This is a Metaphorical Mirror

Buenos días, Me llamo Jenna y yo soy una estudiante de la clase de inglés de Señora Valentino. Porque leímos un ensayo sobre la idioma nacional de los E.E.U.U, decidí escribir mi blog en español; después de todo, inglés no esta la idioma oficial de este país, y no hay nadie decirme escribir en inglés. Pero, yo tengo unos pensamientos de esta tema, como: la escuela se enseña en inglés, y muchas de las tiendas son en inglés, y los trabajos son en inglés, y es más facil aprender inglés para vivir en este país... si el inglés no es la idioma oficial, al menos haga lo básico para un país más organizado en general. No estoy diciendo que abandone su otro idioma y se convierta en un experto en inglés, pero va a ser útil para todos aprender un poco de la idioma.  Cinco años en el pasado, mi primo viajó a america con la habilidad decir cuatro palabras en inglés. Cuando estaba enojado conmigo, el diría,“I no love you.” En un año, el puede hablar en inglés con fluidez, pero también c...

In second grade we had a whole 2-hour lesson on the difference between "needs" and "wants." Mrs. Fairweather passed out a sheet with different images, including food, clothes, toys, etc., and by the end of the lesson we had to circle the images representing what we needed in order to prove we could differentiate between what we need and what we want. In second grade we were learning the basic needs- what we need to survive. They taught us that when we are hungry, we need food; when we are thirsty, we need water; if we are cold, we need warmth; when we are tired, we need rest. Reflecting on this in the present, it's not exactly true. Most of us were fortunate enough to enjoy the luxury of an endless supply of food, drinks, shelter, clothes, love, toys, sleep, movies, and games. We never needed anything. Even now, such as how Sowell mentions in his essay "Needs," food, the quickest "need" that comes to mind, is not needed when we are in a coun...

My friend once told me a story about the village in Syria where our fathers grew up. She said that there was a very old but very wise man whom everyone in the village respected and came to for advice. He was kindhearted, intelligent, and enduring, living until his 112th year. At a point in his last year of life, he said he was going to die the following day, despite maintaining perfectly good health. The villagers, surprised at this sudden remark and the calmness that it was embedded in, denied this and told him they would bring him food tomorrow as a gift. Sure enough, when they came by his house, he was found in his bed, enveloped in serenity. Overnight, some said he had turned his bed to face north*, said his final prayers, and slept for the final time. In disbelief, I asked my friend if this story was real, to which she nodded in response. Then I questioned how on earth he knew he was going to die the next day. She simply said, "I think you can just feel when your body is a...

It is a melancholy object for those who observe the amount of people on the streets that scour through dirty dumpsters in grimy rags, all to obtain a trifle piece of moldy cheese or cracker. Children who look just above the age of four lift their heads from a pile of garbage to glance at the wealthy, the ones who's waste the child stands in, as they stroll by. These poor people, instead of being motivated to find real work elsewhere and purchase first-hand food, find sustenance in the discarded trash of the upper-class.  I think it is agreed by all parties that this prodigious amount of citizens and food living beside, under, or inside these dumpsters is in the present deplorable state of the nation a very great additional grievance; and, therefore, whoever could find out a fair, cheap, and easy method of reducing the amount of waste produced, thereby making these citizens useful members of the commonwealth, would deserve so well of the public to have her statue set up for a pres...