Three weeks ago we did an exercise in which we wrote descriptions of ourselves in third person...then we gathered them up and read them aloud, trying to guess who wrote which ones. Here's what was written:
Her eyes looked as though they would bore holes through the book she was reading. Her large hands flipped the pages eagerly--nails bitten to the quick, all but four. As she rocked back and forth in the chair, spiral locks kept flipping in her eyes. With one quick puff, she blew them away.
"Stop, stop!" she squealed through her laughter. Everyone was laughing with her because they knew she didn't really mind. She had an abundant sense of humor, and was often caught teasing everyone else. She was almost shy...until you got to know her. She only made jokes about those she knew wouldn't take offense.
She had brown hair, and I guess you could say brown eyes. And she didn't say very much, but I could tell she was thinking of something to write down. Write, erase, write, erase, over and over again. I wonder when she will think of something good to write about?
As he put his cheek to the gun stock, he could feel the oil in the wood. As his hand wrapped around the grip, he stuck his finger through the trigger guard. He lined up the sight and squeezed the trigger to send the bullet at the target.
As the girl walked through the rain on her way to feed the goats, her mind, as usual, was racing a thousand miles and hour. Her thoughts kept jumping from subject to subject, from nature-still-lifes, to Elven watchers, to spring & baby animals, to things so random...a pink-polka-dot-panda...somehow finding a connection between them that made sense to her strange mind. And as she walked, getting more and more soaked, she realized that she had walked past the pen.
She was singing off tune as she came downstairs. It was her turn to do the dishes. She pulled her long hair up into a sloppy bun and started to put the dishes away. The room was too quiet, apparently, because she turned the radio up louder as she attempted to put the last cup on a shelf that was too high for her to reach. She ignored the stool sitting right next to her and half climbed on top of the counter with one knee and finished her daily chore.
He sat in front of a computer. he, once again, was song shopping on I-Tunes. "Darn you search engine! You have failed me again." He said to the computer. "Great. Now I'm talking to computers," he said to himself. "Great. Now I'm talking to myself."
Short brown hair and eyes and dislikes "The Early Show", likes and is good at basketball and football. Likes Thursdays better than Wednesdays at the stables.
She typed at her computer, trying to remember if she sent out all the e-mails needed to her blog members. Pulling her blonde hair into a pony-tail, she heard her sons arguing about Lego's. AGAIN! Her blue eyes flashed. "I'm throwing those things away if you cannot share!" She sighed. "BOYS!"
He has brown eyes and brown hair. He is going to play football and he has a soccer practice on Saturday. He isn't the tallest. He has a few friends...he has some of his sisters' friends visiting. They're both girls, and he has been staying up pretty late.
Sitting quietly on the floral print couch, he sighed. Mumbling obscenities under his breath, the boy on the floral print couch got up and placed the piece of music on the stand. On the first try, he sounded scratchy, out of turn, and confused. However, after a fairly long period of practice, he was able to play it well, with most of it in turn and smooth.
Her long brown hair went everywhere at once while she threw her side wholeheartedly into the target. She loved to try her best at Tae Kwon Doe...putting her best into her kicks, punches, and forms. Her green belt flapped around as she walked slowly to the front of the room. She was waiting for her position results. She hoped for blue stripes, which would take her farther in rank. She could only hope for the best.
She has brown...
He sat in the chair, his blue eyes focused on the explosions on the TV.
His mom called out to him, "Come empty the dishwasher!"
He mumbled something that sounded like 'Later.'
"NOW!" his mom cried.
He sighed and turned off the TV. He put on his sulking face and walked to unload the dishwasher.
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