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Research paper how to [|School Website NHS]

Blue ducks with yellow eyes. Alright so. Mrs. Tumlonsan told me to make my homepage my own. So I'm going to make it my own. THIS PAGE IS MINE! I'M CLAIMING IT!

Alright so here's a little bit about me. I like to play baseball. My favorite team is the Cardinals. Favorite football team- Falcons, yeah yeah Michael Vick kills dogs. Doesn't play for them anymore so ... (Picture provided by: []) <- This is my inspiration for my research paper! If it wasn't for this show, i would have never heard of Muncausen's Syndrome.

Everyone Is a Suspect June 3, 2009 I finally received a case. It is nothing interesting though. Just another serial killer in this small town in the middle of nowhere. It’s sad, but it happens so often in this town that I’m used to it. I’m actually surprised I got this case though. People seem to think I’m a bit off my rocker because I think the murderer could be anyone. Well I’ve been solving cases for thirty-five years. And when you’ve been a detective for that long you learn a few things. Like the fact that everyone is a suspect. June 7, 2009 We’ve discovered the suspect is a man. A witness said the suspect had chin stubble, a large, built body, and had a low voice. He’s killed seven people so far in the past week. One everyday. All of the killings were at night. A new body found every time the sun comes up. And the weird thing is, he outsmarts me and leaves no traces of DNA. I spent all that time in college studying forensics only to be stumped by some low-life criminal. June 12, 2009 Another person found dead. He was a friend of mine. Jared. We’ve known each other since high school. The killings have to stop. It was bad enough having people I don’t know killed. But now this was personal... Hmm... How cliché. June 16, 2009 Jared’s wife and three kids were found dead. In the morning. Like every other victim. This is getting out of hand. Why can’t I find any hair, fingerprints, blood, or anything from the killer at the scene of the crime?! How has this scum managed to stay in this city, kill without being noticed, caught on film, captured, or being killed? Not to mention the DNA situation… June 21, 2009 Whoever the killer is, he has a deep understanding of forensics and can break and enter easily (maybe even better than I can.) Not to mention he is stealthy and lurks in the shadows without being noticed. This is getting scary. Half the town has gone on “vacation” (running for their lives) or no longer exists. Driving through the small town, now empty, is ominous. From now on I refuse to let my family go out at night. June 23, 2009 I’m starting to find holes in my memory. I went out last night to investigate, but I can’t remember where I went or how I ended up in the woods, panting in my car. What is happening? Did I hit my head? Probably. Oh well, there are more important things to worry about right now. This problem will have to wait. I’m installing a better security system. The doors won’t open without a code and if they do manage to get open, a siren blares. I’ll be awake, gun in hand, before the murderer can blink. And the children will be sleeping in my room with the wife and I until this killing spree is ended. June 28, 2009 I don’t remember anything after leaving the house. That is until I found myself sobbing, holding my lifeless wife in my arms. She was going home late from work that night and I told her to be careful. How did this happen? Did I find her like this? Why can’t I remember anything? July 1, 2009 I finally got a picture of him. A red light camera (the only one in town) snapped a picture of him. Not the greatest quality. It only shows the side of his profile, wicked grin spread across his face. His fedora titled to the side, covering his eyes and hair. But other than that, he’s just wearing regular clothes. Nothing distinctive or special. Just normal. How can someone so messed up in the head be so… //normal…// July 3, 2009 I found myself getting excited as a found a fingerprint at the newest crime scene. But my hopes were eradicated when I found out it was my own. I must have left it by accident when looking for his finger print. Kind of ironic. Oh well, all I need is one mistake on his part and I can catch him. It will be ok. Everything will be alright. July 9, 2009 I found more holes in my memory. I went out last night (I can’t even remember why). The next thing I remember is coming home to my house to find the doors open. But no siren blaring. I thought I set the security system. I went inside and found both my sons dead (stabbed) and a knife sticking out of my daughter. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t look any longer, but I couldn’t move myself. All I could do was stare at the blade of the knife, looking at the intricate triangle etched into it. But it’s ok, it will all be over soon. He is coming for me next. I know it. Then all this madness will stop and I’ll be at peace. Or maybe I’ll even lose that memory too. Joseph Evans pushed the char to his desk in and closed the journal he had been writing for weeks. So much had happened in such a short period. He couldn’t live in this town anymore, all alone. No. The murderer would stay in the town until he won or died trying. So Joseph would fight to the end as well. “I need something to relax.” He announced to himself. Joseph grabbed the keys to his car and slammed his house door shut as he stepped out over the threshold. He stepped out into the dark, cool night. It was almost comforting. He loved the cold. Moments later, Joseph started his black 2008 Malibu and drove off into the night. He opened the dash and pulled out the marijuana he had purchased to relax. The marijuana was now in a black stone dish in the passenger seat. The sweet fumes filled the car. He inhaled deeply, oh this is just what he needed. Then there was nothing. Darkness consumed him. He woke up soon after, or had it been hours? How did he end up on the pavement next to his car? He looked around, his vision blurred. There was his house in the distance, doors open, inviting him in. Joseph stood up abruptly and yelled out in pain. “What the hell?” He yelled as he looked down and saw the knife with the intricate triangle protruding from his rig leg. He looked towards his open front door and saw him. The man maybe. The man with the hat and the wicked smile. Joseph chased the man into the house. He stepped inside and took the scene in. The house was a mess, furniture upturned everywhere, and the TV lay on the ground, broken and smoking. Joseph limped upstairs, trying to catch the man. He turned and flung himself into his room, looking for the man. He glanced to the left at the mirror as he stumbled in. And there he was, the man with the hat, in the mirror. Joseph spun around a fell because his leg wasn’t able to support him. Joseph’s eyes rolled around in his head, flying wildly across the room, frantically searching for the man. But he was no where. Joseph’s head snapped towards the right, towards the doorway of his room. There was a flicker of light not a moment before. Joseph stumbled out of the room and down the stairs, searching for the man. His mouth dry, his heart racing, and surprisingly, his muscles were relaxed. He felt strangely calm, like it had become a game of tag. He stopped dead in the middle of the torn up living room. In the middle of the floor was the fedora the man wore. Joseph crept towards it cautiously and picked it up. Glancing around to see where the man was. He had a strong urge to put the hat on, as if it was where it belonged. So he did. He turned and looked into the mirror and saw himself, with the hat, and a wicked smile. He blinked and saw the killer. Joseph smiled wickedly once more as the memories came to him, as the holes filled in. he had killed his own friends and family. He killed half the town. Joseph grinned and laughed a loud, barking laugh. The walked out of the house towards the car and sat in the front seat. They started the car and lit the marijuana once more. Joseph looked in the mirror and saw the man looking back at him. He smiled and laughed to himself once more, driving away from the town, towards the sunrise.

Chewbacca and morals; what do they have in common? Nothing, but it did not stop me from trying to put them together. Why did I put them together? I was not prepared; I had no information on whether or not it was morally acceptable to sacrifice one innocent live to save multiple other innocent lives. I felt stressed, worried, and stupid because I was unprepared for my first debate, which showed me I should not procrastinate. Middle school, I just barely got by. I did not even have to try and I managed A’s. I did all my homework during class (the day it was due), I wrote my papers the night before, projects were not done until the last possible minute. I loved it. I was getting by easily in middle school, why should high school be any different? I would soon find out how wrong I was. Here came high school. It was terrible, my grades jumped off a cliff and the anvil of procrastination was weighing them down. I paid many consequences. Consequences from being grounded due to missing assignments to feeling like a complete failure. High school was such a drastic change from middle school. However, at this time I was not worried, it would be okay, things would change. Somehow, I would manage, I always did. The day of my first in class debate. I would not manage. I sat in my desk, hoping my name wasn’t going to be called to go up and speak first. “Andrew you’re up!” The teacher’s voice said after she drew my name. “AWESOME!” I responded, the word awesome was covered, lathered, and dripping with sarcasm. “Ampy,” I whispered to my friend sitting next to me, “I have no intro, what do I say?!” He scribbled something down quickly on a piece of paper and handed it to me as I slowly got up. my stomach felt like a heavy rock was expanding inside of it, and there was already no room to begin with. I got up to the front of the class and looked at the paper. I read some nonsense about chewbacca. But i had nothing else and the class was watching. I had to say something. so i began, "Chewbacca-" I continued after Ampy interrupted with laughter, " Is a furry-" This time I was interrupted by my own laughter. I looked at the teacher feeling stupid and said, "I really don't have an intro, so i don't know what to say really..." "If you have nothing to say i guess we'll move on to questions." She responded. Great, now i get to be questioned about something i have no idea about. A girl in my class stupid up and said, " How does chewbacca related to the topic?" "MAGIC" I responded quickly, which got me a few laughs. Now i didn't feel quite so stupid. At this point in time i realized that Thoreau's words couldn't be any truer, " QUOTE" Things in high school weren't going to magically change, i had to change. I had to be the difference. The procrastination wasn't going to just stop on it's own. I had to do something about it.

“Things don’t change; we change” HDT “The world is but a canvas to our imagination.” – HDT

Rama, Odysseus, Gilgamesh, and even Buddy the Elf, can all be considered epic heroes. They all contain the typical epic hero traits and face many rigorous challenges that help them fall into the epic hero category. These heroes are similar but the heroes are especially similar in the epics // The Odyssey // and // The Ramayana //. Both epic heroes face many similar challenges, fight many battles, and receive help from gods. These things make both heroes epic, but Rama from // The Ramayana // displays traits that put him above average epic heroes such as Odysseus. Odysseus in // The Odyssey //