Five essays that I would want to write:

Five Paragraphs of Essays that I would want to write.

“Blue Walls”
1. Paintbrush in hand, and a gallon of possibilities beside of me, and I look at you, and cannot believe how far we have come. There a stigma about young couples and marriage, and that negativity outreaches itself when a couple is both young and in college. When I tell people that I am in fact a Mrs. that is usually followed by a face full of deep frown lines of doubt and questioning, with a look of haughty laughter in their eyes, and you know that they are just thinking ‘yeah that will last.’ And this is repeated even in places that I you would not expect, church, school, even beside the fruit loops in the cereal isle. I believe it is a funny thing that these stares come even though we have only just met, and they of course know nothing but that we are young, married, and the cardinal sin, in college.
Type of Essay: II Honesty, Confession, and Privacy

“Hate, comes from experiences gone wrong.”
2. I hate birds, All birds. When I was a kid about the age of seven I was at my grandmother's house and her husband had chickens and along with chickens comes a chicken coop. It was handmade of old 2x4's and held together with rusty nails all jutted out in various directions, like tiny teeth ready to slice off shreds of whatever dare come close enough to it. Inside this cage are fifty or so nasty animals, with their tiny beady eyes and feathers matted in colors of red and dirt brown. Squawking and pecking with their tiny, orange, never full beaks. In a mass so large that it is only a small patch of ground is visible... This is such an irking feeling because of the person that owned them.
Type of Essay: VIII. The Past Local, and the Melancholy

3. On one occasion I opened a refrigerator and saw squirrels, dead fuzzy squirrels. Laying there with no insides just an outer shell with brown fur and black dead glassy eyes. Sitting there in the fridge almost like a waiting room until they are carried out to be taken somewhere I do not know. This reminds me of my mother.
Type of Essay: I, The Conversational Element or Honesty, Confession, and Privacy

4. Hours upon hours of hearing, watching him yell at the T.V. cussing out the people that he hacked down with the alien sword…this is what you are used to if you are a wife/girlfriend of a gamer. This is the sounds that are almost a clamming effect to me on Saturday mornings while I lay on the couch in my ragged pajamas with the hotdog pictures of them. After eating cereal nearly every Saturday it has become a ritual to sit and just be; it is such a nice feeling after a stressful, endless week of school. These Saturday mornings are what I look forward to all week long, it is just a feeling of immense pleasure. No cares of anything, simple love.
VI. Cheek and Irony and/or VII The Idler Figure

5. Wedding bells are ringing and it is the happiest day of your life; you have the man you love more than anything ready to spend the rest of your lives together. You have ordered the cake, have picked the perfect dress, and of course found the groom; hard parts are over right? Well for most brides it is, but for me it was quite a different situation. The huge looming decision I had to make was a choice that could erase the past or harm the future. The decision of who would be escorting me down the isle to give me away; the man that has been there most of my life, or the man who I happen to share genes with?
VII The Past, the local, and the Melancholy IV. The Role of Contrariety