What is the Author Really Saying?

On the one hand, the narrative is about a man leaving his wife. They both want the baby. The husband wants the baby because he loves the baby, but the woman at that moment wants the baby to spite her husband. The wife saw that the husband was taking a picture of the baby along with him, and a part of her wanted to win at least one battle.

But on the other hand the author is really writing about how a child should not be put in the middle of a fight. It emotionally hurts the child, but it can also physically damage the innocent, too. Through the anger of both of the parents, they could not see that the baby was hurting and they ignored the screams and cries of their child.

self and society part 2

Life is full of unsuspected and connected events that are, for the most part, impossible to describe. Some brilliant authors are able to translate the emotions that were felt on paper so accurately that one can confuse the memory as their own. This is usually succeeded through describing information relating to the five senses. It allows the author to take the reader to their memories, or at least the part of memories that the author wishes to reveal. Although many memories might be shared and however much the reader might empathize with the story, the reader will never know the true impact of the event to the author. As I said before, life is connected by events, and it is impossible to share every connected detail with someone who has not been there. Only I can know the true the amount of sadness when my sister refused to buy me the Coach wallet that I begged for me, because they do not know that she usually gets me whatever I ask. Nor will anyone understand how I was not surprised at all when she actually did walk into the Coach store bought it on the spot the following week. These stories and emotions can never be fully interpreted to other people, however it is the job of the author to try and get the memory close to the actual story.

Freewrite

How do you see yourself in a few years relating to the milestones mentioned in the “What is it About 20-Somethings?”

Education, financial, children, married, independence…

                I hope to be able to succeed in reaching the milestones mentioned within a few years after I graduate. I hope to marry before the age of twenty-six and have children by the time I am twenty-eight. I would have already moved out when I turned twenty-four. With a bit of luck, I expect to be financially secure and will be able to live comfortable while supporting my family. However, if I were to completely succeed in my dreams, I wish to marry a doctor, and quit work to allow him to be the sole bread winner of the family. Along with my husband, daughter, son, and another adopted child, we will live happily ever after.

Procrastination.....

Sweat, heat, my face feels flushed. My whole body temperature seems to have gone up about 1000 degrees. There is a pain, like a large rock jammed in my chest and I take deep breaths as if trying to grasp it from my throat and pull it out. I get chills from my hands, through my shoulders, and to my face. I wrap my arms around my shoulders to stop the chills, hoping that the cold is what causes it. I’m nervous and scared, and it feels like there is no solution that can save me. All the schoolwork that is piled up, that could have been completed weeks ago, but foolishly left to be done last minute is now coming back to haunt me. The thought of having such a large workload to be finished in such a short time makes me more nervous. As I think about my nervousness, I continue to ignore the pile of assignments yet to be done. As I sit in the lounge pretending to do work each night, I regret every morning when the workload seems to increase. It’s as if someone is counting down seconds to the horse race, and you are the jockey, continuously jumpy, waiting to rush out of the gate. Procrastination is my worst enemy.

Christine

                Dressed in a black St. John’s hooded sweater, that bears large red and white letters, which says St John’s, is Christine. As you travel downwards, her legs are wrapped in dark blue jeans that show her feminine curves. On her feet are simple black sandals. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun that somehow sits completely comfortably on her oval shaped head. As you gaze at her face, the first, if not only thing that catches your attention are her eyes. Her eyes are two brown globes of glass that reflect everything she sees. Her somewhat wide nose just so flawlessly centers her face. Her lips are light shades of pink, which calls attention to the dark brown beauty mark on her chin. When first meeting Christine, she seems intense, scary. However, as you get to know her, she is completely the opposite. The strong features on her face are slightly downplayed by her “grungy” clothes. She seems much unprepared, as if she woke up only a few minutes ago.
                This is not the Christine I know. Christine usually dresses in chic clothing that perfectly matches her level of maturity. Her hair is always done perfectly, as if it was done by a professional in a salon, yet did not take her much time. Her simple makeup never failing to bring out her features so ever more. Her whole ambience speaks elegance and she exudes experience, knowledge, and comfort. She is definitely the motherly type, as she diligently listens to her friends’ problems and offers advice after much careful deliberation.

This Weekend

I cannot believe it is only the fourth week or so of school, and we already have midterms next week. I feel like all the air has been sucked out of me, literally. The weeks and weekends full of playing at the lounge and procrastinating on the “optional” homework will not save me now. This weekend will be the definition of hell. The breakdown of my weekend is this: today after class, I must attend a pharmacy seminar, meet with my Christian club leader, finish chemistry chapters 1-4, catch up on math chapter 4, read about Socrates for philosophy, then go to NYU by 6, come back around 11, and go to sleep. On Friday, I wish to finish my English homework, philosophy homework, copy down my lab, and review math chapter 4. On Saturday and Sunday, although I am going home, I plan to spend both days studying for chemistry. On Monday, when I come back to the dorm, I have to study for philosophy for the next day, I have my philosophy midterm. I am freaking out.

Chronicles of an Amazing Best Friend

Selena Lim

9:00a.m.

The simple and worry-free smile as he tilts his head to look at me, how his piercing laughter echoes in the air, his large brown eyes covered in thick rectangular black-rimmed glasses, his knack of drawing attention, and the ability to make everyone love him: this is my best friend, often known by Travis, a name that does not do him justice.
            Physically, Travis is very good looking. His thick head of brown vibrant hair that covers his head from his eyebrows to his sometimes visible beard, long arms, and legs only seem to attract more people. He is naturally skinny and his clothes that consist of jackets, t-shirts from musicals, button down shirts, and classy jeans, fit him perfectly and give him a chic appearance. His handsome features and his insightful personality make him hard to ignore. He always has about ten people wrapped around his finger, vying for attention from him. He unintentionally breaks peoples’ hearts, but he never fears for what they may think of him.
            Travis‘s fearlessness gives him the courage to say whatever he wants, whenever he wants to say it. His insensitivity to some subjects often finds him trouble; however his skill to manipulate words always saves him. With these skills, he is also able to win any argument; well, that, and his absolute need to be right at all times, even when he is clearly wrong. He can stubbornly argue that humans have six arms, and in the end everyone will be convinced that what he says is true. He describes it best himself, “I'm confident and head-strong. I could care less what you think. I have clear views and opinions. You won't change them. Often, I'm professionally obnoxious and a grammar snob. Hate me.”
            These are not the things I like about him. His mistakes, spontaneity, and the things that we do together are what I love the most. Even the times we silently sat on the floor with nothing to do, make me feel as if the world stopped and only we can feel what best friends truly are. If Travis were to be described in one word, the only word that would come close is quirky. The best thing about him is his arm hair. It may sound strange but I love running my fingers through his fluffy hair, yes, arm hair. Also, when he takes off his glasses, he mildly resembles a pedophile.
            Almost every lunch time of senior year in high school was spent in McDonalds. His daily lunch was: two cheeseburgers with no pickles, 2 four piece chicken nuggets with two packets of barbeque sauce, a grilled ranch snack wrap, and a large coke. He ate everything in five bites and in less than seven minutes. During my school’s spring musical production of Cinderella, when I was stage manager and he was Prince Charming, if he missed his meal of McDonald’s it was almost guaranteed that he would be sick the next day. Another reason I gained so much weight was our weekly trips to Chili’s for dinner. I sincerely believe that I gained about fifteen pounds on Chili’s alone. Afterwards, we would spend around three hours at his house, attempting to do homework, but never actually succeeding because we were distracted by Mario on wii, or driving around in his mini cooper and singing along to soundtracks from his favorite musicals.
            McDonald’s, Chili’s, failed homework attempts, and driving around his mini cooper sums up what we did on the weekdays. Friday nights were spent downstairs in his amazing basement watching movies, as if we had nothing better to do. In the basement is where most of the unusual occurrences happened. For example, we once decided to speak in a British accent and it continued on for three weeks. We created an extensive background of where we were from and why we came “to the States.” We went to our friend’s birthday party and introduced ourselves in a British accent and said we were from Birkinshire, England. Now that I think back, we truly had no shame or sense of embarrassment.
            Only true best friends are not afraid to embarrass themselves in front of each other. Travis shares almost every detail of his life, even the things that I really should not know. He does everything to make me happy and his attention to detail impresses me each time. He surprises me with little things that I cannot even expect from a boyfriend. He does anything when I ask him to and never expects anything in return. This is my best friend, Travis: the one I share my thoughts, emotions, and life with.