Robert Alexander's Autobiographical Essay: Make-Up

“Do you like always moving around?” Lori asked me. “Of course I do!” I said. “Don 't you?” “Sure,” she said. It was late afternoon, and we were parked outside of a bar in the nevada desert. It was called the Bar None Bar. I was four and Lori was seven. We were on our way to Las Vegas. Dad had decided it would be easier, as he put it, to accumulate the capital necessary to finance the prospecter if we hit the casinos for a while.

Have you ever thought about who created makeup? Or how it was created? When, where and how? Why was it created? How has it changed over time? Has it affected anyone? Well I’m going to tell you some of it. Make up wasn’t just created by powder or anything small and simple like that, no. Makeup actually has a lot of its own differences. In 180 BCE was when makeup had first had started but it wasn’t commonly used as much as then. People would limit the use of makeup because it was so expensive and hard to get and or find. The women who actually had it or used it were the prostitutes and the wealthier women. The “Cheap Knockoff’s” were the ones who were sold to the poorer women. The people didn’t really care if the slaves used makeup but

Getting to know Sydney made me realize a lot more about life. Going into college I felt agitated because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, and maybe moving here was a mistake, but Sydney reassured me. Although tomorrow is a mystery, we need to have faith that it’ll bring us exactly what we need. Her story of having a youth full of uncertainty and now having a life of complete sense has given me hope that I will be okay, and to just enjoy today and it’s opportunities.

Robert is a sportswriter and a broadcast journalist who is also known for his young adult novels. He was born in 1938 in the Bronx. Throughout his childhood, he would’ve described himself as a “puke.” He was bullied and felt like an outcast. He earned his Bachelor’s degree in English from Columbia University at only 19 years of age. He also received his Master’s degree in journalism. When Lipsyte was a reporter and writer for The New

An opportunity arose to visit the city of my dreams. My school’s basketball team was participating in a tournament at Yeshiva University, and my friend Zach had an apartment that we could stay in nearby in Washington Heights. My parents were skeptical at first, because they were concerned with the safety of Washington Heights. I eventually persuaded them to let me stay with Zach, when my uncle Rich volunteered to backstop my trip. I began to contact my uncle Rich who lives in the Upper East Side of New York, to see if he had any advice on what to do while in New York. He worked together with me to brainstorm ideas of how to maximize my trip. I tried to get Zach involved with the planning but he became overwhelmed, and preferred to live by the play it by ear mentality. After a few weeks of planning with Rich, it came time to board the plane in West Palm Beach. Zach and I sat next to a girl who was a native New Yorker. I asked her “what do you do for fun in New York.” She responded by saying “ the best part of New York is getting lost.” I thought that she had an interesting response, but I didn’t plan on getting lost.

The night air was heavy with silence. Clouds drifted across a calm sky, and a full moon shone in the distance. In a small hut on the outskirts of the valley, an old man lay in bed, awake in the peaceful slumber of the village. His breaths came in rattling gasps, his forehead burned, and his joints felt stiff with pain. He shifted on the blankets, his withered hands clenched in fists as he tried to suppress the wave of bitter memories coming to him. His life had been nothing more than work, loss, tragedy. He remembered all of his hope, his ambition, in his youth, and he smiled bitterly. No one would remember him as the man that he had once hoped he would become. Now, as his breathing became heavier and he felt himself fading on the brink of

In the detailed story of an impoverished family during the late 1900’s, Jeannette Walls describes her experience from the young age of 3, up until adulthood. The family of 6, with Rex Walls as the father, Rose Mary as the mother, and her three siblings, Lori, Brian and Maureen, were constantly moving throughout the country with little to no food or cash. The memoir shows how dysfunctional the family was, but never seemed to force the reader to condemn the parents. In a life of poverty, the have to move for own to town, and often lived in various mining towns. Although they each found something they learned to love (like Jeannette’s rock collection) in the desert, they had to leave them behind once Rex’s alcoholism only worsened, and they ran

On Adam’s first night he had to walk eight miles through a not so nice neighborhood to the homeless shelter rather than paying a fee for the bus. In order to save even more money Adam lived in the homeless shelter for the first two months of his year. Adam had to wake up early in the morning

Smith’s early life could be described as abusive in every way except physical, for Smith, who resembled both his Father and Grandfather, was thankfully spared the nightly beatings his father had to endure. The artist, in looks, habits, behavior, and personality, became a carbon copy of the two men who had for years neglected or viewed their sons as romantic rivals and fought a constant struggle throughout his life to deny that inheritance as he

One day the richest people in Las Vegas had a baby. They named him Mitchell. Everyone was talking about him, and how they think he’s going to turn up. “He’s going to be a magnificent better”. But Mitchell had a much “bigger” future ahead of him.

Robert Gilbert used to be not poor but not rich until he went to Las Vegas and gambled all of his money away. He went with his friends Josh and Jerry which were his only friends, but they did not spend all of there money there, like Robert did. Robert was not a well liked guy he was always in a bad mood and always telling everybody how good he was, He only had 2 people that liked him in his whole town. His mom and dad died about 6 years ago when they both got into a car accident coming home from going out for dinner that evening when a drunk driver hit them head on.

Using money that was embezzled from his father's firm, he checks himself into a fine hotel to live this life long dream. He wraps himself up in all the luxury that he knew would one day come to him. He dressed himself in fine clothes, ate in the dining hall, and went out on a night on the town with a college boy that he met. The atmosphere of living grandly unfortunately collided with the thought of going back to Cordelia Street when his money ran out.

He wore blue jean shorts, a red, white and blue striped polo style shirt, and a pair of white Nike tennis shoes when he strolled into the leasing office at Pebble Creek Apartments. At six feet, six inches tall, he towered over me as I rose from the table where I had just signed my lease for my new apartment. As I looked into his smiling hazel eyes, he told me his name was Blaine Condreay. I knew instantly he was my destiny. I was a divorced, single mother of two young children who were the center of my life. He was a police officer, a soldier in the Oklahoma Army National Guard, and the Courtesy Patrol Officer at Pebble Creek Apartments; he was

The citizens begin to associate with the outside world that had once despised them, and they became "eager to get away and try someplace else" (6). The town of Haven "had gone from feet to belly in fifty years" (5) and because of this the "New Fathers" decide to dismantle the Oven and relocate. The "New Fathers" sought to keep the dream of a paradise alive because they knew "what they might become if they did not begin anew" (6). Fifteen families pack their bags and leave to found the town of Ruby, a town isolated by ninety miles from anything.

Never in a million years had I never imagined that falling in love would be so easy. On February 16, 2010 I was honored to be the girlfriend of Dante’ Lamont Williams. The moment I laid my eyes on him I felt as if the world was in my hands. Having someone besides family to encourage; build me up was amazing. Daily we would go on park walks just to explain why his love for me was strong. Ever since the first day we met he would call me his “golden piece”. A golden piece to Dante’ was when he was down and out; clueless on what to do I would be the one to put a smile on his face just to encourage him and let him know that everything was going to be just fine. I never thought I would go from loving someone so hard to watching him take his last breath in my arms.