Descriptive Essay - Original Writing Essay

I set out to find a place to begin my observations, not knowing what to fully expect, what I may find. So I decided to look around at what is close to my home that isn’t a place I frequent or have even visited at all. Then it came to me, the Starbucks that is only about a mile away is a perfect place for me to observe subjects that I would consider different from myself, seeing as how I consider such obscene prices for coffee ridiculous. Starbucks is a very popular chain of coffee vendors that describe their product as more about quality than what Americans are used to in typical coffee joints.

I decided to use Starbucks as the site for my naturalistic observation assignment. Starbucks is an American coffee house chain that is well known for its relaxing atmosphere and delicious coffee drinks. Today is Labor day and because it is a holiday, I expect to see several people commuting back home from their vacations. As I entered the Starbucks in Palm Springs, just as I expected, it was full of people getting their coffees for the long drive ahead of them. The people are mostly young men and women in tank tops and shorts due to the hot weather. Since it is 11:30 in the morning, everyone appears to be in a rush to get on the road. As I sat longer, a couple sitting in the corner caught my attention. They seem to be in no rush and look like

One of my favorite places in Shelbyville where many people live. They particularly like hiding myself in the new Starbucks shop for relaxation, tasting a cup of perfumed coffee, especially in winter. One day in this cold season, the stiffness in the air shakes my body. They try to run into the coffee shops but their body was so tight that they couldn't move easily. They opened the door. The warm air in the shop treated people like VIP, massaging my leg and my blood started their cycle again finally. The warm air welcomed them with a coffee smell, mixing the smell of chocolate and cakes. Many people need a good way to get started in their day whether it’s coffee, breakfast, vigorous exercise, or perhaps walking their dog.

chair. I make my way to my room and I grab the picture frame that I placed on my night stand.

When my parents decided I had become old enough to safely wield a pole with a small but hurtful hooked object on a string, I began fishing. At first I only wanted to fish because I was not allowed to, but after I tried it for the first time I became fascinated with the mechanics. With our small, skinny, breakable-looking poles, we could pull mysterious, flopping beasts out of the water that would otherwise swim beneath the surface, undetectable. During the fall and winter months, my father, my sister, and I would frequently take our fishing poles down to the creek behind our house in hope of catching salmon and any other wondrous kinds of fish that frequented the cool waters.

I grab the tiny green bowl in front of Autumn and place it in the stainless steel sink. I swipe my hand under the faucet and clear water comes pouring out. The remains of the now cold mac’n’cheese soaks up the water and swirls down the drain. I look over my shoulder to my sweet Autumn, who is still sitting in the chair with her tiny arms and filthy fingers draped on the counter.

I moved to Waterford, Connecticut in my middle of second year of high school. When I went to Waterford first time, I didn’t like it. Actually I felt miserable, because I wasn’t happy that I moved to Waterford. As soon as when I got there I missed all of my friends. I don’t remember exact dates, but I know it was winter, cold. I think unhappiness made me feel colder. Waterford looks like the old country. There was few houses in a street. Our new house was one of it. The house surrounded by some trees, a huge yard, and a stream. I thought I am living in a forest. As soon as when we moved to Waterford, my father had to go back to Korea for his work. It was our first time that we live separately. I had about a month off from the school because one of the paper didn’t go through. I didn’t know anyone in there, didn’t know what I can do, or what’s where. Afraid to be outside, and being not happy about living in Waterford didn’t makes me to do something. I just stayed in the house. Staying in the house wasn’t fun either. My father is gone. My mom started to work in her new job. My brother was busy to play online computer game with his friends. I think living in a house for a month without seeing anyone, and stay home felt loneliness was the very beginning of the depression start.

Scuffling just out of sight, the creature sniffed the air and reared it 's head. It caught her scent. It 's leathery black skin made it easier to disappear into the shadows of the forest they were in. The people it was hunting had no such talent.

bbI walked down to the beach by myself along side of a desolate road. The wind tossed the palm trees and my long hair in every direction. The sun was setting and the sky turned sort of a pink and lavender color which reminded me of my mother. Pebbles on the ground tickled the bottoms of my bare feet as I pondered about her. How her favorite color was lavender, how her hair always smelled like the pink tropical flowers in our front yard, how she always smiled and appreciated the rain for its beauty (even if it meant we couldn’t go surfing), she had dark olive skin with freckles across her nose and top of her cheekbones. Green eyes and a beautiful wide smile that always appeared to be on her face even when times were rough. I didn’t really look my mom, I had freckles like her but my face structure was totally different. Actually I looked like no one in my family. In fact, at family gatherings and reunions I was often asked if I was a good family friend. Even if people thought I looked a little bit like my mom (because of the freckles) they wouldn’t tell me because they were constantly trying to avoid an awkward conversation.

It was 3:27 a.m., and my husband, just pulled into our driveway. He manages a popular restaurant in D.C. and had just worked his usual 12-hour shift and was exhausted and only thinking about climbing into bed to sleep the sleep of the dead for a peaceful 3 hours until our 3 year old son rose with the sun and snuck into our room. So he walked out of the car and locked the door and walked the 15-20 steps to our front door. As he stepped inside, he quickly yet gently shut the front door behind him as he could hear a loud truck racing down the street towards our direction and didn’t want the loud engine to wake up everyone (myself and our 2 young children) who were fast asleep inside. Then there was a loud crash, and the pickup truck’s engine raced away. I awoke in bed from the noise of the collision but at the same time heard our front door open/close so I knew he was home safe and I allowed myself to fall back asleep.

I wake up to the sound of a woodpecker. Why am I even here? How did I get in my bed? These questions raced through my mind as I searched for a possible answer. Maybe it was just a dream. Yeah, just a dream.

Once having left the Brewin’s place, I was back on the road pushing June’s car to its limit as I made my way over to the shed. I wasn’t completely sure of what my game plan would be once I got there, but I knew whatever it would be, my chances of pulling it off would be slim.

I rolled out of bed and landed on the ruff discoloured carpet; I hadn 't vacuumed in months. I got up. I stretched out my ridged body. I fumbled to the door, not being bothered to switch on the lights. My tongue was dry and I needed something to quench my thirst- soda. Once I entered the hallway, I was assailed by a blinding light coming from Savannah 's, my sister 's bedroom. Curious - I made my way towards her room as my eyes adjusted to the new-found brightness.

My dad spoke to me the morning of November 2nd “Get up. Get up. GET UP! Get out of bed if you wanna go hunt”. I checked to see the time and the clock read 4:30am. I laid in my coffin sized bunk for a minute or two, gradually climbing out by flinging one leg over the edge and then the other, and sliding off the top as slow as a sloth. I stood up and shuffled over to the table where I plopped down across from my dad. As my uncle Kirk made breakfast and coffee I asked my dad “Are you having a good birthday weekend?”. He replied “It 's been great, now lets go get one.” We all ate our breakfast and prepared for the hunt. As I was putting on layer after layer I got a strange feeling. I did not know if I felt good or bad, so I stayed positive and thought today would be the day. I climbed into the truck and we lumbered down the road.

The cool dampness from the morning dew caused my feet to itch. This particular morning was chilly and damp. I love to go to yard sales with my mom, but at 6:00 am. Really? “Oh my goodness, look at this,” said my mom. She had located a goat. Yes a goat. Not the live, breathing kind, but the stuffed cute kind. He wore a small black and white striped outfit and the tiniest red bandana. His wire rimmed spectacles set off huge eyes which were topped off by large curling horns. All in all he was about 8 inches tall. He held a small sign that said “Old Goat” in black writing.