my vacation essay

to stretch my arms and legs and to reach for my phone but found myself turned into an unicorn. Lying on my back with rainbow colored hair and tail in my “small” bed, and when I looked up and down, my giant, sharp horn on my forehead and my snow white belly appeared in my view. My enormous legs took up three-quarters of the bed. I have to squeeze my gigantic body to fit in. What a wonderful and bizarre dream. Luckily it’s only a dream. But everything seemed real. My bedroom, pictures of my family and

empty street of Tolleson, Arizona. About 20 eyes are pressing onto me as if they were a group of 1000. This feeling scares me, but somehow deep down, it pleases me. I feel as if some sort of key information has been wiped from my memory. As more and more of the smoke clears, my memory is coming back further and further. These memories haunt me. They won't reveal what they are. Only the emotions from these memories leak out. Hiding beneath the smoke is a vast space craft. In a flash of light, the door

Violently my long black hair swished back and forth as I carried my slender frame from branch to branch, closer to the dusky sky. Temporarily I rested my bare feet on the cool rough bark of the white oak tree. Large curving branches intertwined and carved entrancing patterns in the air. Shells of discarded acorns were scattered across the branches. The hardy rough texture of the bark felt comforting on my calloused feet, and just the smallest of movement in the cool wind did the tree make.

My neighborhoods are way too different to find similarities between them. I was born in a small neighborhood of Santiago which is a city of the Caribbean Island Dominican Republic. It’s a small place where you get to know everyone. I moved to the United States, specifically to Teller Avenue, One Hundred and seventieth street when I was eleven years old, One Hundred and seventieth street is way too big to get to know everyone. My two neighborhoods celebrate the holidays in different ways. The way

Week One: This week was an interesting week. I was at my church working and it was about that time for our yearly fire inspection coming up soon. So we were getting all of our building fire alarms panels renewed, and we had this one young guy name Adam Shabli from Cintas who came to look at our building. As the conversation continues we started just to talk about life and he asked me and the campus pastor if we were the pastors here at church. We replied saying yes and he had a shocked look. He said

and sterile white light. I am in a hospital I thought to myself as I came into consciousness. I push myself up onto my elbows and try to get my bearings straight. They must have caught us. Us. I looked around the room franticly. She wasn’t here. Where is she? Panic rushed over me as I tried to remember what happened. Running-car-lights-here. Nothing. I looked down at the IV in my arm and pulled it out. The machines started beeping and I could here footsteps down the hallway. Before I could get out

‘’I live on 2356 on Hudson Street,’’ replied Cherry. ‘’My house is the third on Hudson Street. Hudson Street is the where you would go to enter the Westside of Town.’’ I was remembering her words at my desk. I was thinking on how I could talk in a way that appeals to the people I was talking to. I guess I would know what appeals to the Greasers, but I did not know what appealed to the Socs. They were always behind a wall of aloofness, so it would be hard to know what appeals to them. I was thinking

My Ántonia takes place in a time in which gender roles were more enforced and more commonplace than they are today. Women were expected to take care of the children and the home, while men were expected to earn money and work the fields. Even though these roles were such a prominent aspect of the era, many characters worked against them. Willa Cather portrays these characters in a positive light because of their deviations from gender roles rather than despite them. Ántonia differs from what

Willa Cather’s My Ántonia has been considered by some to be a transitional work for Cather in that, beginning with this novel, she stops creating strong female characters and moves more into a masculine realm. Deborah Lambert expresses this opinion in her article “The Defeat of a Hero: Autonomy and Sexuality in My Ántonia.” Lambert claims that Cather abandons women in her later novels and focuses exclusively on “patriarchal institutions and predominantly male characters” (680). This transition

fortunate enough to live my entire life in the city of Brentwood, TN. A lot of stereotypes come to mind when telling people where I live my everyday life. Such as, money, spoiled kids, nice cars, selfishness, and many others. Every so often you find those people who don’t care about what kind of car they drive, or what brand they’re wearing. Although this type of community surrounds me every day, I have always chosen to give back. Giving back to the community is one of my favorite things to do. Not