Driving to a new place, I embraced the surrounding that I was witnessing for the first one. When I got out of the car the gravel crunched under my feet. My family and I walk up a long, skinny board walk approaching the front entrance. As I looked out the front windows all I could see was the beautiful view of Lake Travis. Walking out I saw rows of tables that had umbrellas on top. There was multiple different levels that you could sit at all looking out at the same mesmerizing view. Looking out over the lake I felt a sense of home. Time continued to tick as we sat and waited for our food. It felt like eternity had passed before the waiter came back to give us the most delicious dish I had ever had. I dipped my warm tortilla chip in the smoldering
It was heavenly. As I swirled the thick steaming layers together, I was fascinated by the lively Italian being spoken in the bar, the laughter, and the peace and ease in the bartender’s face. I felt honored to be privy to the rituals that were taking place before my eyes.
There are many themes highlighted in the short story Greasy Lake, by T. Coraghessan Boyle. Some of these themes include being adventurous, violence, and being young and restless. However, there is a main message that stands out more than the others and is the most centered theme of the story. This is the theme of coming of age through the narrator’s journey to finding out what it means to be “bad,” and whether or not he wanted to make bad choices.
Some people go through life thinking they are invincible or a bad until events happen in your life where you find out whether your bad or not. People go through this all the time and this is part of growing up. In "Greasy Lake:" by T.C. Boyle, the narrator of this story undergoes a "character arc;" by the end of the story he has developed more as a character (i.e undergone changes), and is noticeably different than he was at the onset of the narrative.
Greasy Lake is the story of three friends who are bad characters. Until they run into a situation where they question, just how bad they are. Just because they act badly and look bad does not mean they are. They are teenagers in a period, “when courtesy and winning ways [are] out of style when it [is] good to be bad, when they [cultivate] decadence like a taste.” (112) They look bad, wearing torn-up leather jackets, slouching around with toothpicks in their mouths and wearing their shades morning, noon and night. They have the attitude, they drive their parents cars fast, and burn rubber as the pull out of the driveway. They have the bad habits. They drink “gin and grape juice, Tango, Thunderbird, and Bali Hai, [sniff] glue, and ether and what somebody [claims] [is] cocaine.”(112) What starts out as a harmless prank on the third night of their summer vacation turns into a situation where they get into a fight, attempt to rape a girl, find a dead body and see first hand the destruction a bad character can do to an automobile.
When the day came to leave I was woken at the crack of dawn. I was keen to get to Blackpool as swiftly as possible, not only for the football that was ahead of us but also for the famous Pleasure Beach. The coach picked us up at around 8 am and in we crammed into an already full coach. The journey down was full of laughter and friendly joking from the parents. That day, it was particularly hot and inside the coach a number of people were becoming uncomfortable. I was unaffected by the warmth inside the coach, with my earphones in I relaxed and paid more attention to the vast countryside we were passing through. The vivid scenery blew me away, with colossal hills to calm rivers that we met on the journey.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
...as nothing to do but swim, sight see, and watch TV. It was all worth it on the morning of the fourth day when I came down it to the lobby and saw our bus, triumphantly pulling into the parking lot with the morning sun gleaming off the shiny metal, driven by none other than, our youth pastor. Completely forgetting about breakfast I ran outside and waved to him as he pulled it around back to park. As soon as he came to a stop I ran up to the door, he opened it, and I climbed up in and with a satisfied sigh I inhaled deeply taking in the smell I had grown to miss over the last three days. It was at this moment that I realized something, instead of complaining to myself the morning we left, I should have been grateful that we had a bus at all. And with that thought I smiled, and turned around and me and my youth pastor walked inside to get some breakfast.
It was the middle of the night when my mother got a phone call. The car ride was silent, my father had a blank stare and my mother was silently crying. I had no idea where we were headed but I knew this empty feeling in my stomach would not go away. Walking through the long bright hallways, passing through an endless amount of doors, we had finally arrived. As we
We’re idling across the parking lot with people walking every which way. Everyone flooding into one complex out of the three plus other businesses. Above the door in a greasy stainless steel font, sharp letters spelled Chipotle Mexican Garille. As we squeak to a halt I notice each figure walk one by one into what looked like an archipelago, just there were no islands just a dense area of heavy emotions. I walk in and the vibe of heaviness and pressure invades the stratosphere of my presence. Inside my mind I cannot comprehend how long I might be waiting just to get my food. Standing minute after minute made my legs feel as if my bones were boiling liquid, as if they were lava from an infuriated volcano. I wondered if leaving and coming
I pulled into the driveway of my house and parked my car. I grabbed my coat and bag and opened the door. When I got out I instantly began to smell the sweet aroma of the long rose bushes making their way out of our fence and into the world of our driveway. I was so captivated by the fall breeze, and the beautiful smell of fall in the air that I didn't even know that I was to the door. As I snapped back into reality, I looked up and I was standing at my doorway.
I turned off the car and took a deep breath. Looking slowly up into the pink sky, I began to watch the golden sun go to sleep. The beach seemed deserted, quiet, but peaceful. I opened my door and put my feet out on the soft sand. I started taking my shoes off, then my socks. I threw them in the passenger seat, and then shut the door. I looked out over horizon of the lake and started walking towards the still water. With each step I took, I could feel the warm sand crunch between my toes. Then suddenly, a sharp rock, but not sharp enough to break the skin.
The ruckus from the bottom of the truck is unbearable, because of the noise and excessive shaking. As we slowly climbed the mountain road to reach our lovely cabin, it seemed almost impossible to reach the top, but every time we reached it safely. The rocks and deep potholes shook the truck and the people in it, like a paint mixer. Every window in the truck was rolled down so we could have some leverage to hold on and not loose our grip we needed so greatly. The fresh clean mountain air entered the truck; it smelt as if we were lost: nowhere close to home. It was a feeling of relief to get away from all the problems at home. The road was deeply covered with huge pines and baby aspen trees. Closely examining the surrounding, it looks as if it did the last time we were up here.
This area of the world is so foreign to my Oklahoma life; it infuses me with awe, and with an eerie feeling of being strongly enclosed by huge mountains, and the mass of tall trees. However, when my foot first steps onto the dusty trail it feels crazily magical. The clean, crisp air, the new smell of evergreen trees and freshly fallen rain is mixed with fragrances I can only guess at. It is like the world has just taken a steroid of enchantment! I take it all in, and embrace this new place before it leaves like a dream and reality robs the moment. As I turn and look at my family, I was caught by my reflection in their impressions. The hair raising mischief in the car was forgotten and now it was time to be caught up in this newness of life. It was as if the whole world around us had changed and everyone was ready to engulf themselves in it. The trickling of water somewhere in the distance and the faint noise of animals all brought the mountains to
It was a maddening rush, that crisp fall morning, but we were finally ready to go. I was supposed to be at State College at 10:00 for the tour, and it was already eight. My parents hurriedly loaded their luggage into the van as I rushed around the house gathering last minute necessities. I dashed downstairs to my room and gathered my coat and my duffel bag, and glanced at my dresser making sure I was leaving nothing behind and all the rush seemed to disappear. I stood there as if in a trance just remembering all the stories behind the objects and clutter accumulated on it. I began to think back to all the good times I have had with my family and friends each moment represented by a different and somewhat odd object.