Personal Narrative: A Bouquet To Blue Heron Books

Doing something new can be terrifying and freighting. The hardest thing that I’ve had trouble with is doing things in front of people. When onlookers stare at me it makes me feel awkward. The summer of two thousand and eleven, I made the volleyball team at Covington High School so, that meant this would put me in front of a lot of people. My team name was The Lady Lions. The Lady Lions and I have practiced all summer long for our first game. Unfortunately the first Monday of school was my first game. Monday’s arrival at school came fast! The game was at the end of the school day but, the more I thought about it the more nervous it was. This was a new situation for me because I’ve never been in front of a crowd that big.

Coming from CP World Voices to Honors English II pushed me to work hard as a result of my fear of falling behind. However, the jump made me grow as a writer; my strength in analyzing literary texts grew and so did my love for the literary works we read. Because this class pushed me to become a more focused and serious writer I have experienced many pivotal moments that caused me to become more aware of my strengths and weaknesses. Looking back on the work we have covered this year I have concluded that my pivotal moments were a series of realizations that came in intervals. Close to the beginning of the year, I discovered that I enjoyed understanding and analyzing literary works to the smallest detail. To successfully do so I focused on my

They take the constructive feedback they receive from customers and apply it to future enhancements. A unique feature is, they hand-pick their books; these books consists of Canadian small presses, national publishers, and international imprints as they echo the diversity of their customer’s interests (BryanPrinceBookseller, 2015). One of the main reasons why this bookstore has been so successful is because of the passion held within the business. The owners are all enthusiastic readers and highly value the art and heritage behind literature. In addition they are always happy to discuss what they are currently reading and are capable of making

*disclaimer: bare with me... the next 5 chapters are crap because i wrote them over a year ago...chapter 19 will be the start of some great shit*

If you try to race a swarm of Yellowjackets, you are in for a world of hurt. When I was 12, my friends and I decided we would have a race amongst the magnolia trees near our house in the country. Closer to a shrub than a tree, the limbs hung low to the ground, creating a perfect obstacle course for the neighborhood kids to play in. When we decided on a set of rules and nominated a referee, we made our way to our starting positions. After we started to maneuver our way through the bows and crooked trees, I ended falling behind due to me being the slowest of the bunch. It was at this point, I heard a faint noise from under my feet and immediately stopped to inspect the ground around me only to see a Yellowjacket nest. During my slow understanding of the situation, I had managed to step on and kill at least one of the yellow bugs that were guarding the nest's entrance. The reaction was not something I had

Before I started going to SOTA, I had been homeschooled for the past X years. And when I transferred from homeschooling to high school, it was like traveling to a different country. During the early months of my freshman year, I felt like everyone around me was speaking a different language and sadly I didn’t have google translate. I was unsure about how to appeal to the seemingly endless crowds of unfamiliar teachers, students, and social customs. This, as I have discovered is unfortunately not just a high school thing. Even when you have survived freshman year and have some vague sense of who you are and how to be your most authentic self, one can still face the common feeling of being out of place in your current environment.

You know that moment when you’re trying to reach the toilet paper but can't quite, then fall and kill yourself on a pumpkin? Yeah I know that feeling… it’s not good. It all started one very normalish day at 1065 Fitzgerald Ave.

When I was young my Dad would always remind me of how important these years as a kid are. He would always say watch how you act as a kid, for it will set the stage for the rest of your life. So many people I know ruined their lives when they were kids. This small, yet so important statement runs through my mind everyday. I love how everyone says they don’t care what people think of them, but I wish they knew how important it is to have a good image. I am not perfect, but I would like to be close as possible. But as Salvador Dali said “Have no fear of perfection, you’ll never reach it. “ The problem I see is everyone wanting to be someone that they are not. Sure, we all have our idols that we look

My reading and writing history began recently.Since i raised in different country, i studied simple English grammar in intermediate and high school not like what students in U.S do. Our teachers didn’t consider it as significant as our native language because all people in the country speak the same native language. Anyway, my english history began after I had moved to U.S for three years ago. I started with non credit ESL classes thereafter I took Reading 71 , Reading 81 , and English 91 at Highline community college. At South Seattle Community College, I took English 96 last winter, and now I’m taking English 99/101. In all of those classes, I enjoyed writing essays and doing peer editing.I was always eager to learn new writing

The creek is a place were I can release all of my problems with the world. I can sit down and really think. Not having to worry about the time or if I am getting all of my assignments done. The creek is my place for thinking and quietness.

The clouds were black, immeasurable, and grotesque. I still believe it was because my best friend was leaving for war. My friend Nicholas was the only person that I could have reliance and certainty with. He was the person that when the stresses of the world got to heavy on my shoulders he would pick the world up of my shoulders and carry the burden of the stresses of reality for me. In the end there are no words to describe the signification he has in my life and there is no comfort that can fix the loss that I feel in my heart because of his absence. So for the time being my heart will be in two places, half with me here in Denver, Colorado and the other half in Kandahar, Afghanistan.

Heavy raindrops spilled from the gray clouds above and people were scattering in all directions. I remember tightly clenching my mother's wrist out of self-assurance as we continuously bumped into frustrated strangers. "Let's wait this storm out in the local library," she had told me in between shivers. At the craziness of the moment, I wasn't sure if her decision was due to home being five blocks away or my nonstop complaints. I wanted to ask what a library was, but I figured that my question would just add to my mother's stress and annoyance. We stopped before the doors of a typical building that displayed the following words in huge yellow print: "Welcome to the Brooklyn Public Library." I specifically recall breathing a sigh of relief

In one of my recent fellowship group meetings, we were studying Acts 16, and it was pointed out that Paul and Timothy kept going back to places, regardless of the rejection they often received. Their tireless efforts paid off handsomely, rewarding them with the salvation of many souls, for which they always gave thanks to God.

It was a hot day, I took shelter from the heat in the nearby restaurant chain known as, chic fila. I promptly ordered, sat down, and waited for my food to be delivered to me. As I scanned the loud, hungry, and sometimes obnoxious inhabitants, A young woman caught my eye. She appeared frail, and unsatisfied with the entertainment provided (the locals). By now my food had been delivered, and if I am being completely honest, the sweet nectar of my half lemonade half tea concoction almost prevented me from paying any more attention to this woman but I did not succumb to the majestic flavor.

My Family and I were at home eating dinner. After dinner I told my mom that I had left something on top of the mountain, so she said “‘go up to get it Mary. But she didn’t want me to go alone so I went to go see if my friend was home but he wasn’t so I disobeyed my moms rules and went up by myself anyway. And it was starting to get dark so I had to get the base fast but I couldn’t find it. Now it was really dark and 2 hours had already passed and I couldn't my way off the mountain because it was so dark. And with my luck my phone died so I couldn’t call anyone for help, so I just started walking and walking after a little bit I realized I was getting nowhere so again I walked eventually I just fell and went to