Value

    As Marc thought more and more about what the object's true worth was, he lost sense of the emotional value it had to him. He  figured it was as good a time as any to clean out his room and he took the bracelet and all the other junk to a pawner later in the week. Once there, the clerk examined the items carefully but seemed especially interested in the bracelet. Of course, this sparked Marc's interest as well, for it didn't look to have any value whatsoever. When the clerk offered Marc $100 for nothing but the bracelet, he was shocked. He turned down the offer, and instead turned his curiosity back to the bracelet, for it wasn't good then there's no need to offer him one hundred dollars for it. When he got home he put the bracelet back on the shelf where it always went, and searched the web for any news about the bracelet, but he didn't know where to start. That was, until, he looked on the inside of it.

Value

Marc Tetreault stumbled into his room after another tiring and demeaning day of work. As he looked around his room, he tried to find the validation for having a job. He tried quickly to think of reasons as to why he would "waste" such time, and couldn't seem to find anything in his room that would validate his purchases. Everything seemed expendable, he'd be fine with no money and no job. That was until he found the little bracelet on his bureau. Out of everything in the giant room, the one item he couldn't part without was the one that had the lowest value. Yet, it didn't have much sentimental value either. Except for the fact that ever since Marc could remember the bracelet had been his, and he wished to continue the trend. It felt like parting with a big part of him, his being and history. As it was, and Marc was soon going to learn of its history. Some may call it luck or destiny, but the feeling of an adventure was overwhelming.

E-Sports in Society

Anyone who stays at home and plays video games for fourteen hours a day, is heckled for it in the U.S.A. I, personally have been heckled and jeered at for playing video games. I still remember quite vividly in middle school being called a "video-game nerd" for "excessively" playing games that weren't popular with my peers. For example, I would love to play "Starcraft", a product of Blizzard and a real time strategy game. Nothing could sound more nerdy, and in general society looks down on a kid who sits at home and plays these games. Yet, little did I know, down in South Korea, nothing was more accepted. "Starcraft" was to South Korea as football is to the United States. As I stumbled across the internet and became friends with more people online, I realized there were millions of gamers similar to me. All these gamers, and of them I was probably the least skilled. Eventually, I found my brother's friends would be the ones to enlighten me as to the true scale of video games in society. I soon came to watch videos of professionals playing "Starcraft" in jam-packed stadiums, with screaming fans, and very excited commentators. It wouldn't take me long to learn that "Starcraft" was indeed the national sport of South Korea. At this very moment, a flood of ideas and possibilities broke like a flood into my mind. The best players in South Korea would be getting paid much more than the average worker there, and soon I came across other games as big as "Starcraft" in the world. I had found a group of people who believed these games to be sports, called e-sports. At first, the idea was ridiculous to me. As much as I loved these games, it wasn't a sport. Then, I learned why these "games" are indeed sports. The best player in Korea, put in fourteen hours of practice each day. He worked out, and stayed in the best of shape both mentally and physically. This player's name is Lee Jae Dong, and he was more fit than most athletes in any professional sport. I still could not comprehend how difficult the game was. Any athlete could be as fit as these men were, yet their mental abilities far surpassed anyone. These children, (commonly in their teens and twenties) were supporting their families. Their money depended on their tournament wins, so winning and losing meant everything to these kids. They would feel fatigue during every game and sensational pressure to do well, playing on a level that was insane. It became a fact that a foreigner could  not beat a Korean. Which held up approximately 99% of the time. Some of these players would top out their apm( actions per minute) at near six hundred or seven hundred. An action can be a click of the mouse or a click of the key, and every single click or key hit had a meaning. It performed another action in the giant army these players controlled.  Today e-sports are spreading everywhere. Yet, people still try to invalidate it and insist it is not a sport. Even though, these athletes put in more practice than most players of other sports. These players lose feeling in their hands, their eyes strain from staring into a bright light, and different strategies are constantly racing through their head, even when not near a game. Always anticipating the next trend, or how they're going to respond. E-sports are indeed sports, they require the practice any other sport does. The game is as much physical as any other sport, and it requires more mental prowess than any other sport. Still, the competition to be a professional is as fierce as it is in any other sport world-wide, maybe even harder. As e-sports becomes bigger and bigger in society, it is time people being to accept it and see the leagues for what they are: a true sports league.

Being Alive/Abortion

In America, according to our government, there is a fine line between when a human is living and when it is simply an embryo. The line being twenty-four weeks into pregnancy. It seems at this "magical" deadline that the being is now alive, because the government says so. Is it any different than it was before? It still doesn't have conscious thoughts, the embryo is still performing the necessary functions to live, and it's still inside the mother's stomach. Yet, suddenly it becomes "alive" and killing the embryo is now murder. What if it was killed twenty-three weeks into the pregnancy? Now, the killing of the embryo isn't a crime, but rather a simple abortion. It seems ridiculous that millions of people in America accept this idea. How is it possible for anyone to truly believe that simply because the being isn't outside the womb, that it isn't twenty-four weeks old yet, or that the being can't fend for itself, that it is any less alive than any human. Consider the idea that being alive doesn't mean having a conscious thought. For example, a baby that has been alive for one day, can't consciously think. We didn' process the world around us and react to it, rather instinct takes over. When the baby gets uncomfortable, it cries. When it's tried, it sleeps. The same level of thought occurs in the embryo, it lives off pure instinct. The being sleeps, poops, attains nutrients, and moves around. Yet, we can still kill it without it being murder. The being inside of the mother's womb, is a baby. That being is a baby that has simply not yet come outside yet. Killing the baby inside the womb is murder such as killing a one day old baby is murder. They are the same being, and it has a right to live. Never be persuaded by what you're told, think for yourself and make a difference in the murder of millions of innocent children.

America, The Land of the "Free?"

Once Zumbab made it to America,he was immediately sold to a family, which he had no idea of. He worked on a farm, and eventually he understood the idea of how the system worked. He needed to pick the plants off the stems, which was rough and often cut his hands. In exchange, he was given food and shelter. Albeit, he wasn't whipped or killed. The only way he learned to avoid the whip was to experience, something he dreadfully wished to avoid at all costs. So, Zumbab worked his life away on that farm. He had multiple children, not the way his tribe did though. It wasn't with one women, but many. Indeed, he lost nearly all sense of traditions from his own village. One remained, which was the passing down of the bracelet. So, he gave it to his oldest son, and the tradition continued for another three hundred years. From parent to offspring the bracelet was given, until today it sits on the bureau in Marc Tetreault's room.

The Path

    So, the bracelet was held as a keepsake forever. Passed down from mother to daughter, mother to son, father to daughter. Until the year was 1710, little did little Zumbab know, that his life was about to change forever. He was fishing on the coast of his homeland, when suddenly he felt the hard, crushing blow of  a rock fall over his head. When he woke, he found himself chained and surrounded by people looking the same as he did. He suddenly felt the pangs of hunger in his stomach, and the shrieks of his brethren scaring him. He tried to talk to them, but none understood him. Suddenly, the ceiling opened up from the dark room and light was let in. A white man, went around and fed all of the black slaves. The people jeered, shrieked, and cried, and in a second the last of the food was gone. Little kids had gone completely thin, and Zumbab was terrified. This is how he lived for two weeks, until the boat made it into shore in America.

The Creation

The year was nearly 1500, and the place was Africa. An intense war between two tribes was going on, the northern one trying to take the Pocotau's land. The leaders of the Pocotau was Takiri, and he had been struggling lately in his preparations for the upcoming battles. He had too many problems in his head, the safety of his family mainly, especially his beloved daughter Pocojan. The Northern tribe was coming fast and so Takiri prepared for what he well knew might be his last battle, he was old and weak. Yet, he knew he had to lead his people fiercely into battle and with a strong conviction in his heart. Before the battle, he went up and approached his only child, Takiri. He told her how much he loved her, and what she meant to him. He gave her a little rectangle made of different strings, and asked her to take this as a sign of his parental love. Then, he lead his troops into battle. He ended up winning the battle, and the war. Alas, he died at the very battle he gave the bracelet to his daughter. Now, it sits on a bureau, five hundred years in the present and long forgotten. Yet, its amazing history shall one day soon be revealed.

The Forgotten Keepsake

Almost every child and family in America can find some piece of junk lying around their house. The broken remote, the doll that's so dusty, or an old piece of art. Yet, so many people forget and don't appreciate these pieces for what they really bring to the table. So many people have no idea that the remote was used by his great great grandma on the very first television set. Or that the doll was cherished by so many kids throughout history, and now finds itself neglected in a cellar, unloved. So, sat on one bureau, a particular piece of art. Forgotten like most old toys passed down, it was a piece of blue and yellow plastic woven together to create a tight rectangle. At the end of it, four pieces of plastic emitted from the end, sticking out. And so the art sat, but its amazing and breathtaking history was unknown.

Personal Responsibility

Anyone who lives in America knows of the collapse of our banking industry. It seems every time we tune into the news someone is getting bailed out, some house is getting foreclosed, or the government is trying to do something to our debt ceiling. I believe on a depth of this knowledge, most of America understands what is happening, "it's bad", their answer would be. If you asked the average American who caused this problem, the most common answer would probably be the big bankers and the government. After all some huge banking industries are now getting sued for misrepresenting the quality of the mortgages sold during the housing bubble. So, as everyone can see the bulk of the responsibility lies upon the big bankers and the government. As such, many Americans are angry, that these two groups could mess up our entire financial system. Now, it needs to be fixed and again so many Americans feel the baking industries and government has yet again failed us.
      Yet, I feel we all have a personal responsibility to help fix the mess we're in. Many people may ask, what can I do to fix anything? They believe they can't do anything, the common conception is there is nothing we can do, so it's a waste of time to try. Well, I protest that view. The first and clearest step to me is to understand the mess we got in and how we got there. From there, the next step is education. We educate the public so we understand how we got where we are, and what we need to not do. Once the individual is educated, the steps the country needs to take will become so much clearer. Yet, there are still people who will argue this point? "Even if I educate myself, there's no way anyone else will, I'll still waste my time". That's what someone might say. Well, maybe I'll be an example for you. I try my best to educate myself on what is going on, so maybe I can have a valid view point when it comes to finding a solution. If you go and educate yourself, well I've impacted one person. Then, maybe you'' educate someone else, and we can keep the chain going. Hopefully, most of America will become alert to a personal responsibility they have, and we can all take action to make our own small difference.

News Swaying Opinions/ 9/11

How much of America will never forgot 9/11? I know personally it's a day and an event I'll never forget, I don't think it's possible to. Every so often you can turn on the discovery channel and there's a program on called "Remember 9/11", or you can occasionally will hear two people talking about walking down a hallway. 9/11 is fast approaching this year, and the television will be dominated by "remember 9/11 shows", and I'm not saying that this is wrong in any way. The people killed in 9/11 did not deserve it, and it was awful. Yet, while we admire and worship those who died, do we forget to worship the innocent on the other side?
              I do not blame any individuals, but I believe the lack of awareness sympathy is to be put on the shoulders of our news stations and governments. During the course of the Iraq War, there have been a reported 66,081 civilian casualties. That translates into one 9/11 every four months, for seven years. Some may argue it's not the news responsibility to glorify these Iraqi's deaths, after all we live in America. They deserve to be reported on as much as an American civilian dying, because the end result is just as sad. An innocent soul, whether it be a child or adult, was living his/her life, and suddenly killed. So, as 9/11 approaches, I urge you all to not only remember the poor souls who lost their lives at the twin towers, but also remember the all too forgotten Iraqi casualties, even if the news doesn't.