I volunteer as tribute…

The scene where Katniss takes Prim’s spot in the games, is particularly telling to Katniss as a person, because before such occurrences, she seemed like an extremely flat character. “‘Prim!’ The strangled cry comes out of my throat, and my muscles begin to move again.” I had to reread that line about three times, before comprehending what Katniss wanted to do, and yet I was still baffled when “With one sweep of [her] arm, [she] push[ed] [Prim] behind [her].” and volunteered as tribute. However, because of that line, the connection between the sisters becomes apparent, and Katniss’ intentions moving forward seem more sensible. While surviving in District 12 is a challenge that Katniss overcomes every day, dying would be much easier for her than watching Prim suffer. I like seeing that close bond between sisters, even though its roots are from bad times, because it gives Katniss so much more depth, and is a refreshing break from the stereotypical fighting sibling relationship. Obviously I don’t live in such a dystopian world, but if I did, I could see myself responding similarly to Katniss. My little sister means the world to me, and perhaps it’s selfish, but I couldn’t live with myself if she was sent to the Hunger games and I hadn’t done everything I could to stop her. Katniss’ values represent the same ones most older siblings have, just in a more extreme way. Despite the fact that Katniss is signing up for a blood battle, she is doing it as a socially responsible individual. She is “consider[ing] the interdependence of people with each other, and the natural environment,” (https://curriculum.gov.bc.ca/competencies/social-responsibility) and saving a young person with her life ahead of her, and many other people from having to witness such an innocent child be put in harm’s way. Katniss is always acting for the sake of others, never herself.

The story of my life (Or should I say paragraph)

I was exhausted…

The harsh buzzing of my alarm clock baited me out of bed like a cracked muscle to minnows. As I left my drowsy headquarters, the composite threshold of my bedroom door snapped in half like a slingshot when I mistakenly stepped on it. My ankle saw the worst of it, with little splinters like grass, running up and down my lower shin. I tip toed downstairs, but only after tediously pulling each sliver out of my now bleeding leg. When I got downstairs, I realized that we had run out of bread to make toast with, so I opted for some cold yogurt with fresh berries instead. After carefully pouring the creamy solution into a zigzag pattern in the bowl, I crept to the fridge in search of our freshly bought blueberries. Only then did I discover they were sprouting some green fuzz, like an adolescent version of the grinch, who had yet to shave for the first time. I gave up, and ran out of the front door with a granola bar in hand; I knew that it was going to be an extremely long day.