⒈ Personal Narrative: A Lollipop Moment

Thursday, December 23, 2021 7:07:27 AM

Personal Narrative: A Lollipop Moment

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Lollipop Moment Speech

This is at times gender-flipped since a lot of the male wrestlers seem to be interested in her. Layla choosing William Regal over Jamie Noble is another example, though she never really turned face in the first place. Subverted, though, by Molly Holly 's heel turn in Despite the fact that it showed all the qualities of the above angles, the fact that she left Spike Dudley for The Hurricane undermines the "bad boy" aspect since he's A much more definitive heel turn occurred for Molly the following year, with no bad boy in sight.

She made her debut as Marlena the valet of her real-life husband's Goldust persona. Goldust was a heel. About a year later, Goldust broke character and appeared as a Born Again Christian Dustin Runnels, who was willing to forgive and forget and take Terri back. She however, blew him off for Val Venis , a playboy persona. However, when Venis started to reform , Runnels showed up again as Goldust and Terri came running to him.

After he rejected her for good this time, she became a Straw Feminist who swore off men completely. A quite frankly, bizarre example is with AJ Lee , who pursued not one, but three men who each fit the bad boy criteria to different degrees. Her main interest focused on Anti-Hero CM Punk , wearing his shirts and mimicking his mannerism to a degree. Then there's Jerkass Daniel Bryan , her ex who she admitted she wasn't quite over yet and was possibly just trying to make jealous. And finally, there's Kane , who she made dreamy eyes at and who she apparently thought he had a heart buried under his tormented soul , and who she notably kissed with considerably more passion than she showed towards the other two. The one thing all three men appeared to agree on is that AJ is out of her damn mind.

Then she topples a ladder with him on top and ends up with bad boy Dolph Ziggler. Dawn of a New Age: Oldport Blues : Ivy is attracted towards broody, angsty boys, though downplayed in that she doesn't like ones that are actively dangerous or cruel. This has resulted in her developing a deep crush on the anti-social Simon. Similarly, Ivy's best friend Luna is attracted to local 'bad boy' and rockstar wannabe Hyeon, and has stated that she finds 'good' guys to be boring. In Survival of the Fittest , Rosa Fiametta's attraction to JJ Sturn, despite the fact that he's pretty much an asshat whilst they're dating, at least. This backfires on her in a major way. Assassins plays this for laughs by having Lynette Froome wax lyrical about how amazingly smart and beautiful Charles Manson is.

Based on Real Life , as she was infatuated with Manson and tried to kill the President in his name. Elisabeth : As far as bad boys go, it doesn't get worse than killing two of your children and saying point blank that he will own you in the end. In fact, it's after he did it the second time that Elisabeth breaks and begs Death to take her. Takarazuka productions also took note of this sartorial change. In Grease , the "cool" girls, especially Rizzo, are attracted to bad boys, and the male lead, Danny Zuko, is a bad boy who resembles Arthur Fonzarelli. The main conflict in the plot is over Danny's "badness" and the "goodness" of Sandy, the lead female. Eventually, they end up meeting somewhere in the middle. Deconstructed in Heathers.

Veronica was very much attracted to bad boy J. Once he starts murdering people, however, their relationship goes south. In The Importance of Being Earnest , Cecily falls madly in love with Jack's wayward brother without ever having met him because "a man who is very much talked about is always very attractive. One feels there must be something in him after all. She wears a leather jacket, doesn't care what other people think of her, and rides off on a motorcycle at the end of the show. Susannah is enraptured. The Mrs. Hawking play series: Subverted with Arthur the policeman. He's just about the sweetest, most straightforward guy you could imagine, and he's presented as a romantic and attractive figure for lead character Mary.

Zig-zagged with Clara, who briefly dated the roguish playboy Justin Hawking before settling down with his more gentlemanly little brother Nathaniel. Played with for Marian Paroo. Marian initially snubs Harold Hill's advances and dreams of being with an "honest man", though she eventually falls for him after seeing the joy and confidence he has sparked in the town's citizens with his idea for a band.

Harold, in turn, decides not to ditch town and to stay with Marian. You know what the whisper is? He doesn't believe in anything! Not in God, not in Heaven, not in a single thing in this world! Stella in A Streetcar Named Desire chooses to stay with Stanley, who is violent, abusive, and beneath her social class. She reasons that what goes on between the sheets makes everything unimportant.

Even her sister Blanche flirts with him. She spends the musical longing for the Count's bite even as Alfred sings of his love for her. But that does not stop at least four girls from going crazy over him. He has a motorcycle like many bad boys , but the most rebellious thing he does is take the "h" out of his name, then tell Miss Strict he'd prefer to keep it out.

Miss Strict and Toffee's parents still insist she break up with him. When she does, he is Driven to Suicide , then comes back as a zombie. Interestingly, once he does, it is suggested that he might have been a bit more rebellious than we thought telling Miss Strict that he "used to hate [her]" and "could not be reached" , but, as a zombie, all he wants to do is return to school and take Toffee to the prom. Visual Novels. Toyed with in Crescendo JP. Ryo, the main character, is a gruff guy with a bad reputation and a troubled past who sleeps through school enough to put his graduation in jeopardy. However, the girls like him In Demonheart , the two men Bright can go for are both evil.

Raze is a demonspawn and fan of Murder Is the Best Solution , and Brash is a foulmouthed corrupt knight and rumored rapist. One of them even calls her 'Bitch-chan'. It's intended to be fanservice for girls who do want bad boys. Dream Daddy : Deconstructed. I remember I was looking up at the people we passed as we walked — at first apathetically, but then more attentively.

Ladies wore five-inch heels that clicked importantly on the floor and bright, elaborate clothing. Men strode by smelling of sharp cologne, faces clear of wrinkles — wiped away with expensive creams. An uneasy feeling started to settle in my chest. I tried to push it out, but once it took root it refused to be yanked up and tossed away. It got more unbearable with every second until I could deny it no longer; I was ashamed of my mother. We were in a high-class neighborhood, I knew that. We lived in a small, overpriced apartment building that hung on to the edge of our county that Mom chose to move to because she knew the schools were good.

She wore cheap, ragged clothes with the seams torn, shoes with the soles worn down. Her eyes were tired from working long hours to make ends meet and her hair too gray for her age. My mom is nothing extraordinary, yet at that moment she stood out because she was just so plain. With no other options, I had to scour the other stores in the area for her.

Mom was standing in the middle of a high-end store, holding a sweater that looked much too expensive. It was much too expensive. And I almost agreed, carelessly, thoughtlessly. Then I took a closer look at the small, weary woman with a big smile stretching across her narrow face and a sweater in her hands, happy to be giving me something so nice, and my words died in my throat. Her clothes were tattered and old because she spent her money buying me new ones. She looked so tired and ragged all the time because she was busy working to provide for me. Suddenly, Mother was beautiful and extraordinarily wonderful in my eyes. I never kissed the boy I liked behind the schoolyard fence that one March morning.

I never had dinner with Katy Perry or lived in Kiev for two months either, but I still told my entire fourth-grade class I did. The words slipped through my teeth effortlessly. With one flick of my tongue, I was, for all anybody knew, twenty-third in line for the throne of Monaco. I nodded as they whispered under their breath how incredible my fable was. So incredible they bought into it without a second thought. I lied purely for the ecstasy of it.

It was narcotic. With my fabrications, I became the captain of the ship, not just a wistful passer-by, breath fogging the pane of glass that stood between me and the girls I venerated. No longer could I only see, not touch; a lie was a bullet, and the barrier shattered. My mere presence demanded attention — after all, I was the one who got a valentine from Jason, not them. This way I became more than just the tomboyish band geek who finished her multiplication tables embarrassingly fast. My name tumbled out of their mouths and I manifested in the center of their linoleum lunch table. I became, at least temporarily, the fulcrum their world revolved around. Not only did I lie religiously and unabashedly — I was good at it.

The tedium of my everyday life vanished; I instead marched through the gates of my alcazar, strode up the steps of my concepts, and resided in my throne of deceit. I believed if I took off my fraudulent robe, I would become plebeian. The same aristocracy that finally held me in high regard would boot me out of my palace. I therefore adjusted my counterfeit diadem and continued to praise a Broadway show I had never seen. I drew in an expectant breath, but nobody scoffed.

Nobody exchanged a secret criticizing glance. Promptly, my spun stories about swimming in crystal pools under Moroccan sun seemed to be in vain. The following Monday, the girls on the bus to school still shared handfuls of chocolate-coated sunflower seeds with her. For that hour, instead of weaving incessant fantasies, I listened. I listened and I watched them listen, accepting and uncritical of one another no matter how relatively vapid their story.

When first I sat down in the small, pathetic excuse of a cafeteria the hospital had, I took a moment to reflect. I had been admitted the night before, rolled in on a stretcher like I had some sort of ailment that prevented me from walking. They started telling me something, but I paid no attention; I was trying to take in my surroundings. The tables were rounded, chairs were essentially plastic boxes with weight inside, and there was no real glass to be seen. After they filled out the paperwork, the nurses escorted me to my room.

There was someone already in there, but he was dead asleep. The two beds were plain and simple, with a cheap mattress on top of an equally cheap wooden frame. One nurse stuck around to hand me my bedsheets and a gown that I had to wear until my parents dropped off clothes. The day had been exhausting, waiting for the psychiatric ward to tell us that there was a bed open for me and the doctors to fill out the mountains of paperwork that come with a suicide attempt.

Actually, there had been one good thing about that day. My parents had brought me Korean food for lunch — sullungtang , a fatty stew made from ox-bone broth. God, even when I was falling asleep I could still taste some of the rice kernels that had been mixed into the soup lingering around in my mouth. For the first time, I felt genuine hunger. My mind had always been racked with a different kind of hunger — a pining for attention or just an escape from the toil of waking up and not feeling anything. But I always had everything I needed — that is, I always had food on my plate, maybe even a little too much. Now, after I had tried so hard to wrench myself away from this world, my basic human instinct was guiding me toward something that would keep me alive.

The irony was lost on me then. All I knew was that if I slept earlier, that meant less time awake being hungry. So I did exactly that. Waking up the next day, I was dismayed to see that the pangs of hunger still rumbled through my stomach. I stood still, unable to move. There were pages strewn all over the floor along with pictures that I could no longer identify. I collapsed on my bed, hoping that the next time I would open my eyes, everything would be back to normal. I was getting late for class. Not knowing where to start, I began collecting whatever remained of my belongings.

It was a note addressed to me. See how the above example starts off with an interesting narrative? The author is talking about a personal experience that perhaps ended up changing their life. This would compel the reader to move forward with the essay. So try your best to create suspense or choose an interesting angle. Consider listing down all the events on a piece of paper first before beginning your draft.

Following this method will improve readability and make it easier for the reader to follow the narrative in one go. Otherwise, you might end up skipping important events in between. Include sensory details , focusing on how everything tasted, looked or felt in the story.

And yes, it Personal Narrative: A Lollipop Moment all real. Once Personal Narrative: A Lollipop Moment starts murdering people, however, their relationship goes south. Is he being Personal Narrative: A Lollipop Moment by anyone?

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