A Rose for Emily

A Rose for Emily, is a fascinating story by William Faulkner that depicts the life of a woman who resorted to living in solitude and has surrounded herself with death.

The narration of Miss Emily is from a third person, “we” perspective, leading us to believe that a member of the community is narrating the story. It has to be an older man because he describes Emily’s life from the time she was young until her death. A man that is good at telling old tales or ghost stories.

In her later years Miss Emily was portrayed as a woman whose appearance shows the difficult times of her life. Each wrinkle has a different story. She is pale from confining herself to her home after being rejected by the man she loved. She was a tradition or an obligation to her community; a proud woman who would never ask for help and living for the past in an unrealistic society. Every town has a Miss Emily.

The setting of the story is Miss Emily’s house that has decayed with age. It was a large house with balconies and had once been a beautiful home in the neighborhood. However, like its owner, its age and lack of upkeep had caught up with it. The home was confining, dark and gruesome.

The theme of death is imminent in this story. First, it is the death of Miss Emily herself and the depiction of how the town has attended her funeral. The second instance is the death of Emily’s father, which brings about the reason that Colonel Sartoris forgave her from paying taxes. Yet after Colonel Sartoris has died, the tax issue comes about once again. Lastly, after the funeral was over and the town enters the prison like home, the body of Miss Emily’s love was found dead in his bedroom after she has passed away. A gray hair on the pillow beside him leads the audience to believe she had been sleeping with his dead body for quite some time.

I'm My Own Worst Enemy

Another drug test passed with flying colors! Now that I only had to take one test a week and never on the weekends, I am going to have no problem having a drink here and there. I fooled the drug court team so many times in the past, I have no doubt I can fool them again. They will never read Nancy's Literature Log at http://nkjennings.blogspot.com to catch my most current blog. Of course, my charismatic personality works every situation for me. I am going to make it through my probation this time because I have already spent two 90-day terms in prison and there is not going to be a third.

There goes my phone alarm, I need to call the drug testing hotline. Calling everyday is part of the program and stipulations of my probation. I have to submit to drug testing because of the drug court program. The various colors represent the stage of probation I have reached. I don't even know why I should call because I have already taken a test this week. The automated voice on the other end of the phone stated the colors for that days tests. His mundane voice said, "Teal, maroon, bronze and gold." You have to be kidding me, I thought, did he say gold?

Oh man, I better dial the number again to make sure I got it right. The voice repeated, "Teal, maroon, bronze, and gold." No, it couldn't be, I already took my test this week! I'm gold. Gold is only once a week. I know, I'll guzzle some water to flush the booze from my system.

I am driving to the drug testing center, I sure hope I don't pee. I feel like an overfilled water balloon. Is this what a woman feels like before she has an ultra sound? Sure glad I am a man. Well, here it goes, hope I drank enough water.

I made it to Friday and no phone calls yet. Just then my phone rang; it is my counselor, Ginger. Ginger and I had become good friends over the past several months. She has helped me so much, I hope I don't let her down. Okay, Ginger wants to talk to me before the weekly drug court session this afternoon. "Sure Ginger, I can meet you at the courthouse a little early." She must want to bounce some ideas for recovery off of me before presenting them to her other clients.

I began driving down Main Street to the courthouse. It makes me happy to think about how easy it is to fool the drug court team. Life is good. Ginger is on the front steps of the courthouse motioning for me to come sit with her on the bench. Now I am concerned, Ginger isn't her cheerful self. Her eyes are not smiling like they usually do. Oh I feel like a dinner bell just went off in my head as Ginger said, "Seth, your last drug test showed positive for alcohol."

My stomach fell to my knees. My smile faded away. "Seth, put your hands behind your back; you are being arrested for felony probation violation." It didn't take them long to search me and take my clothes away. Here I was again, entering the courtroom wearing an orange jumpsuit with shackled hands and feet. The sweat was pouring off my brow. The judge just said, “Seth, third strike buddy; you are out. Five years in the state prison. No possibility of parole.” I feel like someone just punched me in the stomach.

Too Much of a Good Thing

I received one vote in the "Best of the Best" competition for English 150.

Seth had great confidence that he had passed another drug test. Now that he only had to take one test a week and never on the weekends, he knew it would be a whole lot easier to time a drink here and there. Seth had deceived the drug court team in the past and certainly he was crafty enough to fool them again. A charismatic personality worked every situation for him. Seth was sure that he could make it through his probation this time because he had already spent two 90-day terms in the state prison and there was not going to be a third.

The alarm on Seth's phone reminded him that he needed to call to see if he had a drug test that day. Calling everyday was part of the program. He knew he would not have a test that day because he already had taken one for the week. Everyone who had to take drug tests was assigned a different color. The various colors represent the stage of the program that the criminal had obtained. Seth listened with a half ear to the automated voice on the other end of the phone as he read out the colors for that days tests, which included teal, maroon, bronze and gold. Did he say gold?

Seth called the number again, again the voice repeated, "Teal, maroon, bronze, and gold." He immediately started guzzling water to flush the booze from his system. By the time he reached the center for drug testing, Seth felt like an overfilled water balloon.

Friday morning Seth's phone rang; it was his counselor, Ginger. He and Ginger had become good friends over the past several months. She had helped him so much since he started seeing her. Ginger indicated that she wanted to talk to him before the weekly drug court session began that afternoon. She asked Seth to meet her at the courthouse a little early. Seth didn't think much about the call because Ginger loved bouncing ideas for recovery off of Seth before presenting them to her clients.

Seth began driving down Main Street to the courthouse. He had a smile on his face as he thought about how easy it was to fool the drug court team. Life was good. He met Ginger on the front steps of the courthouse and she motioned for him sit on the bench with her. Seth became concerned as he looked into Ginger’s eyes. They didn’t smile like usual. As Ginger spoke, her words rang through his head like a dinner bell, "Seth, your last drug test showed positive for alcohol."

Seth’s smile quickly faded away. Later that afternoon Seth entered the courtroom wearing an orange jumpsuit with shackled hands and feet while the sweat poured off his brow. As the judge brought the gavel down, Seth felt as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. He became Jello as he listened to the judge’s voice say, “Seth, third strike buddy; you are out. Five years in the state prison. No possibility of parole.”