“Pretty Mouth and Green My Eyes,” a short work from J. D. Salinger’s Nine Stories, provides a look into the lives of a struggling couple through the eyes of a disgruntled husband. Arthur, Joanie’s drunk and desperate spouse, calls Lee, his old friend, in search of marital advice. As Arthur describes his struggles with his wife, Lee interacts with a mysterious woman. I believe this woman to be Joanie. When Lee’s phone rings, he answers and glances “briefly left, at the girl” laying beside him in
That was one hell of a cliffhanger last chapter, hopefully I can make this chapter just as good. I’ve lost my glasses while writing this, so I have to get all up on the screen and it’s kind of making it harder for me to type, plus I just started a really big project at school that’s going to be taking up ninety percent of my free time for the next month, so it might be a bit before the next chapter. This chapter is also going to be really short, because it’s right before that two year gap that’s
bring the best review on kohl for my readers. I will start with the cheap and pocket friendly kajal but it doesn't mean that i will play with your health. Before mentioning any Brand’s kohl I would like to share what all disadvantages can be there post kohl application? Kohl is a popular eye care product and its use has been reported since ancient times. Let’s look at a few disadvantages of wearing Kohl/Kajal: • Kajal can thinner your eyelashes. • Can cause eye ailments. You can even lose your vision
As a young child, at the age of 9, I have always been in the care of my grandmother because my parents worked from eight in the morning until around seven or eight at night, so after school my, grandmother and I would spend quality time together. It was only me and her most of the time because my older sister always had practice for some type of sport. My childhood was memorable due to my grandmother, so there wasn’t much I couldn’t be happy about. We usually got along very well, but everyone has
My experience at Challenge Day allowed me to realize how many of my peers live their life in pain and grief and how youth hide their true feelings with fake images they make of themselves. Challenge Day is a day full of fun, leadership, and power that can change the way youth view one another. The goal of the event is to stop the teasing, violence, and isolation that is a part of the school experience for young people. I attended this event on November 6, 2013. Since it was cold and miserable in
The first time I killed, I was sick at myself, cried even, thinking I would never be worthy of forgiveness, but how could I help myself when killing was bound to me by nature? I was eight then. I had never intended to hurt my brother's scrawny, street-born dog. No matter how much I despised it. Toby named him Paris, a suggestion from Maura who claimed it used to be a big city from the Old days. Even now I still remember him with lively accuracy, the coal black color of its short fur, and its long
was a Friday, I remember that day as if it was yesterday, I remember going to the restroom so I`d fix my makeup, there I heard a girl yelling in one of the bathroom stalls about how “she usually pays” I don’t know what was happening there, and all of a sudden, a girl came out of a stall and grabbed my shoulder, she was about 3 inches shorter than me with black hair and piercings, her eyes were red, she opened her mouth to talk but nothing came out, then she asked “hey please girl, I know we
My Mother When I was young, I drew a picture of my mother. It was her standing in a yard with a house in the background. It wasn't our house, and my mother looked like anyone but herself. Dressed entirely in green, with green hair and a green expression on her green face, she stood in front of a green two-story house surrounded by a green landscape. Green was her favorite color, and I wanted to make a surprise out of the drawing for her.
I was startled by my monsters question. Closely I examined his option, hoping the creature would not lash out on him for taking so long. I agreed, but on the terms that the wretched creature and this new one will no longer physically harm anyone and stay away from sight. My creature tensed as if he knew this would come up. His eyes looking dreary, along the sides stitches healed into long, thick scars. Reluctantly, he agreed. My monster was wide-eyed with his mouth agape, obviously surprised by this
then, I seldom made eye contact with others. When I entered high school, nothing changed. Soon afterward, I disliked the way my classmates thought of me. If someone had to make an announcement in class, I was not chosen; my classmates believed I was not vocal enough. If someone threw a party, I was not invited because they thought "Shy girls" would not want to come. Most of my classmates attracted a great deal of attention. No one willingly associated with me. Not only did my classmates see me
To truly appreciate something, you have to experience it. The sentence is self explanatory, but I didn’t conceptually re-realize it, until I read the “My body a cabinet of words” by Shelly Jackson. Although, I already had the theory behind electronic literature in my tool shed, I hadn’t understood the art. “My Body” is the first hypertext novel that I have read, and I found its format as well as content completely engaging. At first navigating through the book seemed somewhat unnatural, you had
My blood ran cold as the sound grew louder. The fearsome thump grew more frequent, echoing through the hallway. It can’t be mum. It’s too early she only just left. The harrowing knocks kept coming as I sat on my couch glaring at the sight of my possible demise. It was the usual Friday night routine. My mum working at her job leaving the whole house to me. I was just relaxing in the living room, watching the news. “Reports have come in of several murders that have taken place across London. All victims
The street is quiet, and seems like it is dead. The sounds I can hear are the leaves rustling in the breeze, and the pitter-patter sounds of raindrops falling on the ground. Together, they compose a brilliant song of nature. No din from the high-school students, no irritating noise from the car. No one, not even a soul dares to make a sound to disturb this moment. Everything is silent, as if it isn’t even alive, just like a ghost street that only emerges in the mid-night and will vanish when the
My First Host Family The situation I was presented with was somewhat ironic. In preparation for my departure to Study Service Term in Costa Rica, I worried a great deal about my first host family. Would they be mean? Would I be able to understand their Spanish? Would I like their food? These were the main concerns for me then. At no time did I stop to consider that it might be difficult to leave my first host family, the thought never entered my head. After all, they were not really my family
worst experience you have ever had in your life to date, how was it handled? What could have happened to lessen the stress of the situation? Have any regrets? How would you tell that story? Well I will go ahead and tell you of my story where last year on October 11th, 2014 I lost my best friend Gilbert David Kromer. First off lets start with a bit of background information, Gil came halfway through our freshman year of high school, his first few days at school were very awkward for him, and would be
received life! I accurse my creator. Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?” Victor is wholly at fault for his actions, image and evil. When Victor flees the creature, he becomes lonely and unhappy. He rejects his own works. If he stayed and taught him the creature would at least have a chance of happiness. When the monster flees to the cottagers he learns about human nature. He quotes “I continued for the remainder of the day in my hovel in a state of utter
trolling the hallway, nabbing every student I can find. My senior portrait sitting is tomorrow and I can’t decide: Glasses or no glasses? Maybe other people can give me their opinions. “Um, I think glasses,” said one of my neighbors, “but then again, Michael, you should know that I like it more when people wear glasses as a general rule.” “No glasses would be better,” said another. “Glasses, definitely. You have small eyes.” “No, no glasses I think.” So it went on
until my feet were aching with agonising pain. Slowly I walked up a tall hill, dragging my feet with me, and collapsed onto the ground using my bag as a pillow. Then I looked up at the clouds, while thinking about all the anger my best friends caused me. How could Carter act like my hero, when he did something so cruel? How could Damion like it when I'm unhappy? All they do is think of themselves. I'm sick of it! I hate them! My train of thought made my anger rise, that was until my cell phone
understanding others. Growing up I never played with the other children. My grandfather said it was because my mind was too busy thinking of brilliant idea to actually talk to the others. I believed him. I believed in him for 17 years, that all stopped today. It all ended when I was riding my bike to the local market so I could pick up scrap parts for my grandfather. He said they were for his hovertech76 His prized antique hover car. As I made my way down the pavement I saw the market coming up from the horizon
Paramedics squeeze my arms, staining their gloves a deep red. Doctors and nurses scream at each other as they run across the hallways wheeling me into the operating theatre. I look over to my wrists as clear fluids begin their journey into my veins. My heart is in my throat, my pulse is echoing throughout the room, my limbs are quivering, and my lungs are screaming. Nurses force plastic tubes up my nose, as jets of cold air enter my sinuses, giving me relief. Inkblots dance before my eyes like a symphony