"The waiting room descriptive essay" Essays and Research Papers

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    and the sun; the elements acting against us. We warmed up and we fought the elements‚ but there was always someone reminding us‚ “Savor this moment‚ this is what we’re here for.” Before we knew it‚ we were standing at the gates of Welcome Stadium‚ waiting‚ hearts pumping‚ minds reeling‚ some of us numb‚ for our chance to show Dayton what the Jaguar Pride was made of. We took the field‚ and everything that could have gone wrong‚ did. Our sound system crashed‚ we couldn’t hear the pit playing the opening

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    down on me. Somehow I release the ball‚ just in time as a defender tries to block my shot. Miraculously the ball finds its way into the hoop‚ with 6 seconds left and the clock stopped‚ the other team calls a timeout. I jog to our bench‚ my coach waiting on the sideline to discuss the most effective play for the situation. Upon my arrival I realize the scowl usually on my raging coach?s face has disappeared; in its place is a huge grin. He slaps me on the hand and tells me how good the offense is

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    immediately sank into the plush burgundy carpet. The walls are the color of cappuccino foam and covered with modern art and family photos. In the middle of the room there’s a cream sofa and loveseat with burgundy flowers. On each side of the sofa sits an end table that’s cream and gold and look like marble. The 46in TV hanging on the wall gives the room a more modern look. I walk about 5 feet to the kitchen‚ because

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    “Walking on Ice” In the calm and chilling winter of the end of the year. My friends and I were walking back home from Friday prayer at the Masjid. We walked on down the road until we approached the river bank where it was arctic and barren along the shore. Suddenly‚ my friend had the idea of crossing the river to getting home faster seeking a new experience of adventure. I already assumed the situation could be a lot worse than that‚ but we shouldn’t live in fear‚ I thought. Before I knew it‚ I was

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    belong to me. For three days‚ I was given three meals a day and nothing else. After breakfast‚ two men with the crest of New London on their shoulders drag me into a room with a simple electric chair in the middle. They gag me and stand upright at my side for what seemed to be a few hours. A greying‚ bearded man then entered the room with his hands behind his back. He was dressed in a purple robe with a hood that hung at his back. I knew his face from the thousands of propaganda posters that could

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    Analysis of a Room

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    night. Or the feeling of always living in fear and knowing that the next day just might not come? In the novel Room by Emma Donoghue‚ a little boy named Jack and his ’Ma’ are stuck in an endless circle of constant fear and living in the unknown. Jack and Ma are trapped inside room. A place where Jack calls home‚ but where Ma calls a prison. This novel is truly inspiring. In the novel Room one of the main characters is Jack’s mother who he calls Ma. I believe that I relate and closely identify with

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    and curiosity. Almost hypnotizing the way the stars and planets were able to coordinate so beautifully with one another. And here I was‚ the astronaut. Solo missioning my way through the galaxies as people watched from their televisions at home‚ waiting to see what I would encounter. Little did they know I was just as nervous as them‚ nail-biting my way through every passing minute. And as I prepare for liftoff I would question every decision I had made up until that point. As the countdown made

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    I do not remember much of my first day in 7th grade‚ but the one thought that I can remember clearly is walking to my art class to the first time. The only time beforehand I was allowed to be in the school was 7th grade orientation which was two weeks before school‚ and gave us a chance to explore the school. I spent the whole time being yelled at by my father because I could not open my locker correctly. Likely the reason being he was yelling at me‚ as on the first day I opened it just fine. Therefore

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    to life‚ and advocates the idea that individuals are instrumental in finding a purpose to life through free will‚ choice‚ and personal responsibility. Hence in Samuel Becket’s existentialist play Waiting For Godot‚ he puts forth an idea that all of humanity is wasting their lives in inaction- waiting for the salvation of a deity‚ when that divine being may or may not even exist. As inferred from the phrase "existence precedes essence"‚ there is no pre-existent spirituality or soul; no god‚ Christian

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    We’ll maybe not that excited‚ you get the idea. Reaching the part of the Americas collection and turning into the dark Mayan exhibit‚ I see across the room to a brightly lit carving standing over 2.5m high and 1.2m wide‚ 100mm thick‚ it is the Stela. I’m struck by its unique detail and size. Pictured sitting in the rock is the life-size deity carved in relief by removing material away from the surroundings

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