Personal Narrative

The sparks fly in the air, there are marshmallows in your hair, and you’re with your favorite people in the world. This is called the best place on earth, for me at least. I enjoy camping so very much, you meet new people, experience different things, make new memories, and have a blast. You also see new sights, smell some things, and always wake up to the birds singing and not the bustling streets of the city. Camping is my go to activity.

On 10/02/2017 at 0017 hours, units were dispatched to 627 Central Ave for a report of a Domestic involving a knife. I responded at emergency speed, priority one. Upon my arrival, I located the accused female in the bathroom.

I arrived at practice with my shoes laced, hair pulled back, and the mindset that I was unstoppable. I could play against every member of my team and come out the victor on any given day. It was the first day of practice that week, and challenge matches were scheduled to begin. The team went through our daily shuffle of drills, conditioning, and running to prepare for what was lying ahead. While warming up with my friends, I felt great, talking about homecoming, boys, and a variety of irrelevant events. I felt ready. The odds were in my favor and nobody could stop me.

It's been an interesting year so far, and it looks like it is about to get even more interesting (more about that in a moment). What I wanted to write about in this here journal of mine is a new brand of shoe that I just purchased; they are called Nike running shoes, and I love them. They fit well, are comfortable and seem like they will last quite a while. I just had to have a pair (I think I'm the first one here at school to have them most of the other students have never even heard of them; Neanderthals, I know!). I predict they will be a big hit in the future. Okay, enough about shoes, let's move on to more serious matters, my love life! (just joking journal I have no love life right now). Oh well, I haven't written in here for the past few weeks, I guess I better talk about the events of the month. Let's see, it's October 1962 and a number of events have taken place; some here at the University of Mississippi, some in the United States and some internationally. Many of these events will likely have long-term impact on some very serious matters. Of course, I did not think any event would foreshadow James Meredith being admitted into the University, but, the first Negro being admitted into a higher education institution is an event that has only national implications, while the missile crisis in Cuba, could lead to death to thousands or even hundreds of thousands of citizens in both the United States and in Russia.

Eyes struggled to open, the world around me blurry, dark, spinning. “Danny, Danny, are you alright?” I heard my mother ask frantically. Confused, startled, feeling like someone was trying to hammer a nail through my head, a warm and sticky fluid running down the side of my face, my eyes gradually converging on my surroundings.

Sitting in a hospital waiting room, alone, afraid; and waiting for the news; would she be ok? Would she even survive? My nerves were out of control; my heart was beating through my chest, you could literally see it thumping through my top. The beads of sweat racing down my forehead, as if I was in the middle of the Safari dessert. I have been an athlete my entire life, yet I have never felt so physically drained. I look around, my eyes opening, then closing; as if I am coming in and out of consciousness, then suddenly echoed words begin to ring around my ear drums….” Sir…...sir, can you hear me? Sir please, we need to know what happened. We need to know what happened to her. Maybe my motionless state showed my

I knew those words were coming, but I still bemusedly processed to what Jill had indirectly told me. I stared blankly into the words on the papers. She kept talking. Her voice in the background sounded like screeches on a chalkboard: painful and loud. I read over the words again.

It was a cold day in November as I scampered out of my Biology class, unsatisfied with the grade that I had received on my exam. I rushed to the basement of my campus’s athletic facility brimming over with frustration and quickly tossed aside my school supplies in exchange for a pair of soccer cleats and goalkeeper gloves. I threw over my grass-stained gray cotton sweatshirt, stepped outside to the bite of an approaching winter and joined my comrades in our warm-up lines. The boys were all laughing and talking about what happened over the weekend as we prepared for another practice. Being surrounded by my teammates made me forget about my worries and allowed me to disappear into the routine of physical activity. My collegiate varsity soccer

At the beginning of my freshman year I was attempting to develop motivation as well as seeking purpose and determining value. Whether in school or during sports or other activities and events in my life, I was constantly searching for motivation towards a goal or achievement.

Were I to name one thing unique about me, it would be that I’m one of the only people I know who can say from experience which is more difficult; writing a personal essay or surviving a life-or-death, take-no-prisoners spy shootout, complete with a crowd of bad guys, laser guns, and of course, a hero and a sidekick. I’m the sidekick.

    It was six A.M. on a beautiful yet brisk Saturday morning and I was fast asleep. Suddenly I was ripped from my blissful dream world by the incessant blaring of my alarm. Groggy, I shut off the alarm and stumbled into the kitchen for breakfast. I had a light breakfast consisting of warm cinnamon toast and butter so as to not upset my stomach during the looming Cross Country race.

In late September of 2010, was the year I learned a new word “Depression”! I was in 1st grade and everything was fun because I had no responsibilities or worries. I didn’t know how to feel grief for a long time because I was always happy. I didn’t know that a family member could own a child.

I was not an intentionally bigoted twelve-year-old. I was raised in an affluent suburban community where the vast majority of people are white. The 100% white private nursery school which I attended was chosen by my parents largely due to its proximity to our home. My public elementary school was about 70% white as it was populated with students who resided nearby. Finally, the private middle school which I attended, located almost an hour from my home, provided me with exposure to the most diverse student body of my youth as it was comprised of about 65% Caucasian children. What each of these formative academic experiences shared in common was both that their student bodies were disproportionately Caucasian, as well as that their senior administrators

Like the beginning of every good soap opera, everything was normal in the beginning. I lived with my mom and it had just been us for my entire life. My mom had began to see a man. As it turns out, this man would take our happy and simple world and flip it upside down.

The training ground was outside and depending on what we needed it for was able to instantly change its terrain. I walked over to a nearby basket and pulled out an old wooden bow and a quiver full of arrows.