The Morning Hangover Essay Example For Students

The Morning Hangover Essay â€Å"If you want to do that you have to kill me first! † â€Å"Don’t talk like that, Mom. It’s not appropriate. You know I made my decision and I’m going to be his wife. † â€Å"But your father is unhappy Sara. He is mad at you. † â€Å"Why? I don’t understand! It’s so weird! An educated girl of my age still can’t make a decision for herself? Why, can’t I choose who I’m going to marry? † â€Å"Of course you can. An educated young lady like you should have a choice about who she is going to marry, but she shouldn’t marry a man that leaves college without blinking an eye. She shouldn’t marry a man whose father, despite all of the wealth and qualifications he has to sends his son to the best universities, asked him to leave a college and work for him. She shouldn’t marry a man whose father can’t even sign his own name. Sara, in the real life, beauty isn’t the only qualification for marriage. Your dad can’t sleep at night if he doesn’t read anything before he goes to bed. How could you live with that man when the only accomplishment in his mother’s life is talking about her friends and family behind their back? Once her biggest joys and entertainments is poking her nose into peoples’ personal lives, you can’t live with these things. I didn’t raise you that way. You† Sara stood up. â€Å"Mom, listen! I don’t care about his parents. † â€Å"You are wrong; you have to care about his parents. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. He grew up with his parents; his culture is very different from ours. † Sara walked behind the chair, put her hands on the back of a chair and leaned forward. â€Å"So we are the only good people here, right? We have originality, culture and bones, but they don’t? So we are God’s gift to mankind?! † â€Å"No, don’t get me wrong. They are very good people in their own way. I am not saying that they are bad peoples. But the issue is that we are different, our culture, our manners, our lifestyles. These are all different. I don’t say which is good or which is bad, I’m just saying we are like two parallel lines that can’t reach each other unless they break themselves. † â€Å"So I can’t fall in love, I can’t choose my life, I don’t have any choice, I just have to sit here and wait for Prince Charming on a white horse to come and get me? I have to† â€Å"No Sara, don’t sophistry. I’m not saying you don’t have a choice, I’m just asking you to open your eyes. Don’t judge a book by its cover; don’t think â€Å"he is handsome and wealthy therefore he is perfect. † Stop being so obstinate and make your choice with open eyes. I would love to see you get married, especially if he is someone you love and care about, but I also don’t want you to end up being miserable. That’s the reason I’m not going to agree with this marriage. † Sara stared into her mom’s eyes and said, â€Å"Mom listen to me I told you I’m an educated girl, living in twenty first century. You know people can’t threaten girls, punch them, and force them to marry someone they don’t like. I’m not a girl from a hundred years ago who gets pinched in her wedding to say yes to the groom. That era is long gone. It’s funny that after all of these arguments about my marriage you still think of yourself as an intellectual person. † â€Å"That’s not right Sara; those things are not going to vanish as long as girls and boys fall in love with the wrong people. This problem always stays between parents and children, it is and it will always be. † Mother said with a painful tone. â€Å"This is my life and I want to live it in my own way. Why is this hard thing for you to accept? Sara’s eyes sparked. â€Å"Oh my god, I totally forgot about aunt Pari. She was the one who married the man he loved, wasn’t she? † she added, with a victorious face and laughing eyes. .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc , .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc .postImageUrl , .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc , .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc:hover , .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc:visited , .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc:active { border:0!important; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc:active , .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u029a87824140bc6f46629b5e76efb9cc:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Freedom Harriet Tubman was a brave woman, she mana EssayHer mother’s eyes were dilated with horror and pain. She stared at her daughter, the young lady with those big dim gray eyes and thick wavy hair, Greek nose, red lips and bronze skin seemed defiant and militant. Sara’s beauty brought more pain to her mother; her daughter, her educated and intellectual daughter, with that high family reputation falling in love with a foolish boy from an upstart family. Sara’s parents didn’t even have the courage to research about the reputation of the boy’s family. They were already well-aware that he didn’t have an honorable and bright reputation. Sara’s mother was wishing this boy was indigent, but he was from an open-minded family; a small, but noble and reputable family. In that case everything would change, but unfortunately it wasn’t the case. It was a pity that the words didn’t go through Sara’s naive and inexperience mind. Indeed, Sara was the other half of her aunt; she had the same characteristic of her aunt Pari. It felt like Pari was young again.