The Play Doh IncidenT It was a quiet summer day with blue skies and barely any clouds. The birds were outside chirping noisily as if they were performing in a musical. It wasn’t too cold or too hot outside and there was a warm breeze. My parents were very busy with work. They both had full time jobs. I could hear the clicking sounds of their computers typing and the confused looks on their faces. Their busy and confused faces soon turned into frowns. I saw my mom slowly rise up from her chair, mumble some words to herself, and headed towards the yard. At the same time, my brother was throwing dry noodles all over the place and destroying property. He liked biting on things and ripping things, his favorite was eating …show more content…
“ You ate the … Playdoh,” I managed to get out of my mouth. I knew my brother had a bad habit of eating things that were not food. For example, each day he would devour a roll of toilet paper without realizing it and thinking that it was “Yummy.” “ Yeah, it was good,” my brother smiled proudly. The responsibility lecture washed over me and before I knew it, I was freaking out. “Spit that out right now,” I demanded. “ No wasting food,” my brother teased and ran out into the yard. I was chasing after him, I felt like steam was pouring out of my ears. He ran back in right when I heard a creak. I slammed onto the door and found my brother opening his mouth and laughing at me in front of my parents. I felt more embarrassed than mad at my brother now. I scraped some skin under my chin and it was bleeding now, I hope that would make my mom feel sorry for me. “ Your mouth,” my mom gasped. My brother started bawling and knew he would get in lots of trouble. My brother pointed at me and cried,” She did it.” “Did not,” I shouted back. But of course, my mom trusted my brother
“Marcellino! For the last time, PLEASE PASS THE SALAD DRESSING!,” my mother shouts to my dad jokingly. My oldest brother Marc, who has already finished his bowl of pasta, is signaling for his first refill of the night. Both my sisters are laughing hysterically at my dog, who has snatched my other brother 's chicken leg right out of his hand, and is now being chased around the kitchen while licking her chops and trying to scarf the bone down before being caught. This family dinner scene depicted was a normal part of my daily routine growing up. My family of seven made an effort to sit down once a day and eat a meal together. This provided a daily opportunity for meaningful conversations and the nurturing of close-knit relationships between my
“Please stop yelling, both of you!” my mother screams as she desperately tries to pull my twin brothers off of each other. As I sit back helplessly scared and confused I watch as my brothers physically batter each other. Between my mother’s cries and my brother’s yells of pure anger I realize one thing. This is not the future I want for myself. At a span of 6 years age difference I find myself to be the more mature of us three. I often wonder how I came out so normal, and they came out so hateful and cynical. After years of pondering this thought I finally found my answer.
I say that because me mom and dad left me and i'm kind of alone. His mom served me the best asian food ever. His dad taught me how to defend my self. We stopped practicing until i knocked him down which was the point. So later on we were at school and we all saw the janitor doing something unusual. He has been acting so weird he's been saying HI to everyone which he never does he was smiling which was really rare and he was standing in front of the closet door and was like trying not to let anyone in. So me, Rusty, and Rus just kept walking pretending we were not noticing the difference. But when we got to class everybody was talking about him. It was a Friday so we weren't having school tomorrow. But we decided that we were going to break in and we did but the weird thing was that the alarms didn't go off and all the lights were off except in the janitor’s office. We got next to the door and heard him talking to someone that there next target was going to be Rusty’s
For some reason, out of all my siblings I felt responsible for taking care of my dad. I constantly felt pressure to try and stop the fighting between my father and other family member as much as I could. To do this I would always hover around my father trying to make sure he was not experiencing difficulty executing a task. If I saw any sign of him struggling I would get involved, pretending as if I want to help with the chore but in reality, I merely did not want him to get mad. A prime example of this is whenever he cooked dinner, he would always struggle to bend over to reach the pots or pans, I would always be in the next room half-heartedly working on homework while the other part of me was panicking. I remember my heart would always start to race and I would not be able to focus anymore on my homework because of the fear of him becoming aggravated. At the first sign of trouble I would hop up from my living room seat, hoping I could stop him from fighting with anyone in my family. I would run into the kitchen pretending to be an overly excited child asking if he wanted help cooking, know the assistance was not a want but a need. My dad always accepted and I quickly took over the responsibility of cooking even though I hated it. He would always try to praise me after saying what a good, helpful daughter I was. Instead of the excitement that most children expressed after receiving praise I would get angry thinking I should not have to help him with these simple
As the book Amusing Ourselves To Death, discusses some of McLuhan’s ideology on technology by extending our thoughts would impact us through the Internet today is an “extension of the body,” as the internet has changed the way we think and the way we learn has extended our way of thinking. Though the media, television, and social media is where we get our information today with the technology of Internet and social media platforms being introduced to society. I believe that the Internet can make the process better from television because it is print media and you have to use deeper thought that just viewing material. With television however, what gets the most attention is entertaining and uses minimal thought. Our Internet is set up with the content of choice there are only so
For some reason, out of me and all my siblings I felt responsible for taking care of my dad. I constantly felt pressure to try and stop the fighting between my father and other family member as much as I could. To do this I would always hover around my father trying to make sure he wasn’t experiencing difficulty executing a task. If I show any sign of him struggling I would step in, pretending I want to help with the task but in reality, I just didn’t want him to get mad. A prime example of this is whenever he cooked dinner, he would always struggle to bend over to reach the pots or pans, I would always be in the next room half-heartedly working on homework while the other part of me was panicky. I remember my heart would always start to race and I wouldn’t be able to focus anymore on my homework because of the fear of him becoming aggravated. At the first sign of trouble I would hop up from my living room seat hoping I could stop him from fighting with anyone in my family. I would run into the kitchen pretending to be an overly excited child asking if he wanted help cooking, know It wasn’t a want but a need. My dad always excepted and I would quickly take over the responsibility of cook even though I hated It. He would always try to praise me after saying what a good helpful daughter I was but instead of the excitement that most children got getting the praise I would get angry thinking I shouldn’t have to help you with this
He yanked to one side, and then the other, bringing out the tears. I squeezed my mom’s hand as it continued. I struggled and moaned but it wouldn't stop. I cried like a maniac for the pain to stop.
The school was in the basement where I was told that I was only at a fifth-grade level. My worksheets had little fish on them, those fish were the highlight of the dungeon. Each time I was alone, I daydreamed. I would zone off into a place that made me content. Usually, that was a blank room with just flowers in it. I savored every moment I was able to be alone. Sometimes I was compelled to run away just to have solitude, and the consequences were always worth it. I was not allowed to have a phone because the family thought I would “narc” on them. That was their exact reasoning. If you ask me, it was just another torture technique of theirs. As you can imagine spending three years with a different family causes numerous emotions. When everything was said and done, I returned to live with my mother. For the first few months being back at “home” was refreshing. My mother and I have never developed a mother-daughter type bond, and we fought more than we loved. After the first few months of being back at home, everything started to spiral downhill again. I was angry because my family blamed me and not once did anyone ask if I was okay. The anger started building a wall, higher and higher. I couldn’t control it.I left my mother’s
The first time my sister brought her boyfriend home, I showered her bedroom with filthy, smelly clothes, including her undergarments. Imagine her surprise when she opened her door and laid eyes upon her own dirty laundry. I knew she’d be mad, what I didn’t know was that she would react like a teased bull chasing a red cape. She charged at me like I was a vault in the Olympics, and she was one point away from the gold. Suddenly out of nowhere came a broom handle to my abdomen. Broom abuse or not, I couldn’t stop laughing.
My house was silent, just sit in silence as if no one is there, everything for dark and cold for many weeks, I think slowly progressed and we started to pack up our house and get ready to move, my mind told me things were going to get better. My dad move to wassail and my mom moved into an apartment. Then I faced a big decision I had to decide who I want to live with full-time. My mom still live in broken arrow so I decided to stay living with her. My dad was upset but he understood why. As time went on I started to go visit my dad on the weekends we started getting into a habit that soon changed into a
A single reading of Shakespeare’s The Comedy Errors may lead one to believe that the play is a simple retelling of Plautus’ The Brothers Menaechmus, with Shakespeare making superficial changes in order to update the play for the current, at the time, audiences and social context. After all, Errors retains Menaechmi’s basic plot structure and characters. However, further viewings and analysis reveal that the changes made in Menaechmi’s adaptation in Errors add new thematic layers to the play that were not present in the original. The most important of these changes is the Egeon frame plot.
My trembling fingers tried their best to button up my dress shirt and this caught the attention of my mother. “Oh my boy, let me help you with that. You’re terrible at hiding your emotions. You’ve clenched your jaw all day.” She soothed, rushing towards me.
My mom groans and shuts the window. I was confused, did I do something wrong? The next thing you know, my mom busted through the backyard door. Chewy leapt out of my arms, ran to my mother and started licking her ankles, totally oblivious to the situation.
Dear journal, First I Was walking home and there was this boy who tried to steal my purse. But he fell on the floor. I grabbed him by his shirt and rattled him until his teeth chattered. I was so angry and mad.
It was around 2:00pm and it was time to open presents. I started with opening friend’s presents then I opened families. I was finally done opening all my presents. I looked around at all the people, who were looking at me and my dad was nowhere to be. That was the only present that I was looking forward too. The party ended and my dad didn’t show up, my little four years old hopes were in the ground, it was like I could feel my heart ripping appart. I looked at my mom and she mouthed I’m sorry, my faced turned rosy red and my eyes filled with tears. From that moment on my life was never the same. It was a dark cloudy day and I was going to see my dad. We were playing the game Sorry and he was winning. I was the yellow player and he was the green player, he was laughing and smiling the whole time. I wouldn’t have wanted to spend my Friday afternoon any other way. When the game was over he asked me to clean up the game while he went out to smoke a cig. When he entered the room and the game wasn’t picked up, he went crazy. His eyes seemed to turn a dark almost black color. It was like he was a completely different person when he came back