Description And Description Of My Roommate Essay

For my story, I would first make the web, gather information on my character(s). Then, I would start a rough draft putting all the information into a story.

In the end I was the loser, by me not speaking out reasonably and being more assertive in being able to share my feelings affected our group dynamics. I will not know had the issue been addressed sooner, and with more tact and reasoning could have developed better relationship with my roommates and allow me to feel better about

My mother used to tell me the definition of mate was your destined love- true love to say the least. A person that will stick with you through the thick and thin, no matter the destination.

There are many personal characteristics that can affect a person as an individual and his professional success, namely openness, ability to learn and adapt etc. These personal characteristics can sometimes make a person successful and sometimes doesn’t. As I spend more and more time as a professional, I perceive that there are few characteristics that are essential for professional success: namely ambitious, creative and adaptable. These characteristics come out in many different ways. Have you set your goals? Have you decided the path you have to take to pursue your goal? What are the sacrifices you can do to achieve your ambition? How much can you think out of the box to resolve a particular issue or bring new idea to the table? How

It’s finally the time. We are leaving our parents’ house, the warm and cozy nest in order to go and face wildlife or commonly called college. The excitement is building up and we’re about to combust as we reach the doors of the university. We’re eager to finally be able to live alone with no rules, no regulations, just ourselves and no one else to command us. We’ve all been through that, and we’ve all dreaded the exact same thing. Who’s the new roommate? How’s he or she going to be like? Clean? Disdainful? It was probably the first question everyone asked, walking up the stairway to hell, his or her new house for the next four months.

The lights, the nerves, and the sound of a screaming crowd that leaves a ringing in your ear. Imagine being a callow freshman player starting on the varsity volleyball team during a state playoff game. My heart was racing, my was mind overflowing with thoughts, and my palms were drenched with sweat. However, I had to consummate the expectations that were put on me by the coaches and my fellow players. I was placed on that court for a reason, and I had to prove to everyone why they had chosen me. Nevertheless, I was the most adolescent player and had the least amount of experience, so why would they pick me? I had grown up playing volleyball for fun, but never participated in club like all of the other girls had. I had no time because I was involved in many other sports like soccer, track, and gymnastics. Coming into my freshman year I didn't know what to expect, because there were several adroit players that were older than me. Making the Junior Varsity team opened up the door for me to become a varsity player. Thus, the varsity coaches would watch the J.V. Games and scout out players that they thought were capable of being pulled up on their team. Even though I was an outside hitter on J.V., they noticed that I had exceptional defense and passing skills. As a result, the coaches asked if I would be interested in being a defensive specialist on the varsity team for the rest of the season. How could I say no to that offer? Our team was

“Are we there yet?” I called from the back of our car, “Not yet bud.” my father yelled over the blasting radio. “Vroom, vroom, vroom.” the engine roared as my dad revved up the car. Every year we get in the car and we head to our cousins house in Utah. I was going to go get some snacks at the gas station. I didn’t even realize how sweaty my hands were until I touched the handle. I swiftly wiped my hands on my shorts and then hopped out of the car into the blazing hot outdoors. “Oh come on” I thought when I landed on the surprisingly hot concrete. I scrambled up and looked around to make sure none saw the embarrassing fall.

We had been friends for as long as I could remember. Her parents had adopted her from Ethiopia, and very soon after she arrived we had become friends. We spent 18 years together and became closer than our own siblings had been to us. Our houses were a door down from each other, and we were the type of friends who were constantly walking in unannounced.

Shannon L. Alder says, “Beauty is not who you are on the outside, it is the wisdom and time you gave away to save another struggling soul like you.” My friend Madison Smith is eighteen years old. She is five feet four inches tall and has light brown eyes. Her soft, dirty blond, wavy hair goes a few inches past her shoulders. She has smooth, fair white skin. Her complexion is perfect with her face free of make-up. The style of her clothing is very modern with her own unique touch. Singing is one activity that she is seen doing often, with her voice being both gentle and strong. Riding horses is another activity she is skillful at. None of these things, however, do I consider important when describing her. Her personality can be summed up in just one word, generous. She gives gifts, advice, encouragement, time, and inspiration without any hesitation.

You know that feeling of contentment and pure delight you get when you’re around a loved one? Well that’s exactly what I feel when I’m around my best friend Karah. She is a Texas native and lived here her whole life, until she moved far, far away. That is when my whole world drastically changed.

I lived life a very long time before I met Oren Crafts. I don’t know the precise moment we became friends, but, surely, it is something I consider him. The story of how he became my life-line actually happened fairly recently. It was a mild, summer late-night when I received a text from him saying he needed to talk. I’m not sure what topic kept him up this long and troubled him so much that he needed my help, but I hopped in my truck anyway and drove to his house. Contrary to what you might expect, he was helping me more this night than I was helping him.

Growing up being bullied, I never had a friend to help me through all of that crazy nonsense.

My palms are sweating as my brain drifts off from the algebra problem. Anxiously, I begin to scribble down a rhyme in the back of my worn-out workbook, releasing the inner anguished poet found deep within.

After being taken back to the unit, the kids were at lunch, so I felt relieved. If you haven’t realized by now, my relief is always temporary. I was strip searched and taken off all of my medications that eased me due to doctor’s orders, he wanted me on a clean slate. I sat in an all white room with blinding blue chairs that were drilled into the ground, a television behind plexus-glass, and a table built onto the wall. I didn’t know when I had first arrived this room would become familiar and a part of my everyday life. My roommate became my best friend. She held me when I cried, played with my hair, and told me how wonderful I was. I didn’t the same for her: when she would have a break down in our bathroom, I went in, turned the light off, held her, and she would cry her heart out. She wasn’t like that though, she was such an aggressive and angry person, but to me, she was the sweetheart who loved to splatter paint on a blank canvas, create a masterpiece in her journal, and that had an odd obsession with fuzzy socks. She was stunning. Her milky way, caramel colored skin that was soft to the touch always glowed. She has these drop-dead gorgeous eyes that were an odd brown, that looked green in the lighting, but in the center she had red bursting out like fire into the cool, muddy waves. Her hair was a curly, beautiful disaster. I loved waking up to her wet head and it took her twenty minutes to get it styled, even if it was just a pony-tail. She also had this great

My neighbor is one of those annoying wannabe YouTube personalities. Over the years, I’ve seen him cough out cinnamon, lay flat on the hood of his car as it slowly creeps down the driveway, and douse himself in lukewarm water, all the while screaming epic win, epic fail, or, fuck, epic maintenance of the status quo, for all I know. It can get tiring to watch him go about his shenanigans in the pursuit of viral fame. So, when he knocked on my door the other day, told me he was going away for a few weeks, and asked that I get his mail, honestly, it was a relief. I can’t explain the peace of mind I had knowing I didn’t have to brace myself for any of his stupidity for a while. I was always afraid his stunts would wind up bleeding over into my life.