The Learning Part of EPGY

July 26, 2010 § Leave a comment

Give me until Saturday.

I’ll update, I promise.

I have one week left here, and I’m trying to soak it all up while I can. I’ll have a load of posts SPEWING at you in a week’s time, so enjoy this silence while you can. I’ve written a million essays, it seems, but here are a few excerpts to keep it interesting (thanks sis, for the suggestion?):

Alone:

The cold was the only sensation that registered. For every breath I took, a sharp sting overtook my lungs. My hands were raw and numb from the freezing winds and the burn of the ropes. A faint drizzle began. My teeth were chattering so loudly that my entire body vibrated along.

Transportation:

For an hour, I listen to their incessant chatter. It’s comforting in a way. Their voices become something of a background song for me, soothing and present. Still, I don’t join in. It sounds tribal to me, foreign. I don’t know the people they are referring to, the places they are mentioning, the situations they are obsessing over. I feel as if they are telling a story. A story from another country, perhaps, that everyone else seems to understand except for me.

The Sweetest Day:

The morning dawned bright and early, the sun gracing the world with its full presence. The black rectangle of a rented Grand Cherokee awaited in my driveway, the trunk wide open and scattered with an abundance of colorful tote bags. Meanwhile, my four best friends and I were in the kitchen, spooning large chunks of fresh bread pudding into our mouths and popping egg rolls for breakfast.

She Gave Me the World: (can you tell we worked on titles?)

A photo album, standing alone, is comprised of cardboard, paper, plastic, and several pieces of metal. A beautiful album boasts of unique elements and perhaps stunning artwork on the cover. A book of photos, on the other hand, is an irreplaceable collection of memories. I have, essentially, the world and my dream in my hands and I am not letting it go.

Glamour: Gowns and Croissants:

Many people, myself included, would use ‘glamour’ as the one word to describe this movie. Yet, there is one other word that would describe it even better for me personally. Comfort. The spirit of Breakfast at Tiffany’s is that charm and humor can win you over. It is highly comforting to know that it is charm that can be the ultimate decider, and not wealth or beauty or wit. Breakfast at Tiffany’s is the down pillow, the fleece blanket, and the worn-in pajamas on any given night, the movie of comfort and of glamour, of dreams and of the best reality.

The (Chalk) Art of Being Skinny:

These proclamations shook me, disgusted me. How could someone degrade herself to such a degree? Could someone honestly feel such a way? How could a number on a scale determine beauty? My housemates and I washed out the façade of the pretty script that shouted painful things. We worked together to write inspiring messages, uplifting messages that were intended to motivate, to bring a smile on someone’s face. We drew hearts and smiley faces, erased the ugly and replaced it with a fresh layer of encouragement.

Saving Private Lives:

While it is an incredible feat our generation established in creating an entirely new outlet for information and entertainment, there are some aspects that should be kept at a minimum. Baird describes Neda Agha Soltan’s “gruesome” death as a grim honor, but in reality, it is actually the worst form of disrespect. To disrupt a person’s privacy in such a way, to actually showcase their pain and defeat and ultimate death, is an example of one of the disgusting features of the Internet nowadays.

‘Kay kids, that’s all for now. I’m off to write my NINTH essay in 2 weeks. Wowza.

C

PS. Remember… Come back Saaaturday!!!

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