Personal Narrative: Duck Life

I don't remember how I got old so quickly, or how I got in this nursing home. Well, as a matter of fact I don't remember much these days. One thing I do remember though is that no one, and I mean no one, can beat me in bingo. It seems just yesterday that I was in my room as a little kid playing bingo with my best friend, Duck the weiner dog. Maybe that's why I never lost, because I was playing a dog. Nevermind that, It's 10 o’clock now, why did I get up so early, and at noon, that's when the fun starts. At noon that's when the fun starts… did I already say that, I can't remember anymore. Noon, when the fun starts, and by fun I mean bingo. I still havent got out of bed and it's already 10:09. I can't really see well so every time I need the

As semi-aquatic fowls, ducks have adapted over time to essentially create a waterproof barrier that sits atop their feathers. This layer, composed of a waxy oil, allows water droplets to easily roll off of ducks’ backs. From this impressive natural occurrence, a popular idiom has arisen. “Like water off a duck’s back” is the most influential and prevalent sayings in regards to my recent every-day life. Allowing hurtful words to roll off of me as if they were “water off a duck’s back” has illuminated my perspective of life.

Of all the hobbies out there one of my most fond hobbies would have to be duck hunting. It’s something that nothing else in this word can compare to. Chasing ducks is something that’s been in my blood for three generations now. From a very young age I’ve been very into the sport. Duck hunting is a passion that comes deep from my family, from my dad to my grandfather we’ve all become obsessed with the sport. Wading through the flooded fields and timber of the Mississippi delta, and shooting ducks is something that will never go out of style to me.

Lobstering is in my blood. It is what supports my family and most of my town. I have been doing it my whole life i’ve had a lobster license since i was 8 years old which is as young as you can get one. I love summer just for lobstering season plus I like the money outcome. I hate school starting the most because it tires me out because I play football everyday except sundays and some saturdays so i have to wake up early and haul on my days off from school.

Five a.m. sneaks up on us. The alarm clock is like a wailing baby as my dad is running and quietly yelling at us to get up. Opening day is Christmas to him. Looking out the window I only see what the

The Whippersnappers I never dreamed of being in a band, not in a million years. One day I was at the monthly Jam at Center Stage Vintage Guitars. I always had a great time jamming with the people there. And I always brought my banjo to the jams. It started out just like they usually do when all of a sudden this guitar player came up to me and said, “I got to talk to you.” I was confused and felt like a cat with no claws because I didn't know what he wanted. He looked funny because his extremely curly hair was as long as a redwood tree. He introduced himself and a bass player next to him. The guitarist was Greg Sanders and the bass player was Neill Jones. Neill looked as short as a middle-schooler, although he was twenty three.

Growing up was though. The hardest part was learning how to dwell with unpredictability. When I was a kid, it enchanted me. I was fascinated to observe how randomness could yield starry skies, carve underwater caves or compose the most fascinating stories. Still, I wouldn't let uncertainty flow through my

On one of those nights, when I drifted off into a nightmare, I found myself alone in a silent town that looked to be abandoned. The walls of the buildings, as well as the sidewalks had writing on them. Words such as "Mr. Piggyton" and "Play!" were drawn on with chalk. There were also random names written as well. The most troubling was the large drawing of Mr. Piggyton that was drawn on the walls of an abandoned candy store. Below that, "Let's all have some fun!" was written.

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

I think that my family realized that I had crossed the threshold between childhoods when I began to form my own opinions. This first took hold when I took part in poverty stimulation at my local shelter. I was giving a character and a story behind the card I was given; the story made me become emotionally attached to this name I had been assigned and the family in which I came from. The experience made me question the prejudice of the society I was living in. How many times had I avoided eye contact with the people on the side of the road begging for money? I began a long journey of soul searching and questioning the beliefs my parents had raised me on. My thoughts were continually brought back to a book by C.S Lewis, it was called Out of the Silent Planet; a character named Weston believed that individual human lives don’t matter, they must be sacrificed to save mankind.

My number one and dominate passion is deer hunting with a bow. If I could turn this into a business venture of mine, I would enjoy every single day at work and not take any days off. I think it would be an amazing idea because first off, I

Fish in a Fishbowl 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.

CHAPTER ONE Advice from an Adult…… 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

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

The Wild 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