Microscopy and the Metric System Essay Example for Free

Microscopy and the Metric System Essay 1. List the components of the compound microscope and their function. 2. determine the total magnification given that you are using a compound microscope with the following objectives: 4x, 10x, 40x, and 100x 3. what is meant by the depth of field? 4. what is meant by the field of view? 5. describe the process of making a wet mount. ________________________________________________________________________________ 1. -Focal adjustment; used to adjust height of stand to adjust closer too or farther from slide. -eyepiece; used to look into to see what is on the slide closer -arm; hold when carrying, also used to -objective lenses; must use smallest objective lens, they have different levels of magnification -stand; used to hold up the microscope. -light source; needs to be turned on to be able to see. -base; hold when carrying, also used for standing up microscope. 2. 4x=40x , 10x=100x , 40x=400x , 100x=1000x 3. Depth of field is the distance between the nearest and the furthest objects that give an image its focus in a camera. 4. Field of view is the area that is visible. 5. Mix sample to make sure it is properly suspended. Take dropper to pick up sample material. Put a small amount on the glass slide. Take a cover glass by the corners with tweezers to not get any finger prints. Put cover from corner down to avoid air bubbles. If too much water use a tissue or filter paper to suck up remaining water. Part B: 1. Linear measurements: measure the width of your textbook in cm and then convert to mm. 2. Conversions: convert 100 grams to mg and then ug 3. Weight measurements: using your scale, record the mass of an object in grams and include the name of the object you have measured. Once you have recorded your measurements in grams, please convert the measurement to mg and then ug. 4. Volume measurements: define meniscus and describe how you would read the volume of a liquid in a gradulated cylinder. 5. Temperature measurements: Record the temperature of your skin and of the room in celsius. ________________________________________________________________________________ 1. 22.4 cm is equal to 224 mm 2. 100g is equal to 100,000mg which is equal to 100ÃŽ ¼g 3. A pencil weighs 9g which is equal to 9,000mg which is equal to 9ÃŽ ¼g 4. A meniscus is the curved upper surface of a liquid in a tube or a lens that is convex on one side and concave on the other. To read the volume of a liquid in a gradulated cylinder compare the bottom of the meniscus to the nearest graduation or the ring, at eye level. 5. 37 degrees celsius on my skin and the room is 21 degrees celsius

The Impact of Negro Spirituals on Todays Music Essay -- Exploratory E

The Impact of Negro Spirituals on Today's Music I believe that it would be difficult for someone to make the argument that Negro spirituals have not been influential in the field of music, much less the realm of gospel music today. However, church members often do not make the time to reflect on the heritage of a hymn or song to realize the meaning that the particular piece has carried with it through the decades, even centuries. With this in mind, I am going to look at the history of the Negro spiritual and then at specific hymns in the 1991 Baptist Hymnal, published by Convention Press, to see just what impact the Negro spiritual has had on today's church music. I believe that we will find that these songs have had a significant affect on our music, and that without it, we would not have many of the hymns that are now considered standard church music. An important observation regarding African music comes from Richard Jobson in The Golden Trade or a Discovery of the River Gambra [Gambia] and the Golden Trade of the Aethiopians. Although published in 1623, we learn a lot about the nature of African music when we read: "There is without a doubt, no people on the earth more naturally affected to the sound of musicke than these people; which the principal persons [that is, the kings and chiefs] do hold as an ornament of their state, so as when wee come to see them their musicke will seldome be wanting" (qtd. in Southern 4). By understanding that music was of utmost importance to the original slaves, we understand how the reverence of music was handed down through the many generations of slaves on the plantations. It is apparent that music was the highest form of expression for Africans, as well as... ...ital Schomburg African American Women Writers in the 19th Century Works Consulted Fisher, Miles Mark. Negro Songs in the United States. New York: Russell & Russell, 1968. Forbis, Wesley L. The Baptist Hymnal. Nashville: Convention Press, 1991. "God's gonna trouble the water: The essence of African American spirituality." U.S. Catholic. Nov. 1995. ProQuest. Online. 3 Aug. 1998. Maultsby, Portia K. Afro-American Religious Music: A Study in Musical Diversity. The Papers of the Hymn Society of America. 35. Springfield: The Hymn Society of America, n.d. Southern, Eileen. Readings In Black American Music. New York: WW Norton, 1971. ---. The Music of Black Americans: A History. New York: WW Norton, 1971. Thurman, Howard. Deep River and the Negro Spiritual Speaks of Life and Death. Richmond: Friends United Press, 1975.

Succubus Blues CHAPTER 16

â€Å"Georgina?† â€Å"I'm still here.† â€Å"Pretty fucked up, huh? I guess this kills your angel theory.† â€Å"I'm not so sure.† My initial feeling of dismay was being replaced by a new idea, one that had been percolating in the back of my mind ever since I read the biblical passage at Terry and Andrea's. I wondered now†¦ wondered exactly what we were dealing with, if it was an angel after all. The words in Genesis came back to me: There were giants in the earth in those days†¦ the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown†¦ â€Å"What's Jerome saying about all of this?† â€Å"Nothing. What'd you expect?† â€Å"Everyone else is okay, though?† â€Å"Fine, last I knew. What are you going to do? Nothing stupid, I hope.† â€Å"I have to go check on something.† â€Å"Georgina†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Hugh warned. â€Å"Yeah?† â€Å"Be careful. Jerome's in a terrible mood over all of this.† I laughed harshly. â€Å"I can imagine.† An awkward silence hung on the line. â€Å"What else aren't you telling me?† He hesitated a moment longer. â€Å"This†¦ this is a surprise to you, right? This Lucinda thing?† â€Å"Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?† Another pause. â€Å"It's just†¦ well, you've got to admit it's kind of weird, first Duane†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Hugh!† â€Å"And then, I mean, when no one could contact you†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"I told you, my cell phone broke. You can't be serious about this.† â€Å"No, no. It's just†¦ I don't know. I'll talk to you later.† I disconnected. Lucinda dead? Lucinda, with her plaid skirt and bob? It was impossible. I felt terrible; I'd just seen her the other day. Sure, I'd called her a sanctimonious bitch, but I hadn't wanted this. Any more than I'd wanted Duane dead. Yet, the connections Hugh had drawn were weird, weirder than I liked to admit. I'd argued with both Duane and Lucinda, and they'd died shortly thereafter. But Hugh†¦ how did he fit in? Some friend. From what I heard, he received a great deal of amusement telling anyone that would listen about your little whip and wings getup. I remembered Luanda's jibe. I had indeed had a small flare-up with the imp just before his attack. A small flare-up and a small attack, considering he had lived. I shivered, unsure as to what this meant. Doug walked in. â€Å"You get everything straightened out?† â€Å"Yeah. Thanks.† We stood there uncomfortably for a moment until I finally unlocked the floodgates of my guilt. â€Å"Doug, I-â€Å" â€Å"Forget it, Kincaid. It's nothing.† â€Å"What I said, I shouldn't have. I was – â€Å" â€Å"Wasted. Trashed. Flat on your ass drunk. It happens.† â€Å"Still, I had no right. You were trying to be nice, and I turned complete psycho bitch on you.† â€Å"You weren't that psycho.† â€Å"But definitely a bitch?† â€Å"Well†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He hid a smile, not meeting my eyes. â€Å"I'm sorry, Doug. I'm really sorry.† â€Å"Quit it. I can't take much more of this sentimentality.† I leaned over and squeezed his arm, resting my head slightly on his shoulder. â€Å"You're a good guy, Doug. A really good guy. And a good friend. And I'm sorry†¦ sorry for a lot of things that have – or haven't – happened between us.† â€Å"Hey, forget about it. It's nothing between friends, Kin- caid.† A pregnant pause hung between us; he was still clearly uncomfortable with this exchange. â€Å"Did†¦ did everything turn out all right? I lost track of you after the show. That outfit you have on doesn't reassure me any.† â€Å"You'll never believe whose shirt this is,† I teased, subsequently telling him the whole tale of getting sick with Seth and the follow-up birthday party. Doug was pushing hysterics by the time I finished, albeit in a relieved sort of way. â€Å"Mortensen's a good guy,† he finally said, still laughing. â€Å"He says the same thing about you.† Doug grinned. â€Å"You know he's – oh, man. I forgot, what with all those phone calls.† Turning to the desk, he sifted through papers and books, finally producing a small white envelope. â€Å"You got a note. Paige said she found it last night. I hope it's good news.† â€Å"Yeah, me too.† But I had my doubts when I saw it. I took it gingerly, like something that might burn me. The paper and calligraphy were identical to the last one's. Opening up the envelope, I read: So you're interested in fallen angels, are you? Well, there'll be a hands-on demonstration tonight. It should prove more informative than your current endeavors and won't require you screwing your boss in order to get help with extrapolation – not that watching you make a whore of yourself didn't have its moments. I looked up, meeting Doug's curious eyes. â€Å"No worries,† I told him lightly, folding the note up and placing it in my purse. â€Å"This is old news.† Hugh's report implied Lucinda had been killed last night, and this note had been slipped to me beforehand, according to Doug. The warning had gone unheeded. This person apparently didn't have a good grasp of my schedule, or they hadn't wanted me to actually act beforehand. It was more like a scare tactic. Whatever their point in giving me a heads-up on Lucinda, it was nothing compared to the other reference in the note. The thought that someone had watched me have sex with Warren made my skin crawl. â€Å"Where are you off to now?† Doug asked. â€Å"Believe it or not, I need to find a book.† â€Å"You're in the right place.† We went back out to the information desk, where Tammi stood. It pleased me to see Doug training her in this post; we'd need people available for all jobs when the holidays came. â€Å"Practice time,† I told her. â€Å"Tell me where we keep this book.† I gave her the name, and she looked it up in the computer, frowning at the results. â€Å"We don't. We can order it for you.† I scowled, suddenly understanding why people seemed so pissed off when I told them that. â€Å"Great,† I muttered. â€Å"Where am I going to get it tonight?† Erik probably stocked it, but he'd be closed by now. â€Å"I hate to recommend this,† joked Doug, â€Å"but a library might have it.† â€Å"Maybe†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I eyed a clock, unsure how late the local branches stayed open. â€Å"Um, Georgina?† began Tammi carefully. â€Å"I know a place that has it. And that's still open.† I turned to her in surprise. â€Å"Really? Where – no. No. Not there.† â€Å"I'm sorry.† Her blue eyes pleaded with me to forgive her for such tidings. â€Å"But there were three copies in stock the last time I was there. They couldn't have sold out.† I groaned, rubbing my temples. â€Å"I can't go in there. Doug, you want to run an errand for me?† â€Å"I've got to close,† he admonished. â€Å"What place are you avoiding?† † Krystal Starz, home of ‘freaky witch woman.' â€Å" â€Å"You couldn't pay me to go there.† â€Å"You could pay me,† noted Tammi, â€Å"but I'm closing too. If it makes it any easier, she's not there all the time.† â€Å"Yeah,† added Doug helpfully. â€Å"No manager is always on-duty. She must have other staff to cover her.† â€Å"Unless they're short-staffed,† I muttered. The irony. I left the store and got into my car for the journey to Krystal Starz. As I drove, I reflected on the two pieces of information I'd gleaned today. First, the nephilim reference. The King James translation had mentioned angelic offspring, even mentioned them as being abnormal, but I had never considered the possibilities half-angel children might present. The annotation in Terry and Andrea's translation had elaborated only slightly more on such creatures, but it had been enough to spring a lock in my head. Who better, I thought, to take on both angels and demons than some sort of bastard demigod? Of course, the whole discovery of the nephilim had come about as a spin-off to the verse Erik had given me about fallen angels. I could be running away with a blind lead here when really the culprit was just a regular immortal, albeit an unstable one, slaying members of both sides. After all, I still hadn't ruled Carter out of the realm of suspects, nor had I figured out why said killer would finish the job with Duane and Lucinda but let Hugh live. My other piece of data today, the new note, offered little I hadn't already known. I'd simply found it too late for it to be of preemptive use. And if some voyeur was following me around, there was nothing I could do about that either. Yet, it led to the obvious question: Why was this person following me around? Evidence suggested I was the only one receiving such attention, the only one receiving notes. And again, there was the niggling truth: Everyone I'd fought with had later become a victim†¦ When I had almost reached Krystal Starz, I pulled off onto a deserted street. Unbeknownst to Tammi and Doug, I already had a simple solution for facing Helena. Stripping out of the dress and Seth's shirt, lest they be consumed, I shape-shifted, taking on the guise of a tall, willowy Thai woman in a linen dress. I sometimes used this body to hunt in. The New Age bookstore was quiet when I entered, with only a couple of browsing customers. I saw the same boyish acolyte from before manning the register, and blessing upon blessing, I couldn't see Helena anywhere. Even disguised, I still had no desire to run into that nutcase. Smiling at the young man behind the counter, I approached and asked where I could find the book. Grinning back like an idiot – this was a very attractive form, after all – he led me to a certain section in their cryptic cataloging system, immediately finding the book. As Tammi had said, the store stocked three copies. We returned to the register to cash out, and I sighed in relief, thinking I was going to make it out of here unscathed. No such luck. The back door leading to the conference room opened, and Helena glided out as though conjured, clad in a flowing fuchsia gown, laden with her usual ten pounds of necklaces. Damn it. It was like the woman really did have a sixth sense or something. â€Å"Things are well, Roger?† she asked the clerk, using her raspy show voice. â€Å"Yes, yes.† He bobbed his head eagerly, apparently thrilled that she'd call him by first name. Turning to me, she gave me one of her diva smiles. â€Å"Hello, my dear. How are you this evening?† Remembering that this persona had no grudge with her, I forced a smile and answered politely, â€Å"Good, thank you.† â€Å"I imagine so,† she told me gravely as I handed cash to the boy, â€Å"because I sense excellent things about your aura.† I widened my eyes in what I hoped was a laywoman's awe. â€Å"Really?† She nodded, pleased at an appreciative audience. â€Å"Very bright. Very strong. Lots of color. You have good things in store for you.† This message was a far cry from the one she'd given me at Emerald City, I thought. Seeing my book, she eyed me sharply, probably because it was dense and filled with research, as opposed to most of the fluff she sold. â€Å"I'm surprised. I would have expected you to be reading up on how to focus your gifts more. Maximize your full potential. I have several titles I can recommend if you're interested.† Didn't this woman ever stop with the sales pitching? â€Å"Oh, I'd love to,† I oozed back, â€Å"but I only brought enough cash for this.† I gestured to the bag now in hand. â€Å"I understand,† she told me gravely. â€Å"Let me show you anyway. So you'll know what to come back for next time.† Torn, I contemplated which would cause me the most discomfort: going along with her or starting a feud in yet another body. Noticing a clock, I saw that the store closed in fifteen minutes. She couldn't waste that much of my time. â€Å"Okay. I'd love to.† Beaming, Helena led me across the store, another victim in her thrall. As promised, we looked at books on utilizing the strongest parts of the aura, a few books on crystal channeling, and even one on how visualization could help bring about the things we most wanted. This last one was so painful, I wanted to beat myself in the head with it to end my suffering. â€Å"Don't underestimate the power of visualization,† she whispered. â€Å"You can control your own destiny, set your own paths, rules, and stakes. I can sense great potential in you, but following these principles can help you unlock more – all the things you'd want for a happy and fulfilling life. Career, home, husband, children.† An image of Seth's niece curled in my lap suddenly came unbidden to me, and I hastily turned away from Helena. Succubi bore no children. No such future waited for me, book or no. â€Å"I need to go. Thanks for your help.† â€Å"Of course,† she responded demurely, handing me a list she'd conveniently written the titles – and prices – upon. â€Å"And let me give you some brochures for our upcoming programs and events.† It didn't end. She finally released me once I was sufficiently laden with paper, all of which I dumped into the trash bin in the parking lot. Lord, I hated that woman. I supposed Helena the schmoozing con artist was better than Helena the raving lunatic who had been at Emerald City, but really, it was a tough call. At least I'd obtained the book, which was all that mattered. I pulled off at one of my favorite Chinese places on the way home, back in my normal shape. Carrying Harrington's book in, I ate General Tso's chicken while reading the entry on nephilim : Nephilim are first referenced in Genesis 6:4, where they are sometimes referred to as â€Å"giants † or â€Å"fallen ones.† Regardless of the word's translation, the nephilim's origin is clear from this passage: they are the semi-divine offspring of angels and human women. Genesis 6:4 refers to them as â€Å"mighty† and â€Å"men of renown.† The rest of the Bible makes little reference to the nephilim's angelic siring, but encounters with giants and men of â€Å"great stature† are frequently recorded in other books, such as Numbers, Deuteronomy, and Joshua. Some have speculated that the â€Å"great wickedness† prompting the flood in Genesis 6 was actually a result of the nephilim's corrupting influence on mankind. Further apocryphal readings, such as 1 Enoch, elaborate on the plight of the fallen angels and their families, describing how the corrupted angels taught â€Å"charms and enchantments† to their wives while their offspring ra n wild throughout the earth, slaughtering and causing strife among humans. The nephilim, gifted with great abilities much like those of the ancient Greek heroes, were nonetheless cursed by God and neglected by their parents, consigned to wander the earth all their days without peace until eventually destroyed for the sake of mankind. I looked up, feeling breathless. I had never heard of anything like this. I had been right in telling Erik practitioners were the worst to ask about their own histories; surely this was something someone should have told me about before. Angelic offspring. Were nephilim real? Were they still around? Or was I really just chasing a dead end here, following a distracting lead when I should have restricted my search to immortals of my caliber or above, like Carter? After all, these nephilim were half-human; they couldn't be all that powerful. After paying the bill, I walked out to my car, opening my fortune cookie as I went. It was empty. Charming. A light rain misted around me, and fatigue crept in around my edges, not surprising considering the last twenty-four hours. I couldn't find a parking spot when I arrived in Queen Anne, which indicated some sort of sporting event or show going on nearby. Grumbling, I parked seven blocks away from home, vowing to never again lease an apartment that only had street spots. The wind Seth and I had felt earlier was fading, normal since Seattle was not a wind-prone city. The rain picked up in intensity, however, further darkening my mood. I was halfway home when I heard footsteps behind me. Pausing, I turned to look back but saw nothing save slick pavement, blearily reflecting streetlights. No one was there. I turned back around, starting to pick up my pace until I did a mental head slap and simply turned invisible. Jerome was right; I did think like a human too much. Still, I didn't like the street I'd chosen back; it was too deserted. I needed to cut over and walk the rest of the distance on Queen Anne Avenue itself. I had just turned the corner when something impacted me hard on my back, knocking me forward six feet, startling me so much that I shifted back to visible. I tried to turn around, flailing at my attacker, but another blow hit me in the head hard, knocking me to my knees. The sense I had was of being struck by something hand and arm shaped, but it packed a punch, more like a baseball bat. Again, my attacker hit me, this time across one of my shoulder blades, and I cried out, hoping someone would hear me. Another strike swiped the side of my head, the force pushing me over onto my back. I squinted up, trying to catch sight of who was doing this, but all I could dimly discern was a dark, amorphous shape, bearing down on me fast and hard as another blow made contact with my jaw. I could not get up from that onslaught, could not fight against the pain descending on me harder and thicker than the rain around me. Suddenly, brilliant light filled my vision – light so brilliant it hurt. I was not alone in my assessment. My attacker recoiled, letting me go, and I heard a strange high-pitched scream emitted above me. Attracted by some irresistible lure, I looked toward the light. A white-hot pain seared my brain as I did, my eyes taking in the figure moving toward us: beautiful and terrible, all colors and none, white light and darkness, winged and armed with a sword, features shifting and indiscernible. The next scream I heard was my own, the agony and ecstasy of what I had seen scorching my senses, even though I could no longer see it. My vision had gone white-whiter-whitest until all was black, and I could see nothing at all. Then, silence fell. I sat there sobbing, hurting physically and spiritually. Footsteps came, and I felt someone kneel beside me. Somehow, despite my blindness, I knew it was not my attacker. That person had long since fled. â€Å"Georgina?† a familiar voice asked me. â€Å"Carter,† I gasped out, throwing my arms around him.

The Essence Of The 1920 S - 1659 Words

The Essence of the 1920’s in The Great Gatsby â€Å"The Roaring Twenties was the period of great American prosperity which was built on shaky foundations.† For decades, the 1920’s have been interpreted as a period of economic prosperity and social change in which the novel The Great Gatsby was born. In the early 1920’s, the United States experienced a period of immense reorganization of social and economical life; therefore, this post- World War I era became referred to as â€Å"The Roaring 20’s†, â€Å"The Jazz Age†, or â€Å"The Age of Intolerance.† As the early twentieth century was the aftermath of the 1890s depression, corruption was quickly brought into scope, thus the issues with unstable partnerships and unethical trusts were addressed during this progressive era. World War I brought an abrupt end to the progressive era and stimulated a period of economic boom. This era is well depicted in The Great Gatsby and in F. Sco tt Fitzgerald’s life as all three included a sequence of events beginning with prosperity, followed by stability and ending with a collapse. The prosperity and collapse of this time period is expressed through its three nicknames, â€Å"The Roaring 20’s†, â€Å"The Jazz Age†, and â€Å"The Age of Intolerance,† each of which highlight an aspect of this roaring time period. The 1920s were in short an age of dramatic social and political change. The stimulated economy fueled stable business prices and high employment; therefore, for the first time, more Americans lived inShow MoreRelatedThe Tale of a Society Through Fitzgerald Essay1258 Words   |  6 PagesRoaring 20’s. F. Scott Fitzgerald captured all three with his literary voice. He made impressions everywhere with the supreme achievement of his third novel, The Great Gatsby. This novel is a tale of people’s sensational lives in the 1920’s. 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