Is Macbeth responsible for his own downfall Essay

Macbeth is totally and exclusively answerable for his own defeat. He lead himself to overcome by tumbling to his deadly imperfections. Control, desire, and force improved of him making incredible inward unrest, and carrying him to a sudden end. From the earliest starting point Macbeth had the option to pick his own destiny. The second when he enthusiastically tuned in to the witches and said to them â€Å"Stay, you defective speakers, let me know more† shows that he accepted that what they are stating was critical to him. The enticing expressions of the witches predictions touched off a sparkle of voracious desire in him that he had not understood was there. This lead him to settle on his choice to follow their convincing words so despite the fact that they enticed him, it was his own aspiration that drove him to carry out the violations. Macbeth’s eager nature is indicated commonly all through the play. When the lord had made him Thane of Cawdor and the first â€Å"and great† obstacle had been survived, the chance of him having crown gets fixed in his mind.when he hears Malcolm has been articulated as the ruler beneficiary Macbeth admits to himself that he has â€Å"Black and Deep Desires†. He winds up fighting with his soul however when he says â€Å"I have no spike to prick the sides of my expectation yet just vaulting aspiration, which o’erleapes itself and falls on the other†Ã¢ it shows that he has no motivations to slaughter the lord but to satisfy his own desire. Macbeth’s excessively yearning journey for power spurs him to rashly end the life of the current ruler. In addition to the fact that Macbeth quests for power end the life of King Duncan, yet he keeps on killing for reasons unknown at all separated from vindictiveness. the malicious dictator that Macbeth has become is demonstrated when he designs alone to kill Lady Macduff and her kids. At this phase of the play Macbeth has lost all human sympathy and compassion so he barely cares about killing honest people. Had he halted at the primary homicide of lord Duncan he may have away with it however his hyper conduct turns everybody against him and can ultimatelyâ only prompt his own downfall. Before the finish of the play clearly a valiant Macbeth does not exist anymore. He experienced significantly his lethal defects: being essentially manipulability, aspiration and the feeling of intensity. Macbeth’s life reaches an unexpected conclusion, and nobody laments him. He passed on a dictator and a killer, every single through hello own deficiency.

Industry Analysis Breadtalk

Industry Analysis Future standpoint and patterns For its viewpoint, BreadTalk made arrangements for the China and territorial market and rising food cost. This is the biggest test for the Bakery business. BreadTalk will abbreviate the gracefully chain and purchasing in mass internationally for economies of scale. Shanghai is one of the model that BreadTalk have effectively guided utilizing solidified batter to capture rising work and rental expenses while keeping up the nature of our items. This is to energize that BreadTalk will investigate the chance of broadening this activity past Shanghai. The BreadTalk Transit model has likewise demonstrated to be a productive model for quick development and its potential we will be outfit to speed up development. For Market Trends, KFC, McDonald's, Long John Silver's and Pizza Hut were overwhelming the majority of the chains in the past in Singapore. Be that as it may, patterns have been changed for quite a long time. Nearby Brands were supplanted. BreadTalk controls 55% of Indonesia’s pastry shop market and it becomes mammoth establishments rule the Southeast Asia area. (Fresin Fries,2012) Analysis of contenders BreadTalk works in the exceptionally serious F&B industry which has near no obstructions to section. A portion of its rivals are built up players in the pastry shop and sweet shop businesses and may have more prominent money related and advertising assets. The section of new contenders into the equivalent F&B portions or into the prompt territories around the group’s retail outlets may influence its profit (CIMB Research Report,2009). Concentrating on fundamental contenders, the immediate contenders of BreadTalk outlets are nearby names, for example, Four Leaves and My Bread (CIMB Research Report,2009). Market division BreadTalk separates itself into three fragments: pastry kitchen, food court and café. The pastry kitchen section isn't just bread shop items however it incorporates the matter of assembling and retailing of a wide range of food likewise diversifying. For the administration and activity of food , beverages and beverages outlets are in the portion of food court. For working food and beverages outlets, eating houses and eateries are in eatery fragment (CorporateInformation. com, 2012). Industry figures According to CIMB Research Report in 2009, BreadTalk anticipated that its income should develop at 10-15% over from the year 2009-2011. It is no longer piece of the gathering after the removal of its 70%-possessed Twin Peak Venture Singapore Pte Ltd. BreadTalk expected benefit development to get to around 31% this year from the opening of new outlets in 2009 and lower crude material expenses. Its net benefit was anticipated CAGR of 29. 3% for 2009-2011. Portrayal of Venture Products and Services BreadTalk ® Group Limited runs 7 segments of items and administration. BreadTalk, the main area, keys as the pastry kitchen chain that has more than 1,000 unique sorts of pastry shop. While the Icing Room, second, sells a wide scope of cakes, baked goods and treats and carries with it a one of a kind suggestion of permitting clients to finish their own cakes. Third, Toast Box was created in 2005 as the coffeehouses during the 1960s and 70s age. It serves customary top choices, for example, nutty spread thick toast, mee siam, kaya toast and delicate bubbled eggs. Espresso and other hot refreshments are likewise arranged in the customary â€Å"pulled† style. Food Republic , fourth, offers a wide spread of nearby vendor and road food under one rooftop and in a cooled situation. Fifth, Din Tai Fung Din is known for the solid house claims to fame, for example, its ‘Xiao Long Bao’ (steamed pork dumplings). 6th, Carl’s Junior which is a cheap food chain offering delicious, premium-quality charbroiled burgers in western US. The last one, The Station Kitchen which is the group’s coordinated F&B idea for cafes, one of Singapore’s most recent clubbing problem areas (BreadTalk,2012). Size of business BreadTalk was established as F&B administrator in Singapore in 2000 and recorded on the SGX in 2003 and became BreadTalk ® Group Limited with worldwide staff quality of in excess of 6,000 workers, the Group has a system of more than 500 pastry shop outlets in 16 nations. It additionally works 13 Michelin Star Din Tai Fung eateries in Singapore and Thailand, just as more than 30 honor winning Food Republic food chamber in Singapore, China, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Taiwan and Thailand. (BreadTalk. com,2012). As indicated by SME grant winning for 2010 in Singapore, HSBC was the way to support the honor of SME along with DP Information Group, has raised the status of SMEs and business visionaries by recognizing their accomplishments. Precisely, Breadtalk Group Limited was accomplished Sales/Turnover Growth Excellence Award (HSBC. com,2012) Office hardware and work force The idea of Breadtalk is about the pastry kitchens with our unmistakable smooth and clean lines and mark ‘see-through' kitchens displaying the skill of our cooks. It likewise cause clients to feel recognizable and warm dear fellowships into its stores. Upbeat Chefs are the new characters of Breadtalk in various nationalities. The highlights of the stores are the bread show cases. It is removed like aspects of a precious stone, drawing out the newness like their gems †the newly prepared fragrant breads. The new stores likewise reproduce the climate of a companion's kitchen. Outfitted with new best in class pastry shop hardware imported from Germany, Spain and Japan, the taste, smell, quality and surface consistency of our breads are additionally upgraded. New staff regalia likewise naturally inviting bundling for all items complete the whole new look. The new idea stores will be turned out slowly in Singapore and abroad to additionally fortify a durable marking exertion (BreadTalk,2012) Background of business visionaries BreadTalk was consolidated in Singapore on 6 Mar 03 as a venture holding organization. Its foremost auxiliary, BreadTalk Pte Ltd, is a private constrained organization fused in Singapore on 24 Apr 2000. The gathering was established by its overseeing chief, Mr George Quek and Executive Director, Ms Katherine Lee. It was recorded on the SGX Catalist Board in 2003 (CIMB Research Report,2009). Brief For industry examination can be summed up into Market division of BreadTalk were partitioned itself into three fragments: pastry kitchen, food court and café which many subjected lines of the fundamental division. Investigation of contender from CIMB Research in 2009, the direct ompetitors of BreadTalk outlets are neighborhood names, for example, Four Leaves and My Bread Future viewpoint and patterns was arranged by BreadTalk to venture into China and provincial market and rising food cost. As it is the biggest test for the Bakery business. BreadTalk will abbreviate the gracefully chain and purchasing in mass all around for economies of scale. Industry figures was accounted f or by CIMB Research in 2009 that BreadTalk’s income developed as they expect and the net benefit was anticipated to grow up additional in 2009-2011. Depiction of Venture Items and Services of BreadTalk ® Group Limited can be assembled into 7 segments : BreadTalk keys as the pastry kitchen chain. The Icing Room sells a wide scope of cakes, cakes and treats and permitting clients to enrich their own cakes. Toast Box is the bistros during the 1960s and 70s age. Food Republic offers a wide spread of neighborhood peddler and road food with a cooled situation. Commotion Tai Fung is the sound house. Carl’s Junior is an inexpensive food chain offering succulent, premium-quality charbroiled burgers in western US. The last one, The Station Kitchen is the group’s incorporated F;B idea for burger joints. Size of business, BreadTalk was established as F;B administrator in Singapore in 2000 and recorded on the SGX in 2003 and became BreadTalk ® Group Limited and won SME grants from numerous organizations. Office hardware and work force were reestablish again with the idea of inviting kitchen , well disposed fellowship and the most perfect. Foundation of business people said in CIMB Research Report in 2009 that BreadTalk was consolidated in Singapore on 6 March 2003 as a venture holding organization. The gathering was established by Mr George Quek and Executive Director, Ms Katherine Lee. It was recorded on the SGX Catalist Board in 2003. Reference BreadTalk. com, 2012, Breadtalk Concept recovered 19 July, 2012 from http://breadtalk. listedcompany. com/idea. html Breadtalk. com, 2012, Business Review, recovered 19 July, 2012 from http://www. breadtalk. com/business-survey. html Fresin,F. , 2012, Fast Food Restaurant Business Plan, Market Segmentation, recovered 19 July, 2012 from http://www. bplans. com/fast_food_restaurant_business_plan/market_analysis_summary_fc. php#ixzz213vUZ1us CIMB Research Report, 2009, BreadTalk Group Limited, Main rivals, recovered 19 July, 2012 from http://breadtalk. listedcompany. com/misc/BreadTalk_Initiation. pdf CIMB Research Report, 2009, BreadTalk Group Limited,Background, recovered 19 July, 2012 from http://breadtalk. listedcompany. com/misc/BreadTalk_Initiation. pdf CorporateInformation. com, 2012, Breadtalk Group Ltd, recovered 19 July, 2012 from http://www. corporateinformation. com/Company-SnapShot. aspx? cusip=C702VL300;from=Manta HSBC. com , 2012, Industry Event , recovered 23 July,2012 from http://www. hsbc. com. sg/1/2/business/news-and-occasions/occasions/sme500

Mental Health Technicians Role in Patient Treatment

Mental Health Technician's Role in Patient Treatment Student Resources Careers Print What Is a Mental Health Technician? By Lisa Fritscher Lisa Fritscher is a freelance writer and editor with a deep interest in phobias and other mental health topics. Learn about our editorial policy Lisa Fritscher Updated on October 18, 2019 Tom Merton / Getty Images More in Student Resources Careers APA Style and Writing Study Guides and Tips Mental health techniciansâ€"also called psychiatric techniciansâ€"are key players of a mental health treatment team, working directly with patients who are coping with disabilities, illnesses, or addiction as well as physicians, psychiatrists, social workers, and counselors. There are various levels of certification, ranging from those with a high school diploma to people who have a bachelors degree plus work experience. Depending on your skill level and goals, you can determine your ideal position on a treatment team. Understanding the Role of a Mental Health Tech If you or someone you love is coping with a mental health issue, you may work with a mental health tech as part of an overall treatment plan. Mental health technicians are employed in a variety of settings, including outpatient mental health facilities as well as long-term care facilities for both adults and children. Mental health techs wear many hats, with responsibilities such as: Filling out admittance forms for new patientsLeading an individual or group therapy session or a psycho-educational group sessionAdministering prescribed medicationChecking vital signs and behavior patternsAssisting with the implementation of applied behavior analysisBeing available for patients who need to talk Theres no single treatment approach when it comes to mental health techs. Instead, the techs approach with patients most often reflects the philosophy of the facility at which theyre employed. This is because many mental health aides are psychology students and are legally required to be supervised by those with advanced degrees. Training to Become a Mental Health Tech In some jurisdictions, mental health techs need no particular education beyond a high school diploma. Traditionally, employers have provided classroom instruction and on-the-job training to develop the relevant skills. However, this is slowly changing. Many employers now require college coursework in psychology or social work. A few even require a bachelor’s degree. There are four levels of certification for mental health techs, according to the American Association of Psychiatric Technicians: Level 1: a high school diploma or GEDLevel 2: at least 480 hours of any kind of college or university courses, plus work in the field for at least one yearLevel 3: at least 960 hours of any kind of college or university courses, plus work in the field for at least two yearsLevel 4: a bachelors degree in a subject related to mental health or developmental disabilities, plus work in the field for at least three years As an entry-level position, the mental health tech generally has little opportunity for specialization. Instead, techs tend to choose the work locations that suit them best, from halfway houses to clinics. Techs may also choose to work in chemical dependency units or special-needs schools. Trying several different jobs can help guide you to further studies and specialized education. Regardless of certifications, excellent relationship skills and problem-solving abilities are essential. Mental health techs must be flexible, adaptable, and able to think quickly. And given the scope of work and population of people youll be meeting daily, its important to bring patience, compassion, and good listening skills to your role. Finding a Job as a Mental Health Tech Career opportunities for mental health technicians are growing. According to the U.S. Department of Labor, there were more than 138,000 mental health techs in 2018 and the number of jobs is expected to grow 12%â€"considered much faster than averageâ€"by 2028. In 2018, mental health techs made an annual median wage of $32,870, with the lowest 10% making less than $22,800 and the highest taking home more than $64,430. Working for a state government facilityâ€"excluding hospitals and schoolsâ€"was the most lucrative industry, followed by psychiatric and substance abuse hospitals and general medical and surgical hospitals. Mental Health Technician vs. Mental Health Aide Though the names may sound similar and they usually work in the same facilities, a mental health aide helps with more day-to-day tasks, including transportation, personal hygiene assistance like bathing, and working with the facility’s cook to prepare and serve meals. Aides typically require no more than a high school diploma or GED for the job, earning a median wage of $29,180. Whether you choose to go the technician or aide route, its important to keep in mind that many of these jobs are located in hospitals or 24-hour facilities, which could mean working weekends, nights, and holidays. 80 Psychology-Related Careers to Consider

The Factors That Contribute to the Restriction in Freedom...

CHAPTER 1 THE FACTORS THAT CONTRIBUTE TO THE RESTRICTION IN FREEDOM OF SPEECH AND INFORMATION IN MALAYSIA TOWARDS IUKLS LOCAL STUDENTS 1.1 Introduction Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers. (The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 19, 1948). Freedom of speech and information is the one of the rights to every people in the civilized nation. Freedom of speech and information can be describe as the freedom of each of the citizen to voice out their opinion in the appropriate way and gain the access to the useful information without any†¦show more content†¦Sociological: The un-expose to the information and knowledge has made the students unaware about the importance of the freedom of speech. Thus influence the interaction among them in their daily life. Duttons 2004 say: This publication argues for a fresh approach that moves beyond the limitations of the ‘information society concept that has been the most common way of signifying the broad, interconnected range of social and economic changes tied to ICTs. Rethinking access in the way proposed here opens a broader understanding of the term access in relation to ICTs than the traditional definition that referred primarily to physical access to ICT infrastructures, systems, and devices. It also widens the object of that access from information, as implied by the term ‘information society, to include people, services, and technologies. (p. 22) The restriction to the access of information has made the student unaware about the right to the freedom of speech and information. Thus, they will not make this as one of the topics of conversation in their daily life interactions. Legal: The restriction in term of laws and legislation for the freedom of speech and information among the students. All the treaties about human rights allow limitations on freedom of expression when national security is discussed. Again in almost all states where freedom of information is being

An Explanation of the Ideal Gas Law

The Ideal Gas Law is one of the Equations of State. Although the law describes the behavior of an ideal gas, the equation is applicable to real gases under many conditions, so it is a useful equation to learn to use. The Ideal Gas Law may be expressed as: PV NkT where:P absolute pressure in atmospheresV volume (usually in liters)n number of particles of gask Boltzmanns constant (1.38Â ·10−23 JÂ ·K−1)T temperature in Kelvin The Ideal Gas Law may be expressed in SI units where pressure is in pascals, volume is in cubic meters, N becomes n and is expressed as moles, and k is replaced by R, the Gas Constant (8.314 JÂ ·K−1Â ·mol−1): PV nRT Ideal Gases Versus Real Gases The Ideal Gas Law applies to ideal gases. An ideal gas contains molecules of a negligible size that have an average molar kinetic energy that depends only on temperature. Intermolecular forces and molecular size are not considered by the Ideal Gas Law. The Ideal Gas Law applies best to monoatomic gases at low pressure and high temperature. Lower pressure is best because then the average distance between molecules is much greater than the molecular size. Increasing the temperature helps because of the kinetic energy of the molecules increases, making the effect of intermolecular attraction less significant. Derivation of the Ideal Gas Law There are a couple of different ways to derive the Ideal as Law. A simple way to understand the law is to view it as a combination of Avogadros Law and the Combined Gas Law. The Combined Gas Law may be expressed as: PV / T C where C is a constant that is directly proportional to the quantity of the gas or number of moles of gas, n. This is Avogadros Law: C nR where R is the universal gas constant or proportionality factor. Combining the laws: PV / T nRMultiplying both sides by T yields:PV nRT Ideal Gas Law - Worked Example Problems Ideal vs Non-Ideal Gas ProblemsIdeal Gas Law - Constant VolumeIdeal Gas Law - Partial PressureIdeal Gas Law - Calculating MolesIdeal Gas Law - Solving for PressureIdeal Gas Law - Solving for Temperature Ideal Gas Equation for Thermodynamic Processes Process(Constant) KnownRatio P2 V2 T2 Isobaric(P) V2/V1T2/T1 P2=P1P2=P1 V2=V1(V2/V1)V2=V1(T2/T1) T2=T1(V2/V1)T2=T1(T2/T1) Isochoric(V) P2/P1T2/T1 P2=P1(P2/P1)P2=P1(T2/T1) V2=V1V2=V1 T2=T1(P2/P1)T2=T1(T2/T1) Isothermal(T) P2/P1V2/V1 P2=P1(P2/P1)P2=P1/(V2/V1) V2=V1/(P2/P1)V2=V1(V2/V1) T2=T1T2=T1 isoentropicreversibleadiabatic(entropy) P2/P1V2/V1T2/T1 P2=P1(P2/P1)P2=P1(V2/V1)−Î ³P2=P1(T2/T1)ÃŽ ³/(ÃŽ ³ − 1) V2=V1(P2/P1)(−1/ÃŽ ³)V2=V1(V2/V1)V2=V1(T2/T1)1/(1 − ÃŽ ³) T2=T1(P2/P1)(1 − 1/ÃŽ ³)T2=T1(V2/V1)(1 − ÃŽ ³)T2=T1(T2/T1) polytropic(PVn) P2/P1V2/V1T2/T1 P2=P1(P2/P1)P2=P1(V2/V1)−nP2=P1(T2/T1)n/(n − 1) V2=V1(P2/P1)(-1/n)V2=V1(V2/V1)V2=V1(T2/T1)1/(1 − n) T2=T1(P2/P1)(1 - 1/n)T2=T1(V2/V1)(1−n)T2=T1(T2/T1)

A Sorrowful Woman by Gayle Godwin Free Essays

â€Å"A Sorrowful Woman† by Gayle Godwin Once upon a time there was a wife and mother one too many times One winter evening she looked at them: the husband durable, receptive, gentle; the child a tender golden three. The sight of them made her so sad and sick she did not want to see them ever again. She told the husband these thoughts. We will write a custom essay sample on A Sorrowful Woman by Gayle Godwin or any similar topic only for you Order Now He was attuned to her; he understood such things. He said he understood. What would she like him to do? â€Å"If you could put the boy to bed and read him the story about the monkey who ate too many bananas, I would be grateful. † â€Å"Of course,† he said. Why, that’s a pleasure. † And he sent her off to bed. The next night it happened again. Putting the warm dishes away in the cupboard, she turned and saw the child’s grey eyes approving her movements. In the next room was the man, his chin sunk in the open collar of his favorite wool shirt. He was dozing after her good supper. The shirt was the grey of the child’s trusting gaze. She began yelping without tears, retching in between. The man woke in alarm and carried her in his arms to bed. The boy followed them up the stairs, saying, â€Å"It’s all right, Mommy,† but this made her scream. Mommy is sick,† the father said, â€Å"go and wait for me in your room. †    The husband undressed her, abandoning her only long enough to root beneath the eiderdown for her flannel gown. She stood naked except for her bra, which hung by one strap down the side of her body; she had not the impetus to shrug it of. She looked down at the right nipple, shriveled with chill, and thought, How absurd, a vertical bra. â€Å"If only there were instant sleep,† she said, hiccupping, and the husband bundled her into the gown and went out and came back with a sleeping draught guaranteed swift. She was to drink a little glass of cognac followed by a big glass of dark liquid and afterwards there was just time to say Thank you and could you get him a clean pair of pajamas out of the laundry, it came back today. The next day was Sunday and the husband brought her breakfast in bed and let her sleep until it grew dark again. He took the child for a walk, and when they returned, red-cheeked and boisterous, the father made supper. She heard them laughing in the kitchen. He brought her up a tray of buttered toast, celery sticks and black bean soup. â€Å"I am the luckiest woman,† she said, crying real tears. Nonsense,† he said. â€Å"You need a rest from us,† and went to prepare the sleeping draught, and the child’s pajamas, select the story for the night. She got up on Monday and moved about the house till noon. The boy, delighted to have her back, pretended he was a vicious tiger and followed her from room to room, growling and scratching. Whenever she came close, he would growl and scratch at her. One of his sharp little claws ripped her flesh, just above the wrist, and together they paused to watch a thin red line materialize on the inside of her pale arm and spill over in little beads. Go away,† she said. She got herself upstairs and locked the door. She called the husband’s office and said. â€Å"I’ve locked myself away from him. I’m afraid. † The husband told her in his richest voice to lie down, take it easy and he was already on the phone to call one of the babysitters they often employed. Shortly after, she heard the girl let herself in, heard the girl coaxing the frightened child to come and play. And now the sleeping draught was a nightly thing, she did not have to ask. He went down to the kitchen to mix it, he set it nightly beside her bed. The little glass and the big one, amber and deep rich brown, the flannel gown and the eiderdown. After supper several nights later, she hit the child. She had known she was going to do it when the father would see. â€Å"I’m sorry† she said, collapsing on the floor. The weeping child had run to hide. â€Å"What has happened to me. I’m not myself anymore. † The man picked her tenderly from the floor and looked at her with much concern. â€Å"Would it help if we got, you know, a girl in? We could fix the room downstairs. I want you to feel freer,† he said, understanding these things. We have the money for a girl. I want you to think about it. †Ã‚   The man put out the word and found the perfect girl. She was young, dynamic and not pretty. â€Å"Don’t bother with the room. I’ll fix it up myself. † Laughing, she employed her thousand energies. She painted the room white, fed the child lunch, read edifying books, raced the boy to the mailbox, hung her own watercolors on the fresh-painted walls, made spinach souffle, cleaned a spot from the mother’s coat, made them all laugh, danced in stocking feet to music in the white room after reading the child to sleep. She knitted dresses for herself and played chess with the husband. She washed and set the mother’s soft ash-blonde hair and gave her neck rubs, offered to. The girl brought the child in twice a day, once in the later afternoon when he would tell of his day, all of it tumbling out quickly because there was not much time, and before he went to bed. Often now, the man took his wife to dinner. He made a courtship ceremony of it, inviting her beforehand so she could get used to the idea. They dressed and were beautiful together again and went out into the frosty night. Over candlelight he would say, â€Å"l think you are better, you know. † â€Å"Perhaps I am,† she would murmur. â€Å"You look. . . like a cloistered queen,† he said once, his voice breaking curiously. One afternoon the girl brought the child into the bedroom. â€Å"We’ve been out playing in the park. He found something he wants to give you, a surprise. † The little boy approached her, smiling mysteriously. He placed his cupped hands in hers and left a live dry thing that spat brown juice in her palm and leapt away. She screamed and wrung her hands to be rid of the brown juice. â€Å"Oh, it was only a grasshopper. said the girl. Nimbly she crept to the edge of a curtain, did a quick knee bend and reclaimed the creature, led the boy competently from the room. â€Å"The girl upsets me,† said the woman to her husband. He sat frowning on the side of the bed he had not entered for so long. â€Å"I’m sorry, but there it is. † The hus band stroked his creased brow and said he was sorry too. He really did not know what they would do without that treasure of a girl. â€Å"Why don’t you stay here with me in bed,† the woman said. Next morning she fired the girl who cried and said, â€Å"l loved the little boy, what will become of him now? But the mother turned away her face and the girl took down the watercolors from the walls, sheathed the records she had danced to and went away. â€Å"I don’t know what we’ll do. It’s all my fault. I know I’m such a burden, I know that. †    â€Å"Let me think. I’ll think of something. † (Still understanding these things. )    â€Å"I know you will. You always do,† she said. With great care he rearranged his life. He got up hours early, did the shopping, cooked the breakfast, took the boy to nursery school. â€Å"We will manage,† he said, â€Å"until you’re better, however long that is. He did his work, collected the boy from the school, came home and made the supper, washed the dishes, got the child to bed. He managed everything. One evening, just as she was on the verge of swallowing her draught, there was a timid knock on her door. The little boy came in wearing his pajamas. â€Å"Daddy has fallen asleep o n my bed and I can’t get in. There’s not room. †    Very sedately she left her bed and went to the child’s room. Things were much changed. Books were rearranged, toys. He’d done some new drawings. She came as a visitor to her son’s room, wakened the father and helped him to bed. Ah, he shouldn’t have bothered you,† said the man, leaning on his wife. â€Å"I’ve told him not to. † He dropped into his own bed and fell asleep with a moan. Meticulously she undressed him. She folded and hung his clothes. She covered his body with the bedclothes. She clicked off the light that shone in his face. The next day she moved her things into the girl’s white room. She put her hairbrush on the dresser; she put a note pad and pen beside the bed. She stocked the little room with cigarettes, books, bread and cheese. She didn’t need much. At first the husband was dismayed. But he was receptive to her needs. He understood these things. â€Å"Perhaps the best thing is for you to follow it through. † he said. â€Å"I want to be big enough to contain whatever you must do. †    The woman now spent her winter afternoons in the big bedroom. She made a fire in the hearth and put on slacks and an old sweater she had loved at school, and sat in the big chair and stared out the window at snow-ridden branches, or went away into long novels about other people moving through other winters. All day long she stayed in the white room. She was a young queen, a virgin in a tower; she was the previous inhabitant, the girl with all the energies. She tried these personalities on like costumes, then discarded them. The room had a new view of streets she’d never seen that way before. The sun hit the room in late afternoon and she took to brushing her hair in the sun. One day she decided to write a poem. â€Å"Perhaps a sonnet. † She took up her pen and pad and began working from words that had lately lain in her mind. She had choices for the sonnet, ABAB or ABBA for a start. She pondered these possibilities until she tottered into a larger choice: she did not have to write a sonnet. Her poem could be six, eight, ten, thirteen lines, it could be any number of lines, and it did not even have to rhyme. She put down the pen on top of the pad. In the evenings, very briefly she saw the two of them. They knocked on her door, a big knock and a little, and she would call Come in, and the husband would smile though he looked a bit tired, yet somehow this tiredness suited him. He would put her sleeping draught on the bedside table and say, â€Å"The boy and I have done all right today,† and the child would kiss her. One night she tasted for the first time the power of his baby spit. I don’t think I can see him anymore,† she whispered sadly to the man. And the husband turned away but recovered admirably and said, â€Å"Of course, I see. †    So the husband came alone. â€Å"I have explained to the boy,† he said. â€Å"And we are doing fine. We are managing. † He squeezed his wife’s pale arm and put the two glasses on her tab le. After he had gone, she sat looking at the arm. â€Å"I’m afraid it’s come to that,† she said. â€Å"Just push the notes under the door; I’ll read them. And don’t forget to leave the draught outside. †    The man sat for a long time with his head in his hands. Then he rose and went away from her. She heard him in the kitchen where he mixed the draught in batches now to last a week at a time, storing it in a corner of the cupboard. She heard him come back, leave the big glass and the little one outside on the door. Outside her window the snow was melting from the branches, there were more people on the streets. She brushed her hair a lot and seldom read anymore. She sat in her window and brushed her hair for hours, and saw a boy fall off his new bicycle again and again, a dog chasing a squirrel, an old woman peek slyly over her shoulder and then extract a parcel from a garbage can. In the evening she read the notes they slipped under her door. The child could not write, so he drew and sometimes painted his. The notes were painstaking at first; the man and boy offering the final strength of their day to her. But sometimes, when they seemed to have had a bad day there were only hurried scrawls. One night, when the husband’s note had been extremely short, loving but short, and there had been nothing from the boy, she stole out of her room as she often did to get more supplies, but crept upstairs instead and stood outside their doors, listening to the regular breathing of the man and boy asleep. She hurried back to her room and drank the draught. She woke earlier now. It was spring, there were birds. She listened for sounds of the man and the boy eating breakfast; she listened for the roar of the motor when they drove away. One beautiful noon, she went out to look at her kitchen in the daylight. Things were changed. He had bought some new dish towels. Had the old ones worn out? The canisters seemed closer to the sink. She inspected the cupboard and saw new things among the old. She got out flour, baking powder, salt, milk (he ought a different brand of butter), and baked a loaf of bread and left it cooling on the table. The force of the two joyful notes slipped under her door that evening pressed her into the corner of the little room; she had hardly space to breathe. As soon as possible, she drank the draught. Now the days were too short. She was always busy. She woke with the first bird. Worked till the sun set. No time for hair brushing. Her fingers raced the hours. Final ly, in the nick of time, it was finished one late afternoon. Her veins pumped and her forehead sparkled. She went to the cupboard, took what was hers, closed herself into the little white room and brushed her hair for awhile. The man and boy came home and found five loaves of warm bread, a roast stuffed turkey, a glazed ham, three pies of different fillings, eight molds of the boy’s favorite custard, two weeks supply of fresh-laundered sheets and shirts and towels, two hand-knitted sweaters (both of the same grey color), a sheath of marvelous watercolor beasts accompanied by mad and fanciful stories nobody could ever make up again, and a tablet full of love sonnets addressed to the man. The house smelled redolently of renewal and spring. The man ran to the little room, could not contain himself to knock, flung back the door. â€Å"Look, Mommy is sleeping,† said the boy. â€Å"She’s tired from doing all our things again. † He dawdled in a stream of the last sun for that day and watched his father roll tenderly back her eyelids, lay his ear softly to her breast, test the delicate bones of her wrist. The father put down his face into her fresh-washed hair. â€Å"Can we eat the turkey for supper? † the boy asked. How to cite A Sorrowful Woman by Gayle Godwin, Essay examples

A Sorrowful Woman by Gayle Godwin Free Essays

â€Å"A Sorrowful Woman† by Gayle Godwin Once upon a time there was a wife and mother one too many times One winter evening she looked at them: the husband durable, receptive, gentle; the child a tender golden three. The sight of them made her so sad and sick she did not want to see them ever again. She told the husband these thoughts. We will write a custom essay sample on A Sorrowful Woman by Gayle Godwin or any similar topic only for you Order Now He was attuned to her; he understood such things. He said he understood. What would she like him to do? â€Å"If you could put the boy to bed and read him the story about the monkey who ate too many bananas, I would be grateful. † â€Å"Of course,† he said. Why, that’s a pleasure. † And he sent her off to bed. The next night it happened again. Putting the warm dishes away in the cupboard, she turned and saw the child’s grey eyes approving her movements. In the next room was the man, his chin sunk in the open collar of his favorite wool shirt. He was dozing after her good supper. The shirt was the grey of the child’s trusting gaze. She began yelping without tears, retching in between. The man woke in alarm and carried her in his arms to bed. The boy followed them up the stairs, saying, â€Å"It’s all right, Mommy,† but this made her scream. Mommy is sick,† the father said, â€Å"go and wait for me in your room. †    The husband undressed her, abandoning her only long enough to root beneath the eiderdown for her flannel gown. She stood naked except for her bra, which hung by one strap down the side of her body; she had not the impetus to shrug it of. She looked down at the right nipple, shriveled with chill, and thought, How absurd, a vertical bra. â€Å"If only there were instant sleep,† she said, hiccupping, and the husband bundled her into the gown and went out and came back with a sleeping draught guaranteed swift. She was to drink a little glass of cognac followed by a big glass of dark liquid and afterwards there was just time to say Thank you and could you get him a clean pair of pajamas out of the laundry, it came back today. The next day was Sunday and the husband brought her breakfast in bed and let her sleep until it grew dark again. He took the child for a walk, and when they returned, red-cheeked and boisterous, the father made supper. She heard them laughing in the kitchen. He brought her up a tray of buttered toast, celery sticks and black bean soup. â€Å"I am the luckiest woman,† she said, crying real tears. Nonsense,† he said. â€Å"You need a rest from us,† and went to prepare the sleeping draught, and the child’s pajamas, select the story for the night. She got up on Monday and moved about the house till noon. The boy, delighted to have her back, pretended he was a vicious tiger and followed her from room to room, growling and scratching. Whenever she came close, he would growl and scratch at her. One of his sharp little claws ripped her flesh, just above the wrist, and together they paused to watch a thin red line materialize on the inside of her pale arm and spill over in little beads. Go away,† she said. She got herself upstairs and locked the door. She called the husband’s office and said. â€Å"I’ve locked myself away from him. I’m afraid. † The husband told her in his richest voice to lie down, take it easy and he was already on the phone to call one of the babysitters they often employed. Shortly after, she heard the girl let herself in, heard the girl coaxing the frightened child to come and play. And now the sleeping draught was a nightly thing, she did not have to ask. He went down to the kitchen to mix it, he set it nightly beside her bed. The little glass and the big one, amber and deep rich brown, the flannel gown and the eiderdown. After supper several nights later, she hit the child. She had known she was going to do it when the father would see. â€Å"I’m sorry† she said, collapsing on the floor. The weeping child had run to hide. â€Å"What has happened to me. I’m not myself anymore. † The man picked her tenderly from the floor and looked at her with much concern. â€Å"Would it help if we got, you know, a girl in? We could fix the room downstairs. I want you to feel freer,† he said, understanding these things. We have the money for a girl. I want you to think about it. †Ã‚   The man put out the word and found the perfect girl. She was young, dynamic and not pretty. â€Å"Don’t bother with the room. I’ll fix it up myself. † Laughing, she employed her thousand energies. She painted the room white, fed the child lunch, read edifying books, raced the boy to the mailbox, hung her own watercolors on the fresh-painted walls, made spinach souffle, cleaned a spot from the mother’s coat, made them all laugh, danced in stocking feet to music in the white room after reading the child to sleep. She knitted dresses for herself and played chess with the husband. She washed and set the mother’s soft ash-blonde hair and gave her neck rubs, offered to. The girl brought the child in twice a day, once in the later afternoon when he would tell of his day, all of it tumbling out quickly because there was not much time, and before he went to bed. Often now, the man took his wife to dinner. He made a courtship ceremony of it, inviting her beforehand so she could get used to the idea. They dressed and were beautiful together again and went out into the frosty night. Over candlelight he would say, â€Å"l think you are better, you know. † â€Å"Perhaps I am,† she would murmur. â€Å"You look. . . like a cloistered queen,† he said once, his voice breaking curiously. One afternoon the girl brought the child into the bedroom. â€Å"We’ve been out playing in the park. He found something he wants to give you, a surprise. † The little boy approached her, smiling mysteriously. He placed his cupped hands in hers and left a live dry thing that spat brown juice in her palm and leapt away. She screamed and wrung her hands to be rid of the brown juice. â€Å"Oh, it was only a grasshopper. said the girl. Nimbly she crept to the edge of a curtain, did a quick knee bend and reclaimed the creature, led the boy competently from the room. â€Å"The girl upsets me,† said the woman to her husband. He sat frowning on the side of the bed he had not entered for so long. â€Å"I’m sorry, but there it is. † The hus band stroked his creased brow and said he was sorry too. He really did not know what they would do without that treasure of a girl. â€Å"Why don’t you stay here with me in bed,† the woman said. Next morning she fired the girl who cried and said, â€Å"l loved the little boy, what will become of him now? But the mother turned away her face and the girl took down the watercolors from the walls, sheathed the records she had danced to and went away. â€Å"I don’t know what we’ll do. It’s all my fault. I know I’m such a burden, I know that. †    â€Å"Let me think. I’ll think of something. † (Still understanding these things. )    â€Å"I know you will. You always do,† she said. With great care he rearranged his life. He got up hours early, did the shopping, cooked the breakfast, took the boy to nursery school. â€Å"We will manage,† he said, â€Å"until you’re better, however long that is. He did his work, collected the boy from the school, came home and made the supper, washed the dishes, got the child to bed. He managed everything. One evening, just as she was on the verge of swallowing her draught, there was a timid knock on her door. The little boy came in wearing his pajamas. â€Å"Daddy has fallen asleep o n my bed and I can’t get in. There’s not room. †    Very sedately she left her bed and went to the child’s room. Things were much changed. Books were rearranged, toys. He’d done some new drawings. She came as a visitor to her son’s room, wakened the father and helped him to bed. Ah, he shouldn’t have bothered you,† said the man, leaning on his wife. â€Å"I’ve told him not to. † He dropped into his own bed and fell asleep with a moan. Meticulously she undressed him. She folded and hung his clothes. She covered his body with the bedclothes. She clicked off the light that shone in his face. The next day she moved her things into the girl’s white room. She put her hairbrush on the dresser; she put a note pad and pen beside the bed. She stocked the little room with cigarettes, books, bread and cheese. She didn’t need much. At first the husband was dismayed. But he was receptive to her needs. He understood these things. â€Å"Perhaps the best thing is for you to follow it through. † he said. â€Å"I want to be big enough to contain whatever you must do. †    The woman now spent her winter afternoons in the big bedroom. She made a fire in the hearth and put on slacks and an old sweater she had loved at school, and sat in the big chair and stared out the window at snow-ridden branches, or went away into long novels about other people moving through other winters. All day long she stayed in the white room. She was a young queen, a virgin in a tower; she was the previous inhabitant, the girl with all the energies. She tried these personalities on like costumes, then discarded them. The room had a new view of streets she’d never seen that way before. The sun hit the room in late afternoon and she took to brushing her hair in the sun. One day she decided to write a poem. â€Å"Perhaps a sonnet. † She took up her pen and pad and began working from words that had lately lain in her mind. She had choices for the sonnet, ABAB or ABBA for a start. She pondered these possibilities until she tottered into a larger choice: she did not have to write a sonnet. Her poem could be six, eight, ten, thirteen lines, it could be any number of lines, and it did not even have to rhyme. She put down the pen on top of the pad. In the evenings, very briefly she saw the two of them. They knocked on her door, a big knock and a little, and she would call Come in, and the husband would smile though he looked a bit tired, yet somehow this tiredness suited him. He would put her sleeping draught on the bedside table and say, â€Å"The boy and I have done all right today,† and the child would kiss her. One night she tasted for the first time the power of his baby spit. I don’t think I can see him anymore,† she whispered sadly to the man. And the husband turned away but recovered admirably and said, â€Å"Of course, I see. †    So the husband came alone. â€Å"I have explained to the boy,† he said. â€Å"And we are doing fine. We are managing. † He squeezed his wife’s pale arm and put the two glasses on her tab le. After he had gone, she sat looking at the arm. â€Å"I’m afraid it’s come to that,† she said. â€Å"Just push the notes under the door; I’ll read them. And don’t forget to leave the draught outside. †    The man sat for a long time with his head in his hands. Then he rose and went away from her. She heard him in the kitchen where he mixed the draught in batches now to last a week at a time, storing it in a corner of the cupboard. She heard him come back, leave the big glass and the little one outside on the door. Outside her window the snow was melting from the branches, there were more people on the streets. She brushed her hair a lot and seldom read anymore. She sat in her window and brushed her hair for hours, and saw a boy fall off his new bicycle again and again, a dog chasing a squirrel, an old woman peek slyly over her shoulder and then extract a parcel from a garbage can. In the evening she read the notes they slipped under her door. The child could not write, so he drew and sometimes painted his. The notes were painstaking at first; the man and boy offering the final strength of their day to her. But sometimes, when they seemed to have had a bad day there were only hurried scrawls. One night, when the husband’s note had been extremely short, loving but short, and there had been nothing from the boy, she stole out of her room as she often did to get more supplies, but crept upstairs instead and stood outside their doors, listening to the regular breathing of the man and boy asleep. She hurried back to her room and drank the draught. She woke earlier now. It was spring, there were birds. She listened for sounds of the man and the boy eating breakfast; she listened for the roar of the motor when they drove away. One beautiful noon, she went out to look at her kitchen in the daylight. Things were changed. He had bought some new dish towels. Had the old ones worn out? The canisters seemed closer to the sink. She inspected the cupboard and saw new things among the old. She got out flour, baking powder, salt, milk (he ought a different brand of butter), and baked a loaf of bread and left it cooling on the table. The force of the two joyful notes slipped under her door that evening pressed her into the corner of the little room; she had hardly space to breathe. As soon as possible, she drank the draught. Now the days were too short. She was always busy. She woke with the first bird. Worked till the sun set. No time for hair brushing. Her fingers raced the hours. Final ly, in the nick of time, it was finished one late afternoon. Her veins pumped and her forehead sparkled. She went to the cupboard, took what was hers, closed herself into the little white room and brushed her hair for awhile. The man and boy came home and found five loaves of warm bread, a roast stuffed turkey, a glazed ham, three pies of different fillings, eight molds of the boy’s favorite custard, two weeks supply of fresh-laundered sheets and shirts and towels, two hand-knitted sweaters (both of the same grey color), a sheath of marvelous watercolor beasts accompanied by mad and fanciful stories nobody could ever make up again, and a tablet full of love sonnets addressed to the man. The house smelled redolently of renewal and spring. The man ran to the little room, could not contain himself to knock, flung back the door. â€Å"Look, Mommy is sleeping,† said the boy. â€Å"She’s tired from doing all our things again. † He dawdled in a stream of the last sun for that day and watched his father roll tenderly back her eyelids, lay his ear softly to her breast, test the delicate bones of her wrist. The father put down his face into her fresh-washed hair. â€Å"Can we eat the turkey for supper? † the boy asked. How to cite A Sorrowful Woman by Gayle Godwin, Essay examples