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Đề tài: [Essay] My collection !

  1. #1
    Ngày gia nhập
    12 2006
    Nơi ở
    US
    Bài viết
    1,917

    Mặc định [Essay] My collection !

    Hiện mình đang làm việc cho 1 bà cô dạy writing, nên mình có sưu tầm được rất nhiều essay do học sinh ở đây viêt. Mình thấy sách vở nó viết gò bó quá với lại chuẩn quá mình cũng không học vô. Vì thế mình nghĩ đọc lời văn thực dù gì cũng thú vị hơn phải không ^^! Writing là 1 lĩnh vực khó, mà ngay cả tụi Mĩ nó cũng sai ầm ầm chứ không riêng gì học sinh nước ngoài . Mình sẽ post lên cho các bạn tham khảo. Hope it help !

    Problem of my adolescence
    In the unreal world of television situation comedies, teenager are carefree, smart, funny, wise*****ing, secure kids. In fact, most of them are more "together" than the adults on the shows. This, however, isn't how i recall my teenager years at all. As a teen, i suffered. Every day, i battled the terrible physical, family, and social troubles of adolescence.
    For one thing, i had to deal with a demoralizing physical problem-acne. Some days, i would wake up in the morning with a red bump the size of taillight on my nose. Since i worried constantly about my appearance anyway, acne breakouts could turn me into crying, screaming maniac. Plastering on a layer of ( at the time ) orange-colored Clearsil, which didn't fool anybody, i would slink to school, hoping that the boy I had crush on would be absent that day. Within the last few years, however, treatments for acne have improved. Now, skin doctors prescribe special drugs that clear up pimples almost immediately. An ance attack could shatter whatever small amount of sefl-esteem I had managed to build up.
    In addition to fighting acne, I felt compelled to fight my family. As a teenager, I needed to be independent. At the time, the most important thing in life was to be close to my friends and try out new, more adult experiences. Unfortunately, my family seemed to get in the way. My little brother, for instance, turned into my enemy. we are close now, though. In fact, Eddie recently painted my new apartment for me. Eddie used to barge into my room, listen my phone conversations, and read my secret letters. I would threaten to tie him up and leave him in a garbage dumpster. He would scream, my mother would yell, and all hell would break loose. My parents, too, were enemies. They wouldn't let me stay out late, wear the clothes i wanted to wear, or hang around with the friends I liked. So I tried to get revenge on them by being miserable, sulky, and sarcastic at home.
    Worst of all, I had to face the social traumas of being a teenager. Things were supposed to be fun, like date and dances, were actually horrible. On the few occasions when I had a real date, I agonzied over everything-my hair, my weight, my pimples. After a date, I would come home, raid the kitchen, and drown my insecurites in a sea of junk food. Dances were also stressful events. My friends an I would sneak a couple of beers just to get up the nerve to walk into the school gym. Now I realize that teenagers is drunk driving. At dances, I never relaxed. It was too important to look exactly right, to act really cool, and to pretend I was having fun.
    I'm glad I'm not a teenager anymore. I wouldn't ever want to feel so unattractive, so confused, and so insecure again. I'll gladly accept te crow's-feet and stomach bulge of adulthood in exchange for a little peace of mind !

  2. #2
    Ngày gia nhập
    12 2006
    Nơi ở
    US
    Bài viết
    1,917

    Tiếp bài 2 nhé, tuy nó rất đơn giản nhưng nếu bạn đọc kĩ sẽ tăng khả năng writing rất nhiều đó ! Hope it help !
    Coping with Old Age
    I recently read about an area of the former Soviet Union where many people live to be well over a hundred years old. Being 115 or even 125 is even considered unusual there, and these old people continue to do productive work right up until they die. The United States, however, isn’t such a healthy place for older people. Since I retired from my job, I’ve had to cope with physical, mental, and emotional stresses of being old.
    For one thing, I’ve had to adjust to physical changes. Now that I’m over sixty, the trusty body that carried me around for years has turned traitor. Aside from the deepening wrinkles on my face and neck, and the wiry gray hairs that have replaced my brown hair, I face more frightening changes. I don’t have energy I used to. My eyes get tired.
    Once in a while, I miss something that’s said to me. My once faithful feet seem to have lost their comfortable soles, and I sometimes feel I’m walking on marbles. In order to fight against this slow decay, I exercise whenever I can. I walk, I stretch, and I climb the stairs. I battle constantly to keep as fit as possible. I’m also trying to cope with mental changes. My mind was once as quick and sure as a champion gymnast. I never found it difficult to memorize answers in school or to remember the names of people I met. Now, I occasionally have to search my mind for the name of a close neighbor or favorite television show. Because my mind needs exercises, too, I challenge it as much as I can.
    Taking a college course like this English class, for example, force me to concentrate. The mental gymnast may be a little slow and out of shape, but he can still do a back flop or turn somersault when he has to. Finally, I must deal with the emotional impact of being old. Our society typecasts old people. We’re supposed to be unattractive, senile, useless leftovers. We’re supposed to be the crazy drivers and the cranky customers. At first, I was angry and frustrated that I was considered old at all. And I knew that people were wrong to stereotype me. Then I got depressed. I even started to think that maybe I was a cast-off, one of those old animals that slow down the rest of the herd. But I have now decided to rebel against these negative feelings. I try to have friends of all ages and to keep up with what’s going on in the world. I try to remember that I’m still the same person who sat at a first grade desk, who fell in love, who comforted a child, who got a raise at work. I’m not just an old person. Coping with the channels of old age has become my latest full-time job. Even though it’s a job I never applied for, and one for which I had no experience, I’m trying to do the best I can.

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