Penny-Personal Narrative

I come across a rear projection TV on the side of the road one day, load it up, and take it home. I eagerly spend a good four hours stripping it down and saving as much as I can. I end up with a 48” fresnel lens, two hefty speakers, a couple large capacitors, three glass lenses, and a glass mirror. Left over is a box of electronic waste and the particle board skeleton of a TV. I take the electronics to my local electronics recycling center, and set the wooden frame on the curb. I took 70 lbs. of trash and turned it into 10 lbs. of treasure ripe for projects, 30 lbs. of recyclables that would have gone to a landfill, and 30 lbs. of refuse that I had fun

I never thought I would be labeled an outsider, a misfit even. As I trudged my way through the halls of my small town high school, I would endure the gazing pairs of eyes, that belonged to my peers, followed by whispering and often times some laughter. I always used zone out during those repetitive speeches and commercials about the effects of gossiping and rumors; never did I imagine that one day I would be on the receiving end of of the everyday potshot. Growing up I was always the center of attention, the one everyone yearned to be friends with, never was I the antisocial child in the corner with nowhere to turn… not until high school. They say high school changes you. They say high school accounts for some of the greatest years of

On a three-one pitch to lead off the third inning I received a fastball right down the middle of the plate. After making solid contact with my bat, the ball turned right back around heading for the left field fence and cleared it by twenty feet. This resulted in my first home run of the season and possibly the farthest ball I ever hit. Although I enjoy many other hobbies, baseball outshines them all.

TOUCHDOWN!!!!! That's all I heard as I laid there back first on the cold pointy turf. It was a warm Sunday night. Like any other Sunday I had my football game. But that day was not like any other day. This day.This game was not like any ordinary game for the Falcons football team, and Austin Hembd a 13 year old football player. We were down by 4 points one touchdown and we could win. During the 4th quarter there were only 5 seconds left on the clock. Enough time for one play. I get to the line and start to call my cadence, my face is dripping with sweat, my heart is racing. Within a second my eyes narrow and I hear nothing. I yelled hike. The play was supposed to be a deep pass, we are about 40 yards away from the end zone, but everyone is covered so all I can do is take

am beset {long pause} How long will I let the pain and loss define my life? An enduring struggle of loss and gain A monumental achievement through the tangles of deeds But is left alone with silent words

The lunch bell rings and I am on my phone checking the latest updates to the game. Instead of meeting with a teacher or getting started on homework during the free period, I spend it researching the tweaks in a few lines of code that will change my life for the next two weeks. The lines of code are insignificant, like the game itself, but I am absorbed in the game and the game owns me. In lieu of participating in activities after school, I rush home to continue progress in a virtual world. A world that can be turned of with the flick of a switch. Life becomes secondary to the game. My eyes burn into the night as I force myself to hurriedly finish the Tale of Two Cities reading before bed, at one o’clock in the morning.

"I called this meeting this morning because, Ray Dewitt want us to fight his case," I told my staff. I handed everybody the folder with all the information. That they needed to know about this man, and even know Chanel is going to be his lawyer. I didn’t want her to go digging into his file. I didn’t want her to find something that can get her killed or hurt, I don’t know what I'll do if something happen to her

Endings are funny things. End of a book, end of a movie, end of school year. We have already ended the first month of the new year and are almost done with the second. As old things have ended and new ones have begun, I personally have been thinking quite about all of those events. The classes I've taken, the people I've met, and the people I've lost. Last year in particular was a tough one because I lost someone very close to me. A friend. In this article, I want to share my story and then tell you what I did to get through it. And share with you that you can do it, too.

One of the worst days of my life was Monday, February 23, a day that started like any other. After pressing snooze a few too many times I woke up rushing to get ready to make it to school, I wish I took my time to get ready a little slower and didn’t make it. Being a freshman the principal coming on the announcements during first period seemed like something normal, except now my heart stops dreading what he’s about to say when I hear “pardon the interruption.”

“Now that Ida had brought it up, who is going to tell me what happened. I would think having your daughters wait on board my son’s yacht for a surprise welcome aboard party at the end of Spring Break would allow him to make his final choice between the two of them. Not only did that not happened, nothing Ida and I had planned happened!”

It was a bright and sunny August day. I went over to the Ortega’s house with my parents. They have a big backyard full of rocks. When we got there I saw this rock so I layed on it. I told my mom and said ‘mom take a picture of me and and send it to mema tell her I’m dead.’ Little did I know my life could change like that.

This paper took me many revisions to complete. I found a new method to aid in completing the revision. For example, once I completed one paragraph, I would go back and rewrite it and fix the grammar errors until I was content with the product. I did this with each paragraph until I was done the entire paper. My final revision included rereading the entire paper and finding errors that I missed while focusing on each individual paragraphs. This method helped me find errors much easier, and I also found it to be a quicker way.

Summer: the season of ice cream, beaches, air-conditioned cinemas, and 30 lb cardboard boxes full of clothes and books. By the fourth quarter of my sophomore year, I could envision the rest of my high school life unfold as if flipping through a scrapbook brimming with photographs and jotted captions. A rising upperclassmen, I had full conviction that by 2018, I would play varsity doubles tennis, attend Naugy Prom, and graduate alongside the 250 people I had known since middle school, some even from kindergarten. Naugatuck, CT had been my home for all 16 years of my life—and despite hopping from apartment to house when I was 5, I couldn’t fathom changing towns, much less before I departed for college.

On March 16, 2014 there was a death. The death of a boy named Asher Alt. He was 15 with long black hair, khaki pants, a sweatshirt, and some Osiris shoes. There was, however, something very different about this death, the difference being that it only lasted about 90 seconds, and it was my death. Ninety seconds doesn’t seem like long, it’s only a minute and a half and isn’t ever directly documented as a death, but those 90 seconds of death sure did change my life. Death was most definitely a surreal experience unlike anything I could’ve imagined.

The kids were still at school and did not get out for another 2 and a half hours. I still kept looking in her room for more clues and signs. I found another thing. It was a picture of my ex husband with a heart around it. By the way my ex husband’s name is Michael. All of sudden I heard the front door open. OH LORD! Sherry was home. So I ran out quickly and tried to silently close the door and pretend like I was in Brooklyns room with her. But the door made a loud creek door. By That time it was too late. Sherry was already upstairs and saw I hid behind the bathroom door. MARIA….Where ARE YOUUUUUUU? I had to come out. She asked why I was in her room