Analysis Of Tim O Brien s The Things They Carried ...

Xizhao Liu(Amber) American Literature Essay #3 Nov. 11, 2016 Male love in The Things They Carried The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien is a fictional book consisting of different stories from Vietnam war. Tim O’Brien was trying to convey the real perspectives of the war to his readers by telling facts and stories through his personal memories he got from the war, and how things effect them and their life after the war. In order to express the tension in the war, O’Brien depicts the experience of the soldiers by showing the different ways of expression of male love from these soldiers. Although there are many forms of friendship, some of which may vary from place to place, the friendship in the war is the most unique one. As the definition of Friendship, Friendship is a stronger form of interpersonal bond than an association. The bond between soldiers is more intense and real, and this is also the message that Tim O’Brien shows in his book by using metaphor, details depicting and technique of repetition. Tim O’Brien uses metaphor of photos to express the life before, tie all soldiers together, and thus show the friendship of them. The Thing They Carried is not only describing the life in the Vietnam war, but is more about the things that they carried, and the emotions and stories behind these things. All soldiers bring some small items, like comic books and hunting hatchets, which contain their memory from the past, to the war. â€Å"My girl. What about her? The picture, it wasShow MoreRelatedAn Analysis Of Tim O Brien s Things They Carried1183 Words   |  5 Pagespoetic qualities such as literary devices, imagery, and theme, and many more. Tim O’Brien’s Things They Carried depicts a fragmented stories about his and other soldiers’ experiences that occurred in the Vietnam War. Similarly, the poem, â€Å"Facing It† shows a soldier who returns to the Memorial of the Vietnam War where he recalls his own trauma in the war as he looks at the stone s. Both the prose, Things They Carried and the poem, â€Å"Facing it† conveys the similar theme where they are struggling toRead MoreAnalysis Of Tim O Brien s The Things They Carried Essay1574 Words   |  7 Pages To Ban or not to Ban : The Things They Carried Host: Hello and welcome to ban or not to ban, where the nations most exciting topics are discussed between opposing parties. Today we re debating whether or not to ban â€Å"Tim O Brien s novel The Things They Carried. In this book author Tim O’Brien depicts the Vietnam conflict by distinguishing between the role of whether or not to be a civilian or a soldier. Though the book is fictional, Tim O’Brien portrays himself as a man who strugglesRead MoreAnalysis Of Tim O Brien s The Things They Carried1097 Words   |  5 Pages The Silent Killer: An Analysis of Imagination Evolving into a Distraction in Tim O’Brien’s â€Å"The Things They Carried† In Tim O’Brien’s â€Å"The Things They Carried†, O’Brien created several allusions that each character endured during the Vietnam War. Throughout the story were vast representations of the things the soldiers carried both mentally and physically. The things they carried symbolized their individual roles internally and externally. In addition to the symbolism, imaginationRead MoreAnalysis Of Tim O Brien s The Things They Carried 1187 Words   |  5 PagesThere were many things the soldiers carried with them during the Vietnam War. They carried guns and ammo, rations and canteens, and things necessary for survival. The soldiers also carried letters, photographs and land of Vietnam itself. Tim O’Brien tells of this in The Things They Carried, a book detailing the lives of the soldiers in Vietnam through the things the men carried with them. Not everything the men carried was physical, however. The soldiers carried ghosts, memories, and burdens. Ever yoneRead MoreAnalysis Of Tim O Brien s The Things They Carried Essay2347 Words   |  10 PagesThe decision to go to war is not a decision that is taken lightly. In Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, Tim O’Brien faces cultural, social and political push factors that end up leading him to forgo his plan to dodge the draft, and to report as instructed, a mere yards away from his destination of Canada. In Leslie Marmon Silko’s Ceremony, Rocky and Tayo, two young Native American men, experience cultural, social and political pull factors that draw them into the Army, fighting the Second WorldRead MoreAnalysis Of Tim O Brien s The Things They Carried All Experience1859 Words   |  8 PagesYou: Tim O Brien s Methods To Overcome Loss Throughout the 1980s, Dr. Terence M. Keane ran experiments on a new idea called exposure therapy. The case studied how victims of trauma would react to being repeatedly shown places, imagines, and stories that mirrored theirs. In the study was twenty four veterans of the Vietnam War, and at the end of the study, they no longer had reactions classified as severe anxiety. Like the veterans in this case study, soldiers in Tim O Brien s The Things TheyRead MoreAnalysis Of Tim O Brien s The Things They Carried During The War Essay1532 Words   |  7 PagesIn this paper I will argue that in Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried during the war a person experience develop guilt from an event that happened during the war and how it affects them for life. The three people specifically, I will take about are First Lieutenant Jimmy Cross, Norman Bowker, and Tim. Telling about how the experienced guilt, where the guilt comes from, and if they ever find absolution. The first story of two stories for First Lieutenant Jimmy Cross feels guilty about the deathRead MoreAnalysis Of The Book The Things They Carried 2006 Words   |  9 Pages 1. Birth-October 1, 1946; present 2. The things they carried was written in the late 1980 s and published in 1990. The novel acts as a response to the era it discusses by solidifying the un-generalized version of war through fictional anecdotes from the narrator and characters. The truth is never portrayed through historic context or media, and with this novel, the author was able to reciprocate the emotions felt by soldiers from the graphic scenes or actions envisioned/written. 3. FactorsRead MoreThe Things They Carried Critical Analysis1538 Words   |  7 Pagesafter the Fall of Saigon, the Vietnam War remains an affliction for Vietnam War Veterans and their families. Millions of our youth were forced to leave their home and carry inconceivable burdens. Thus, as a Veteran, Tim O’Brien can depict thoroughly their burdens in â€Å"The Things They Carried†. His story brings us back to war-torn Vietnam and First Lieutenant Jimmy Cross and his platoon. Cross is the commanding officer; however, he does not concentrate on the war but on his unrequited love. As a resultRead MoreThe Vietnam War Has Far Reaching Consequences For The United States1710 Words   |  7 Pagesof American history is a national disgrace. This research paper will deal with some of the more intriguing aspects and effects of this war. Since the Vietnam conflict made absolutely no sense politically, militarily or economically, the value of analysis must come on the individual level. The Vietnam War had far-reaching consequences for the United States. This paper will exhaustively discuss how these issues caused the psychological effects of the Vietnam War on the soldiers morale afore the war

A Brief Note On Borderline Personality Disorder ( Adhd )

Assessing Borderline Personality Disorder Amanda Kissling Millersville University Introduction Treating individuals with Borderline Personality Disorders presents unique challenges for Clinicians and other service workers. Borderline personality disorder is described in the DSM-V as a pervasive pattern of instability of interpersonal relationships, self-image, and affects, (as well as) marked impulsivity (2013). Symptoms typically begin to present themselves in late adolescents and early adulthood with symptoms decreasing in severity with age. The DSM-V explains that individuals with BPD experience intense fear of abandonment, identity disturbance, suicidal and self-harm behaviors, and difficulty regulating mood, especially anger. Individuals with BPD typically experience delays in emotional awareness, emotional modulation, and impulse control. They are easily bored and typically rely heavily on others for attention, as they have difficulty entertaining themselves. (DSM-V, 2013) These intense symptoms make it difficult to successfully treat individuals with BPD. Many sources, including the DSM-V suggest that 1.6% of our population suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder, with percentages being much larger among impatient and outpatient populations (2013). Due to the debilitating nature of the disorder, many individuals seek help from a mental health professional. According to Tomko et. al, the average health care costs accrued per year for patients withShow MoreRelatedEssay on Dissociative Identity Disorder2044 Words   |  9 Pagesseparate personalities. Each personality has its own distinguishable traits and purpose within the host individual. In this essay, we will explore the symptoms of this unique disorder, as well as the potential causes and treatments utilized to benefit the patient. The fascinating disorder formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder is now called Dissociative Identity Disorder. It is indeed unusual and certainly the least diagnosed out of all of the dissociative disorders. This disorderRead MoreNerve Cells9382 Words   |  38 Pagesneuron. The mechanism of action and localization of neurotransmitters in the brain has provided valuable information concerning the cause of many mental disorders, including clinical depression and chemical dependency, and in researching medications that allow normal flow and movement of neurotransmitter molecules. Neurotransmitters, mental disorders, and medications Schizophrenia Impairment of dopamine-containing neurons in the brain is implicated in schizophrenia, a mental disease marked by disturbancesRead MoreStatement of Purpose23848 Words   |  96 Pagesimportant Ohio Wesleyan University Writing Center  © 2011 Page 1 and used the statement of purpose for borderline decisions. However, of liberal arts faculty who responded, approximately half valued the essays as much as other parts of the application package. ï‚ · Determine the importance of the mentor system. The importance of the statement of purpose increases, as Robert M. Brown notes, at institutions with strong mentoring programs ―because it is the only place where an applicant can elaborate

Cafe love Free Essays

†Amour, amour et seul’ I’m alone. Meaning, I have no one to love, no one to love me back and quite frankly at nearly forty years old I feel past the point of having the chance to make a change. The fact that I live in Paris; the romantic capital of the world, does little to help the situation. We will write a custom essay sample on Cafe love or any similar topic only for you Order Now I’ve lived here almost all my life; parents used to live in Wales, then England, then California for some time. Being young, I travelled with them, but now, here in Paris, I finally feel at home. I struggle to answer the question â€Å"why did I come to Paris, of all places†? I suppose it’s because here that I can at least dream of one day, maybe, possibly finding some way of not being alone anymore. Everywhere I look, seems to be another person’s life filled only with what I want. I’m not selfish and I’m sure that having someone else in my life would make me a happier person. This is why I have a strong resentment towards people who have a habit of betraying, lying or simply being unpleasant. Because they take life for granted, not experiencing, learning or challenging. That’s not to say that I am unhappy, I often sit with my steaming coffee at one of the many street cafes in town and spend time people watching, as I pass time and reflect on my achievements I wonder what all these souls have achieved, where have they been? Where are they going? Are they on their way home to a loved one? I just need someone to feel complete. â€Å"I, capitalized, full. I, looking like a snowfall as I come calling. I, waiting for a saviour in the gas-station at midnight. I, holding no neighbourhood, loving the air. I, silent beside a man holding a megaphone outside of planned parenthood I, fading.† It’s busy. Busier than its been in a while, packed with all different sorts of people. Young children, some in push chairs, some being held tightly in their mother’s arms. Teenagers are also present, not really enjoying the surroundings yet smiling when in the company of grandparents. Women chattering around small tables, women standing impatiently waiting to be served, wives and girlfriends being held close by their husbands and boyfriends. The only men seated are extremely old or waiting to meet their wives. One regular customer, wearing a neatly pressed pin-striped suit, is sitting alone at a small table by the roadside, distancing himself from others. He’s recognisable to me so my eyes are drawn to him. He glances over towards me and on seeing me staring back at him shifts in his chair uncomfortably. There are two glasses on the table, so I can only assume that he is waiting for company. He checks his watch several times and looks around; I look too although I don’t know what I expect to see. He’s an attractive man. Even though he’s seated he looks tall, six foot at least. Clean shaven, glossy hair with a small amount of gel and shiny shoes which is a clear sign that he takes care over his appearance. I can imagine that he’s not drinking coffee to avoid unpleasant smelling breath. So making the decision of ordering water was wise. I begin looking at him in more detail. I don’t worry that he may notice me staring. It’s now that he stands and strides towards the road. Definitely over six foot tall. He suddenly stops and looks back. A phone rings, as he reaches into his pocket I realise it’s his. He directs a smile at me and walks back towards the road all the while in conversation. Probably his wife. â€Å"I, alive before the fireworks with one eye on the storm, I, skating on the ice with one foot in the ocean, I, drunk beneath the shelter of a thousand poets There is no-one as blind as those who choose not to see I, me.† Late afternoon at the cafà ¯Ã‚ ¿Ã‚ ½ is normally the busiest time. Which makes it my favourite time to sit and observe everyone. The clientele is always the same, with a few new comers each day, but only a few decide to stay. It looks especially pretty today, the tops of the tables and chairs where people have not yet sat are quilted and neatly decorated with snow, it also creates a pathway on the ground of delicate footsteps from the waitresses’ angelic feet. A coffee cup has been left at my table, it is beginning to freeze and what there was once coffee is a frosty covering, somewhat improving its appearance looking almost beautiful and glistening in the light. It’s sad I know, but somehow I become attached to this cup. It’s centre stage on the table, soaking in all my attention. As I look closer, a small crack becomes visible. I begin to imagine some wonderful life stories of the coffee cup, battles, fights and journeys. After pondering over the past of the cup, I conclude that it was just dropped in the kitchen. After all, it’s only a mug. I’m sitting alone, enjoying the company of strangers. A waitress comes over with my coffee, taking away the crystallized coffee mug. Now I am alone amongst strangers again. As I stay later the snow begins to melt and the nice Christmas feeling of the crisp coldness in the air also begins to fade. I take a lighter out of my coat pocket, and because the waitresses have seemed to disappear, I walk slowly around the cafà ¯Ã‚ ¿Ã‚ ½ lighting the candles at the remaining empty tables. I take my time, I’m not worried about anyone seeing me. When I have finished I sit back at my table, and admiring the sparkling candles. The Christmas feeling is half restored by the warm comforting feeling of subtle lights. â€Å"I, wearing white and thinking black I, planning a journey that’s too far to walk, drive or sail I, the one who never planned but always expected I, lighting up a cigarette with the echoes of my mind I, breathing in the smoke that no-one else can find.† An old couple walk almost silently into the cafà ¯Ã‚ ¿Ã‚ ½, they take no notice of me at all. They take a while getting comfy at the table behind mine before they begin talking. The woman looks to be in her late fifties, and is wearing a red poncho which drapes to the floor making her bottom half invisible. The man is the same age, also wearing red. I smile at the fact they look the same, very elegant. He must have been wearing a black hat but removed it when entering the Cafà ¯Ã‚ ¿Ã‚ ½ because he’s now holding it in his right hand. They begin conversation, I listen in excitedly, ‘Did you want a drink my dear?’ He questioned the women whilst glancing around for a working waitress. †Erm, yes a hot chocolate please Eric† I stop listening for a second, and make a mental note of the man’s name. He politely ordered for himself and his wife whilst searching for his wallet. He looked inside and shuffled uncontrollably to the bottom. Finally, he held out only two euros. Looking over at his wife, he saw her becoming quite impatient. ‘I haven’t got all day!’ She shouted whilst quickly gesturing towards her watch. Eric cancelled his order and paid for hers, looking quite flustered. ‘Keep the change’, he murmured under his breath. His wife stood up and took her drink off him, ‘What took you so long buying one silly drink?’ Questioned his wife, again impatiently. Eric stared blankly back at her, ‘I†¦just, couldn’t remember what you wanted.’ The woman then began arguing about how he wastes so much time over everything and just does not listen. If only she saw what I just saw, she wouldn’t bother to question his actions. I stand up and move away from the couple, there is a knot forming in the back of my throat and my vision is becoming blurry. As I look down at the table, the snow has now completely melted, as one of my tears drop I can see it clearly on the glass table top. As I stare at the single tear, it seems to multiply like bacteria i n seconds as more and more appear, as if by magic. â€Å"I, the small tear that leads to tears, I, the one who is ambiguous, I, attempting to buy groceries with good looks and failing miserably. I, thanking Allen Ginsberg, I, reading like the poet and writing like the fool I, nothing, really.† I sit alone for a while. Wondering how such an old couple can have a such a new and romantic love. I turn to change my view of the cafà ¯Ã‚ ¿Ã‚ ½, I’m about to turn to my left to admire the fine Christmas lights recently put on display but a small, dark haired little girl managed to catch my view. At first glance I thought she was sitting on her own because she was making such a mess of her table. But I saw a man to the left of her returning with napkins. He sat down next to her and began to mop up what looked like melted ice cream on the table. ‘Dad, I don’t want it,’ moaned the small girl. Immediately, I’m concentrated and fully focused on this little girl. Why was she moaning, why was she on her own? The man put a final napkin down and replied, ‘I know that’s not†¦Ã¢â‚¬â„¢ The small girl stared violently, signally for him to stop talking – or else. I am even more involved now, it’s times like these where I just want to ask what’s going on. But I know I cant, that’s just bad etiquette. Often I jump to conclusions and think up reasons why people are having such conversations. In this case, the situation that came to my mind first was; a girl, no family, living alone on the streets of Paris having to steal food from this cafà ¯Ã‚ ¿Ã‚ ½. My mind then began on a journey of other extremities such as that she is actually German pretending to be French..? It is when the man began speaking, and took the part of the father, that my mind stopped travelling such journeys . ‘Dad, just talk to Mummy. I don’t like being with you only at weekends. I miss Mum. Please.’ The small girl now speaking out of pure desperation. The father replied quickly with ‘Darling, it’s not that simple. Marriage, well, it’s not easy you know.’ He then took the girls hand for second before she pulled away almost automatically. The father reached for his grey coat which he had drooped over the back of the chair and began to put it on. The girl took this as a sign that it was the end of the conversation, obviously something she was use to hearing. They begin to walk my way so I turn quickly. Much too quickly, resulting in my coffee spilling half on the floor and half on me. I stand and look at the mess, for a few seconds I wonder if this would be a good excuse to ask the father for a napkin, in order to engross myself in conversation. I decide against it considering they have already left. On my way to the washroom I start to think about the marriage that the mother and father must have had. Because it must have affected the small girl a lot for her to mention and be so upset about it. Perhaps one of them met someone else, perhaps they simply went different ways. But whatever happened to that marriage, surely the love in the marriage must have died. I wish I didn’t wonder so much sometimes, it only leads me to imagine the worst of things. How can love not work out, if I found love I would hold onto it and never let it go. How can It go wrong? When you fall in love you want it to be forever and you love them for who they are. So any flaws can be worked out or you just love them in spite of that. The thought of suddenly not being loved must eat people up inside. Heartbreaking. Possibly my life is too good to risk being heartbroken. Because even if I am on my own, at least it’s only me that’s liable to hurt myself. No one else can hurt me, I’m in charge. Maybe it’s not as idealistic in reality. â€Å"I, immune to heartache I, the liar.† After drying my coffee stained skirt, I brush past the waitresses who seem to be re-appearing due to the increasing customers. I see one waitress finish cleaning my table. It’s getting dark, which means I really should be soon returning home. I usually hate this time because it means I have to walk lonely through the streets looking at the couples hand in hand or the mothers and daughters smiling. And because I’m such a paranoid person I automatically think they’re only smiling because I’m there and they want to make me jealous. But at this moment in time, I really don’t know how I feel. After witnessing that small girl’s unlawfully relationship with her father; wondering how things in a marriage can become that disastrous. When I think about that, I’m reluctant to feel jealous by those couples smiling back at me, because one day, they could be heartbroken and wonder themselves why they put them selves in such a vulnerable position. Suddenly, I’m startled. At first for no particular reason I feel as if I’m being watched. This feeling causes me to look wearily around, a tall man is admiring me. His eyes fixated on me. In response I smile, I feel as if I know him. He is still looking at me, so I begin to look at him in closer detail, he’s an attractive man with a well cared for appearance, his shiny shoes gave that away. I scare myself with shock when I realise who he is, the regular who comes here. The man who’s forever getting stood up by his wife. He stands and walks nervously towards where I’m standing, frozen. As he walks, I have the decision to walk away and pretend I have no idea that he’s walking to talk to me. Or I could stay and see what he wants; everything seems to be a little flirtatious even though he’s married. Maybe, I never really had hard evidence. I do have quite a writers’ imagination. He begins to speak, †Hello. I hope you don’t mind but I often sit here alone and see you here alone too.† I look straight into his blue exotic eyes, immediately I feel a connection. Just two strangers, just two alone strangers. I feel like I have been frozen in time as I begin to recite a monologue of thoughts to myself. ‘I was wondering if you would like to sit alone together some time?’ â€Å"I, giving up structure. I know that words once read will always be spoken And fabric once torn will always be scarred, And the night will always be broken by the Gentle murmur of cars†¦ But, what is costume without personality,, Or a poet without publication What is a man without attempt, Or a woman without patience. Here comes the thunderstorm. I, silent.† How to cite Cafe love, Papers

Cpaonalallala Essay Example For Students

Cpaonalallala Essay Many people look at Al Capone and bad thoughts come to mind. Yes, for the most part he was a bad influence on people, mostly children, but in some ways he was a leader both for the good and bad. In the ways of organized crime Al Capone was at the top of his game throughout his life he influenced many and has left a tremendous legacy behind him. The life of Capone could not have been lead by a cowardly man. He was a mean heavy set man. (Hornung, Rick) Being involved in gangs all his life, by age eleven he was a member of a gang, committing vandalism and getting into fights. (Stockdale, Tom) The life of a gang member or mob man, made life always on the run, and made things extremely risky most of the time. Capone had to make a lot of decisions, and use his bravery to his advantage. The man was not afraid to confront other men even if the enemies held some type of gun or weapon. He was never intimidated, and often left the confronted people dead or forced to run away. One incident resulted in him earning the nickname Scarface. He was sliced 3 times with a knife, one cut from his ear to his mouth, one on his jaw, and the other on his neck. The cuts resulted in 30 stitches. This fight was caused by Capone insulting a man named Frank Gallucio a small time criminal, Capone was talking to Franks sister and said something about the Frank. Capone had no idea that the two were brother and sister. (Stockdale, Tom)Capone was a very smart business man. As a liquor bootlegger and mob leader, Capone was always forced to make vital decisions. The decisions he did make left him to be an extremely wealthy man, and also left his family very well off for years to come. Not saying that he lead an honest lifestyle, but he definitely made most of the right choices for the life he was trying to live. A man of his intelligence could have easily become wealthy by other means, but he was a risk taker and decided to try to make a living by stealing. When he joined his first gang, his life totally changed for some reason he liked the risks of being in a gang. Starting off committing petty crimes, and gradually taking part in bigger things. Al Capone was a very convincing leader, and gained much respect from many people, and led many followers. He became a very effective mob leader. The summer of 1930 found Detroit the center of attention in gang warfare described as bloody July, mostly members involved were of liquor smugglers that were followers of Capone. (Mason, Philip) Not only was he a good leader, but he was also a leader to people in his hometown. He was often generous enough to pick up bar tabs for an entire bar, donate money to charities, and help out whenever he could. (Stockdale, Tom) all of his money was dirty money all gained by illegal activities, but his home town still looked up to him, when he helped out. Practically a king of Chicago, directing and controlling all of Chicagos illegal activities from 1925-1931. (Stockdale, Tom) Being the good leader that he was his profits stacked up to well over a million dollars every year. (Allsop, Kenneth) He was such an important person in the mob community, Capon e was escorted by body guards, and travels around in bullet proof cars. (Stockdale, Tom) Because of his leadership, the man caused many killing to take place for example, February 1929 a hijacking of a shipment of expensive Canadian whiskey smuggles across the Detroit river enroot to Al Capones criminal empire in Cook County, Illinois. Resulting in a massacre now known as St. Valentines Day Massacre. (Mason, Philip) Capone was the fourth born amongst his brothers and sisters; he was born January 17, 1899. (Stockdale, Tom) Even though he wasnt born a leader he died a leader on January25, 1948.