Personal Narrative: Lurid

It's a Friday afternoon, I plan to go to Great Wolf Lodge in an hour with my church. I see one of my friends so he says to his mom “ Hey, that's my friend” I said “Crap” So I go inside to sign in to go and see my friends just sitting in a corner on a big sofa. We are listening to music and just talking then a green bus comes.

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.

Bare with me for another blog post about volleyball. This weekend was the Badger Region Volleyball Tournament, which my team participated in. When I walked into the building, the memories flooded in with scenes from the elevator adventures, cheese fries, and design your own sweatshirts. The first day, my team didn't play up our full potential, with my team only winning one out of three matches; which meant that we didn't place in any of the brackets, meaning zero chance of receiving a medal. However, at the end of the second match, I got switched from being middle all-around to libero ( a position where you only play back row on offense and defense). I guess it's an honor, but it puts a lot of pressure on me by labeling me as the best passer

In late September of 2010, was the year I learned a new word “Depression”! I was in 1st grade and everything was fun because I had no responsibilities or worries. I didn’t know how to feel grief for a long time because I was always happy. I didn’t know that a family member could own a child.

There are many avocations that I would chose from. But, more specifically, I would aspire to be a unique, “at home style” photographer. Being able to capture simple moments in a strange place like Elsewhere seems so interesting to do. Each day I would grab my camera, go outside, stroll around and observe nature. I would be able to go outside and capture moments of people, the warm sky, or anything that I would want to. The thing is, there are no limits to photography

There I was, walking through the tall wooden door that laid open in front of me. I am about to work what seemed like, the longest seven hours of my life. The bright ceiling lights were shining in my exhausted eyes from a long day of school. As I prepare to punch in my seven-digit number into the register, I could smell the overwhelming scent of pumpkin in the air. Just as I thought, Dairy Queen has now started the bright fall orange seasonal blizzard, The Pumpkin Pie Blizzard. I can just taste the cinnamon in my mouth that is watering over the smell of the pumpkin spice.

It was a cold autumn morning when I heard the news coming from my alarm clock radio. Two people had won the lottery winnings from yesterday's drawing. They get to split a great prize, both people got to take home over 3 million dollars. I have been playing the lottery for about ten years now, I have only won three or four thousand, hoping to hit it big. For eight years I have been cleaning and cooking in a half kitchen with dinette. The small apartment had that smell as if something had been wet and moldy. I have had to listen through paper thin walls of, shouting, fighting, and the occasional grunts from some dirty old man upstairs. The constant running trains echo inside the entire apartment building. The living room was just big enough for

I was twelve years old when my family moved to the mountains of Humboldt County we moved at the beginning of winter and my father said there would be snow where we were going to live. I had never seen snow before and I couldn’t wait to build snowmen, throw snowballs and build igloos, like I had seen children on television do. A child’s excitement blossomed at the prospect of a new winter paradise

When I was younger, my uncles to joke about the fact that I was americanized; that I didn’t know how life really was back in the motherland. I would just laugh and tell them to leave me alone. Then, I saw what they meant when we went to Africa in 2009.

My guilt was trapped behind my heart, knocking and pinching at the organ to open up and let it free. But I found a secret route. It could leave without anyone knowing it was even there.

i apologized about this , I didn't realize it was that many hours he, but I know there would be some over time this week we had couple of incident , the day we had to do Eric and ken write-up I had him site in both , also the Sunday training added to it , he also went over Tuesday when we did the Ops meeting , this is not the norm I will keep the hours in check

I found it a little difficult to find what to write about that would satisfy the definition of my “minutia”. Perhaps it is because I did not quite understand what minutia really meant outside of a textbook definition and in the real world, or I have not fully realized or acknowledged on a consistent basis how many of the moments in my life have contributed to that which has an effect on me in the form of shaping or altering me. After nostalgically scrolling through my Instagram profile for a while the other day, I came across quite a few photos of me recording my gym workouts dating from the autumn of 2014 and into early 2015, and I eventually decided that this would suit the requirements for what could be my own minutia.

John and I had been friends for years. We had both lived in Seattle, then he moved to New York because his dad found a new job opportunity. Coincidentally, my dad found a job in New York that paid better than his current job too, so we ended up moving as well. Both our dads were painters, and they had met while painting a bridge across the river in town. We lived close together in the outskirts of Seattle. Both our families were poor, and couldn’t afford good transportation and schooling. John had been 14 when I was 12, but we lived next door to each other so it was hard not to be good friends.

In the year 2008, I attended elementary school enrolled in the third grade. I enjoyed outdoor activities with a burning passion, and I had many friends. One weekend my best friend Dimitri slept-over at my house, and he and I decided to go on a bike ride with my younger brother. Unfortunately we only had two helmets that functioned properly, but since I always put friends first, I gave my helmet to Dimitri. We were having a great time racing up and down the block until my brother found a pair of rusty broken scissors lying on the side of the road. An awful idea entered his mind at that moment and he decided to throw the scissors at me. During his first attempt he missed and I sped away and yelled at him. Ignoring me, he threw them and missed

It was cold on the night of November 14th. My friend, her boyfriend and I were walking to Walmart, planning on getting cake ingredients for my friend’s grandmother’s birthday. On our way there my surroundings seemed rather quiet for it being Angola. I felt like something was wrong like something had happened. But I continued to toss the feeling aside and just walked the path that leads to the parking lot. I couldn’t help but look in between the trees that held pitch black darkness. I was worried that was where troubles may lie, I was wrong. My real problem all started with a simple phone call.