Personal Narrative: Once More To The Lake

One thing that does not interest me anymore is going outside. I used to always love going outside but not anymore that is like the top uninterested thing i'm into rite now. When i was a kid i loved going outside, after i got older i only go outside on the daily-bases now that i'm more mature.When i get in trouble my parents make me go outside for my punishment. Outside is just not interested to me

this, this was just the means to an end, nothing more. The dark grey clouds hung

As we continued along the trail, we were stopped by a very steep hill. Hunter announced that we should dump some stuff from our wagon in order to get on top of the hill. I dump my a tired that I bought recently and a barrel with nothing in it. The trip up the hill was a pain. It took so long to get up the hill I almost fell asleep. My leg was sore and I thinking about giving up. Finally we made it to the top of the hill and we realized that we had to go down the hill. We decided to use our own ropes and slowly descend our wagon one by one. When we descend Curtis’s wagon, Curtis almost fell. He was able to caught himself before he fell down the hill. Well all went down the hill and as we were going down the hill, we saw a divine blue spring

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.

Walking away from everything you once knew and starting over is never a picnic. Leaving Iraq, and moving to America has impacted my life more than anything. I was only 4 years old at that time, and the only English I spoke was “excuse me, water please.” My family and I did not know it then, but our lives were going to change; we would become “Americanized”. Learning English was one of the massive changes that occurred, the way I dressed (culture), and even the way I had power to go to school and educate myself.

I was excited for this weekend to be in new my lake house with my parents. My dad recently got a really good job so he surprised us with this huge cabin. We have a quiet but pleasant bonfire, now its time for bed. I’m still kind of creeped out since this house is dark and pretty isolated but I don’t think of it, and head for bed. My mom tucks me in which you might think is weird, but I love her. She gives me a kiss on the cheek grabs my cat Rosie from my chest, and closes the door. I play on my phone until it dies, put it on the charger, then I completely go out cold.

The place I went to was called lake skinner it was beautiful hills where all around the ground was half dirt and half grass with a few trees hear and there the grass filled with bush's that had white,orange,and yellow flowers all around me and my friend went to the lake it was large it glistening when the sun rays hit the water.

Post WWII in 1957 my great Grandad left their homeland of England to immigrate to Canada by plane which took 10 hours to fly from --------- to New York City. The ride was stressful and sickening, my Papa, Colin who was only _ remembers puking on the plane.

“Hey you want to drive”, my step-dad yelled over the loud engine of blue grizzly 4x4 quad I yelled “yes!!”, so as I got one the quad I put on my helmet and fased the strap on the same color helmet.

I slid into stiff boots, strapped a fifty pound pack to my back, and set out on my trek through the wilderness. As I stepped from asphalt to the dirt trail, excitement for the next five days rushed over me. Each stride brought me farther from the comforts of civilization, deeper into the natural habitats of hundreds of species. The reversal of roles filled me with respect, for it was I, not them, who was the intruder. My surroundings were untouched, unspoiled by the destructive forces of man. I was awestruck by the rough, uncut beauty. The trail itself was a source of joy; it was as distinctive and engaging as Mother Nature herself. Every bend brought forth new challenges, presented new opportunities to distinguish myself as a hiker. Once,

Looking at my phone, I check to see if there are any new notifications. None. the backdrop is all that appears. I proceed to unlock my phone and see what’s new on Twitter. Nothing has changed since the last time I looked three minutes ago. Just the same tweet that reads, “I can’t believe how much work I have for this week!” I lock my phone and continue on my way to class. Four minutes later, I’m back on Twitter and the same tweet still appears at the top of my feed: “I can’t believe how much work I have for this week!” The cycle repeats itself and before I know it, I’ve spent the majority of my day looking through a little, electronic screen to stay connected to the world.

"Fresh off the boat" or "F.O.B" for short is a term which means carrying your sense of fashion and culture from your country which clashes with the current country's culture. That term is what I was referred to when I first started school in America. I did not understand the American culture or the way the system worked.

Junior year was pretty much back to normal. I was now accustomed to the new people, new faces, new teachers, and new surroundings. I really enjoyed taking my second year of chemistry, precalculus and biology while I did not enjoy American Cultural Studies. I am more of a science/math person, not so much history and english and two straight hours about history was not exactly what I looked forward to every morning. I got through it though and enjoyed after school more.

My heart was thumping heavily, as the bus took a turn towards the mountains. I didn’t know why I had agreed, but it was too late to turn back.

It was a hot summer day, I was in the water at Lake Nawsomento. The water was brisk and refreshing it was a great mix of hot and cold because the air was hotter than a sauna and the water was as chill as and ice cube. The mountains that surrounded me seemed almost like paintings rather than real mountains. I was just about to try my first time skiing ever, my teacher was also in the water with me giving me correct technique and strategy. He telling me to keep the rope in between the two skis. Here I go, I tell the driver to “hit it” and I am off I try to get up on the skis but as soon as I almost get up I take a nosedive into the cold blue water. I try again but I just fall on my face again. I am getting frustrated, annoyance also starts to