Personal Narrative-Boredom

The most important game of the year was coming up and I was ready. Everything was going perfect for me, because I was the starting QB as a freshmen at Englert High School. We were playing Joston High School the number 1 team in the nation since 1960, it was going to be a tough game because they had the number 1 ranked defense, but we had the best offense. The day before the game was just a normal day I went to school and had football practice after school. A couple weeks ago one of the other teams that we had played earlier in the year wanted another game so we decided to play them. They had been the hardest team we had played all year, we had only beat them by a last efforts field goal it hardly went in as it bounced in off the crossbar.

I remember sitting at our dining room table, looking past the window. I wasn’t much older than eleven. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and I was bored out of my mind. I sighed, wishing there was something exciting to do. My mother told me that I should go outside and play, but I had already played at our playground what seemed like a million times already. The playground was only ten yards away from our small 800 square foot apartment, in the heart of Omaha, Nebraska. This was a convenience to some kids, but to me it was aggravating. I sat there in that wooden dining chair thinking how this summer had been one of the most uneventful summers I had ever had. I daydreamed about the summers of when I was living in Upstate New York. Ever since

Many years have gone by with much contemplation about what I wanted to do when I grew up. Due to my age, that vision has looked like many different professions. I started out with dreams of having an Army career starting at the age of 18, to have that quickly change when my new husband and I found we were expecting our first child. When our commanding officer found out, he spoke to us and explained that both of us could be sent to war at the same time. Rather than deciding which family member to give custody of our child to in that situation, I decided to depart from the Army and start my new journey as “mom”.

A picture of Charcoal quickly came to mind, filling my chest of dense black chard, hint of burning sensation. Feeling like a second hand smoker, terrible for lungs. Then to my right side was a very small playground. There were three iron swing, which had seen some better days, with chipped color turning rust green and straight rust. Sand was spread out crazy, not all neat in a sandbox. Stubs of grass sticking out here and there, it might not have been a perfect playground, but kids don’t care! So deciding to sit on the grass for a bit, which was not as soft as I would think. Pebbles poked and prodded my behind making me have a nice wedgie. Running my fingers through grass, more like spikes than grass. All the children were getting along very well, because one little boy wearing neon Nike shorts and shirt running barefoot. Went up to some girls, he made up a game, which all the girls followed. What a ladies man right!

An experience that has influenced my work and academic goals has been my family. My wife and I have one son, who departed for college this past weekend. His departure was a very emotional event for us because we did just about everything together (hockey, trips, etc). Four years ago, we brought in four siblings under foster care, which is the main topic for this essay. Four years ago, my wife and I were hoping to adopt one child and we were hoping to find a girl that needed what is commonly called a “forever home”. This process was extremely difficult as the system is not easy to navigate (I could be more blunt with this description but I won’t here). After many trials and tribulations with the foster/adoption system in Alaska, I had resigned

I felt the tears push against my eyelids, threatening to spill onto my cheeks. The deep breaths that were supposed to calm me down were not working in the slightest and I wanted nothing more than to hide under something, anything, and avoid all responsibility for a while. Through blurred vision, I could barely make out the shocked faces of my friends. This was not supposed to happen here, in the middle of physics class. This was the kind of thing that a person should save for being safely hidden behind closed doors. I glanced down at the four little words on my phone and lost it. The floodgates opened. Hot tears turned my face into a network of rivers and lakes. The saltwater filled the dark bags under my eyes and turned them into oceans. Rivulets

My mother had quiet a lot of brothers and sisters, there was nine in all.. Mother said most of her brothers and sisters married out of their parents house in Sampson City, moving into one of the houses owned by a man named Mr. Hogan, In these days the houses were called quarters, which consisted of one or two bed rooms and a kitchen all sat in a row. The families living in those little houses worked for Mr. Hogan who was the BOSS MAN. All the men worked at the Turpentine steel, that was owned by Mr. Hogan. They paid no rent and received a very small salary for their labor. Sundays after church was the relaxing time. We would visit with family and friends. In that time we did not own cars in that time, we did not have to go out in shop. The

I go to the woods to calm down ,take a break from the drama. My dad used to take me to this special spot where these rocks split and you can stem to the top of them and sit down. For some reason the view and the feel is so peaceful. There's a dip in the rock perfect size for my body. I'll kick back and look up at the sky and sometimes, it’s rare though i’ll listen to music and sometimes fall asleep and when I wake up i'm refreshed and calm. Sometimes i'll stay there after i'm calm and just chill and sometimes if a friend comes over well sometimes go over there and we'll play around on the rocks and talk and after a little bit of hanging out we will go back inside and play my PS4 for a little bit and after the gaming we are still bored we

There is someone I wish was still around from before that is my dad. He passed away in the first week of summer the summer before 6th grade. I lived with my mom until I was 7 then he went and got visitations so he seen me every Wednesday and every other weekend in the summers I was at his house 1 week and my mom's 1 week. Sometimes when he was close to my house or my grandmas he would bring me "care packages" they were mainly toys the one I remember was he was at Walmart and in the middle of the night he brought me Legos the Legos were batman ones. One Christmas he brought my a huge monster truck it was remote control it was about 2 feet tall I had it for a couple years I really liked to do donuts with it in the snow. He had a girl fried and

If you were to ask me why I love running the hurdles you would probably expect to hear this long story about this life changing event that happened to me which made me love running, but that’s not the case. In high school I was on the shuttle hurdle team, I wasn’t the best nor the worst, but I was the most motivated. Everyday I went to practice and pushed myself to the point were my coach would make me stop. I wasn’t motivated to be the best nor to win every race. I was motivated by the thought of going to state or even winning state.

It was not often that I had a few hours to slip away and return to that beloved spot under my favorite pair of trees. That day I had packed my hammock, a thermos full of jasmine tea, and the book that had been gathering dust on my shelf for months. I hopped in my car and drove the relaxing forty-seven minute journey (I had narrowed it down to the exact minute since I had driven there so many times). I stepped onto that familiar turf wearing my favorite jacket; it was a little more brisk than most would consider to be the perfect autumn afternoon, but I disagreed. The crisp, dry air was refreshing, cleansing. I needed to clear my head.

Racing at night going One-hundred and forty miles an hour on US-27 holding the lead, Shift six gear, speed topped out at two-hundred miles per hour passing by cars smoothly. I chanted I am immortal, I am a god! while I pushed my sports bike to its limit. Suddenly a black car approaches. WHAM! I get Rammed from behind and lose control of my bike slamming into a Semi-truck up ahead. Lights out. When I peeked my eyes, I saw 4 humans around me. Thump after thumb I believe I was in an ambulance rushing down the turnpike. I looked around and the first words that came to my head are “Rick this is just a dream”. This is the story of how I escaped from an illegal laboratory that clones and modifies humans.

The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning

Think of your favorite thing in the world to do. Something that defines you. Something that you can only experience from your eyes. For me it is soccer, and through that came a rite of passage that will be with me forever.

Pleasures, stemming from everyday beauty, can come from anywhere. For me, one of the places everyday beauty comes from is my owl blanket. With the blanket’s tiny owls, dressed in their small purple hats and pink scarfs the owls brace for a long upcoming winter. It is impossible to feel any negative emotions or thoughts when wrapped in its snugly warmth. Crying is quickly subdued when I wrap myself in the blanket. The Fabric acts as a shield against the outside world, guarding me against destructive forces. This blanket brings me immeasurable happiness throughout the frigid fall. No matter what the owls want me to think, the blanket can only be used for a couple of months out of the year, due to its thinness. Despite this, I still keep the owl blanket as part of my room’s décor. Even if I cannot use it unless I want to give myself a heatstroke, I can still receive joy from looking on the many small owls upon the fabric. This enormous amount of delight, from this one colorful, blanket stands as one