Personal Narrative: An Inspector Glen

for possession of stolen vehicle and they would be arriving in the area to take

" The biggest adventure you can take is to live the life of your dreams."- Oprah Winfrey. This quote meant a lot to a 13 year old youngster named Jared, who lived in the most impoverished town within Cambodia. To be quite specific, Jared resided in an old, rusty village, during the year of 2001, that he'd been living in since birth. His greatest aspiration in life was to become a geneticist. However, he did have a few roadblocks, such as poverty, and zero education. Whenever unoccupied, he strived to pay his Grandma Seda a visit at her senior citizen home, which was funded through the Cambodian government. Speaking of her, Grandma Seda was 96 year old lady and happened to be the grandmother of Jared. She was located at a senior citizen home 20 miles away from Jared's home. Six months ago she was diagnosed with leukemia and slow organ failure. Since her diagnosing, her health has been deteriorating rapidly.

Alan Brito is a friend of mine from childhood. When we were young, he and I, along with a bunch of other kids from my neighborhood, used to play tops, marbles and “twenty-one”. We had a top contest in which those who could spin the top in the air with the string, pull it back and place it on top of the palm of their hand, was the winner. At the risk of sounding pretentious, I was almost always the winner. For that reason, they nicknamed me “Toppy”. Two of my other friends, Gilly and Billy were rivals. They were very good at playing “twenty-one.” They were unbeatable. Every time we played together they beat me. I was always afraid of playing against them, because I was quite sure that by the end of the game, I would be left with no money in my pockets. In time, Gilly and Billy got married and left the country. They moved to Saint Maurice, a small paradisiac island in the Pacific Ocean.

I have lived in only one location my entire life: Edwardsville, Illinois. A peripheral suburb of St. Louis, it stands as the rare oasis of people in a desert of corn, pinned in its own personal bubble. Due to this blend of time and isolation, I developed a natural familiarity with my hometown. But, throughout my childhood, I longed to break free from the confines of the bubble and venture outward. However, this changed last summer, as I walked through Richards Brickyard, our family heirloom, that my great-grandfather, Benjamin Richards, founded over 120 years ago. I felt these childlike sentiments slip away. The bubble that had surrounded me for so long began to vanish, and the picture that it had been obscuring was slowly revealed.

On February 24, 2017, I responded to 2809 W Royal Oaks Drive in reference to an intoxicated subject. Beaufort County Dispatch advised me a male was intoxicated attempting to drive a vehicle. I arrived in the area and observed a gray 2014 Chev Camero, bearing a South Carolina license plate; MMJ124 parked in the roadway. The individual was standing behind the vehicle, and appeared to be unstable by not keeping his balance while standing.

On 01-25-17 I responded to the above address. Upon arrival I observed an officer talking to Ciro Castro who was speaking through a brocken window in the door and he refused to come outside. I also saw Christine Young sitting on the ground in the neighbors yard talking to Ofc Matthews.

“Always had a roof above me, always paid the rent. I’d never set foot inside a tent. I can’t build a fire to save my life,” The Lemonheads begin “Outdoor Type”, a song that means so much to me. Every Monday night for six weeks a summer, we gather around the bonfire, with different Scouts each time. Starting with some fun games, we sing silly camp songs, and then we begin the part I come back for. That song represents the exact opposite of what we are at camp.

Here we go. I was asked to write a blog about when somebody was kind to me, so here I am now, writing this entry. Anyway, I was once at the driving range in a country club in Delaware. My dad dropped me off at the clubhouse and I started up the hill. I unloaded my bag and began hacking at balls. I started with my seven iron. It went about two feet in the air and rolled down the hill. Okay, not the best. I worked on that a little longer and switched to my driver. I took a deep breath, took my club back, and hit the tee out from under the ball. While the tee soared through the air, my ball fell back into the grass, right where it was before I hit it.

Jamie Waldo, one of South Windsor’s best and brightest, is making the most of her high school career. There are so many wonderful adjectives that come to mind when one thinks of Jamie: focused, responsible, hardworking, and caring are just a few. Frequently she is seen throughout the school actively involved. Jamie is not one to boast or brag about her accomplishments, but quietly relishes the success from her tireless effort. She is a friendly individual who is motivated and excited about what the future may hold. It is readily apparent that Jamie knows that we are all given but one life and she is determined to make the most of it.

“Most writers,” as James L. W. West, III illustrates in “The Perfect Hour: The Romance of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ginevra King, His First Love,” find inspiration for their fictional characters from influences in their own lives, thus creating “composite characters” (West 113). Having a personal relationship with the inspirations for their characters, writers can successfully characterize these imaginative personas. F. Scott Fitzgerald, one of the most notable American writers of the early twentieth-century, is no exception; a number of his short stories, including “Babylon Revisited,” “The Diamond as Big as the Ritz,” and “Winter Dreams,” can be seen as self-reflective or even autobiographical. Fitzgerald’s recurring tendency to model characters

On 11/21/2016, I, William Van Scoter, was working as a police officer for the Wichita State University Police Department, in Wichita, Sedgwick County, Kansas. I had the North Wichita Police Department (WPD) on my car radio and they were looking for a black male wearing all black clothes with red shoes. The black male was wanted for a domestic violence incident. I heard over the radio that WPD requested Officer Gable #152 to help locate the individual.

I was elected to be a Thespian Officer my freshman year as the only underclassman to be granted a position for the following year. Consequently, I returned as the only veteran officer my junior year. Being the only one who had experience leading in this department, I was appointed to show the ropes to a brand new set of officers- some of which were seniors who had acted in the department for nearly four years. The intimidating task of coordinating and training a group of people who were older, had higher positions, and were possibly more qualified than I became daunting. However, it was in this time of building a strong team that I grew as a leader, communicator, and team player.

It is true in life that everything happens for a reason. It is also true to say that sometimes it is all about being in the right place, at the right time. There was never a more prominent example of this than a traumatic summers evening, only a few years ago.

Ernest Hemingway’s personal experiences of love and injuries during his time at war in Europe are reflected in his novel A Farewell to Arms. Ernest Miller Hemingway was born on July 21, 1899, in Oak Park, Illinois. At a young adult age, Hemingway “...wanted very badly to enlist in the army and serve in WWI, but his poor eyesight prevented him from doing so. Instead, he became an ambulance driver for the Red Cross in Italy” (“Ernest”). World War I left Hemingway with inspiration to write about the adventures he experienced. In his novel A Farewell to Arms, Hemingway gives all of his problems to the main character Frederic Henry, from accidentally falling in love with a nurse to being injured by an Austrian mortar bomb. Hemingway portrays his

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