Personal Narrative ~ Social Conformiaty

Your nameEnglish 1A /Spring 2008Instructor : Cheryl ChaffinNarrative Essay AssignmentYour nameEnglish 1A /Spring 2008Instructor : Cheryl ChaffinNarrative Essay Assignment sometimes it PoursSometimes the Lioness RoarsI , interchangeable everyone else , had dreams . I still do , but it go steadyms that auberge doesn t allow a second chance for people same(p) me . I had a plan , it didn t work out . My visitation is obvious and , I suppose that I am supposed(p) to apologize . entirely , to who ? Myself ? Yes , I should apologize to myself for believing that I did not deserve a second chance , because social norms did not prescribe it . I refuse to conform and I refuse to fit into someone else s norm . I aroma at other writer s works and in it I see form . This forms my opinion of me , a mirror to see in a narrative that can be say in any way . This is the only way I know how to tell it . Simply , I am a woman without a husband and with children . Society says , in so many words , and in so many looks in the eyes of others that I should find another husband and get together up my dreams of personal success . After all , I failed once before . Why wouldn t I fail once again ? In those eyes too , I see the abominate of the very idea of lost dreams and failures . I represent it . But , I repel it . If it takes my whole life , I entrust succeed for me , not to conform to society . A contract without a husband , the girl alone at a party . So what ? This is meAfter my divorce , I felt resembling I should seclude myself in shame . Such a failure , so human race , so I became to a greater extent private . I had to retreat back to my parents , penniless . not only protesting of my loss of status , but of poverty , as well . I learned more about public welfare and less about private well-being .

I was a stigma , a statistic . I felt like my needs reduced me to a number . The worst of it , though , was not material sacrifice or shame , regular . Dreams and ambitions were reserved for those who had names not numbers , the last names of their husbands . Those I would see with their heads held up high , looking trim on me . But , there was something that they didn t see , higher indeed they , my dreams . But it is taboo to indispensableness to be better charm the paradox is clear . Living with the idea of unconventional felicity and success is something no one wants to hear . I tangle with t want to lock myself away like a lioness caged from her dreams . I just want to scream What happens to a dream deferredDoes it alter uplike a raisin in the sun ?Or fester like a sore--And then runDoes it stink like rotten marrow squash ?Or crust and sugar over--like a syrupy sweetMaybe it just sagslike a heavy loadOr does it explode (Hughes in Rampesad Roessel , 426 Admittedly , sometimes...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Orderessay

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