Descriptive Essay About My Room

I am here today to convince you that the outrageously rude, belligerent, and hazardous road hogs also known as ‘cyclists in central London’ should be put into Room 101. Cyclists are impertinent, self centred people who feel that whatever they do is correct. They ride around on their annoying two wheeled children’s toys, which have no protection, and they render themselves invisible by refusing to wear reflective clothing.

It is present day in a small town known as Salem, MA. Its getting closer and closer to Halloween. I see the leaves are beginning to change, the nights are getting cooler, the sounds of tractors in the field harvesting crops, the sight of pumpkins everywhere decorating houses with faces and designs carved into them surround the neighborhood. Salem, MA is a very quiet town where everyone knows everyone and everyone gets along, for the most part.

Defying the Nuclear Family: Shortly after my seventh birthday, my parents began having fights much more often than they previously had in the past. Less than half a year later on January 15, 2005 their divorce became finalized and my father moved out of the house. For the first few months while he searched for a home to buy, my nine year old sister and I lived solely with our mother. Soon after, we began going back and forth between our parents’ houses, living at one house for a week and then switching over to the other the next. The two houses could not have been any more polar in how they were run, at my mother’s house there were strict rules and expectations to be followed.

Periodically, I guess my Daddy’s conscious would get the best of him, and we would dress-up and go to my Grandparent’s on several Sundays. After church I could hear my Dad being reprimanded regarding me and my sister by my loving grandmother. She adored my Dad; however, still had a stern Baptist constitution. They would be crying in each other’s arms and him swearing to ‘Sugar Mama’ he would do better. Alas, for poor ole’ Mr. Alfred, that lasted until he played the next country song; which, occurred pretty rapidly. Of course, with Marsha and I being teenagers, we basically liked the situation; we had charge accounts all over town, and our apartment became the number one hangout for quite a

Lucy Honeychurch is a dynamic protagonist in A Room with a View and her voyage to Italy drastically changes her perspective about conforming to society. Lucy is from the English middle class, and her family sends her to Italy with her cousin Charlotte for a cultured experience to become more sophisticated and educated. This vacation is irregular; Lucy develops a romantic relationship with George, and she challenges her past judgements of English society. This vacation signifies the beginning of Lucy’s growth as an individual. The title A Room with a View states the progression of Lucy Honeychurch’s accidental journey of introspection and her desire to find independence and escape from English social norms.

In October 1929, at the close of the Feminist Movement, Virginia Woolf published her famous writing, A Room of One’s Own. This feministic extended essay, based on a series of lectures Woolf presented at Newnham College and Girton College, channels Woolf’s thoughts and insights about women and fiction through the character of Mary Benton, who serves as the narrator. Through A Room of One’s Own, Woolf addresses three major points: having money and a room of one’s own (creative freedom), gender roles, and the search for truth. These three themes exist in other short stories such as “The Office” by Alice Munro and “I Stand Here Ironing” by Tillie Olsen, where they reveal themselves in varying degrees.

Growing up in an antique, traditional, macho-like household, I never liked it. I always questioned why my dad always did yard work on weekends, while my mom was a stay at home mom and cleaned the inside part of the house. I grew up learning how to cook and clean to help my mom out around the house during the weekends while my brother would help my dad with yard work. When

“Hey Chelsea! Can you grab us some chocolates from the dining room table?” my older cousin Ashley yelled out to me. It was the Thanksgiving of two thousand seven, and I was only six years old. We had a family gathering, which we occasionally have. Every two weeks or so, my cousins, aunts, uncles, and my own family would come together and celebrate the holidays. Especially Christmas, which was only a couple months away. Although we ate a lot at these family gatherings, we ate the most on Thanksgiving. Immediately, I stopped fantasizing about food, and rushed to the dining room table. I thought that it was okay for anyone to boss me around, like it was cool to do someone’s chores when they have their own pair of arms and legs.

As I walked in I could tell by looking at the room that a pilot lives here. As I take two steps inside the small and bright colored room, I see directly in front of me red pins piercing cities, states, and countries of a world map. After taking a long and steady look at the map, I close the door and hear something gently land on the floor; a green aviator jacket with gold wings stitched to the right side of his jacket. I pick up the jacket and hang it onto the hooks attached to the bright red door. After hanging up the jacket I turn a complete 360, walk towards the brown wooden desk, and see publications and maps of future trips. On the left side of the desk there is a set of crisp, brown gloves, an antique compass, and worn-out goggles. Then,

I say unnecessary because do you know how many toys, stuffed animals, and other dumb things like that my sister brings with us, I don’t understand why she does it, she only plays with a few of the many items. But she was the favorite child, the baby, the spoiled brat that got all the attention, so she was allowed to take all of this stuff, even after being told “pack lightly, there's not enough room in the car for extras”. Maybe the difference between me and her was that I took their orders to seriously and could have packed a little more than the bare minimum. When I finished unpacking I ate a sandwich that my mom had made, which went down much better than the hotels rubbery breakfast sausages. My dad, the over planner that he was stated that we would have to get to work on clearing the house immediately after eating in order to finish in time for the open house two weeks from now. When I finished I went outside hoping no one would notice and I could get out of doing the work that I knew would have to been done to get top dollar out of the place. My mom called me out on my laziness, “get back in here, this place will never be finished without everyone's help”. I slumped through the door and stood in front of my mom and asked “where? Where do I start in

I remember every single detail, even the exact time the rumbling started. It wasn’t exactly something I could forget. I had been sitting in third period Language Arts, gazing longingly at the clock as the second hand reached the final roman numeral. 9:36 AM. That’s when I heard it, the deep rumbling. It echoed throughout the multicolored room, and the students surrounding me finally looked up from their newly-assigned books, beginning to take notice. There was a slight hum before the lights went out, making everyone, including our teacher Ms. Sandifer, a bit restless. The lights in our school never went out, ever. I stood up from my chair to talk with some of my friends about what might be happening when the floor disappeared beneath my feet.

“Hey” I yelled running up to my friends. “Oh hello” my friends all said in unison. My friends consisted of mary,riley,and samantha we had all been friends for a while now and got along pretty well. “ So are you guys ready to go to the haunted house yet?” “No but I probably never will be so I guess I am” riley said a little too loudly. “Okay then let's go” mary said with enthusiasm. So we went off walking towards the haunted house. We blended in pretty well with all the children trick-or-treating because we had all dressed up even though none of us were trick-or-treating. I was wearing a costume that made me look like a demon. Sam was a ballerina, mary was a unicorn, riley was an elf but the type from lord of the rings.

“Wake up Kevin!!! You are going to be late for school.” my mom said. “Oh my God, calm down, you do not have to be crazy and start screaming at me every time” Yup, that’s what happens every morning when it’s time to wake up to go to school. I don't blame my mother for screaming at me. I'm a very lazy person and give my parents a very hard time when they tell me to do something. I'll finish the job, but not when they tell me too.

I’m sitting in a room belonging solely to myself. The walls are white as snow and the room is filled with the elegant sound of absolutely nothing. The thermostat as low as it can go filling the room with cool air. The floors as cold as frozen windows on a freezing winter day piercing my body with desired chiles. In a room filled with my creative projects and spectacular assets I’m welcomed with authentic comfort and satisfaction. My boots in the middle of the floor and uniforms draped across the door my camouflage reminds me that I’m a part of society change. Its 4:00pm and my ears are warmed with loud sounds outside the door sign of relief, frustration, and the erg of relaxation. Taken in by the smell of Hawaiian breeze air freshener giving my room a fresh flower garden scent in the atmosphere. I lay down in my bed on a fluffy mattress that comforts every bone and muscle in my body. Starring into the full body mirror that bring out my true beauty effortlessly enhancing my unique body and face structure. Taking a deep breath and unwinding from a long day’s work this is what I have been anticipating all day long.

As my feet lightly tapped and echoed against the hard, concrete floor, a foreign feeling filled every inch of my body. The wintery air felt cold, lifeless, and in all senses dead, and the high chirp of the birds above was strangely absent. And as I approached the door to my own house, I began to hesitate. Somehow, somewhere, deep within me, was a small sense of dread. Regardless of all telling me to do otherwise, I twisted the door’s knob, and swung it open with all the usual enthusiasm. I dashed forward, through into the living room’s comfort, until I saw my parents, sitting there, dull faced as I told them about my day. Something was wrong, and it was something awful.