Weve been there, too.

We’ve been there, too. Now playing: Video Killed the Radio Star by The Buggles It was a Thursday afternoon in New York City. It was also mid-December, so afternoon was code for depressingly early sunset. After a lot of writing and rewriting and fretting around my application to MIT, I managed to have it submitted in time for the EA deadline. Somehow, I managed to distract myself for the agonizing six weeks following October 31. And then, I got this email: Now playing: O Valencia! by The Decemberists I havent really talked about this yet in my blog posts, but I have had a longish relationship with stress. When I was younger, I had what could be described as hypnophobiaâ€"fear of sleep. In particularly bad bouts, Id freak myself out about something, then try to force myself not to think about it, then fail, then freak out more, and rinse/repeat  ad nauseam. The symptoms still feel exceedingly real to me, despite the fact that I havent had a panic attack on that scale in years: the bottom of my gut would drop out, Id hallow out, my teeth would chatter, and this dread of just wanting the panic to end would sink in and make my skin crawl. I had had enough panic attacks by the time senior year of high school rolled around that I wasnt looking forward to college decisions season. To my surprise, touring the assorted campuses turned out better than expected: I was a bit fixated on MIT by this point, andâ€" No, hold up. Thats a lie. I was kind of a lot fixated. And I was able to keep it under the surface, until I got that email the week before decisions. I remember my stomach threatening to drop characteristically as I read it. And oddly, I dont really remember much else of that week, other than a general sense of terror-excitement. Now playing: The Troubadour by Tom Chapin   Which brings me back to that Thursday afternoon. The day had been fairly normal so far, if unfocused: my Google Calendar tells me that I had double English in the morning, so we were probably discussing Ron Padgetts poetry in Mr. Zavatskys class. My brain was a little more focused on the countdown to 9PM. As the day ended, I called home, and my mom reminded me that I had an appointment downtownI was supposed to have an Educational Counselor interview for another college. I feel kind of bad now, thinking back: I was in the completely wrong frame of mind to talk about why I was interested in Foobar University. Oh well. By the time I got out of the interview, it was about 6:00. I was in Midtown, meaning that I was surrounded by holiday lights and displays everywhere I looked. As a New Yorker, I have some desire to avoid tourist traps through the boroughs, but for some reason this was the night on which I would allow myself to be captivated by the skyscrapers I took for granted any other time. I took a breath. The air was crisp, and as I inhaled I felt a strand of my anxiety slip away. For a second, my gut wasnt churning with worry-anticipation. And so I decided to get a bit more of this fresh air, and called my parents to say Id be walking home. I then shut off my phone, and was alone in the city. Now playing: Village Green Preservation Society by Kate Rusby Manhattans famous rectilnear grid is thanks to the Commissioners Plan of 1811. One quirk of the layout is that the streets are 60ft wide (about a dozen running crosstown are 100ft wide), and the blocks (running uptown-downtown) are about 200ft. Thus, walking twenty blocks means covering almost precisely a mile; furthermore, people walk at close to three miles per hour, or sixty blocks per hour, or (more usefully) a block per minute. From this, you can quickly work out walking times to most places in NYC. I did this mental math and worked out that Id get home with plenty of time to spare. As I started walking, I realized that I was wishing for a soundtrack of some sort. Thats when I remembered one of the 50 Things: 3. In college more than ever before, songs will attach themselves to memories. Every month or two, make a mix cd, mp3 folder, whatever just make sure you keep copies of these songs. Ten years out, theyll be as effective as a journal in taking you back to your favorite moments. I gave it a shot, standing on a streetcorner, adding a bunch of songs to an iPod playlist called On the Go 5â€"which I later renamed to 2010-12-16. Hitting shuffle completed my isolation, and I then resumed my walk home among the throngs of window-shoppers. Now playing: Dont Download This Song by Weird Al It was dark and cold, but my head was clear. I remember talking over scenarios with myself, and what each meant for me. And by the time I reached my front door, I had come to peace with the decision process. The decisions had already been made, and my being anxious about them wasnt going to change that. For the first time in a while, I was facing a stressful situation without the company of a knotted stomach and chattering teeth. If youre sitting there, reading this with something between butterflies and hornets, I encourage you to stand up, shut off your communication devices, make a playlist, and go out for a long walk. Your air may not be as crisp, and your decisions are released earlier than ours were, but Im willing to bet that some fresh air and a fresh perspective would do you some good. And if you feel up to it, I hope you try making a 2014-12-13 playlist. Youll want to reflect on the application process in the future. And breathe. Slow inhale on a count of four, hold for a count of four, exhale on a count of four. Repeat twice more. Youre gonna be okay. -Danny, while listening to his 2010-12-16 playlist

Effects Of Hydroxyurea On People With Sickle Cell Anaemia

Social: Hydroxyurea can cause: excessive tiredness or weakness; fast heartbeat; shortness of breath; on-going pain that begins in the stomach area and swelling. The symptoms associated with hydroxyurea can affect many sufferers in a negative way and lead to a poorer quality of life. The symptoms can lead to depression and emotional distress. In some cases, the symptoms may require hospitalization. As people with sickle cell anaemia are more susceptible to infections, for this reason they may be required to avoid crowded places and some social situations. Anxiety and depression can lead to feelings of helplessness, sadness and loneliness, which can keep patients isolated. Sufferers will then find it hard to just do normal necessary activities such as shopping and communicating with families and friends, especially when â€Å"41% of sufferers ages 18 to 30 who are hospitalized in acute care end up re-hospitalized within 30 days† [17]. In addition, sufferers will persistently hav e to visit the GP regularly so they can monitor their health and this can be very time consuming. Economic: Hydroxyurea is very expensive in individuals who suffer from sickle cell anaemia. When treating sickle cell disease the total cost varied from about $10,704 for children aged 0-9 years to about $34,266 for people age 30-39 in 2004. The major reason why the price varies is due to the age and weight of the patient. Generally the younger the patient is, the cheaper hydroxyurea is. Because Hydroxyurea isShow MoreRelatedSickle And Cell Anaemi What Is The Disorder?2470 Words   |  10 PagesWhat is the disorder? Sickle Cell Anaemia. What is sickle cell anemia? Sickle cell anaemia (sickle cell disease) is a disorder of the blood caused by an inherited abnormal hemoglobin (the iron-rich protein that carries oxygen from your lungs to the rest of the body). Hemoglobin is the main substance of the red blood cell. It helps red blood cells carry oxygen from the air in our lungs and releases the oxygen to all parts of the body. From this, normal red blood cells are flexible and round, movingRead MoreA Study On Sickle Cell Anemia868 Words   |  4 Pages Sickle Cell Anemia The gene or chromosome that is affected? The haemoglobin atom has combine parts: an alpha and a beta. Patients with reference to sickle cell suffering take on a variation in a gene on chromosome 11 that codes for the beta subunit of the haemoglobin protein. As an answer, hemoglobin molecules don t display suitably, causing red blood cells to be stiff and take on a concave shape (like a sickle used to trim wheat). These adequate shaped cells get hooked in the blood vessels and

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A Game of Thrones Chapter Twelve Free Essays

string(100) " anxious to earn a royal pardon that would allow him to return from exile,† Robert explained\." Eddard The summons came in the hour before the dawn, when the world was still and grey. Alyn shook him roughly from his dreams and Ned stumbled into the predawn chill, groggy from sleep, to find his horse saddled and the king already mounted. Robert wore thick brown gloves and a heavy fur cloak with a hood that covered his ears, and looked for all the world like a bear sitting a horse. We will write a custom essay sample on A Game of Thrones Chapter Twelve or any similar topic only for you Order Now â€Å"Up, Stark!† he roared. â€Å"Up, up! We have matters of state to discuss.† â€Å"By all means,† Ned said. â€Å"Come inside, Your Grace.† Alyn lifted the flap of the tent. â€Å"No, no, no,† Robert said. His breath steamed with every word. â€Å"The camp is full of ears. Besides, I want to ride out and taste this country of yours.† Ser Boros and Ser Meryn waited behind him with a dozen guardsmen, Ned saw. There was nothing to do but rub the sleep from his eyes, dress, and mount up. Robert set the pace, driving his huge black destrier hard as Ned galloped along beside him, trying to keep up. He called out a question as they rode, but the wind blew his words away, and the king did not hear him. After that Ned rode in silence. They soon left the kingsroad and took off across rolling plains dark with mist. By then the guard had fallen back a small distance, safely out of earshot, but still Robert would not slow. Dawn broke as they crested a low ridge, and finally the king pulled up. By then they were miles south of the main party. Robert was flushed and exhilarated as Ned reined up beside him. â€Å"Gods,† he swore, laughing, â€Å"it feels good to get out and ride the way a man was meant to ride! I swear, Ned, this creeping along is enough to drive a man mad.† He had never been a patient man, Robert Baratheon. â€Å"That damnable wheelhouse, the way it creaks and groans, climbing every bump in the road as if it were a mountain . . . I promise you, if that wretched thing breaks another axle, I’m going to burn it, and Cersei can walk!† Ned laughed. â€Å"I will gladly light the torch for you.† â€Å"Good man!† The king clapped him on the shoulder. â€Å"I’ve half a mind to leave them all behind and just keep going.† A smile touched Ned’s lips. â€Å"I do believe you mean it.† â€Å"I do, I do,† the king said. â€Å"What do you say, Ned? Just you and me, two vagabond knights on the kingsroad, our swords at our sides and the gods know what in front of us, and maybe a farmer’s daughter or a tavern wench to warm our beds tonight.† â€Å"Would that we could,† Ned said, â€Å"but we have duties now, my liege . . . to the realm, to our children, I to my lady wife and you to your queen. We are not the boys we were.† â€Å"You were never the boy you were,† Robert grumbled. â€Å"More’s the pity. And yet there was that one time . . . what was her name, that common girl of yours? Becca? No, she was one of mine, gods love her, black hair and these sweet big eyes, you could drown in them. Yours was . . . Aleena? No. You told me once. Was it Merryl? You know the one I mean, your bastard’s mother?† â€Å"Her name was Wylla,† Ned replied with cool courtesy, â€Å"and I would sooner not speak of her.† â€Å"Wylla. Yes.† The king grinned. â€Å"She must have been a rare wench if she could make Lord Eddard Stark forget his honor, even for an hour. You never told me what she looked like . . . â€Å" Ned’s mouth tightened in anger. â€Å"Nor will I. Leave it be, Robert, for the love you say you bear me. I dishonored myself and I dishonored Catelyn, in the sight of gods and men.† â€Å"Gods have mercy, you scarcely knew Catelyn.† â€Å"I had taken her to wife. She was carrying my child.† â€Å"You are too hard on yourself, Ned. You always were. Damn it, no woman wants Baelor the Blessed in her bed.† He slapped a hand on his knee. â€Å"Well, I’ll not press you if you feel so strong about it, though I swear, at times you’re so prickly you ought to take the hedgehog as your sigil.† The rising sun sent fingers of light through the pale white mists of dawn. A wide plain spread out beneath them, bare and brown, its flatness here and there relieved by long, low hummocks. Ned pointed them out to his king. â€Å"The barrows of the First Men.† Robert frowned. â€Å"Have we ridden onto a graveyard?† â€Å"There are barrows everywhere in the north, Your Grace,† Ned told him. â€Å"This land is old.† â€Å"And cold,† Robert grumbled, pulling his cloak more tightly around himself. The guard had reined up well behind them, at the bottom of the ridge. â€Å"Well, I did not bring you out here to talk of graves or bicker about your bastard. There was a rider in the night, from Lord Varys in King’s Landing. Here.† The king pulled a paper from his belt and handed it to Ned. Varys the eunuch was the king’s master of whisperers. He served Robert now as he had once served Aerys Targaryen. Ned unrolled the paper with trepidation, thinking of Lysa and her terrible accusation, but the message did not concern Lady Arryn. â€Å"What is the source for this information?† â€Å"Do you remember Ser Jorah Mormont?† â€Å"Would that I might forget him,† Ned said bluntly. The Mormonts of Bear Island were an old house, proud and honorable, but their lands were cold and distant and poor. Ser Jorah had tried to swell the family coffers by selling some poachers to a Tyroshi slaver. As the Mormonts were bannermen to the Starks, his crime had dishonored the north. Ned had made the long journey west to BearIsland, only to find when he arrived that Jorah had taken ship beyond the reach of Ice and the king’s justice. Five years had passed since then. â€Å"Ser Jorah is now in Pentos, anxious to earn a royal pardon that would allow him to return from exile,† Robert explained. You read "A Game of Thrones Chapter Twelve" in category "Essay examples" â€Å"Lord Varys makes good use of him.† â€Å"So the slaver has become a spy,† Ned said with distaste. He handed the letter back. â€Å"I would rather he become a corpse.† â€Å"Varys tells me that spies are more useful than corpses,† Robert said. â€Å"Jorah aside, what do you make of his report?† â€Å"Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horselord. What of it? Shall we send her a wedding gift?† The king frowned. â€Å"A knife, perhaps. A good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it.† Ned did not feign surprise; Robert’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar’s wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, â€Å"I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.† Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna’s death, and the grief they had shared over her passing. This time, Ned resolved to keep his temper. â€Å"Your Grace, the girl is scarcely more than a child. You are no Tywin Lannister, to slaughter innocents.† It was said that Rhaegar’s little girl had cried as they dragged her from beneath her bed to face the swords. The boy had been no more than a babe in arms, yet Lord Tywin’s soldiers had torn him from his mother’s breast and dashed his head against a wall. â€Å"And how long will this one remain an innocent?† Robert’s mouth grew hard. â€Å"This child will soon enough spread her legs and start breeding more dragonspawn to plague me.† â€Å"Nonetheless,† Ned said, â€Å"the murder of children . . . it would be vile . . . unspeakable . . . â€Å" â€Å"Unspeakable?† the king roared. â€Å"What Aerys did to your brother Brandon was unspeakable. The way your lord father died, that was unspeakable. And Rhaegar . . . how many times do you think he raped your sister? How many hundreds of times?† His voice had grown so loud that his horse whinnied nervously beneath him. The king jerked the reins hard, quieting the animal, and pointed an angry finger at Ned. â€Å"I will kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on, until they are as dead as their dragons, and then I will piss on their graves.† Ned knew better than to defy him when the wrath was on him. If the years had not quenched Robert’s thirst for revenge, no words of his would help. â€Å"You can’t get your hands on this one, can you?† he said quietly. The king’s mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. â€Å"No, gods be cursed. Some pox-ridden Pentoshi cheesemonger had her brother and her walled up on his estate with pointy-hatted eunuchs all around them, and now he’s handed them over to the Dothraki. I should have had them both killed years ago, when it was easy to get at them, but Jon was as bad as you. More fool I, I listened to him.† â€Å"Jon Arryn was a wise man and a good Hand.† Robert snorted. The anger was leaving him as suddenly as it had come. â€Å"This Khal Drogo is said to have a hundred thousand men in his horde. What would Jon say to that?† â€Å"He would say that even a million Dothraki are no threat to the realm, so long as they remain on the other side of the narrow sea,† Ned replied calmly. â€Å"The barbarians have no ships. They hate and fear the open sea.† The king shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. â€Å"Perhaps. There are ships to be had in the Free Cities, though. I tell you, Ned, I do not like this marriage. There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who call me Usurper. Do you forget how many houses fought for Targaryen in the war? They bide their time for now, but give them half a chance, they will murder me in my bed, and my sons with me. If the beggar king crosses with a Dothraki horde at his back, the traitors will join him.† â€Å"He will not cross,† Ned promised. â€Å"And if by some mischance he does, we will throw him back into the sea. Once you choose a new Warden of the East—† The king groaned. â€Å"For the last time, I will not name the Arryn boy Warden. I know the boy is your nephew, but with Targaryens climbing in bed with Dothraki, I would be mad to rest one quarter of the realm on the shoulders of a sickly child.† Ned was ready for that. â€Å"Yet we still must have a Warden of the East. If Robert Arryn will not do, name one of your brothers. Stannis proved himself at the siege of Storm’s End, surely.† He let the name hang there for a moment. The king frowned and said nothing. He looked uncomfortable. â€Å"That is,† Ned finished quietly, watching, â€Å"unless you have already promised the honor to another.† For a moment Robert had the grace to look startled. Just as quickly, the look became annoyance. â€Å"What if I have?† â€Å"It’s Jaime Lannister, is it not?† Robert kicked his horse back into motion and started down the ridge toward the barrows. Ned kept pace with him. The king rode on, eyes straight ahead. â€Å"Yes,† he said at last. A single hard word to end the matter. â€Å"Kingslayer,† Ned said. The rumors were true, then. He rode on dangerous ground now, he knew. â€Å"An able and courageous man, no doubt,† he said carefully, â€Å"but his father is Warden of the West, Robert. In time Ser Jaime will succeed to that honor. No one man should hold both East and West.† He left unsaid his real concern; that the appointment would put half the armies of the realm into the hands of Lannisters. â€Å"I will fight that battle when the enemy appears on the field,† the king said stubbornly. â€Å"At the moment, Lord Tywin looms eternal as Casterly Rock, so I doubt that Jaime will be succeeding anytime soon. Don’t vex me about this, Ned, the stone has been set.† â€Å"Your Grace, may I speak frankly?† â€Å"I seem unable to stop you,† Robert grumbled. They rode through tall brown grasses. â€Å"Can you trust Jaime Lannister?† â€Å"He is my wife’s twin, a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard, his life and fortune and honor all bound to mine.† â€Å"As they were bound to Aerys Targaryen’s,† Ned pointed out. â€Å"Why should I mistrust him? He has done everything I have ever asked of him. His sword helped win the throne I sit on.† His sword helped taint the throne you sit on, Ned thought, but he did not permit the words to pass his lips. â€Å"He swore a vow to protect his king’s life with his own. Then he opened that king’s throat with a sword.† â€Å"Seven hells, someone had to kill Aerys!† Robert said, reining his mount to a sudden halt beside an ancient barrow. â€Å"If Jaime hadn’t done it, it would have been left for you or me.† â€Å"We were not Sworn Brothers of the Kingsguard,† Ned said. The time had come for Robert to hear the whole truth, he decided then and there. â€Å"Do you remember the Trident, Your Grace?† â€Å"I won my crown there. How should I forget it?† â€Å"You took a wound from Rhaegar,† Ned reminded him. â€Å"So when the Targaryen host broke and ran, you gave the pursuit into my hands. The remnants of Rhaegar’s army fled back to King’s Landing. We followed. Aerys was in the Red Keep with several thousand loyalists. I expected to find the gates closed to us.† Robert gave an impatient shake of his head. â€Å"Instead you found that our men had already taken the city. What of it?† â€Å"Not our men,† Ned said patiently. â€Å"Lannister men. The lion of Lannister flew over the ramparts, not the crowned stag. And they had taken the city by treachery.† The war had raged for close to a year. Lords great and small had flocked to Robert’s banners; others had remained loyal to Targaryen. The mighty Lannisters of Casterly Rock, the Wardens of the West, had remained aloof from the struggle, ignoring calls to arms from both rebels and royalists. Aerys Targaryen must have thought that his gods had answered his prayers when Lord Tywin Lannister appeared before the gates of King’s Landing with an army twelve thousand strong, professing loyalty. So the mad king had ordered his last mad act. He had opened his city to the lions at the gate. â€Å"Treachery was a coin the Targaryens knew well,† Robert said. The anger was building in him again. â€Å"Lannister paid them back in kind. It was no less than they deserved. I shall not trouble my sleep over it.† â€Å"You were not there,† Ned said, bitterness in his voice. Troubled sleep was no stranger to him. He had lived his lies for fourteen years, yet they still haunted him at night. â€Å"There was no honor in that conquest.† â€Å"The Others take your honor!† Robert swore. â€Å"What did any Targaryen ever know of honor? Go down into your crypt and ask Lyanna about the dragon’s honor!† â€Å"You avenged Lyanna at the Trident,† Ned said, halting beside the king. Promise me, Ned, she had whispered. â€Å"That did not bring her back.† Robert looked away, off into the grey distance. â€Å"The gods be damned. It was a hollow victory they gave me. A crown . . . it was the girl I prayed them for. Your sister, safe . . . and mine again, as she was meant to be. I ask you, Ned, what good is it to wear a crown? The gods mock the prayers of kings and cowherds alike.† â€Å"I cannot answer for the gods, Your Grace . . . only for what I found when I rode into the throne room that day,† Ned said. â€Å"Aerys was dead on the floor, drowned in his own blood. His dragon skulls stared down from the walls. Lannister’s men were everywhere. Jaime wore the white cloak of the Kingsguard over his golden armor. I can see him still. Even his sword was gilded. He was seated on the Iron Throne, high above his knights, wearing a helm fashioned in the shape of a lion’s head. How he glittered!† â€Å"This is well known,† the king complained. â€Å"I was still mounted. I rode the length of the hall in silence, between the long rows of dragon skulls. It felt as though they were watching me, somehow. I stopped in front of the throne, looking up at him. His golden sword was across his legs, its edge red with a king’s blood. My men were filling the room behind me. Lannister’s men drew back. I never said a word. I looked at him seated there on the throne, and I waited. At last Jaime laughed and got up. He took off his helm, and he said to me, ‘Have no fear, Stark. I was only keeping it warm for our friend Robert. It’s not a very comfortable seat, I’m afraid.’ â€Å" The king threw back his head and roared. His laughter startled a flight of crows from the tall brown grass. They took to the air in a wild beating of wings. â€Å"You think I should mistrust Lannister because he sat on my throne for a few moments?† He shook with laughter again. â€Å"Jaime was all of seventeen, Ned. Scarce more than a boy.† â€Å"Boy or man, he had no right to that throne.† â€Å"Perhaps he was tired,† Robert suggested. â€Å"Killing kings is weary work. Gods know, there’s no place else to rest your ass in that damnable room. And he spoke truly, it is a monstrous uncomfortable chair. In more ways than one.† The king shook his head. â€Å"Well, now I know Jaime’s dark sin, and the matter can be forgotten. I am heartily sick of secrets and squabbles and matters of state, Ned. It’s all as tedious as counting coppers. Come, let’s ride, you used to know how. I want to feel the wind in my hair again.† He kicked his horse back into motion and galloped up over the barrow, raining earth down behind him. For a moment Ned did not follow. He had run out of words, and he was filled with a vast sense of helplessness. Not for the first time, he wondered what he was doing here and why he had come. He was no Jon Arryn, to curb the wildness of his king and teach him wisdom. Robert would do what he pleased, as he always had, and nothing Ned could say or do would change that. He belonged in Winterfell. He belonged with Catelyn in her grief, and with Bran. A man could not always be where he belonged, though. Resigned, Eddard Stark put his boots into his horse and set off after the king. How to cite A Game of Thrones Chapter Twelve, Essay examples

Sports Injury Essay Example For Students

Sports Injury Essay Alcohol use and behaviors in women long-distance race participants reporting a history of bulimia and/ or anorexia nervosawomen long-distance racers were more likely to report a past history of an eating disorder than the control population and that reported in the general population. We cannot say that running was responsible for the development of the eating disorder. It may be that running can prevent or control eating disorders. High achieving, disciplined, organized women with a history of an eating disorder may be attracted to long-distance running. The method of defining a case was based simply on the respondent replying affirmatively to the questions Do you have a history or bulimia/ and/or Do you have a history of anorexia nervosa? This method of case definition is based on a history of such a disorder and does not necessarily reflect an active problem. We will write a custom essay on Sports Injury specifically for you for only $16.38 $13.9/page Order now Researchers found that women reporting a past history of bulimia and a history of problem alcohol behavior as noted by other investigators and were more likely to report a biologic family member with a history of problem drinking. Even with their history of problem alcohol behavior, the runners reporting a history of bulimia did not differ from other runners or the control population in their drinking patterns in a recent two-week period. Total amount of alcohol consumed, occasions of drinking and occasions of binge drinking were not significantly different among any of the women. Researchers were unable to ascertain if running helped control alcohol consumption in a person prone to problem alcohol consumption in a person prone to problem alcohol behavior or if the decreased alcohol consumption predated the onset of running. Those women reporting a past history of a mixed type of eating disorder, perhaps reflecting severity, ran more days of the week and more miles per week than other runners. These women also had the lowest weight and desired weight of any group. The drive for thinness is a hallmark of anorexia but anorexics with bulimia generally are more prone to use vomiting and/or laxatives for weight control than intense exercise or severe food restriction. This subtype of anorexia is also more likely to be prone of problems with alcohol. This was not true for the women in this study. A limitation of the study is the small numbers in the eating disorder groups. With a larger series of cases, the small differences in alcohol consumption could be significant. However, the amount of alcohol consumed by any group is not extraordinary and reflects moderate drinking. Other limitations of this study include non-responders, time of administration of the questionnaire to race participants and inherent problems of using questionnaires and self-report items in eating disorder and alcohol research. Denial is common among those with drinking problems and may be reflected in those who chose not to respond. However, the response rates of 59% for race participants and 52% for the control population should ensure that responders were a reasonable representation of the population. The size of the control population was also smaller than anticipated due to nearly half of them reporting some form of endurance exercise and thus being eliminated as a contrast group.

EBooks vs. Books Essay Example

EBooks vs. Books Essay Example EBooks vs. Books Essay EBooks vs. Books Essay This morning was like any other day. I got up to see the sun rise, and then w .NET into the forest to find something to eat for breakfast. Most days were quiet in the land of the C yeses. All you could hear were your own thoughts, and the occasional chirp from a nearby bird. Most o f the inhabitants kept to themselves, and no one entered others property without previous consent of the owner. This morning was different though. I could hear multiple voices coming from afar. I looked into t he distance to see a vessel anchoring back at the beach. There were about 1 5 crew members on the ship from what I could see. At the time, I didnt think much of it. Just a couple of humans lost at sea, I said to myself. Unfortunately, I didnt h eave much luck when hunting. All managed to catch was a small boar, that didnt satisfy my appetite e the slightest. When I returned back to my fields, gathered all of my sheep so I could bring them b ace to my cave. When I came close to my home, I heard the voices of the humans once again. But this time, they were much louder. To my surprise, the entire crew from the ship had made themselves comfortable in my cave. My mood changed ere quickly, and I roared with anger. Right as entered the cave, two of the m en attempted to escape, but were caught and dropped into my mouth before they could say a word. After that, I rolled a round boulder in front of the entrance, trapping everyone else in my cave. A muscular, tall man clothed in brown armor approached me shortly after. Watched the perspiration slowly run down his f ace as he opened his mouth to speak. I apologize, sir, for trespassing on your property. The human explained. Who at sour name? the man replied. Nodded and shouted, For am the Cyclops Polymorphous,human?!

Facts About the Greek Mythological Creature Cyclops

Facts About the Greek Mythological Creature Cyclops The Cyclops were represented as strong, one-eyed giants in Greek mythology. Their name is also spelled Cyclopes, and, as usual with Greek words, the letter K may be used in place of the C. Pronunciation:  /saÉ ª.klaps/Also Known  As:  one-eyed giantsAlternate Spellings:  singular:  kyklops,  kuklops.   plural: cyclopes,  kyklopes,  kuklopes.Common Misspellings:  syclopsExamples:  When the volcano at Mt. Aetna smokes, it is, mythologically speaking, the result of the cyclops working at their forge. Who Were the Cyclops? According to the Greek epic poet Hesiod, the Cyclops were the sons of Uranus (Sky) and Gaia/Ge (Earth). Hesiod names the Cyclops Argos, Steropes, and Brontes. The Titans and Hecatonchires (or Hundred-handers), both known for their size, may have been other offspring of Uranus and Gaia. Even though Uranus was their father, he lacked paternal instincts. Instead, he had the nasty habit of keeping all his children imprisoned inside their mother, Gaia, who wasnt very happy about it. When the Titan Cronus decided to help his mother by overthrowing his father, Uranus, the Cyclops helped. But they were no better off with Cronus than Uranus. Instead of rewarding them for their assistance, Cronus imprisoned them in Tartarus, the   Greek Underworld. Zeus who, in turn, overthrew his own father (Cronus), set the Cyclops free. Since they were metal workers and blacksmiths, they repaid Zeus with a thank you gift of thunder and lightning. The Cyclops also gifted the gods Poseidon with a trident and Hades with the Helmet of Darkness. Their time in fortunes favor was limited, though. Apollo slew the Cyclops after they struck his son or were blamed for striking his son Asclepius with lightning. Pseudo-Hyginus, Astronomica 2. 15:Eratoshtenes says about the [constellation] Arrow, that with this Apollo killed the Cyclopes who forged the thunderbolt by which Aesculapius died. Apollo had buried this arrow in the Hyperborean mountain, but when Jupiter [Zeus] pardoned his son, it was borne by the wind and brought to Apollo along with the grain which at that time was growing. Many point out that for this reason it is among the constellations.Ut Eratosthenes autem de Sagitta demonstrat, hac Apollo Cyclopas interfecit, qui fulmen Iovi fecerunt, quo Aesculapium interfectum complures dixerunt. Hanc autem sagittam in Hyperboreo monte Apollinem defodisse. Cum autem Iuppiter ignoverit filio, ipsam sagittam vento ad Apollinem perlatam cum frugibus, quae eo tempore nascebantur. Hanc igitur ob causam inter sidera demonstrant. Cyclops as Described by Homer Besides Hesiod, the other major Greek epic poet and transmitter of Greek mythology was the storyteller we call Homer. Homers Cyclops are different from Hesiods, starting with their origin since they are the sons of Poseidon; however, they share with Hesiods Cyclops immensity, strength, and the single eye. The giant Polyphemus, whom Odysseus encounters in his ten-year return sea voyage from Troy, is a cyclops. Here are some passages from Theoi with less well-known information about the various Cyclops:​Tiryns Walls, by the CyclopsStrabo, Geography 8. 6. 11 :Now it seems that Tiryns [in the Argolis] was used as a base of operations by Proitos, and was walled by him through the aid of the Kyklopes, who were seven in number, and were called Gasterokheirai (Bellyhands) because they got their food from their handicraft, and they came by invitation from Lykia. And perhaps the caverns near Nauplia [in Argolis] and the works therein are named after them.TowersPliny the Elder, Natural History 7. 195 (trans. Rackham) :[On inventions :] Towers [were invented] by the Cyclopes according to Aristotle.In Dionysus War Against IndiaNonnus, Dionysiaca 14. 52 ff (trans. Rouse) :[Rhea summoned the rustic gods and spirits to join the army of Dionysos for his campaign against the Indian nation :] Battalions of Kyklopes came like a flood. In battle, these with weaponless hands cast hills for their stony s pears, and their shields were cliffs; a peak from some mountain-ravine was their crested helmet, Sikeloi (Sicilian) sparks were their fiery arrows [i.e. sparks from Mount Etna]. They went into battle holding burning brands and blazing with light form the forge they knew so wellBrontes and Steropes, Euryalos and Elatreus, Arges and Trakhios and proud Halimedes.