A Block Party Analysis

Paislee 's pov I allowed my body to flow effortlessly as I was very closely surrounded by all of my friends and quiet a few people I barely even knew. We had been dancing at my sweet 16 as I began to lose all track of time. I was wearing the dress I had picked out a week before with my nude heals and I felt beautiful. The party was held at my friends house because she had insisted on it. She had decorated the entire place with blue and black and covered it with polkadots.

My poor cousin who was so sticky and had ice cream all over her cute blouse. The ER said that she was ok and nothing major happened. They gave her some baby wipes to wipe off her shirt, and it looked as brand as new once again. A nice lady who had what looked like 50 bags on the seat moved onto the ground with her other 20 bags (I am over exagerating by a lot, it probaly was only 10) and gave us part of the bench, meanwhile the ER brought teah a new ice cream and we ate it enjoying the show. I was amasing with singing birds and water fountain spraying cool tricks with the water.

All was well and jolly the evening of Christmas Eve our family was enjoying a nice dinner when my aunt pulled out a karaoke machine. Destany’s eyes lit up as she traveled straight toward the microphone quickly becoming the host of the night. She spoke the most hilarious things ever and everyone including myself was dying of laughter. Then it was time for the performances. Some of my aunts and uncles went up but she was the main star of the show.

Many of Julia Alvarez’s childhood memories of her family 's culture and fun times come out in stories that she writes. ”Miguel has to admit there is one totally fun thing about Tia Lola. She tells great stories. None of Tia Lola’s stories sound exactly true, but Miguel doesn’t care.”(17) Story-telling was an important part of her growing up, which inspired Alvarez to become a writer. “As the boys stand in the mudroom talking, Tia Lola walks by in her spiked heels and white turban, holding up a plate of smoking embers.

The viewers of the movie all know that they are laughing all the time and are being shocked by several ordered surprises in the movie ( Breakfast at Tiffany’s), that, paste jewelry from that proud institution as if it had be performed yesterday at a dance hall. The novel by Truman Capote from which the movie has its roots is really great but altogether appealing getaway into fancy composing of uneven dollops of humor, romance, funny part of it. It show a lot of

Our date winds up in the most delightful way possible: the “down home” way. Strolling hand in hand through the fairground, we play games, trying to knock over milk bottles with balls and then climb a wobbly rope ladder to the top to win a huge lime green stuffed dog, but we can’t win a thing. Little children buzz around us like fireflies with clouds of cotton candy in their fists and bags of popcorn as big as they are. Eventually the sun sinks and the lights come on, and as the air cools, the fair sparkles like a mini-Manhattan. As we wander our wonderland, we share a funnel cake, hot and sweet.

In the midst of the pain, I found myself closer to my Oak Cliff community because they understood our struggle, as their very own struggle. Along with solidarity that came with just one look, our neighbors would knock at my door and bring us Pozole or Tamales anything they had cooked and we returned the favor vice versa, sending Gorditas or Enchiladas. Dancing in the parking lot, made it seem that we didn’t have any worries but as soon as the mailman brought the bills the smiles would be hidden till the next weekend when cumbias would blast. In one of these “nightly meetings”, I realized people in my “barrio” were full of life even if their bank accounts were mutually dead. Through the darkness, mi “gente” taught me that the torch must be passed along to keep the flame burning bright.

In both stories, the main characters were dealing with the struggles of motherhood and being a wife. The main character in the story, “I Stand Here Ironing” was a single, working mother raising five children at the time. She was caring and providing for her children, while back then it was a man’s job to do so. The main character in “The Yellow Wallpaper” was suffering from depression after having her baby. She felt as if she could not care for her newborn as she is supposed to, so it brought her into a deep depression.

I remeber the mornings mamaa would make hot pockets for breakfast and i also remember when i lost my taste buds because that hot pocket was just a little too hot. Those nights when we would just eat popcorn all night watching all the new movies we had bought. Sometimes we would just see who could stay up longer I would always win so one night I thought I would pour whipped cream of her face while she was sleeping. The next morning I heard her scream my name , oh boy the of sound of her voice didn 't sound as if she was happy. I got up and went to the living room where mamaa was awaiting.

When everyone began arriving for the party, I became invested in the festivities. Cake, ice cream, and candy filled my head. The childish notion that birthday parties were all about the festivities clouded my thoughts, and I became so focused on how many gifts I got that I forgot to realize how instrumental one gift would become for me. Jack gave me my first lacrosse stick, and instantly I fell in love with the game. I wanted to play like him, live like him, and succeed like him.