Maruja C. Pepito
Instructor: J. King
ENG 101 A06
22 January 2014
Pale Wall
It was the evening of May, the month before classes started. I took my favorite green shirt and pajamas out of the closet and placed them in the washroom. I was ready to take a bath. As I stepped into the tub, I turned on the shower and stood under the tepid water. I stared at this pale wall in front of me for 30 minutes. It was quite unusual of me to just stand there and do nothing since I love taking showers. I know I wasn’t feeling emotionally well that night. After I took my “not so delightful” shower, I sat immediately on the couch in the TV room and watched my favorite Filipino channel. My elder sister, Yan, was so elated with the show that she was watching. My younger sister on the other hand, Zel, was on the other side of the room playing with the laptop. I found myself staring blankly again at a pale wall. Maybe because there was this certain issue that’s been bugging me then for a couple of weeks and it has occupied my deep thoughts ever since.
“Time to eat!” our helper, Tes, shouted while serving the food on the table. I didn’t even notice that it was time for dinner already. She cooked her specialty called, “Linat-ang Baboy” (Boiled pork with vegetables) that night. My sisters aggressively took the rice and the viand, since it was everyone’s best-loved dish. I, however, didn’t have the appetite to devour the savory food in front of me. “Wow, it’s a miracle that you only took few pieces of the meat. Are you on a diet?” my sisters asked humorously. I replied, “Don’t worry I’m going to eat a lot later. Expect no leftovers!” I just had to lie to stop them from teasing me. Minutes passed and my sisters finished t...
... middle of paper ...
...at made my night. Definitely, it was the most beautiful thing that I’ve heard so far. As contrast to what I thought was the worst sound I’ve heard, her words were music to my ears. I was in total euphoria. I wanted to hug her though, but she’s 10,000 miles away from us.
“Thank you Mom. I know it’s not easy for you to cope up with this. I’m very glad that you understand me. You don’t know how much this means to me. I’m so lucky to have all of you. I couldn’t ask for more," that ended the conversation.
From that moment, I knew my life would change. It’s good to be living without that mask anymore. That pale wall had turned into a vibrant one. “This was it, no more hiding”, I told myself. After all, 16 years of pretending was worth the wait, because now I’ve got this new chapter of my life; an existence that I will surely adore for a lifetime.
“The Wall” is a breathtaking short story written by Marlis Wessel, a former Canadian teacher, who has also written short stories, children’s plays and monologues for theatre. Ms. Wessel’s’ short story is a remarkable journey to Germany of a young couple in the late 80’s, where they learn the significance of the country’s history and present existence. The story is written in third person perspective with fulfilling and symbolical details within the characters’ every move and speech.
Women have traditionally been known as the less dominant sex. Through history women have fought for equal rights and freedom. They have been stereotyped as being housewives, and bearers of children. Only with the push of the Equal Rights Amendment have women had a strong hold on the workplace alongside men. Many interesting characters in literature are conceived from the tension women have faced with men. This tension comes from men, society, in general, and within a woman herself. Two interesting short stories, “The Yellow Wall-paper" and “The Story of an Hour," focus on a woman’s fix near the turn of the 19th century. This era is especially interesting
It was midmorning on Wednesday, August 28, 2014. I was in seventh grade, an A+ student, at the top of her class. When I finished my homework, I went outside to frolic with the animals. My sister was in her room like usual, the loner or as she calls herself ¨the outcasts of outcasts,¨ my grandparents next door, and my parents at work like usual. They're never home, I've began to get a habit of doing everything myself and without permission.
Roger Angell 's "Over the Wall" is a memoir that he wrote about his wife that she passed away, leaving him alone in this world. The memoir is filled with his experience with his wife and his feelings towards his wife. When he starts talking about his wife, he realized that people whom he knew no longer lives in this world. Roger Angell made the readers imagine he is in front of them and talking about his personal experience. He wanted us to know that people that we love is gone in the blink of an eye. Literary nonfiction form of his memoir shows the readers that he missed his wife, but grief won 't help anything. “Over the wall” is an emotional story, as it reaches out to us with few deep messages of loneliness, feelings, and memories.
In the book ADVENTURES WANTED SLATHBOG’S GOLD by M. L. FORMAN, a quest was formed to take down the dragon, Slathbog. The dragon was evil, hoarded treasure, took over cities, and had to be stopped. The Adventurers wanted to conquer the dragon and get rid of his evil influence.
I first want to start off by thanking my parents.I wouldn't be here today without your unconditional love and support.Mom,you have done so much for me whether that be driving me around,packing my lunch everyday
When I walked inside the front door something didn’t seem right. The feeling of sorrow overwhelmed the house. It was so thick I could literally feel it in the air. Everyone was motionless. They were sulking;I was befuddled. The most energetic people in the world, doing absolutely nothing. I repeatedly asked them what was wrong. After an hour or so, my dad pulled me aside. He said that my Aunt Feli had passed away last night. My mind went for a loop, I was so confused. I thought that he was joking, so I replied “You’re lying, don’t mess with me like that.” and punched his shoulder softly while I chuckled. My dad quickly started tearing up and said, “There...
... disguised was forced onto her face every single day, for 20 years until her love of her life came back. To her, the mask was like a daughter to her; it latched onto her and fed its feeling into her. It also became her way of life; she starts living off of this feeling mask and lives with it for 20 years. Since she sucked into her disguised, she cannot take it off until her unknown husband comes home.
It was a quiet summer day with blue skies and barely any clouds. The birds were outside chirping noisily as if they were performing in a musical. It wasn’t too cold or too hot outside and there was a warm breeze. My parents were very busy with work. They both had full time jobs. I could hear the clicking sounds of their computers typing and the confused looks on their faces. Their busy and confused faces soon turned into frowns. I saw my mom slowly rise up from her chair, mumble some words to herself, and headed towards the yard. At the same time, my brother was throwing dry noodles all over the place and destroying property. He liked biting on things and ripping things, his favorite was eating
I went to school tired from listening to my parents conversation at two in the morning. I had a great day. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to hear the argueing. When I got home. My grandmother was at our house. I thought it was very strange. My grandmother never came over unless she was dropping off clothes or something. So I knew she was there for a reason and it wasn’t going to be good.
By leading carefree conversations, by being energetic and positive all the time I believed I was only meeting the expectations of a new society while my another, thoughtful, pensive, sometimes melancholic and sensitive self was hiding somewhere behind. In the very beginning of the semester, I would lie down on the Quad, look at the humongous moon and the sky full of stars and reflect on life. In the middle of the semester, I looked at the sky with the same intention to think and analyze, but I was deeply disappointed to discover that my reflections had become as superficial and shallow as my daily life, I was not able to find thoughtful Elene, the one I was hiding so carefully. I encountered what a philosopher Martha Nussbaum defines as an “ultimate irony of the divided life”: live behind a wall long enough, and the true self you tried to hide from the world disappears from your own view! The wall itself and the world outside it become all that you
Nothing has changed my life more since the realization that I had to make who I was something that I chose, and not something that just happened. Since this revelation nothing seemed the same anymore, as though I could see the world through new eyes. It changed everything from my taste in music, literature, and movies. Things of a dark and pessimistic nature used to hold a strong allure for me, and yet I found much of things I once enjoyed didn't seem to entertain me anymore. I remembered the mental state that I once held and now seeing how I have changed, know that I can never return to the prison I came from.
Eating behaviour is a complex behaviour that involves a vast array of factors which has a great impact on the way we choose our meals. Food choice, like an other behaviour, is influenced by several interrelated factors. While hunger seems to drive our ways of food consumption, there are things outside of our own bodies that influence our food choices and the way in which we eat. The way we eat is controlled by and is a reflection of our society and cultures. I explore this idea through a food diary I created over a few weeks and the observations made by several anthropologists that I have studied.
It was one of the most exciting and nerve racking days of our lives. Although we were finally leaving high school, the feeling of being unsure didn’t go away. The whole day was full of practicing for the big moment when the entire class graduated on to a new beginning. All the girls wore shiny bright red robes and the guys were dressed in a shiny navy blue. Standing there, I had no idea what to expect. Some things I were aware of, my friends were leaving and we wouldn’t be the same friends anymore. My role was that of being so aware of the future that I was too shocked to soak in the present; being a pessimist was my main goal and everything I was sure of became true.
I passed that night crying the hold time facing the wall in my bed. I didn’t realized when I fell asleep. But when I woke up I was wondering that was a dream. I know it was and still being a pain of all, but I felt that was more terrible for me because I didn’t saw her for last time, I didn’t said bye, I didn’t was with her in her funeral and in the only “good” thing that I could think is that strange dream was a kind of goodbye from her. Time passed and too fast in my opinion, and the school year ended. That summer time, I traveled to Mexico, I was going to have my fifteen 's party. I was happy but when I came to my grandparent’s home I felt my grandma absence. But I confronted all my sadness with effort. The party time was really close. This special day came and I felt very excited, I had fun all day and all night with the relatives, family and friends. And as I mentioned before the time pass to fast and summer vacation ended, therefore; I returned to Madera CA to continue my studies. This time, I felt nervous because there were new classes, new teachers and different