life is a piece of bubble gum. It starts off
Fresh and juicy, with plenty of zips and gallons of
give and Million bubbles just waiting to be
but then the taste goes sour and turns to glue it sticks
teeth and tighten your Jaws!!
your
Answers
Answer:
VERY WELL
I AGREE WITH YOU
MARK AS BRAINLIEST
Explanation:
If the coronavirus outbreak has taught me anything, it is how very lucky I am. I began my junior year of college in Copenhagen, Denmark where I was able to have an incredible semester abroad. A few months into the second semester of my junior year, I was settling back into my New York City school lifestyle: grabbing a coffee with a few friends at Prince Coffee House; taking the D train to Columbus Circle for shopping or to Hamilton Heights to meet my brother for a bite at Harlem Public; walking along Arthur Ave; “enjoying” a class in Irish and British Medieval Literature; comparing photos of my study abroad experience with online friends who were currently studying in Copenhagen or London or Granada.
And then seemingly without warning, we were all sent packing. One morning I woke up in the Bronx and that night, went to bed back home in Philly with just a duffel bag full of my belongings. My first two thoughts were mixtures of empathetic concern and selfish relief— “I’m glad I did my study abroad in the fall” and “It must be really tough to be a college senior this year.” When a university closes shop, you know things are serious. And they were, it was —this invisible, protein-crowned virus called COVID-19.
Having no experience with pandemics, I could be forgiven for not thinking in terms of worst case scenarios. Certain things are permanent fixtures—the gym, the coffee shop, the train, the innumerable people who frequent them with me. This is a city that never sleeps. When I woke up at my house in southeastern Pennsylvania, it all disappeared— no coffee shop, no gym, no people. And then, I finally did get the message, and for the first time became afraid. My father, then my mother became infected and quarantined themselves in a separate portion of our not very large three bedroom home. I barely left the house because of something called “shelter in place.” I had to stay away from my high school pals because of something called “social distancing.” I came face to face with my own sense of entitlement— I haven’t gone through anything, and even this is not anything compared with those who are out of work or those who are forced to work meeting needs and saving lives.
I wasn’t really ready for online classes. I had taken for granted how significant the human interaction was, even from that student who seemed compelled to man-splain two or three times per class, or the perky one who can’t stop her joyous mouth from answering another question. They mattered. They helped to define me— I am the non- perky one. I needed them all. Like most people, I also found being secluded at home very difficult. At school, I was in constant motion in search of a new museum or cafe or another place in which to do my school work— my dorm, true to its etymology, was simply a spot to sleep in. And while NYC gave me numerous spurts of inspiration for writing yet another essay, my suburban Philadelphia neighborhood lacked anything close to a Mt. Parnassus. In fact, I mostly felt tired and anesthetized by a nondescript boredom.
But there was something oddly uplifting in knowing that there were only three things happening in a world known for its hyperkinetic abuse of time— being sick, keeping from being sick, and helping those who are sick. Everyone was all about one thing. Nothing else mattered. And we were all together in a new abridged version of living. And I found myself drifting out of myself to wonder about those who were being sick and serving the sick while I had the opportunity to do nothing. Some of my friends were in families that now lacked an income since neither parent’s job afforded the ability to work from home. The mother of another friend was a nurse who had worked 16 hours per day, taking care of infected patients, and having no interaction at home with her daughter. This disease was destructive in more ways than one, but only one way could be treated at a time.
– FDR’s New Deal and LBJ’s Great Society. Perhaps this pandemic that has shed a glaring light on our nation’s deficiencies will spark essential changes to our economy and to our healthcare. I know I am ready to play my part. And there is the very real possibility of a brighter future not insulated from distress, but prepared to live with misfortune wisely and humanely when it comes.
Explanation:
\huge \mathfrak{good \: night}