Personal Narrative: Prime Time-True Colors

It was late one day in June, and the sky was as blue and clear as sparkling wine. I sat back in my hammock reading the book Unbroken enjoying myself, and my uncle came up and asked me if I wanted to play poker with him, 5$ buy in. I jumped at the idea finished my page and went inside the house. Poker is a pretty big thing in my family and I’ve grown up playing and my uncle was one of the best, so spending time with him playing poker is always one of my favorite things to do. We proceed to set up the table, “Texas Holdem“ he says, Jacks to open”. Nothing weird, so we get the game going and the pots getting pretty big when all of the sudden he drops his cards. I stare the cards dead in the eye and see that i'm going to surpass him! He looks

When I was young my Dad would always remind me of how important these years as a kid are. He would always say watch how you act as a kid, for it will set the stage for the rest of your life. So many people I know ruined their lives when they were kids. This small, yet so important statement runs through my mind everyday. I love how everyone says they don’t care what people think of them, but I wish they knew how important it is to have a good image. I am not perfect, but I would like to be close as possible. But as Salvador Dali said “Have no fear of perfection, you’ll never reach it. “ The problem I see is everyone wanting to be someone that they are not. Sure, we all have our idols that we look

When my mother asked me to read a book a few months ago, I was hesitant to agree. A stressful school year was approaching, and seeing my friends on a Saturday night seemed much more appealing. When I was younger, curling up with a good book was a typical pastime. Then came high school, and reading was replaced with countless hours of studying, cheer practice, and trying to figure out when I could catch up on some much needed rest.

"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.

Living in a melting pot such as Los Angeles, mentioning stereotypes would come off as a touchy subject, which in public most people would swear they don’t stereotype people — well I’ll beg to differ. Growing up, I predominately went to school and associated myself with Blacks and Hispanics. In High School, I started having friends of an even more diverse background. It is safe to say I have been exposed to a variety of people from different cultures and upbringings, therefore I have been always comfortable to be in the presents of anyone. I will not say the exposure made me color blind; I understood the concept of institutional racism, prejudice, and stereotypes at a young age. When I was younger a bunch of the non-black kids would create

When I came to Medium Rare, it smelled so good, the food was everywhere in the air. When my family, friends, and I took our seats we were ready to eat and have a good time. In front of me was this African Amerian lady, it was a birthday as well. And to the left of me facing in front of me was some homosexual men that dress nicely. As I continue to look around at these people I start to analyzed that most of the African American were put to back closer to the kitchen and the bathroom. The waitress was very nice, kind, and sweet. When the white women were leaving they were saying some flirt ashes word to him, and the group of table I was seating started to laugh. There were no bad scents in the place, the smell was coming from delicious food, and the noise level was at a high minimum, so basically it was moderate plus the music in the background.

The days leading up to the fifth of August had been characteristically Irish, complete with clouds in Connemara, a daylong drizzle in Dingle, and forty-mile-per-hour winds at the Cliffs of Moher (which, under said conditions, were more deserving of their Princess Bride alias, the Cliffs of Insanity). In Ireland, the island nation that gifts its western seaboard with 225 days of rain each year, fickle weather is a fact of life. But now, for eight hours, my family needed the Wild Atlantic Way to tame itself—perhaps, for just one day, the Mild Atlantic Way could suffice?

The trailer door fell in front of me and made a thud as it hit the grass, suddenly the dark trailer was lit and my horse was illuminated, as he began calling out. I undid the “butt bar” and walked into the trailer. When I got to my horse, I took the coarse leadrope into my hands and untied it from the old rusted eyehook wedged into the board in the corner. Each step backwards off the trailer brought us one step closer, quit possibly into the beginning of the rest of our show lives together. I looked at Bailey, he threw his head up like a sports team throws up their fists at victory, and I gave him a solid nod.

It was a sunday morning. My dad came into my room to wake me up. So i got up and got dressed. My mom said to me, “there is a horse show today.” I replied back, “ok are we going to pick up Stu on the way there”. My mom said yes. So i went outside and helped my dad hook up the trailer.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a maid of honor in a wedding, that was very important to you? Well I figured that out just about a year ago, while being in my dad and stepmom, Christi’s wedding.

When I was in 5th grade I looked up at my TV as I watched my favorite soccer player and said, “ I want to be like that one day,” from that day on I work on trying to be like him almost every day. About 1 year later my mom and dad came up to me and said, “you are going to get the chance to meet him in person”, and I will never forget what he said to me that day.

Thanks for the quick response! I’m glad my sincere effort and interest in Color Station was able to stick out. I’ll try to keep my answers candid.

The class quieted down as she strolled into the room with her sandy blond hair and wrinkled skinned. Her ruby red glasses with beaked points at each end went along with the vibrant flowers that danced on her floral black dress. The dress complimented her black slip-ons and matching jewelry. She showed off her smile to the class while giving us a friendly good morning.

The big blue waves. The sound the water makes when it crashes on the shore. Everything beneath the water. It was so peaceful and I loved it. It has always been my place to go whenever I am sad or just wanna get away. As soon as I come here I feel as if I could just skip away into the ocean. The ocean and I are connected and I feel a piece of me is missing whenever I am not with it.

Coming home from a repetitive, colorless, and lifeless day at school, the one thing that would bring me expressive release was my little blue notebook. My exotic colored pens would hit the paper and I could have sat there filling those college-ruled lines for hours. I would write whatever came to mind: the monotonous routine at school, the girl who sprained her ankle at practice, or my dreams of becoming an Olympic-level figure skater. Images of my future-self as a skater twirled from my mind, around the room, and right onto the page. For my introverted young mind, the notebook was a place where I could vent, dream, and unveil secrets that I would have never been inclined to share. My twelve year old mind was not yet tired from the labors