Perfection Doesn’t Exist Perfection doesn’t exist. I found this out previously when I moved to Atlanta, Georgia and stumbled across a perfect seeming character. And just like any other story, this character turned out to become...my best friend. Jade Benoit was her name. She was not the perfect everyone usually visualizes. She was more the perfect of how I imagined a perfect girl should be. She had straight black hair, intense, calculating, brown eyes, a perfect pink smile with straight teeth, and tall yet not over-tall height. Her perfection was not only in outward, physical appearance but also from within. Her words favoured who she was speaking to, her gaze calmed the opposite person, and her actions represented those of a responsible young …show more content…
I was a scrawny, too tall girl, with plain black eyes and a light upward fixture of the lips. I usually had no intention to smile at passer-byers and mostly just responded with a casual, carefree,”Hi.” I wasn’t a social service freak like Jade was an often appeared as a lazy, procrastinator next to my beloved friend. Despite all of this, one day, I found Jade to be a regular girl, one who is minorly flawed and needed the assistance of another soul. That lucky soul happened to be me. It was a bright Saturday afternoon, and I passed by Jade’s house longing for a walk under the sunshine. A rainbow was peeking around the tops of trees and while I was fantasizing over the magnificence of the rainbow, Jade’s mom called me up for a snack. I obliged and peeked into Jade’s room. Jade was lying face down on her perfectly made bed, with her perfectly dark hair sprawled all around her. Her magenta rimmed glasses were tossed over the edge of the bed and this slight recklessness sparked my attention that something was definitely wrong. I didn’t want to wrinkle the flawlessly made bed, so I pulled out her chair and plopped …show more content…
To piece together the words and form a conclusion, but failed. Meanwhile, Jade managed to calm down and tell me the actual story. “My dad lost his job and now we have to move to find him a new one. The place where I am moving to doesn’t let me join the Gifted program so I have to take the tst all over again! New school, new friends, new everything! Oh how am I going to cope with all of this in the middle of the year?”, asked a very flustered Jade. Hmm...maybe Jade could stay at my house until the end of the year…. “How about you stay at my house until the end of the year?!”, I exclaimed. “Maybe, we can arrange a bedroom for you. After all, there is only two months left of schol…” Soon after, my parents accepted the idea and so did Jade’s parents. The bad news was that Jade must’ve been so flustered that the change in her became very noticeable. She lost a tremendous amount of weight, bags started forming under her eyes after the nights of staying up to earn extra credit to pull up the falling grades, and the sudden social distance she was maintaining. The usually talkative Jade now became a replica of myself. I didn’t get the cause of her sadness, now that she still has everything, but I tried my best to help
Her grandmother, however, had financial constraint, which resulted in the student being absent from school since March 29, 2015. Ashaby’s maternal aunt, Kadia Jarette, had recently moved to live in the same community during the summer. Upon communicating with Ashaby; she discovered that she had not been attending school. Since
Character development is the most crucial element of a story, as it urges the reader to analyse the motives or the emotions that character may convey, therefore making the story immensely impactful. Wayson Choy effortlessly and deftly develops the character of Sek-Lung in his renowned short story, “The Jade Peony.” Sek-Lung, who is also the narrator in this story, is six years old and he’s struggling dreadfully to cope with his grandma’s upcoming death. The protagonist’s affectionate yet sorrowful feelings during this emotional crisis are clearly delivered, “Her palm felt plush and warm...
she said. Under the honey-coloured light you saw tears cocoon her eyelashes, mascara in long moults from tear duct to chin. And over the rocks, over the water, over time and heartache--yours, hers--you glimpsed insights more fleeting than the wing of a moth. For that instant, on that cliff jump on that evening in July, you knew the answers to the questions she'd ask. But you knew, too, in a moment, you'd lose that insight and return to the clichés passed to you that would be passed on by her.
Mckenna, I too wrote about the mindless monster and the negative effects it can have on someone. It's crazy to think about the lengths people will go to please someone and will overwork themselves to make sure others are happy. I believe that the only way to be truly happy is to make sure you're good first. The other aspect I agree with was your point on body language. That is something I need to work on a lot as well.
Scene 1 Both: (Black background) Hello ladies! Welcome to Culture Identity! Jade: Do you or anyone you know find it hard to balance your culture and the American culture?
Grace tells a story about how she used to draw portraits of her mother’s boyfriends. She goes on to say that she used to extend the sketching process out for as long as possible, but she was not sure why. Jayden looks up from her sketch and says, “Maybe you were just trying to keep them away from your mom.” Jayden’s response makes Grace think and recall as to why she actually kept the men away for so long. Although the conversation may not hold any importance to a view, this is actually a major step in Grace’s life.
‘“I said no. This is ridiculous. I'm exhausted. I'm not filling it back in”’ (104). In the end she left them to go and be spoiled by her parents in the city.
This is the first time, Sunny could slightly control her behavior. She told me that the color of yellowish green gaves her a coincidence of being restful, and her mind wasn’t that scrambled anymore. Later that day, Sunny started to share different kinds of conception with me, even the worries she had. We became closer and closer as friends, even though her stability hasn’t fully recovered, we still tried to figure new ways that could help her. I remembered that there’s an unique way we figured out together that could make Sunny quiescent but pleasant at the same time; whenever she starts to feel disorderly, she could count from 1 to 100 to calms
There are times when I have been left alone to make my own choices, but a lot of who I am comes from my family. I have not gone through the kinds of experiences that Maya has, but it made me take a step back and realize that people do not have the same kind of guidance that I have. My roots are planted deep in the ground, there is room for them to grow and follow new paths. Maya’s roots are planted near the surface, pulled out when she loses herself and replanted with her own hands as she begins to grow again. Although my roots are longer, they have the ability to be pulled out just as quickly as Maya’s, but she has shown me that the struggles have only made her blossoms more beautiful in the
While reading the story, you can tell in the narrators’ tone that she feels rejected and excluded. She is not happy and I’m sure, just like her family, she wonders “why her?” She is rejected and never accepted for who she really is. She is different. She’s not like anyone else
“Perfection is shallow, unreal, and fatally uninteresting” (Anne Lamott). Can you picture our world as a perfect society? For perfection to be achieved everything would have to change. Through the book, The Giver, Lois Lowry shows how a perfect society is not always ideal for everyone. The rules of the society portrayed include a discipline wand, chosen spouse, and release.
Soon she came to know that this man was one of her old playmates. He too had ventured out in the world and was now going back to the valley. But on reaching the valley, she found her companions instead of growing men and women, had all remained little children. They seemed glad to have her back, but soon she felt that her presence was becoming intolerable for them. Then she turned to her fellow traveler, who was the only grown man in the valley, but “she was on his knees before a dear little girl with blue eyes and a coral
The narration beautifully illustrates the struggles of being pushed into a foreign world, where people look different, have other traditions, other norms, and speak an entirely different language. Based on her own childhood experiences as a migrant from Hong Kong, Jean Kwok tells the story of young and exceptionally intelligent Kimberly Chang who finds herself doing the splits between a life in Chinatown, wasting away as a sweatshop worker and living in a run-down apartment, and striving for a successful career at a fancy private school. Kimberly translates herself back and forth between a world where she can barely afford clothes and a world where, in spite of her intelligence, she 's supposed to look the part as she reaches for higher education. It is a tale of survival and beating the odds, but ultimately, it is also a fragile love story in an unforgiving environment. The narration is raw, honest, and authentic, with the Chinese culture being cleverly woven into the storyline.
The perfect nude is a combination of favored parts of hundreds of women. Supposedly, a proper nude is somewhere in between a mythical and realistic woman. Either it lacks enough beauty or it is too fake and cannot be real, therefore neither can be considered a successful nude.
The cool, upland air, flooding through the everlasting branches of the lively tree, as it casts a vague shadow onto the grasses ' fine green. Fresh sunlight penetrates through the branches of the tree, illuminating perfect spheres of water upon its green wands. My numb and almost transparent feet are blanketed by the sweetness of the scene, as the sunlight paints my lips red, my hair ebony, and my eyes honey-like. The noon sunlight acts as a HD camera, telling no lies, in the world in which shadows of truth are the harshest, revealing every flaw in the sight, like a toddler carrying his very first camera, taking pictures of whatever he sees. My head looks down at the sight of my cold and lifeless feet, before making its way up to the reaching arms of an infatuating tree, glowing brightly virescent at the edges of the trunk, inviting a soothing, tingling sensation to my soul.