<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36170642</id><updated>2011-07-28T21:54:53.200+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cindy's Writing Portfolio</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11231095374542652717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36170642.post-116784128328551767</id><published>2007-01-04T00:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T00:21:23.296+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cover Letter</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Dear portfolio readers,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I would first like to thank you for taking the time to read my selected works for my portfolio. There are the portfolio introduction, the cover letter, three essay drafts which are the main part of the portfolio, one selected reading log and one timed-writing piece.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The three essay drafts are the core of the portfolio and I’ve learnt a lot from the writing process. The process covers almost a third of the semester. From the order, you may see the progress I’ve made in my academic writing skills. In draft one, I didn’t quite get the point and did the translation job. The second draft is a turning point. With the help of the instructor, Mr. Ron Corio, I slowly figured out my thesis and found evidence from the story to support it. And I learned to analyse the character and write in a fomal way. The third essay draft seems having few changes because I found it hard to develop the evidence any further. The main job I did was to correct the grammar and mechanical errors.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Also there are several interesting parts in the academic writing class taught by Mr. Ron Corio. The free writing is something I’ve never experienced before. You can write anything that is floating in your mind. If you are blank-minded, you can write down that you don’t have anything to say. This form of writing activity trained me to think fast and express freely. And the timed-writing is also an interesting part. We have to brainstorm fast and outline an essay fast. We have to make sure we answer the question clearly and in time. Before we send the writing piece, we have to make sure that there is time left for editing so the passages won’t have too many grammar or machanical mistakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Also in the class, there’s a lot of discussion. Especially during the time we were reading delicate short stories and writing reading logs. We conferenced on the Nicenet and exchanged ideas. During the time we were working on our thesis statement of our essay, I got a lot of help from my classmates and they gave good suggestions. I’ve also got helpful instruction from Mr. Ron Corio, and finally figured out the outline of my essay. I learned to communicate and exchange opinions with classmates. And there’s a lot of fun in the discussing process no matter what the outcome would be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Anyway, the academic writing class is a nice experience to me. Thanks to all and especially our nice teacher Mr. Ron Corio. I hope you enjoy my portfolio and ideas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sincerely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Cindy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36170642-116784128328551767?l=sisi-dy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/feeds/116784128328551767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36170642&amp;postID=116784128328551767' title='42 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116784128328551767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116784128328551767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/2007/01/cover-letter.html' title='Cover Letter'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11231095374542652717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>42</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36170642.post-116635470111232109</id><published>2006-12-17T19:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-17T19:27:03.626+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Timed Writing</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;Cindy Leng&lt;br /&gt;N0v.30. 2006&lt;br /&gt;Timed writng 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think makes a good teacher?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think a good teacher should be someone close to his/her students. He/she should be available to the students in time when they need instructions. A good teacher shows patience and care to the students. The instructions should be applied in time. A good teacher is an experienced one who knows how to give instructions properly and let the students go through the course smoothly. A good teacher is like a leader and lightens the way for the students to follow the path so that they won’t have to face difficulties and problems alone. A good teacher is like a friend to the students some times. He/she is easy to get touched and the students can get help from the teacher in time. A good teacher won’t put much pressure on the students. The students will enjoy the process of learning and get the knowledge or skill naturally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher impresses me most:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the teacher that impresses me most is the teacher teaching painting in primary school. He is nice and talented. He is very skilled at painting. I remember in the first class, he showed us how to use the brush. He just used the brush so naturally and then a nice picture appeared in front of us. This aroused my interest in painting and I made up my mind to learn it well. I made up my mind to be a person like him. In the next few years, I had learned a lot from him, not just the skills but also something else. The process is not so happy at first, I often feel clumsy of my picture. Then he showed his patience and even instructed me step by step. I slowly managed to do it well. Sometimes I feel like he is an elder brother of me. He is nice and easy- going. We get along very well. The painting class became the happiest experience in my memory. As I became more and more skilled, he let me to do the work more freely. He just let me express freely without giving any comments. And I learned to express myself rather than imitate the others. He never said that I did a bad job and constantly encouraged me to do it better. Although I painted by myself, I always felt his care on me and when I met with troubles he appeared by my side in time and instructed properly. Following his instructions, I finished many pictures without pressure.&lt;br /&gt; I think he is very talented and shows great care to his students. We’ve learned a lot from him. We had a good time with him and learned the skill naturally and smoothly. And we find that painting is really a happy activity. The process is happy and interesting and when you finish it, you feel proud of yourself. Thanks to the teacher, he teaches me something that I will never abandon in my life. The knowledge is really useful and entertaining. I’m impressed by him and the nice experience. Maybe more and more people will find it interesting and useful.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36170642-116635470111232109?l=sisi-dy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/feeds/116635470111232109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36170642&amp;postID=116635470111232109' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116635470111232109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116635470111232109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/2006/12/timed-writing.html' title='Timed Writing'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11231095374542652717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36170642.post-116635432996157980</id><published>2006-12-17T19:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-17T21:36:20.580+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reading Log for the Street- Sweeping Show</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;From the title, I wondered how the author would present the" show". While reading the context of the story, I sensed that maybe the story had something related with politics which is a popular topic. I used to be interested in the cultural revolution. The cultural revolution seemed a sensitive topic and it took me great effort to know a little about it from people who expierenced and survived. They just formed the habit of being scared to talk about politics. I once found some novels and magazines my parents read when they were young. I indulged in those descriptions and sighed a lot. I saw damages, chaos, idealism, struggle between conscience and political pressure ……which seemed quite ridiculous to the modern society. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But" show" is common and acceptable to me. I remember one writer said that politicians and dancers had a lot in common. The politicians play the political game just like the dancers dance to win the applause. Although" ordinary mortals" today are not so blind as that time, such shows go on endlessly. But the street-sweeping show presented by Feng Jicai seemed beyond my acceptence. Maybe the show would outrage public opinion today if it was not perfomed at that particular age. At least we can get breath-taking expierence from the show presented by fine artists. But to this kind of show, there' s no worth watching at all. The mayor just didn' t care about his citizens. What intrigued him most was just the power to control his citizens and the good feeling of considering himself superior to the ordinary mortals. What I didn' t understand was that why he showed no passion to this kind of show in the end. I thought he was haunted by political power and indulged in playing power games. At least he should fix his mind on upgrading his performing skills to cheat the ordinary and to strengthen his social status. At least he should concentrate on improving his leadership abilities. If not, I can only say that life seems too easy to him. He just cast aside the burdens and spared no effort to ensure himself in solid comfort. What about those social problems? Had the society advanced to that extent? He showed indifference to problems and felt no duty on his shoulder. " Only a leader could think of everything. This was where true leadership ability came into play". Sarcastic! I just feel furious and frustrated. Although the writer described the scene as a kind of joke, I find it reflect the reality to a certain degree. It remind me of an expression as" all I wanna say is that they don' t really care about us" by Micheal Jackson. Anyway, politics is always a popular topic.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36170642-116635432996157980?l=sisi-dy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/feeds/116635432996157980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36170642&amp;postID=116635432996157980' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116635432996157980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116635432996157980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/2006/12/reading-log-for-street-sweeping-show.html' title='Reading Log for the Street- Sweeping Show'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11231095374542652717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36170642.post-116635270489284868</id><published>2006-12-17T18:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-17T19:35:30.846+08:00</updated><title type='text'>draft3</title><content type='html'>&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;h1 style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h1 style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Cindy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Dec.16&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Draft 3&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;“The Story of an Hour” was written at the end of the nineteenth century by Kate Chopin. It was an era when “most married women were considered to be the property of their husbands”. Women’s rights were limited.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The story happened in an hour. First, Mrs. Mallard was carefully told of her husband’s death by her sister Josephine and she was immersed in grief. Then she stayed in her room alone, meditated and rejoiced by the thought of freedom. In the end, the “rebirth” of her husband broke her fancy about “freedom” and she died of the heart disease. The author challenges the society by the natural reaction Mrs. Mallard had on her husband’s death and wants to wake up most women’s sense of self-assertion. But in my opinion,although Mrs. Mallard rejoices by the thought of freedom, it is rather an illusion than the reality.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The descriptions of Mrs. Mallard show that she is fragile and obeying. She is “afflicted with a heart trouble”. “she was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression”. It seems that she is so tender and needs someone to rely on. “Great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death” shows that she needs care and protection. Whether she can live independently remains to be a question.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;From the reaction she has towards her husband’s death, she shows the sentimental quality which is common among women. She just fails to be reasonable and practical.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Before she reaches the conclusion of freedom, her mind seems in a random state. There are no thoughts revealed. The author just describes the beautiful scenaries passage after passage. “The delicious breath of rain”,”the notes of a distant song”,the twittering of sparrows and the “patches of blue sky” are sensuous and inspiring. Maybe she is inspired by the nature for we can’t see she is delibrately thinking on the event. She is natural and sensual. Her feelings seem wandering. She is not in grief or in serious thought. She has no idea of planning her life in the future. I wonder where the mentioned “intelligent thoughts” are showing. She is just driven by the environment and the sudden news of her husband’s death and senses freedom that is to come naturally.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After she has sensed freedom, her thoughts are presented openly. But those thoughts are dealing with the contradiction between love and freedom which seems to be a romantic topic. There are still no thoughts reflecting the reality. She is so romantic and lets “her fancy running riot along those days ahead of her”. “She is drinking in a very elixir of life”. She is in a fever. She concentrates her mind on the thought of freedom and casts away other factors that should be taken into account. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The descriptions of the people around Mrs. Mallard show that the social environment she faces is oppressing. Her sister might be regarded as a common and typical woman at that era. She follows the social rules and thinks Mrs. Mallard would be the same. And the doctor at the end is extremely logical and reasonable. The death of the main character is a tragedy. It hints that only through death can she obtain freedom.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The character might be the representative of Kate Chopin’s deep thoughts. The author shows great courage to challenge the social rules. But as I see it, Louise Mallard is romantic and sentimental rather than realistic. The freedom is built on fantasy rather than on the solid and tough reality. It can only be an illuminating illusion. It’s a long road to go before reaching the terminal of freedom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36170642-116635270489284868?l=sisi-dy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/feeds/116635270489284868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36170642&amp;postID=116635270489284868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116635270489284868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116635270489284868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/2006/12/draft3.html' title='draft3'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11231095374542652717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36170642.post-116486094779662578</id><published>2006-11-30T12:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-30T12:30:00.696+08:00</updated><title type='text'>draft 2</title><content type='html'>Cindy&lt;br /&gt;Nov.22&lt;br /&gt;Draft 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The story of an hour” was written at the end of the nineteenth century by Kate Chopin. It was an era when “most married women were considered to be the property of their husbands”. Women’s rights were limited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story happened in an hour. First, Mrs. Mallard was carefully told of her husband’s death by her sister Josephine and she was immersed in grief. Then she stayed in her room alone, meditated and rejoiced by the thought of freedom. In the end, the “rebirth” of her husband broke her fancy about “freedom” and she died of the heart disease. The author challenges the society by the natural reaction Mrs. Mallard had on her husband’s death and wants to wake up most women’s sense of self-assertion. But in my opinion,although Mrs. Mallard rejoices by the thought of freedom, it is rather an illusion than the reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The descriptions of Mrs. Mallard show that she is fragile and obeying. She is “afflicted with a heart trouble”. “she was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression”. It seems that she is so tender and needs someone to rely on. “Great care was taken to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death” shows that she needs care and protection. Whether she can live independently remains to be a question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the reaction she has towards her husband’s death, she shows the sentimental quality which is common among women. She just fails to be reasonable and practical. Before she reaches the conclusion of freedom, her mind seems in a random state. There are no thoughts revealed. The author just describes the beautiful scenaries passage after passage. “The delicious breath of rain”,”the notes of a distant song”,the twittering of sparrows and the “patches of blue sky” are sensuous and inspiring. Maybe she is inspired by the nature for we can’t see she is delibrately thinking on the event. She is natural and sensual. Her feelings seem wandering. She is not in grief or in serious thought. She has no idea of planning her life in the future. I wonder where the mentioned “intelligent thoughts” are showing. She is just driven by the environment and the sudden news of her husband’s death and senses freedom that is to come naturally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After she has sensed freedom, her thoughts are presented openly. But those thoughts are dealing with the contradiction between love and freedom which seem to be romantic topics. There are still no thoughts reflecting the reality. She is so romantic and lets “her fancy running riot along those days ahead of her”. “She is drinking in a very elixir of life”. She is in a fever. She concentrates her mind on the thought of freedom and casts away other factors that should be taken into account.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people around Mrs. Mallard show that the social environment she faces is oppressing. Her sister might be regarded as a common and typical woman at that era. She follows the social rules and thinks Mrs. Mallard would be the same. And the doctor at the end is extremely logical and reasonable. The death of the main character is a tragedy. It hints that only through death can she obtain freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The character might be the representative of Kate Chopin’s deep thoughts. The author shows great courage to challenge the social rules. But as I see it, Mrs. Mallard is romantic and sentimental rather than realistic. The freedom is built on fantasy rather than on the solid and tough reality. It can only be an illuminating illusion. It’s a long road to go before reaching the terminal of freedom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36170642-116486094779662578?l=sisi-dy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/feeds/116486094779662578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36170642&amp;postID=116486094779662578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116486094779662578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116486094779662578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/2006/11/draft-2.html' title='draft 2'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11231095374542652717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36170642.post-116486087700213724</id><published>2006-11-30T12:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-30T12:27:57.013+08:00</updated><title type='text'>draft 1</title><content type='html'>The story was written with the background of women having low social status at that time. Men were thought to be superior to women and often imposed their private will upon their fellow creatures. Women were thought to be the property of their husbands and had to play the role of obeying their husbands’ wills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the story, Kate Chopin challenges the public by describing the reaction Mrs. Mallard had after hearing of her husband’s death. She describes the mental process Mrs. Mallard had and tries to wake up most women’s consciouness of self-assertion at that time. She is brave and has really insightful thoughts. Mrs. Mallard seems to become the presentative of her thoughts. From the story, I can tell that Mrs. Mallard was a self-centred person. She was tired of the oppression from her partner. The oppression she had suffered from and the sudden news of her husband’s death drived her to some intelligent thoughts and finally she came to the illuminating conclusion:”freedom”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning, the author pictured her as a sensitive and fragile creature. “afflicted with heart trouble”,”great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death”,”in broken sentences;veiled hints that revealed in half concealing”,”had hastened to forestall any less careful,less tender friend in bearing the sad message”. It seems that everyone thought she would act as the typical woman who felt the sky crashed and indulged in the storm of grief. The author spent only a few words and presented an urgent situation vividly. I’m impressed by her ability of describing things in the least number of words. Her speed of processing the story makes the readers feel like enjoying the fast-paced movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the well-organized beginning, there comes the performance of the leading character. Peculiarly, she didn’t act as the people above had imagined:”with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance””she went away to her room alone””she would have no one follow her”. Although she showed certain degree of heart-breaking feelings, she didn’t act as most comtemparary women did. She felt being abandoned, but she was not in despair. The action she took showed that she had a mysterious inner world and liked to solve problems independently. She didn’t like to pour out her sadness and sorrows to her intimate friends or relatives. A paralyzed inability to accept its significance showed that her inner world was a complex and subtle one. She was not so simple and flat as most contemparary women and her action showed a certain degree of elegance and mystery which aroused the readers’ interest of going on the exploration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then come passages describing the beautiful and fresh scenaries which companies the main character’s flow of thoughts. Outside, every creature has such a prosperous apprearance and exists in such a random state without any oppression. “the new spring life””the delicious breath of rain””countless sparrows””patches of blue sky” symbolize the refreshed life and hints freedom. And Mrs. Mallard was slowly waken up. “But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky.It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought”. She didn’t indulge in grief, her mind seemed to wander somewhere else. Her husband’s death was a starting clue of her intelligent thought. Such people always had their own inner feeling of the outside world and not easily affected by the environment. She was driven by her inner impulse, not by the set rule of the outside world. She kept looking into her own heart, and cared less of other factors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next paragraph showed the reaction of Mrs. Mallard as the result of following the path of her own heart. The description hints that something splendid would come although she was still not clear about what it exactly was. It must be something subtle and inspiring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The line ‘free,free,free’ illuminated the whole mysterious world of her mental activities. It was freedom that had haunted her so much that even her husband’s death couldn’t surpass the joy of owning it. She is so natural and just let go of her feelings without caring the moral standards of the society. She fixs her mind on her own heart and cast away of the feeling of guilty that was supposed to be imposed on her by the society. She is self-centred. She is in an unconscious state and let her heart free. She tried not to be restrained by the outside rules. Only in this way, a woman can become aware of the uncomfortableness of her marriage and fight for freedom and equal status in a marriage. She has waken up and cannot go back. She wants the refreshed life that belongs to her alone. She has been tired of the oppression and wants a brand new life. The death of her husband lighten up her intelligence and she creat a unique angle on this event although she didn’t go through it consciously. It seems that the passage is a turning point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next few paragraphs shows that she is a little bit in contradiction. As a wife at that time, she loves her husband. Although her husband act indifferently to her. “the face that had never looked save with love upon her” shows that her husband follows the value of the society and treat her like the property belonging to him. She still loves her husband. Maybe she used to be familiar with this kind of uncomfortableness in her marriage and hadn’t sensed the unjustice. Now she has waken up and becomes aware of the situation of her marriage. She gained the intelligent thought and couldn’t go back to the repressed life. She doesn’t want to be restrained any more. The freshness of freedom gives a sharp contrast to her repressed life before.&lt;br /&gt;“there would be no one to live for her during those coming years: she would live for herself . there would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination”.”what could love, the unsolved mystery,count for in face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being”.”free!body and soul free!’&lt;br /&gt;She is a little bit hesitated, but the illumination of freedom set her mind open and cast away her hesitation. She didn’t care whether it was a monstrous joy and follow the rules of her own inner heart. She let go of her fancy on those days ahead of her and kept her mind on the thought of freedom. She is just self-centred and has strong impulse of her being. “The possession of self-assertion” “the strongest impulse of her being” became the core of her mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end of the story was really ironic and disappointing. The appearance of her lived husband beat her back to the dark life that she used to be familiar with. But she has tasted the spring of freedom and cannot go back to the dull and repressing life. The author chose death as a solution. Although she is dead, the illumination of freedom has broaden the eyes of the readers. The author seeks to wake up the contemparary women’s unawareness of being oppressed in the marriage. She challenges the society and risks a lot to fight against the unjustice of the status in a marriage. I think woman should be self-centred, independent and intelligent as Mrs.Mallard was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36170642-116486087700213724?l=sisi-dy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/feeds/116486087700213724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36170642&amp;postID=116486087700213724' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116486087700213724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116486087700213724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/2006/11/draft-1.html' title='draft 1'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11231095374542652717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36170642.post-116161726081308524</id><published>2006-10-23T23:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-17T21:38:02.370+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Portfolio Introduction</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2399/4037/1600/200658215806451.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2399/4037/320/200658215806451.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Hello, my English name is Cindy. I'm a senior student of pharmacy department in Fudan University. I' m from Jiangsu Province. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;As my major is pharmacy which requires a lot of time to fulfill the academic demands, I don' t have much writing expierence at university. Most of my writings are done at the English classes I took in the first year at university. I remember I wrote passages discussing topics like" success"," subconsciousness"," how to become smart", etc. Once the teacher read a short paragraph of mine on the topic of success in front of the class and I felt really flattered.&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Back in high school, I did do a lot of writing to get prepared for the college entrance exam. In order to get a satisfying score, I have to follow certain instructions which made me lose the taste of it. The articles I composed seemed quite formal. The process was a bit like piling up words which were thought to be beautiful and delicate. There were always a lot of delicate or intelligent quotations which gave the passages a good appearance. I found it no fun. But I liked to write diaries once a week and it seemed a relaxation to me. It was an outlet for my feelings and I devoted a lot of time on it. Even today I can still remember some of those clumsily-organized passages which solidified my time. Those growing-pains and bitterness seems like a kind of sweetness to me today.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Although writing in English always seems arduous to me, I have the confidence to do it better and better. I don' t think I have the talent but I just try my best. I hope one day writing will become a pleasure to me, I can express ideas and feelings fluently without struggle. I envy those who have good sense of words. They are so talented that writing seems to play the word game. I remember one female writer once said that writing can cause your very soul to take wing. But I know I can never take wing because of the talent thing. I know she just seems too bright and beyond my wildest dreams. I just want to be skilled and that needs a lot of practice. That’s why I choose this course: Acadamic Writing. So far, I’ve written several reading logs on the selected stories. I really appreciate the opportunity and I find it interesting.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36170642-116161726081308524?l=sisi-dy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/feeds/116161726081308524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36170642&amp;postID=116161726081308524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116161726081308524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36170642/posts/default/116161726081308524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sisi-dy.blogspot.com/2006/10/portfolio-introduction.html' title='Portfolio Introduction'/><author><name>Cindy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11231095374542652717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
