Personal Narrative: My Vocabulary

On 10/02/2017 at 0017 hours, units were dispatched to 627 Central Ave for a report of a Domestic involving a knife. I responded at emergency speed, priority one. Upon my arrival, I located the accused female in the bathroom.

Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three.

My first main literacy who be my relationship with God, oh how I need him every day, I could write endlessly about this one, I feel strongly about my connection with the father and it makes me happy to even know the enjoy it has bought into my life .Oh how my soul rejoices every time I think about how much I need him every day he is the center of my peace and I could not start my day without him. He knows my name he is definitely my main literacy every day. The next main literacy would be my job and which I need that in order to live in this world and be a productive citizen in this society. To have money to sustain my lifestyle. My final literacy would be my whole family. They mean the world to me, there is nothing more important to me than

I quickly swallowed my homemade authentic Indian food leftovers and gulped down my chocolate milk. Looking down at my watch that read 11:28am, I knew that I only had two minutes until my most favorite part of the day: recess. This particular day in 5th grade, I had run a lap around the playground before getting the rest of recess to myself. As I started walking for my warmup, another student ran up and said, “My parents said that your people caused 9/11.” Completely caught off guard, I held back the tears in my eyes and tried to shake off his comment. I had never encountered something like this.

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 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

I will start this off with an introduction. I am Kelly Rose Keschner, an incoming sophomore in Highschool. I would say I get pretty good grades and try so hard in school to prove to myself and my peers that I am a very good student despite what has happened to me.

I caused Greg to break his hand without any remorse at the time. Greg was a high school acquaintance who tended to bully me. He was significantly taller, stronger and more athletic; therefore physically bullying me wasn’t much effort for him. When I heard he was coming to work at the warehouse, I wasn’t particularly happy about it. The warehouse contained boxes from multiple suppliers. Some were really thick and some were really thin. They all contained books, though some were heavy text books while others were light weight paper backs. All workers with experience knew which boxes were heavy, which had thick soft cardboard as a box, and which were encased in thin cardboard. I waited until Greg stopped by with his working partner for

Hearing the sounds of people breaking in half a wooden slab with their feet and cries being shouted out, I hesitantly entered the Dojo, placing my sandals in a cabinet. Dreading the smell of feet and sweat I didn’t enjoy coming. Not only was the smell bad but the physicality that was required was discomforting. The hits that my back and ribs received from missed side-kicks and jabs was unbearable.

I sat down with my boy on the recliner he hopped up as I read the paper back to him. This seemed Like a cozy get up for a boy to grow up in, but as I began to read my mind was adrift into other things. I had to split sometime soon but I couldn’t help think “what awaits me there?” I thought of a time when I lived in the city, New Orleans. Late one night while I was a private dick I lit my cigarette and began listening to the smooth jazz of the night. The cool wind of the night brushed my face and wavered my smoke as I pulled my hat down I noticed some grifter out of the corner of my eye. I kept walking. The sly grifter moved along the shadows.

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 stared, face pressed against the glass window, leaving smeared breath marks. Trying to get my last glance at the house, but my tears making my vision blurry. I could see faint outlines of my friends waving goodbye, I knew I’d never see them again. The car was dead silent besides the sniffling and the sound of the car going over the bumpy road as we drove up the road until the house, my friends, and neighborhood were out of sight. I was born in Framingham Massachusetts and we lived there happily for years. My siblings and I had lots of friends there and we also had family close by. One day, we found out that we were moving to Sudbury, my dad’s hometown. My parents came to assent and had decided that this wasn’t the place they wanted my siblings

I went to Fordham Preparatory School a private, Jesuit, all-male high school located in the Bronx, New York City. My school has many aspects that make me like and dislike it. I had to wear a suit jacket, tie, and dress pants as my uniform which I did not like. Not being able to choose what I wanted to wear was frustrating and I felt very restricted. I also felt part of a set wearing the same clothes as everyone else. I am very glad that I am able to wear what I wish in college.

I started drawing when I was 16. I was cursing 10th grade, or how is called in my country, Dominican Republic “Segundo de Bachillerato”. It was recess. I was alone in my classroom that day, besides two or three people who were just killing time there, and I didn’t had much to do with my time. I was at the last book of a series of books which names I can’t remember and If I recall correctly the last book was very boring for some reason so I didn’t wanted to read it anymore. So, looking for something to do, I stood from my seat and walked boringly down the aisle of chairs and that was, not my first interaction with art, but the first time I remember i liked art or paid attention to it. Yerkis, a guy of my class: short, chubby and well mannered

The day after my birthday December 14, I was told the bad news… We were moving. I guess it was time to say goodbye. this is gonna be hard. We loved Rochester Minnesota