One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure Essay

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Extremism isn't a trait you're born with, nor taught. It's an extreme passion for something that you've molded into yourself by your idealistic values. As for me, I'm an extremist when it comes to memories, therefore I keep most objects that are given to me. As such, my extremism for memorabilia probably stems from a time when I was 7 years old. The break of dawn was still an hour away, and just outside the city limits, one would be accosted by the mockingbird's mesmerizing notes. My mother and I had to wake up early to start setting up all the materials for our yard sale, and I was not in the mood, because this time, there were games and toys that I was forced to put for sale. Gradually, as the first rays of lights glimmered and shone across the landscape, our first customers arrived raring to scavenge for whatever affordable deal they could find. One by one, they came and went; some leaving with a pep in their step, while others left with a brooding demeanor. A bit past noon, we had one more family come through and I couldn't help but go back inside to watch cartoons. They didn't buy anything except for one thing: my Pokémon video game. However, what really annoyed me was the fact that the dad switched the price stickers from something else that was priced at three dollars, to the game, which was five dollars. Incidentally, I hadn't found out until after they left and you better believe I had gotten after my mom for not telling me that another one of my objects was about to be sold. If she would have, I would have known that that was not the right price. Sure, three dollars may not seem like a lot; but at an age that young, I would cherish every penny my greedy hands could grab. Ever since that day, I've kept so many things even if they're broken, scratched, old, or obsolete. To name a few, I still have my green Nintendo 64 that became completely useless

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