<?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-727175426985674414</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:24:07.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beatrice Butterfield</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Beatrice Butterfield</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08526979248191813622</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>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-727175426985674414.post-9207542613823701076</id><published>2008-09-15T15:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T15:18:24.770-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fate &amp; freewill.</title><content type='html'>i believe that everyone has a destiny in life. now, not every destiny is the same because not one person is the same as another. i think that destinies cant just be thrust upon a person, but that they have to be molded or shaped around a persons life. it should take into account all of the ups and downs in a lifetime and then use that to form a persons destiny. a persons destiny should include their environment, the people they know and people that they want to become. everyone has the power of free will to decide even just the smallest thing and those are the sorts of decisions that can help shape a persons destiny. a person must choose their own destiny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/727175426985674414-9207542613823701076?l=beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/feeds/9207542613823701076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=727175426985674414&amp;postID=9207542613823701076' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/9207542613823701076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/9207542613823701076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/2008/09/fate-freewill.html' title='fate &amp; freewill.'/><author><name>Beatrice Butterfield</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08526979248191813622</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-727175426985674414.post-7623822311755366843</id><published>2008-08-28T17:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T18:08:45.475-07:00</updated><title type='text'>battle royale.</title><content type='html'>The scene with the prostitute symbolizes the narrator's relationship with America. This is because the prostitute represents America. During the story, the narrator describes her using the colours red, white, and blue, the top of her legs creating a 'v' (for victory), and finally the prostitute has a tattoo of the American flag. Also during the story the narrator says that he wants to love and murder the girl, and this is probably the same way he feels about America. He wants to be accepted into society as a black man but on the other hand he cant look past, or forgive, all the grief and horrible things that the government and white supremacists have done to him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/727175426985674414-7623822311755366843?l=beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/feeds/7623822311755366843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=727175426985674414&amp;postID=7623822311755366843' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/7623822311755366843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/7623822311755366843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/2008/08/battle-royale.html' title='battle royale.'/><author><name>Beatrice Butterfield</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08526979248191813622</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-727175426985674414.post-4163763938191550279</id><published>2008-08-21T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T18:56:04.079-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the very old man with enormous wings.</title><content type='html'>the old man in this story is an angel. i say this because he comes into the lives of pelayo and elisenda to take their sick baby up to heaven. but when pelayo traps the angel in the chicken coop, the baby gets better. the old man also speaks a different language from everyone, which is also good evidence that he is an angel. eventually the angel becomes a common fixture in the family's life. i think that the old angel symbolizes stability. he makes the family stable in their finances, health and in their home all at the expence of his own body and dignity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/727175426985674414-4163763938191550279?l=beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/feeds/4163763938191550279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=727175426985674414&amp;postID=4163763938191550279' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/4163763938191550279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/4163763938191550279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/2008/08/very-old-man-with-enormous-wings.html' title='the very old man with enormous wings.'/><author><name>Beatrice Butterfield</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08526979248191813622</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-727175426985674414.post-4675237125118184978</id><published>2008-08-20T16:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T17:14:31.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the cathedral.</title><content type='html'>the narrator of this story, the cathedral, is a very close-minded man. he cant really see anything beyond his own acute point of view. when his wife invites a blind man to stay with them, the narrator cannot see past the mans blindness. he just could not get his head around the ways that the blind man lived his life. he seems to feel almost superior and could not stop pointing out the blind mans flaws. towards the end of the story, the blind man asks the narrator to close his eyes and draw. when the blind man then asks him to open his eyes, the man doesn't and instead says 'its really something'. the irony is that the blind man teaches the man with sight to see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/727175426985674414-4675237125118184978?l=beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/feeds/4675237125118184978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=727175426985674414&amp;postID=4675237125118184978' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/4675237125118184978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/4675237125118184978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/2008/08/cathedral.html' title='the cathedral.'/><author><name>Beatrice Butterfield</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08526979248191813622</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-727175426985674414.post-6559739481846930233</id><published>2008-08-19T13:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T15:08:20.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i believe...</title><content type='html'>i believe that you can tell a lot about someone just from looking at their hands.&lt;br /&gt;i have learned that people with their nails perfectly manicured and polished are usually very organized and ultimately very cautious. They are the sort of people who really care about what others think of them and are always trying to impress. Because these people, with their perfect nails, are so organized it gives them more time to make themselves look good. they can sometimes be quite serious&lt;br /&gt;On the contrary, however, there are those who's nail polish is constantly chipped and those bite their nails down to the nubs. these kinds of people seem to be more frazzled and unorganized. &lt;br /&gt;Those who keep their nails intentionally short, do it for good reason. i have found these to be more of the straight-forward, no-nonsense type. Weather it be that they play a sport of musical instrument, or they just don't have the time, these people are loyal and dedicated to their craft.&lt;br /&gt;i also believe that you can tell a lot about someone by how they dress up their hands. people who wear rings and other jewelry want to be reconized and acknowledged. lets face it, people with a wedding ring will get just that. finally, wearing rings, i think, makes you an individualist. Maybe you wear a different ring on each finger, or just a simple bracelet, whatever it is, i believe that it really reflects who you are.&lt;br /&gt;So next time you meet someone new, be sure to take a quick glance at their hands and you never know what you might discover about them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/727175426985674414-6559739481846930233?l=beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/feeds/6559739481846930233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=727175426985674414&amp;postID=6559739481846930233' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/6559739481846930233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/6559739481846930233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-believe_19.html' title='i believe...'/><author><name>Beatrice Butterfield</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08526979248191813622</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-727175426985674414.post-7612979006677566096</id><published>2008-08-17T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T06:22:02.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"I heard a definition once: Happiness is health and short memory! I wish I'd invented it, because it is very true."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Harry, grab my hand!"&lt;br /&gt;"I can't, its all sweaty!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/727175426985674414-7612979006677566096?l=beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/feeds/7612979006677566096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=727175426985674414&amp;postID=7612979006677566096' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/7612979006677566096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/727175426985674414/posts/default/7612979006677566096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beatricebutterfield.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-heard-definition-once-happiness-is.html' title=''/><author><name>Beatrice Butterfield</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08526979248191813622</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>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
