Personal Narrative: Rooster Teeth Convention

When I was in third grade my teacher assigned us to write a book titled “All About Me” and just about every word was spelled incorrectly. I remember my teacher reading it and asking what word I was trying to spell out and I got upset. I felt like I could not spell anything I was trying to write, put things into the right words, or into the correct order. However, in seventh grade my writing changed when my English teacher assigned us a paper to write about a book the class was assigned to read. My writing had improved, but still had its problems. My English teacher always told me that there is no such thing as a perfect paper. After he read my rough draft, he handed it back to me and there were red marks all over it, so I went home and fixed

It was June 10, the day we got out of school and headed to the beach. It was our annual family trip to Myrtle Beach which meant going to Family Kingdom, River City, to the ocean, and playing around. I couldn’t wait it was finally time to go and as soon as we got on the highway my mom stops the car and turns around because she forgot her pillow. That didn’t really bother me because everyone forgets things. We were about two hours into the trip when my brother realizes that he forgot his phone. He complained the whole rest of the way how he wanted to go home and he didn’t want to go all because of his phone. But the best part was soon to come. We stopped at a convenient store to rest and get a snack. I got a bag of Chex Mix and a Blue Raspberry

Lobstering is in my blood. It is what supports my family and most of my town. I have been doing it my whole life i’ve had a lobster license since i was 8 years old which is as young as you can get one. I love summer just for lobstering season plus I like the money outcome. I hate school starting the most because it tires me out because I play football everyday except sundays and some saturdays so i have to wake up early and haul on my days off from school.

At the beginning of this school year, I began to realize something. I realized that my high school years were coming to an end. This was an eye opener for me. I didn't know what to expect of my last year nor what I wanted to do after high school. I then began looking for a job. So I applied to Chick-fil-a. I waited patiently several weeks for a call, but received no call whatsoever. I patiently waited for a new opportunity to come along. Until finally, I was given an opportunity at an electrical shop. On the first day of work I was introduced to the staff and learned the procedures of what needed to be done. My job now was to maintain the shop clean and to keep all materials organized as well as other tasks that helped me grow with my skills.

I experienced my pop culture moment when I was a senior at my high school. My transportation to go to my school was buses. I took the same buses to school from freshman year, but I have never noticed what I notice in my senior year. Every morning I wake up to go to school at 8 a.m. I would see people going to work, schools etc. but one day I notice there was a group of white women who is going to their work wearing sari (sari is a garment which is long and usually it’s draped around women’s body. Asian women mostly wear it). I found that very odd because they didn’t look like to me that they would know anything about the roots of sari or the culture. I thought they were mocking the culture because the saris that they wearing weren’t 100% correct. I used to see them wearing traditional Indian cloth and I

The bright lights hang on the metal rafters of the large steel building. The lights reflect off of my black and white heifer. In my hand was a light purple banner and a black show stick. In the other hand was my black show halter leather lead keeping my heifer from bolting. It was silent in the barn. It was a full moon and clear night sky filled with a million stars at the tie outs. It was almost too quiet at a large show like this.

Not that I wasn’t happy with the choices that had led me to this point in my life, but I knew that I was destined for greater things than a “Doc on a Boat”; another nameless enlisted member of the naval medical community serving three years of sea duty on a constantly revolving door of new check-ins and farewells. Working long hours on little sleep and crappy food is what boat life is all about. You are united as a crew by what is affectionately known as “The Suck”; a general catchall term that you can blame any and all problems on and one that you signed on for by receiving orders to a boat. Now there are three types of people that I encountered, those that love and are borderline addicted to the suck, those that tolerate the suck for the

In Oklahoma, where there are bloody rumbles and serious crimes made here in this big city, but there is a tiny sixteen year old boy living in the middle of it all, and that was me, Johnny. The Greaser was like a second home for each other. They were rough, old fashion, and have been In rumbles where breaking your arm wasn’t a serious injury, but they help another out. I, in the other hand, was not like them. They say that heroes need a dark past in order to be stronger in the comics I read, but that didn’t happen to me. I was abused by my own parents and I got jumped by those rich Socs. They left scars and pain for me, I felt like I’ve gotten weaker after this, not stronger.

My identity as a writer comes from how I view a piece of writing. I view it as art. To create something that intrigues someone, that makes them angry, sad, or confused is my goal when I write. I want the audience to feel something. It just so happens that for most people, writing with the strategy of pathos in mind is always extremely effective. My environment growing up was that of complete creative freedom and I had the privilege to be able to explore my interests at such a young age. My experience with growing my skills as a writer I think started with my love for creating artsy things if you will, but after many years of being stuck as a novice, I developed exponentially during my high school years. I came into my own as a student and learned how to let my longing to stay creative creep into every project I could get my hands on. But I struggled where I perceived creativity wasn't needed i.e. math and history. I became uninterested and skated by in that aspect. Why would I put so much of my time into something that so strongly opposed who I am as a person?

I think that my writing style leans well more on the creative and entertaining side than the informative side of the spectrum. This is reflected on some of the titles I have come up with for all of my papers and use of wordplay in a lot of passages. That being said, it was quite a struggle to stop using clever language and focus solely on the content of the paper. Even if that did improve over the course of the semester, I still feel like that style of writing didn’t leave me, nor will it. I can always prevent myself from using metaphors and the likes in research papers, but I will still have those metaphors and analogies in me to use for creative purposes, where I normally steer my writing towards.

I have a good friend who is half Cuban from his dad side of the family and his grandmother is completely Cuban. Every time he speaks with his grandmother, he talks to her in her native language. It’s so wonderful to hear the conversation although I have no idea what is being said. So every once in a while Bart hosts a dinner party and this time he decided to have a few signature dishes that his grandmother has taught him to make (of course there were a few things that were modernized). We started out with a black bean salsa type with home-made corn tortilla chips, I also was able to try ropa vieja served over rice (i.e. which is a fancy way of saying shredded beef), I can say I have not tasted anything like it before. It seemed that a lot of

Three sentences. That was all that my kindergarten teacher required me to write. “Class, your homework is to write at least three sentences about something that you enjoy,” she said, as she handed each of us a writing journal. Every night, the writing topic she assigned would change. Later on in the school year, my classmates and I would make up our own topics. We would use our imaginations to write whatever pleased us. I fell deeper and deeper in love with writing. Throughout elementary school, I read many different books. Each book had a different author with a different writing style for me to enjoy. I, too, developed my own writing style. By junior high, I had won a few writing awards, and I had written some short stories that I shared with my friends. Even as a freshman in high school, I still enjoy writing.

Today, was just another day i went to school i suffered through class and finally i went home to tend to my usual agenda which usually included reading for such long periods of time that you forget that youre alive or binge watching a show on netflix that you probably will never finish. Today, i chose neither i had homework to do, a bedroom to clean and problems to neglect so of course i tackled the easiest one first, i turned on my music and got to work cleaning everything i could. By the time my room was done it was spotless and i was tired so i decided i would do my homework later so i grabbed my phone laid down on my bed and checked all my social media accounts,while i was scrolling through my tumblr my phone buzzed telling me that Greyson had tweeted and since im a dedicated fan i immediately clicked on it allowing my phone to open twitter

Figuring that I might be a dog for a long time, or forever, I decided to put my third plan into action. I made my way to the TV remote and turned it on. Having young children means that my parents are strict about what we watch, which mainly goes for my brother and sister, but that means that Netflix, and anything rated Pg-13 or R, consists of a password. If my parents actually wanted to keep us away from these types of shows they should have came up with a clever password, 1234 is NOT clever! After turning it on I went straight to Netflix and turned on Bob’s Burgers. Bob’s Burgers is quite possibly my favorite show of all time, and my parents would know for sure that it’s me if I was watching it.

Think of your favorite thing in the world to do. Something that defines you. Something that you can only experience from your eyes. For me it is soccer, and through that came a rite of passage that will be with me forever.