Most exciting moment.

(Gotten from www.millionyen.com/instruments.html)

I was astonished. My jaw dropped as my eyes sprung open rapidly with surprise and awe. I remember anxiously waiting for Christmas day to arrive so I could finally open the large red and green striped box behind the tree. Once I had revealed what was inside of the box, I knew why the gift was definitely worth the wait.

Holding it in my hands, finally being able to say this one was mine, all mine, was the most amazing feeling ever. As I stood there examining it, all the way from the headstock, to the neck, then to the glossy, fiery red frame with the pick-ups and volume controls.

I had never admired an object so much in my life nor handled an object so gently as if it were a baby. I carefully continued to open the rest of the packaging to reveal the strap, cord, and amp.

The intensity filled my veins as I flicked on the amp and the tiny red light in the upper left corner began to glow brightly. I flung it over my shoulder, just letting it hang, still in awe that it was actually mine.

Then with the largest grin on my face, I grabbed my pick and struck the first chord on my brand new Gibson Maestro SG guitar. And the sound...could have never been more beautiful.

An embarassing moment?

"So Jackson proposed the Tariff of 1833 so that, like, there wouldn't be any conflict between the South Carolinians and the federal government," Daniel reiterated during his rebuttal.
I was in AP U.S. History taking notes as Daniel discussed the certain aspects of the 1828 election and how it was a Democratic revolt of the people. His partner, Justin, both misinterpreted historical evidence twice: 1) Henry Clay, not Jackson, proposed the Tariff of 1833 to stop South Carolina's opposition of the Tariff of 1828 and 2) did not mention Jackson's "political usurpation".
As Daniel and Justin came up to the front of the class to answer questions, I raised my hand. However, they had asked everyone else their questions on one side of the room, leaving me impatiently waiting on the other side. Once they finally got to me, I brought up their misinterpretation of historical evidence. Their facial expressions said it all. I could tell that either they did not have an answer for me or they did not care about what they did. Yet everyone else in the class cared with their "oohs".
I smiled weakly at them since I felt a little sorry for them as they walked back to their seats, not even answering my question. Yet when the opposing debaters came up, Daniel and Justin asked me why I did not ask them a question, and I told them that I was on their side (and also because I did not have any questions for them due to their accurate political views). I hate to say it, but I outsmarted them.

(Source of political cartoon:http://www.historyisgroovy.com/STUDY_GUIDES/vis/1825_1850/history_visuals_1825_to_1850.htm)

Is the pain worth the beauty?

My face was on fire and I was being poked and pinched with hundreds of needles on the hundreds of pores on my red, burning face. I wanted to scream like a mother giving birth, cry like a baby deprived of his bottle, escape like a convict. As I lay upon the soft, comfy spa bed, I’m filled with enduring thoughts of nothing put the bee-sting pain on my face.
When I decided to get an acne facial treatment, I expected a relaxing facial massage with a nice, refreshing cucumber cooling mask, to cleanse my face, along with the soothing classics of Beethoven and Bach in the background. Little did I know, I would be poked and pinched at several hundred times on my face, enduring the pain of a thousand daggers, while listening to the rough, pop soundings of Britney Spears and being blinded by the bright lights that hovered over me–not the ideal spa treatment.
Pinch by pinch, poke by poke, the pain got more and more intense and I tightened my grip on my robe more and more until blood could no longer circulate to my hands. Needle by needle, a tear fell down my face. One hundred bee stings were nothing, compared to this. Listening to “Hit me Baby One More Time” didn’t exactly help ease the pain either; listening to Britney’s music was pain enough, but listening while receiving an acne facial is like being tortured for your whole life’s worth of sins.
As I questioned whether my $55 was worth the pain, the esthetician squirted some cooling oil on her hands and began to massage my tender face. It was as if her hands were meant to do so. Every circular motion from her finger tips fit the shape of my face. “Ahhh,” I thought, while a relaxed detensifying sensation ran through my body. The feeling of relaxation came to life in these five minutes of heaven. I began to doze off and drifted soothingly into a deep sleep.
What felt like three seconds later, I awoke to find my stiff face covered with a facial mask. Although Britney’s music continuously played, I felt like every burden and problem had escaped me, like life was perfect. Fifteen minutes later, the esthetician peeled off the mask and showed me all the dirt and oils that hid within the pores of my epidermis. As she wiped my face with a cooling wipe, I felt cleansed and refreshed, like I would walk out of the room, a new person.
I stood up and stared back at my reflection in the mirror to find my pores opened and my face cherry-red. Acne free as my face is now, I know one thing is true: Beauty is pain. Is it worth it? It’s up to you to decide.

Sad Moment

(http://www.canpages.ca/blog/?p=463)


It was warm summer day, about 98 degrees, when it gets this hot, our parents usually let our brown muscular pit bull go into the front yard to relax in the shade. My dog, Rochelle, is leashed to a thick white piece of wood supporting the house. Her movement is limited to about 5 feet in every direction. Rochelle is given a stainless steel pot of ice cold water to keep her cool, and a plate full of dog food. She seemed as content as can be. She rarely ever barked at anyone, including the mail man, who Rochelle would let through to the mail box without any problems. She was as quiet as can be, on occasion you could hear her dog tags around her neck ring like a bell, but only for the slightest moment, as she would sleep through most the intense heat of the day. Every hour, my brother and I would take turns making sure that she had enough food and water.

One afternoon, my brother and I were watching television in the living room, sitting on our black leather couch. All of a sudden we heard loud pitiful screeching dog cries from outside. My brother and I rushed outside to see the Rochelle had broken the leash and ran away, nowhere to be seen, there was only a small piece left connected to thick piece of wood. After seeing all of this, we rushed to our mother's bedroom and quickly notified her of what just had happened. She got out of bed and dashed toward the keys as if she were Flash, and quickly ran to the car. My brother and I sat in the back seat of our gray 1990 Camry and we drove off to the next block.

When we reached the neighborhood behind us, what we saw was frightening. You could hear the small dogs whimper and she was ripping it to pieces. Rochelle was biting into a small chihuahua, tearing it to pieces like a shark eating it's seal meal. The small chihuahua tried to escape, but Rochelle chased after if and attacked it ferociously. After that bite, there was no more life left in the small chihuahua. We were in a state of shock, we sat there in the car thinking about what to do next. Within minutes, the police arrive on the scene as neighbors had heard the cries and whimpers, and they seized Rochelle. The police approached us saying that there were only two options as she was deemed too dangerous to be a house hold pet. The options were to pay a fine, alter our backyard so that Rochelle can't get out on her own, and we had to get a kennel for her. She had to be locked up in the kennel all day, and the fines were thousands of dollars. The other option was to have Rochelle put down with no further costs. We simply couldn't afford to keep her as the fine was too high and to change out back into something like a jail was too much for us. In the end, we decided to put her down.

IN N OUT ANIMAL STYLE!?!?

"In N Out animal style!?" the words I spoke as if they where a sin on a sints lips. These where also the only words i heard my friend speak as i walkd towards the group. I continue to say " You filthy little man what have you been doing, animal style really! That dont even sound fun iit sounds like it hurts and you would need a couple bandaids after you got done doing it!" My friends all look at me with a grin of unsureness then burst into an explosion of laughter. As i sit there dumb founded i reflect on what i just said, it all makes sense to me. I mean in and out animal style they clearly can only be talking about one thing, those filthy little hussies. Little did I know that while my mind was deep in the gutter they where talking about one of gods rare forms of perfection. when they finally stopped laughing they told me the magical tale of In N Out's secret menu. Oh how my mouth watered like rain on a garden as they greatly described in detail this beefy wonder. Gaining this knowledge had me feeling like a pirate I had just heard of an onion and tomato topped treasure and "I must get it", I thought," I must have it now."

Embarrassing Moment: When Carina and I Fight in Public

Our faces were red and voices were hoarse. This happens almost everytime Carina and I fight. A lot of people, especially our parents, are already used to our fighting and bickering, but they always ask us if we ever get embarrassed when we do that. It's almost like they expect a different answer everytime they ask.

When Carina and I fight, we don't feel an ounce of embarrassment. We are like that because that because this is kind of how we solve problems. Carina and I are the type of people who keeps debating or arguing till one gets tired. We're definitely not one to back down from an argument; we always have something to say. There was this one time Carina and I had a fight that is like permanently stuck in my brain and that was the time we went to Six Flags with our best friend's family. I remember it being so ugly and what not because Carina and I were yelling at each other in the middle of a crowd, where a lot of people were staring. We were probably ten or eleven years old and at that time, we thought it was very rude for the people to stare in the first place. But when I look back at it, I feel very foolish and I actually learned from it.

Although I feel that way, nothing is never as bad as times when you have two very different, yet similar people trying to argue and get very, very angry. When Carina and I get to this point, we have no shame swapping fists because like I stated before, that's how we solve things. Even though we are so heated and just giving each other the ol' one two, harder each time, people around us find it very amusing. I mean it's one thing to ask us if we get embarrassed by doing so, it's another thing to encourage it. We're not punching the life out of each other just so we could get some laughs. I'm not saying that because I get annoyed everytime that happens, it just confuses me sometimes because when we're like that, it's best if they try to separate us before it gets worse. By then, it would obviously wouldn't be funny anymore.

It's the ending that gets everybody confused, though, because five minutes later after we cooled down, we're sitting there laughing at a joke nobody else would get because Carina and I sometimes have a weird sense of humor, plus we laugh at everything. We'd like seriously forget what had happened and just move on quickly. Quite honestly, I think everybody should do the same because there really is no reason to dwell on past problems because they have a life that requires them to move forward. If you don't, you're just wasting your time and life's too short for that.

Lost Child

Over summer, a few years ago, my family and I took a trip to San Francisco. We stopped at our usual destinations; Chinatown, Ghiradelli, and Pier 39, and a few restaurants. But this trip I will forever remember as the scariest twenty minutes of my life. My family and I were walking along the Marina, watching all the street performers and wandering through the street vendors. My sister and I stopped at one street performance. It was a breakdancing group. We really enjoyed the performance, after about five minutes, I put a couple dollars in their designated bucket for money. Then my parents and I continued walking. We kept walking for about ten minutes when we realized that Christina, my younger sister, was not walking with us. At first, I thought she was just lagging behind, so we looked all around us, but she was no where to be found. My parents searched around all the vendors and inside a few stored, thinking that Christina probably saw a toy that she wanted. We looked for an unsuccessful fifteen minutes. I began to cry because I was the last person to see my sister. I was supposed to watch her. I lost my little sister. I felt responsible for just ruining our family's lives. We stopped for a minute to pray to God that we find Christina safe and sound. After our little prayer, we thought about places that she could be, and I thought the best idea was to retrace our steps, and maybe we would see her along the way. I walked back to the last place I saw her, where the breakdancing crew was. I pushed through the crowd nervous for what I might find. There she was standing in the front of the crowd, watching the performers, right where I left her. I asked her "Why didn't you come look for us? Didn't you wonder where we were?" Christina said, "Gab I just followed the rules. I'm supposed to stay where I am because if I went looking for you then we would never find each other." I gave my sister a huge hug and I brought her to mom and dad. They were overjoyed and decided to celebrate with ice cream.