Description

Last year I was enrolled in an English class called "expository writing". Each week we wrote essays and I actually thought some of mine were pretty cool so I decided to post them up here enjoy!

Description Essay:
I sit there legs crossed “I want to hold your hand” blaring out of the speakers. I watch hypnotized. It spins in circles around and around. I am not talking about eight tracks or CD’s no these are classic vinyl records. Each of the tiny lines feels bumpy across my finger tips. The more indented lines indicating a new song on the record. Each one is round and black except for each has a unique inner circle with a picture or writing on it. I set down the needle on my phonograph and suddenly all my troubles float away as each note hangs in the air slowly escaping from the speakers. I let go of everything and listen as the melodic pop sound of the Beatles echoes through my bedroom.

On my walls and ceiling half hung posters represent my favorite bands and artist. My grandpa’s old guitar sits to the left of my bed. Pictures of my recent trip to Africa cover what once was a mirror. Every time I look into those pictures I see my reflection. My CD’s are hidden amongst books in my closet sitting next to my stereo. Laying alphabetically on the floor in crisp neat rows are the 153 vinyl records I own. I have been collecting them since my freshmen year- begging aunts and uncles to pass down there un-used treasures to me. I love looking through all of my album covers. Each album cover feels flat and smooth with different art work on it. You can see how the styles have changed. Some of the art work beginning to fade away with the years. Next to my music collection is my phonograph that I received for Christmas two years ago. It is modern yet, appears old because of the rustic brown covering. It not only plays my classic indulgences but it has radio and CD functions too. The most modern part however; is that it records my vinyls into CD’s to listen to during those long car rides.

Suddenly, the needle picks up off the record. The album is over. It is dead silent. I flip the record over and start again, the vibrations in the music moving all around me.