Personal Narrative-College Essay

cancer is the enemy. cncer kills over 20 thousand people a day occording to global report. this terrole disease is so common 12.7 million people a year find out they have cancer and of that number rouggly 7.6 million die. cancer being the leading cause of death world wide has led to several fundraisers to support our courageous fighters. a fundrauser i have been lucky enough to participate in is a 5k run/3k walk. i was 13 when i partocipated in my first 5k run/3k walk in stuttgart germany for a light the night for all kinds of cancers. pervous to the fundraiser i was sadly told my cousin who was just a baby at the tome had been diagnosed with luekimia. immediately i wanted to help, i began by spreading the word around my school and having my friends buy tshirts titled

When I first started thinking about college schools I never thought about going to MSU or Ole Miss. I wanted to go to the bigger universities, but I knew I wouldn’t do well if I went there my first year. My high school did not prepare me enough for University, and I hadn’t decided on a major either. I choose East Central Community College (ECCC) as the school I would go to for many reasons, and when I got here I knew I made the right choice.

The sudden roar on the engine starting gives me goose bumps. Putting on my fire suit and strapping on my helmet gives me a feeling of protection. Yes, I’m getting ready to bring my iron gladiator to battle. My uncle and I spent a long while working on building the machines of mass destruction. The welding of two metals together forms a bond so strong it can never be broken. We spent countless nights just doing this. My uncle throws something across the shop at me and yells “u getting that thing done?” I would respond with “I thought you were going to build it for me” nights like these where an everyday thing but grew farther apart as the summer drew to an end.

I used to be a fighter. I used to walk confidently, I was never afraid to kick or scream or punch. I’ve grown up in a house of loud, stubborn people with strong opinions. But one day, I started feeling dull. I don’t remember when or how it happened, really. I guess that the looks I got and the laughter from other kids across the room began to take a toll on me. So in the Summer of sixth grade I started changing. I began to wear makeup. I dyed and straightened what used to be a huge frizzy mess of orange hair. I stopped wearing color even. During my first few weeks of middle school, I quickly learned two things. One being that people like you a lot more if your pretty, and the other being that loud, bold personalities are frowned upon by my peers. So I got quieter and cowardly.

I am passionate about trying my best. Throughout my high school years, I’ve tried to be as successful as I can. Whether it’s classwork, homework, or tests, I try to prepare myself as much as possible and persevere, even if it is difficult. I usually take my time to do work and make sure that whatever I’m submitting accurately portrays my knowledge and persistence. Though I’m concerned about my success, I am not self-absorbed. I always help others when they’re in need, even if it may seem like a hassle. Helping others motivates me, I cannot let others fail when I know that I’m in a position to help them. Even when I’m asked to help others in an area that I’m not proficient in, I try to assist in the best way I can, whether it means applying

Apart from my little sister, growing up I was the youngest of three boys. Due to an abundance of energy, and an unspoken admiration for my brothers I wanted to do everything they did. They would take me outside, and we would play every sport imaginable, and a majority of my weekends were spent watching their various sporting events. I always knew I wanted to play sports, and as soon as I began going to school I gravitated towards friends who had the same interests as me. In kindergarten I began to play basketball with a few of my best friends. At the time we played solely because we loved running around and being together, but I began to develop a love for the game and a love for competition. As soon as I could I signed up for football, and

I never would think about showing an animal. I decided to go wild and show a steer my junior year, I did not think about showing an animal so big before but it was worth the wild. I knew it would be hard work, dedication and responsibility. I worked so hard to get where I wanted that steer and it sure did pay off. Being successful is something that someone feels when they work for something that they tried so hard on and then succeeded in it. Success is the way I felt when I was getting ready for the show while I was standing to be called in my class and how I felt when I got out of the show ring.

I believe that when people come together, it’s a beautiful thing. And when someone who can’t do something tries to do it and everyone else helps, that is a great moment.

During my searches for colleges to attend following my senior year of high school, WLC had come as a high recommendation from my older sister, Lauren, a current undergrad student at WLC.  At the time, I was looking to go into Digital Media as my major, though things have now changed.  At the time of my initial visit and admissions process I was quite impressed with the school and found it to be in my top 3.  I've been in the Lutheran church my whole life (WELS while in New York and LCMS after moving to Wisconsin) as well as attending private Lutheran school from grade school through high school, so it seemed like a natural continuation.  I loved the campus, small class size, and the general vibe I got from the visit.  However, at the time wanting to go into Media, I felt less enthusiastic about the

But the black vines come slinking back. The vines inside me twist and pull at my heart strings as my mind goes tumblr; crushing, pulling, expanding, slicing. That is what they do.

HAROLD, is a flight instructor. He is in his mid fifties, and is too lackadaisical to be giving lessons. His hair is a frazzled mess. He looks as though he just rolled out of bed. He leans back in his seat wearing sunglasses, having not a care in the world.

It was my Grandpa Buck his story changed his life. It was one beautiful afternoon my grandpa decided to go to the Drunken Bar and Grill after he was done with worked. He was going to meet his friend Peter there. They had a hamburger and some cold beer. After he was done at the Drunken Dar and Grill he went to another bar. He had some more beer and he got drunk and he had to call my grandma Judy to have her come pick him up. Then my grandpa decided that it was fun to go and party with his friends every Friday night. Then he said very quiet

I started writing essays for college scholarship to help me go to college with no debt. I felt this was my part to help my parents since the made every effort to provide for me through high school. I was passed in church and started helping in the nursery at age fourteen. I volunteer when even I could at church I was taught as Christians we need to help those in need I learn that we must be Christ like matt 25:36-46 of the parables Jesus taught on when they began came to the door did you cloth me feed me or help me? writing numerous essays for scholarship money has exposed me to so many charities which help so many different people and so many different situations the questions I have had to answer has helped me grow as a person by having me

A. Something that has happened to me that I wish had not occurred was when I missed my Uncle’s wedding due to the stomach virus. My dad, my stepmom, and I had traveled all the way across our state to be there. We spent the night in a condo that my uncle and soon to be aunt had rented out for us. It was one of the nicest places I had ever stayed in. It seemed like it could be featured in a Pottery Barn magazine, it was so well decorated. I fell fast asleep knowing I had a big day ahead. My sweet dreams were interrupted by a terrible stomach ache. I vomited all night long. The next morning I woke up even worse off than I was the night before. I told myself I would push through since we had traveled all this way and I wanted to be there for

I was frantically navigating a wheel chair with my mother in it. I was avoiding stretchers, rushing nurses and orderlies through the corridors of a hospital emergency room; it was not an easy task. We came to a curtained room and patiently waited for a doctor. A lady appeared in a white gown and went through the routine medical exam. I still remember her face, her compassionate eyes, comforting words and a personal touch; she held my shoulders calmed my nerves and assured that my mother was not in any danger, she ‘will be taken care of’. Wiping my tears she handed us prescriptions and advised what to do with my mother’s mild appendicitis. We were slowly ushered to exit. I wanted to personally thank the doctor and asked for her. To my astonishment, the staff told me she was not the doctor she was a Physician Assistant a PA!