Answer:
For my paper, I think I want to write about my first concert experience, and not one of the one’s that your parent’s take you to. I want to talk about the first time I was alone with my best friends in one of the most crowded, claustrophobic, and euphoric experiences of my life. The air was so warm, and I remember every inch of me sweating like no other. My friends and I were packed like sardines towards the front of the pit. We’d stood in line for hours before. We thought we were going to be so close to the stage, which we were when we ran in. After the rest of the line that was behind us had been scanned in, the proximity that we were to the stage decreased. All of the people began to push forward and eventually go their way. As naïve and innocent freshman in high school, it seemed natural to let the people who couldn’t find their friend move to the front. Little did we know, there was an entire friend group following in suit, and our spot slowly got taken over. My friends and I were so angry. We had waited for 5 hours in the hot summer weather for our spots, and they were taken within minutes. Let me tell you, that nativity never happened again. We learned our lesson. Songs from the 90s blasted from the speakers, and the crowd sang along as we waited for our favorite bands. I think I remember singing to “Buddy Holly” by Weezer and watching my best friend sing every word. I was so amazed. I always thought I was the one in our little group who listened to all of the older music. “How in the world do you know ‘Buddy Holly’?” I asked Rachel. “My dad loves Weezer. I have no idea why, but he does,” she replied. I laughed. “Weezer is good.” I had gained my tasted in music the same way. The first time I went to bake chocolate chip cookies, now a staple in my family, my dad played artists like Aerosmith, Frank Sinatra, and Fall Out Boy. A varied mix, I know, but that was the day I figured out what kind of music I actually liked.
In Ernest Hemingway's "In Another Country," the narrator goes to the hospital every day for the rehabilitation of his knee, injured in the war.
Hope I could help!
Irony is definitely the answer to your question.
A pular is more than one in number. and a singular is <span>exceptionally good or great; remarkable.</span>
