps and revives your spirits. Through the last 17 years of my life, I have traveled that path and endured every step. I have gone into the dark abyss of the trough and have found in it the most precious grace of light. As I have gotten older I have come to recognize that the scary and shaky steps of my path have indeed been “fearsome blessings” (Buechner, 92).
It was simply amazing hiking out there, the mountains covered in tall trees that dug into the rocky soil, the beautiful sky, when visible. Even in the midst of strenuous exercise I still en...
The poetry of Phillis Wheatley should be considered very controversial and powerful. The content of Wheatley’s poetry contains the muscle needed to strike controversy and power, but it also must be understood within the context of history. Wheatley was a black slave writing very methodic poetry in America during a time when African-Americans were considered to be less than animals. Reading and writing was not an option given to an overwhelming majority of slaves. Wheatley was able to do both with ease, and her white masters encouraged her to do so.
Hurricane Katrina was one of the most devastating natural disasters to happen in the United States. The storm resulted in more then US$100 billion in damage when the cities flood protection broke and 80% of the city was flooded (1). The protection failure was not the only cause for the massive flooding, the hurricanes clockwise rotation pulled water from north of New Orleans into the city. 330,000 homes were destroyed and 400,000 people from New Orleans were displaced, along with 13,00 killed (1). Although the population quickly recovered, the rate of recovery slowed down as the years went on leading us to believe not everyone
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
The drive to cross the Kentucky border had taken hours and hours of strenuous patience to finally arrive in another state. The view was by far country like as hints of cow manure could be smelled far from a distance. We drive through small towns, half the size of our hometown of Glen Ellyn had been the biggest town we've seen if not smaller. The scenery had overwhelmed us, as lumps of Earth from a great distance turned to perfectly molded hills, but as we got closer and closer to our destination the hills no longer were hills anymore, instead the hills had transformed to massive mountains of various sizes. These mountains surrounded our every view as if we had sunken into a great big deep hole of green pastures. Our path of direction was seen, as the trails of our road that had followed for numerous hours ended up winding up the mountainous mountains in a corkscrew dizzy-like matter.
Recently, I was subjected to a tour of Everest Campus, in Vancouver Washington. To understand what I went through, one ...
Boom. Breath. Boom. Breath. Each step sounded like a war drum banging in my ears. The harmonious rhythm of my steps consistent with my breath continued on and on as I made my way up the side of the cliff in the middle of these Colorado woods. The sweltering heat was hindering my vision, and I began to feel dizzy. The worst part is, I am all alone.
After three weeks of waiting for the grass to grow, it finally sprouted up and we started our journey for Oregon. After the first towns in the beginning, The people guiding me began to throw materials out of the back of the wagon. That's when I noticed that their was all sorts of stuff scattering the trail. That night, my guiders unloaded a pile of assorted materials. In the morning, not to my surprise the wagon was lighter and easier to move. The journy was very dry for the next few weeks it was very dry, except when we hit these little towns. We would stop for no more than a day to stock up on energy, then keep on walking.
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
After reading the different studies and research in the chapter I have a much different view than before. I reflected on my whole life and noticed that when I am in a more private and relaxed setting my wife usually does a lot of the talking. But in more formal settings like when we attend seminars together or when we took a college class together, I am doing more of the talking. This is just one example of how this study actually reflects my everyday life. Another example of how this chapter changed my view is the way male and female speech occurs in my class. I was really taken back from my teaching and I noticed that this is true of my classroom and I didn 't even know this! Many times when a girl answers a question or tries to provide her different insight of the question provided I sense that many feel she is trying to show off. This chapter honestly will helped me get rid of many assumptions I 've always had. I will also try to ensure all my students have the social confidence in my classroom and try to help all students contribute to the
As I passed the La Salle campus, I noticed the bright orange walls, the big glass doors, and the crowds of students filing into the building. I was not nervous. I
At a time for war, Both Hamlet and Macbeth are considered tragedies and both main characters are considered tragic heroes. There are many differences and similarities. For one, both have somewhat of a psychotic, mental breakdown at some point of the story. Hamlet is just acting crazy to deceive Claudius, while Macbeth has truly gone mad in his lust for power and selfish motives. Both are to become Royalty, with the only exception that Hamlet does it through dishonorable means. “For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires. The eye wink at the hand, yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see” Macbeth (1.4 57-60). Hamlet is an automatic heir to the throne if his uncle dies. A sharp contrast between the two is that: Macbeth is not an honorable person, due to the fact that he slaughters many for pointless and superstitious motives, while Hamlet wants to avenge his father’s death. In my opinion, that would be an honorable reason for Hamlet to murder his uncle.
System performance is one of the most critical issues faced by companies dealing with vast amounts of data. Companies use database systems and their applications to store, retrieve and handle this data.