“The Ways We Lie”
Evaluate the success of Ericsson’s essay, considering especially how effectively her evidence supports her generalizations. Are there important categories she overlooks, exceptions she neglects to account for, gaps in definitions or examples? Offer specific evidence for your own view, whether positive or negative.
“Sex, Drugs, Disasters, and the Extinction of Dinosaurs”
Gould proposes several causes and the same effect. Why do you think considering various possible causes for a particular effect is important in scientific inquiry? How does the same thing apply in everyday life? Think of a situation that affects you directly—your breakup with a close friend, a course you are having particular difficulties with, a problem you face at school, something you have recently become interested in (or lost interest in), or the like. Then, write down all the causes you can think of for this situation.
“No Name Woman”
Most of us have heard family stories that left lasting impressions—ghost stories like Kingston’s , biographies of ancestors, explanations for traditions, family superstitions, and so on. Write about a family story you remember vividly from your childhood.
“Once More to the Lake”
White strongly evokes the lake camp as a place that was important to him as a child. What place or places were most important to you as a child? Describe the place now as a teenager. Your description should draw on your childhood memories, making them as vivid as possible for the reader, but you should also consider how your point of view toward the place differs now.
“The Clan of One-Breasted Women”
Evaluate “The Clan of One-Breasted Women” as an argument, focusing on the author’s use of appeals (rational, emotional, and ethical). How well do you think she succeeds?
I believe in Williams’ essay “The Clan of One-Breasted Women” many valid and convincing appeals are present, however the author does not manipulate them in such a way that attempts to force the readers opinion into her line of thinking. Instead, with the appeals ever present, Williams fully validates her own opinions while still allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions from what she presents.
ReplyDeleteIn the way of emotional appeals the most powerful one presented by Williams is done through the description mode when discussing women fading away from breast cancer. The inclusion of this paragraph evokes enormous sympathy from the reader and makes one realize why she is so passionate about the explosions, in fact passionate enough to walk into an area that is banned from pregnant women and children it contains such astronomical levels of radiation.
Logical appeals are scattered throughout the story in the form of facts that provide solid evidence that the nuclear reactions caused her families cancer, such as the fact that her mom’s cancer emanated in the exact number of years it takes cancer from radiation to form.
Ethical appeals are evident when Williams recounts other Supreme Court cases that appealed with situations very similar to her own and the court held up their assumptions that the cancer was caused by nuclear reactions on the official record.
In “Once More to the Lake,” E. B. White reveals the lake camp as an extremely important place to him as a child. Like White, I also had an important place that my family went to as I were growing up. Almost every year we traveled to Sea Island for my dad to attend required conferences for his work. We stayed at the Cloister Resort. To me, the entire place was magical. Every day while my dad was in conferences, my family and I ate a huge breakfast from a massive buffet with more selections than you could ever imagine. We then ran down to the most gorgeous beach to build impressive sandcastles, collect buckets of seashells, and jump over huge waves. It was never crowded because it was more of a private beach. Whenever my dad was done, we would all go and play shuffle board and climb trees. We would then go dress up for a nice dinner. Everyday at Sea Island was perfect in every way. It was my escape to happiness where nothing could go wrong. We stopped going to Sea Island after a while, but we went back recently. Rather than finding a perfect beach and resort, I found a completely foreign place. It was now more touristy and crowded than before. The resort had been remodeled. Everything was overpriced and the selections of food did not seem as impressive as they had remembered. It did not seem so perfect anymore. However, whenever when we walked along the beach, looking at shells, played shuffleboard, and climbed the trees, I felt like the same little kid in the same magical place that I had loved so much. Much like While in “Once More to the Lake,” I had lost myself in old times. Sea Island is no longer my favorite place in the world but it will forever hold important childhood memories.
ReplyDeleteAs a child, the most important place to me was my brother’s room. As a child it seemed like a place to have an adventure because he had such toys and contraptions. While my room was a typical little girls’ room filled with pink walls, and carpeting with Barbie dolls sprawled all around the room, my brother had action figures and Star Wars light sabers. Both the rooms meshed together formed my personality as it is today; when I see a Barbie doll I wish I could buy one and just play with it, while when I go down the toys aisle I have an urge to put together a Lego action figure. When I was younger I used to join my brother on random adventures we would make up, and because we would make up the adventures it has helped me have a strong creative mind. After we moved to Georgia, we got new rooms which caused us to end our adventures. His room turned into his territory and my room into my own. Now as a teenager, I look back on those memories and wish I could just sit down and have another adventure with my brother. I no longer play with Barbie dolls, and my brother no longer has his adventures; but that does not stop us from having a good time. When I walk into my brothers’ room today, there are no longer the toys he used to play with instead his room is filled with technological gadgets.
ReplyDeleteIn "The Ways We Lie," Stephanie Ericsson writes a well-descripted essay about the stereotypes of lying. I am very impressed because I did not konw we had all these ways of lying. I have just been thinking my entire life, "a lie is a lie," and now this essay taught me the different ways of lies. I have to state that she makes a great opening on how the one day she told nothing but the truth, it was like the world was ending. That was a great example to me.
ReplyDeleteIn "The White Lie," I understand what she is saying that we think the the truth is better than a lie, but why do we tell that lie to steer away from the damage caused by the truth? I mean, we do know in today's society that it is better off not telling the truth, but aren't we taught that no matter how bad, the truth will always hurt?
In "Facades," I did not quite understand the subject of this ancedote. I do not have an idea of what facades means, so therefore it was tough for me to bring her example to a vivid scene. Maybe, if she put the definition of facades, I could have been able to focus and understand more easily.
In "Ignoring the Plain Facts," Ericsson uses a good example about Father Porter and that ignoring the truth will indeed come back to haunt you. I believed this subject ties into karma. [What comes around goes around]
I believe "Deflecting," "Omission," are simliar because in these aspects, we are either; steering away from the truth, or getting rid of some of the truth but still telling part of it. Omission was my favorite out of all the ways of lying for one certain point. That point was that Lilith was the woman before Eve in the Garden of Eden. I am a Christian, and finding something out about the Bible that I did not know once before was a shock to me. Now I feel privileged to understand that there was a woman before Eve.
"Out-and-out" is a point where I felt like she could have opened up the conversation a little more. If it was her favorite, then why does she only have two paragraphs on it. I wanted to hear more examples instead of I like it because I get tired. I also like that she points in "Out-and-out" that at least this lie can be easily confronted. This is true because these are like the little lies that I believe can be taken as "jokes."
I'd like to finish this blog saying that I strongly agree with her statement that "It is not easy to entirely eliminate lies from our lives." In my opinion, I don't think we can go a day without lying in any certain way. If you did always tell the truth, you would be in that position Ericcson was inon her day she told the truth. In all actuality, what it boils down to is that sometimes, it is just the BEST thing to tell the lie rather than the truth.
In Ericcson’s essay “The Ways We Lie,” Ericcson explains the different approaches to lying that we take to smooth over the wrinkles in our dealings of our daily lives. Ericcson successfully enables the reader to be able to understand that lying is an unavoidable process that everyone does, no matter where you are or what you are doing. It is impossible to totally eliminate the act of lying from your daily activities, especially when dealing with people. Ericcson begins her essay with an anecdote of her own experience in which she tells four big lies in the course of one day. The reader is able to connect with this introduction and understand the stress and reasoning behind each of the lies Ericcson told. Ericcson further expands on her purpose through the different methods of lying. Ericcson, through each method of lying, effectively utilizes examples of real-life situations and very down-to-earth reasoning to demonstrate the process of that lying method. Ericcson also has specific evidence like the history of Father James Porter, the Catholic Church in Massachusetts, Genesis, and December 7, 1941 (Pearl Harbor). She also uses evidence of behavior or feelings that every human has like putting on facades, omission of the truth when you break a pair of glasses, stereotypes and clichés, and deluding ourselves to see something other than the truth. Ericcson also puts the different methods of lying in increasing seriousness. A white lie is considered the smallest of lies. Omission of certain facts moves up in seriousness while delusion is the most serious of lies, denying the existence of a truth.
ReplyDeleteEricsson was successful in writing an effective essay because she had many pieces of evidence to support her thesis and mini topic sentences. For example, she begins with a quote which acts as the hook then states her assertion, that we assume the truth will cause more harm than a little white lie but who are we to decide what is best for the person lied too. To support her assertion she uses the example of the Sergeant in Vietnam who told the family that his man was missing not dead so they could receive constant pension. By telling this white lie, he created two things: false hope, and an everlasting reminder of their missing loved one. She also includes many reliable, serious examples such as Pearl Harbor, Genesis, and Farther James Porter. I also noticed how Ericsson put the lies in order of seriousness and importance. For example she put the white lie first, which is considered the smallest of lies, then ended with delusion. In my opinion, she covered all the ways to lie. Even if there are more examples, they can somehow fit under one of the major titles. I believe, she had strong evidence and a thorough essay on the types of lying, therefore, I do not believe she had gaps. If she overlooked anything, she could have extended on why people lie and why people lie so much.
ReplyDeleteAs a child, my grandma’s house was an important place to me. Whenever I went to my grandma’s house, I could do things that I couldn’t at my own. Every time I walked in I was greeted with smiles from my extended family members and most of the attention was directed toward me because I was the youngest in the house. I would rush to the kitchen to get banana popsicles from the freezer and my aunt’s special homemade chocolate chip cookies were always waiting to be eaten from the container on the counter. I would sit on the ground in the living room and draw designs in the carpet with my finger. I would even try to get away with sliding down the banister a time or two and sometimes I would sneak up to the attic to play. Even though my grandma lived in the same town and still does, sleeping over at her house was as fun as sleeping over at a best friend’s house. After getting ready for bed, my aunt would teach me card games on the living room floor. When I woke up, my grandma would be sitting in the kitchen with a sweat suit on, already having made a trip to the grocery store and worked out, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee. Something about the routine and the calm of sitting down to eat a bowl of Corn Pops cereal was so comforting. Now that I am older, I find that I am not greeted with the same excitement as I was when I was younger. Over the years, I learned that drawing in the carpet was not appropriate and sliding down the banister was no longer as appealing. Walking up the stairs even became a drag because of the squeaking sound with every step. My aunt does not make her famous cookies as much and they have even become too sweet and filling for me to eat anyways. And with the television to entertain everyone, card games are no longer needed. A place that I used to want to spend all my time has become a place that I almost dread going to, having only casual conversation and a feeling of disconnection to look forward to.
ReplyDeleteIn “The Ways We Lie,” Stephanie Ericsson successfully explains all of the different types of lying and provides sufficient evidence and examples to support her generalizations about lying. I enjoyed her opening because I could connect to her examples of lying and her first approach because I never really thought about little white lies as true lies. She does a good job at connecting to any reader of any age because every single person lies, it’s human nature. I also agree with her statement that it would be “paralyzing” to go a week without telling a lie because to me lies can be for the better sometimes if it means sparing someone’s feelings. She effectively referred to the struggle with white lies as justified or unjustified, because lying to not cause harm seems better than telling the truth that would hurt someone’s feelings. I know that if my friend was having a bad day I would not tell her that she “looks like hell” because it would simply make her day worse than it already was. I enjoyed her example about the Catholic Church ignoring the fact that the preacher was sexually abusing children, because there are so many people who do not want to face the truth that they lie to themselves because it seems easier. Overall, her thorough descriptions of lies provides me with a clearer view of lying and shows me that the whole aspect of lying contains much more than simply not telling the truth on purpose.
ReplyDeleteEricsson does a great job at portraying all of the different types of lies. Her evidence does a nice job of carrying out each generalization and going into detail. With each paragraph, each group or section, Ericsson illustrates every single different way we lie. To me, the essay was very convicting. I felt guilty after reading The Ways We Lie because Ericsson shows me that although we try to justify ourselves and convince ourselves that we are doing the right thing, a lie is a lie, no matter what kind, no matter how big or how small. To me, Ericsson provides enough evidence and information under each category to establish each type of lie. It took creativity for Ericsson to conjure up each type of lie and provide a sufficient amount real life situations that relate to each lie such as the story of James Porter. Just looking through the essay again, Ericsson really proves her intelligence with all the information she shows as well as all the credibility from people such as Irving Janis, R.D. Laing and all of the different people she mentions throughout the text. To finish, Ericsson sold the essay with all of the epigraphs she includes at the beginning of each section. Ericsson really did brilliant work in The Ways We Lie through all of her evidence, information, resources, and epigraphs.
ReplyDeleteIn scientific inquiry, considering several causes for a certain observation is imperative to scientific research because the scientist is able to maintain an open mind about their experiment, allowing them to explore several different hypotheses that could result in a scientific breakthrough. Recently, I developed an interest in throwing shot put and discus, resulting in me joining the track team. Prior to this sudden interest, I had never heard of or considered throwing shot or discus. However, one day after school Coach Myers pressured me into coming to the first day of practice. Several of my other friends also pressured me into doing it, and so I eventually came to the apprehensive conclusion that I would at least give it a try. I enjoyed the experience, and decided that I would continue throwing. The main reason that I decided to take up throwing is because I find it relaxing and peaceful. When I enter the ring, my mind is focused and calm. All of the other stressful events of the day seem to fade away as my mind concentrates on the task at hand. The world blurs into a series of muddy images as I throw. This experience is mind-numbing, allowing me to escape from any particularly demanding events from earlier in the day. The fact that throwing allows me to relax is the main contributor to me staying on the track team.
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ReplyDeleteEricsson’s essay, “The Ways We Lie”, successfully classifies and analyzes the different types of lies that people tell in their daily lives. Ericsson effectively describes each type of lie by first giving a quote that is relevant to the type of lie, defining the meaning of the lie and the context that the lie is used in, and then by giving specific examples of scenarios where that type of lie is used. The use of specific examples allows the reader to relate to the type of lie being used because the reader can connect and empathize with the liar in the scenario. Ericsson’s essay made me aware of how frequently and easily I lie during my interactions with other people. Most of my lies are harmless and have good intentions, such as preserving someone’s self-esteem or to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. For example, today, when an acquaintance of mine called me, I was busy and not in the mood to talk with him, so I rudely ignored his call. Later, I called him back and apologized for missing his call, lying by saying that I was in the shower and had not noticed my phone vibrating. My lie was a “simple, harmless untruth” and would be classified as a “White Lie”; this lie was one of many lies that I have told today. “The Ways We Lie” has made me realize how much our society depends on lies; in order to observe proper etiquette and to be polite, we are often required to lie, and I agree with Ericsson that lying has become an integral part of our lives and is, in most occasions, a necessary evil.
ReplyDeleteThroughout my childhood, I grew up in a townhouse since I was about ten years old. I grew very fond of my house, my neighbors, and the neighborhood. Every day after school my friends and I went to our secret spot. Once you go past my house, there is a very steep hill. Once you go down and take a right, the yellow park will be waiting for you. The park was made up of a red slide, two swings, a yellow tunnel with holes to climb into, and a big house. I absolutely cherished this humongous park. No one was ever there; it was ours to dominate. My friends and I would play house, tag, and even hide and seek. Right beside the park there was a steep green hill. In the summer or spring season, we had picnics or tea parties. During fall, we rolled down the hill as fast as we could to see who would win. In the winter the hill was blanketed by white snow; perfect for sledding. Sometimes when we wanted something new, an adventure, we would walk around and pretend that we were lost or looking for a secret treasure. The park let my mind expand and imagine anything I wanted. Years followed and before I realized it, we were moving. I said goodbye to my favorite hill, my favorite swing, and the yellow tunnel I would hide in when playing hide and seek. I said farewell to my treasured memories and moved on. Once I was about fifteen years old, we had to go back because we were selling the townhouse. I walk to my favorite park and reminisce of all the fun times I had. The park was so miniscule; I could not even believe that I used to play in there. The swings were too low and the color of the slide faded to a faint pink. The yellow paint of the swings and park and peeled off, displaying a rusty brown color. The hill was not as pure dark green as I recalled, but more of a light green, filled with patches of brown spots. The sight of the park staggered me. The park was not the same, and never will be. Just like all good things, sooner or later they will come to an end. My memories stay the same, but just like the park, I grew older as well. The park will always be my beloved park.
ReplyDeleteWhen it became my time to get my license, my mother felt as though it was the time to explain the importance of not being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She told me about how when she was sixteen she went up to the gas station to buy some cigarettes (at this time it was legal). She was walking out of the gas station and her friends brother was sitting in his car outside of the gas station. She spoke to him briefly and borrowed his car lighter to light a cigarette. She soon left while still smoking the cigarette. As soon as she pulled out of the gas station she saw blue flashing lights. She threw the cigarette out of the car and pulled over. She was immediately ambushed by the police and read her rights. My mother did not understand what was going on. After the police searched and located what was left of the cigarette, they released her and explained that the guy she was talking to at the gas station was a local drug dealer and the police had been watching him for months. My mother raced to get home because of how frightened she was. I will never forget that story and it means a lot to me now. It has taught me to always be aware of my surroundings and not to associate with people who are not in the right crowd. In one instant, you could have someone in your car who has something on them and you will be in just as much trouble as they are. Moral: Never be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
ReplyDeleteI remember my dad waking me up: at first quietly tapping, then shifting from those soft, feminine knocks to brusque, curt ones until he realized that I was not about to give up this battle so easily. After about several minutes, I heard the knocks begin again. Understanding that I was not going to get up, my dad pushed in the door to my room, and softly began to call my name. His whispers were almost inaudible to my young, perky ears, still hidden by the warmth and thickness of my comforter. For all I knew, yesterday was Friday, which meant that morning I would have been able to sleep in, at least until the sun shone through my curtains and the familiar smell of burnt bacon permeated throughout the house. My dad then slipped the covers from my body and instructed me to dress in comfortable clothing, or to feel the wrath of the tickle monster. There was no way in the world that I was going to submit to the hands of much pain and suffering that early in the morning, so I obediently carried out his orders. While my dad was mimicking the ritual he used to wake me up with my then three year old sister, I scuffed my feet until they found the ice-cold tiles of the kitchen floor. Instead of mouth watering, succulent sausages and maple syrup drenched pancakes stacked like towers of Pisa, the only thing sitting on the counter was a dry, disgusting box of cereal. Thoroughly disappointed, I reached up on my toes to select a bowl and placed it on the counter to be filled with milk. Now that I could successfully do this arduous task on my own, I felt like a grown-up and sipped my cereal like a professional. After stomaching the grains, I promptly brushed my teeth, washed my face, brushed my hair, picked my nose, and piled into the mud-caked, red Jeep Cherokee along with my younger sister, who was tenaciously sucking on her pacifier. During the short drive, I had opted for a quick power nap, which quickly turned into a Sleeping Beauty-like slumber. My dad, once again, had to carefully and patiently repeat his ritual of waking the two of us up. While I wiped the sleep sand from my eyes, I was then blinded with a bandana and told not to peek or else I wouldn’t be allowed sweets for the next week. My dad then scooped me up and swung me over his shoulder, also pushing my sister’s stroller. (For an ex-Navy officer, I wondered why he didn’t just pick both of us up.) After he walked a short distance, my dad placed me on my feet and directed me towards a specific direction. I was still not allowed to peek, but my growing curiously was almost too strong to handle. At last, my dad slowly untied the bandana and pulled it away from my face. Gradually, I opened one eye, followed by the other. Just above the horizon, the blazing majesty of the sun shone through the trees and over the rippling surface of the water. The warmth suddenly hit my face and I was drunk off the sensation. The moment was breathtaking. For being a seven year old, this image was the most beautiful thing in the world to me. Everything seemed to have its place: the birds singing their sweet lovers’ song, the trees swaying in motion to the breeze, and my family, fitting perfectly into the early morning setting of this place.
ReplyDeleteIn the whole eleven years that I have lived in this growing and buzzing city, no image more serene and peaceful has stayed with me like that day ten years ago. It seems like time hasn’t even shifted from when I first visited this place, for the timelessness of it only continues to amaze me. The Savannah River Rapids will keep me tied to Augusta. Out of everything this city has to offer, the Rapids is a place that I will visit with my own children, when the time for that is appropriate. My dad made me realize the importance and sheer beauty that nature has to offer to the world. I am no “Lets save the trees” type of person, but it does bother me when I see people blatantly litter. Besides the growing amount of litter, the only thing that has changed about this place is my growing appreciation for the river and all of the beauty it holds.
Okay, here goes my best attempt at rewriting this thing:
ReplyDeleteAbout two or three times a year we would make that 8 hour-long car trip. We would hit the road and I would sit in the back and probably watch one of two things: “Barney Live! In New York City” or “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” both on VHS. We would pull up to their house late at night and always walk in, hug everyone, ask how they were, all while being half asleep. I liked going to their house because it was so different than Augusta. They lived in Chattahoochee, FL which is about 30 minutes from Quincy, FL and the nearest Wal-Mart, so they weren’t close to anything except the Florida State Hospital for the Insane which was right up the road. They lived right on the border of Georgia and Florida, they always joked that their mailbox was in Florida and their house in Georgia, which it was. Their property was the definition of rural; there weren’t any streetlights, no telephone poles, the only sound outside was that of the Bobwhite quails calling one another, and you got to drive down a long dirt road to get there. The house itself was a modest one-story with 2 bathrooms and 3 bedrooms; outside, though, was a different story. Their backyard was about as big as 5 football fields (no exaggeration) and housed a plethora of exotic wildlife. Late at night, my cousin and I would pile into my grandpa’s green Ford pickup with him and go count deer with the spotlight, one time we counted about twenty. Speaking of my grandpa, his garden was a key part of my time at their house. He planted a medium-sized garden beside their house in which he grew a bunch of potatoes, tomatoes, watermelons, snap peas, squash, and almost anything else you can think of. I would go out and help him plant and pick the vegetables underneath the shade of the looming pecan trees. I would help him cut the grass on the riding lawnmower. I would help my grandma plant flowers in her garden. I would help with everything. I loved it there.
I went back over the summer.
Since then, my grandparents have moved into a new house in the North Georgia Mountains and have started renting out the Chattahoochee house. Their new house is a big two story nestled in a valley with neighbors right next door and a quiet stream in the small backyard. It has a paved road and a mailbox that’s close to the house. It has air-conditioning that works all the time and carpet that doesn’t scream 70s: all of which were completely foreign in the Chattahoochee house. Anyways, when we went back to the Chattahoochee house someone had broken into the air conditioning unit and stolen copper from it- which worked out to be a perfect metaphor for my feelings at that time. I didn’t like the idea that there were strangers living in my grandparents’ old house. I also didn’t like that they had let the garden get overgrown by a sea of vine and weeds. I also didn’t like that the State came in and paved my dirt road. But what I thought was the most disgusting of all was that we had to go back to the house to install a fence at the driveway. We had to go block off what was once a sign of welcome and warmth to my family, but now it’s quarantined by the black and orange NO TRESPASSING sign hanging on the padlocked metal bars.