Personal Narrative: My Haircut

Our initial intentions were to go to Welborn music store and we were able to see the historical music pieces on the wall like an Indian sitar. We were also told that the building they were located in was a bakery in the 1920’s so the grease would still seep up into the carpet. It was interesting to listen to the history but it did not quiet meet my expectation because I was expecting it to be the best. After we left the music store we looked to our left and saw some old teal tile and a barber pole. We walked down and looked into the window and saw an old barber giving another older gentleman a haircut and it looked like a scene in a movie. At first we doubted if what we were seeing was real. Stephen agreed to get a haircut so we can go into the shop. The interior of the tiny Plaza Barber Shop was completely authentic and it looked like it hadn’t changed in at least fifty years. There was a very old heater in the corner that worked very well but it had a lot of trash behind it and I really hoped it wasn’t a fire hazard but it also looked covered in dust. There were three antique green barber chairs that were placed in the middle of the shop floor. There was also a row of bottles with bright green liquid called Jeris hair tonic that resembled what bugs bunny used in the barber of Seville. The man who was getting a haircut was very humorous and his name was Gene. We had asked what

Michael DeSalvo is pacing from customer to phone to customer again when I walk through the front door of his beloved hair salon, Hairanoia, located in Syracuse, NY. He’s used to the hustle and bustle in his own little corner of the city; blowdryers and animated conversations all blend together in a loud, yet comfortable harmony. This could be any salon, but I know that it isn’t.

This little scene was written as a response to a fanfic meme where NN wished for a scene with the Master, River Song and spanking and FF River Song and something kinky. In effect this is a missing scene from Sliding Down the Razorblades of Life and follows directly after the second chapter, Mid-Term. However, you don’t have to read the fic, just keep in mind that the Master has just told River that if she slaps him one more time she will get a good spanking. Guess what her response to that is?

Through the natural hair movement, I have accomplished the act to love my natural hair and to let it be known to any one who cares to listen. In fact, going natural has ended up being an extremely significant for me and I have met many naturals during the time I have spent growing my hair out. It feels great to have had the experience to share my story, to gain from other's stories, and to distribute this information so that more women can have acceptance of this information that can enable them and change their lives, as it has

The 5th graders kept taking me from my owner as she was walking down the aisle,

She carries symbolic bracelets and tangled up headphones and torn playbills. She carries crumpled sheet music, a highlighted play script, a rusty gun and holster, an old calculator, worn out journals for writing fragmented lyrics, passionate feelings, unforgotten memories, and so much more. Twice or three times a week she carries packets of law and a lunch that was packed that morning. She carries a water bottle that is always half empty, or much like herself, half full, depending on how you see it. Wyatt carries the priceless shark tooth necklace she gave him, locked away somewhere unknown. Hannah carries the cheap but meaningful books that she gave her, unread but still valued. Her mother carries the candy she gave her, hard but sweet, a reflection of her soul. Something they all carried in common, was that they all carried something that was given; taking turns, they carried pieces of her shattered heart.

It was near the end of my 8th grade school year, about 2 month away from graduation, when something I never expected to happen actually happened. This event really changed my life forever and shaped me into who I am as a person today. I had just arrived at my house after school when my parents received a call that my grandma was ill and that we should come down to check on her. As we rushed down to my grandparents house, my family was deeply concerned about what may have happened because my grandma had never really had many health issues before this. As we arrived at their house and walked through the door, we were greeted with the sight of my grandma sitting in a chair with a blanket around her while she was sleeping. My family’s first reaction

It was a cold day in November as I scampered out of my Biology class, unsatisfied with the grade that I had received on my exam. I rushed to the basement of my campus’s athletic facility brimming over with frustration and quickly tossed aside my school supplies in exchange for a pair of soccer cleats and goalkeeper gloves. I threw over my grass-stained gray cotton sweatshirt, stepped outside to the bite of an approaching winter and joined my comrades in our warm-up lines. The boys were all laughing and talking about what happened over the weekend as we prepared for another practice. Being surrounded by my teammates made me forget about my worries and allowed me to disappear into the routine of physical activity. My collegiate varsity soccer

For the first ten years of my life, I had a very normal childhood. I went to a private catholic school in a small town called Westwego. We were about twenty five minutes south of New Orleans. During the summers, friends and family would come over to our house and we would all swim and boil seafood. The summer of 2005 was no different; I was looking forward to entering 5th grade. Fast forward to one week before school is about to start when Hurricane Katrina formed in the Atlantic Ocean. Hurricanes were no strangers to us as we have been through several throughout the years. However, a few days later the storm is upgraded to a Category 3 and is predicted to hit New Orleans dead on. My parents felt it was time for us to leave and we traveled

Franklin Delano Roosevelt once stated, “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” This quote is a historical quote from World War II; however to me, its significance goes farther than that. This quote is the story of my transition from a child to an adult. I had a phobia of addressing large crowds; the fact that everyone’s attention would be on me was abashing. This was true until I reflected on how my phobia was keeping me back from a lot of opportunities, such as class presentations and future public speaking events. After deep reflection, I made the courageous decision to audition to speak at my eighth grade promotion ceremony. This was quite a leap for an introvert such as myself; however, I persevered my way through the audition and won the role as the MC. The valiant decision to speak at my promotion ceremony has shaped who I am and what I am able to accomplish today.

One aspect of my identity that has shaped my life experience and the way I see the world is my race. I am an African- American who has Nigerian descent from both parents. Growing up African American is hard for many of us, but we always come together to help each other out. We get judged for our skin color, religion, sexuality, and economic status. When I was younger, I always thought about what other people would say about me and how I looked. Even though it was hard seeing how other races portrayed my race, I have learned to embrace my skin color and not let anybody judge me. The society believes that African Americans are lazy, uneducated, and violent. Things people say about me and my race only make me want to prove myself to them that I am proud of my race and would never change myself for anybody.

It was 2:00 AM and I was working 3rd shift that night, it was lonely and dark. I was the only one here. As I sat in silence the phone rang I picked it up not expecting anyone to be calling because I haven’t had a call in years. When I picked up the phone all I hear is a deep soft whispering, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Every second the whispering got louder and louder until there was a high pitch screaming. I slammed the phone down on the receiver with a rush of adrenaline. My heart was pounding so fast it felt like it was going to burst, (the reader takes a deep breath to build suspense) agin I sit in silence, waiting for something to happen. I was so paranoid I didn’t know what to do, my mind was racing, do I leave or do I

I wish I could tell you all of this in person but I know if I try I’ll probably get very nervous and forget some small details that I would really like to tell you, and those are probably the most important to me. I saw you for the first time on February 23 at the valentines party, and that was such a fortunate thing to go to because I was able to get free food, have a good time, see old friends I haven’t seen since last semester, but most importantly I was able to see you. I didn’t know who you were at the time, but I knew you were like a very sweet, funny, caring, smart, and very beautiful just from your appearance. I first noticed you when you sat across from me when we were playing charades, and that’s when I knew that I wanted to get to

I love living in a small town, it gives me a sense of guaranteed safety and simplicity.

Immediately I recognized that things were different, as I struggled to find a parking spot in the tiny lot hidden just off of the highway. The barbershop is located in an area too small to be considered a strip mall-and apparently too small to handle all of its customers' vehicles. It is the third in a row of three shops, although the first, a former ice cream/water ice business, was for rent. I knew that all of the drivers of the automobiles in the lot were in the barbershop, as the repair shop next to it does not open until 9 A.M. Apparently all Saturday mornings here begin with such a full parking lot. Once I found a parking spot, I was ready to begin my observation of the U.S. Male Men's Hair