Personal Narrative: Stella's Bar

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

On Monday 6/29/2015 Sgt. Alexander and I was dispatched to the Hostess House located at 6741 Highway 70 in reference to 2 subject, Mr. Burnette and Mr. Jacobs that were renting room 251 and had outstanding warrants.

This past year, I have been apart of Naperville Central’s brand new Special Spaces club. When my friend approached me and asked me to join, I agreed even though I had no clue what I was involving myself in. In retrospective, I can honestly say that becoming a part of Special Spaces has been one of the most meaningful, fun, and fulfilling experiences I have had in high school.

Why had these thoughts embedded in me? I don’t know, but it about 45 minutes passed when I crossed Yonge Street. A couple of blocks ahead, to my right, I found “The Fox and Firkin Pub” and walked in. Just as in the dream, I sat down at the bar and asked for a pint of Buzz Amber Lager, but the one who attended me was a 2bot, as it had become common in most establishments and stable businesses. The 2bot was supposed to resemble a young affable and blonde young woman, but like all 2bots, I felt somewhat in a new frontier. Anyway, the 2bot did managed to be friendly with me—uncannily told me, “the night seems enormously white and blue,” and like everyone in the establishment and the crowded streets of Toronto I let myself be carried by normality,

Ever since i was a kid, my parents always told me to never steal anything and never do any piracy. That is one thing that I still and always will follow my entire life. When I was a kid, I stole a candy bar and my parents caught me. I got in big trouble. I had to My day was as normal as ever, after work I came home around 7 p.m. and i'm going to the bar now. I went to “Kevin’s Bar’ and bought myself a $20 drink. I had only $30 left before i was out of money. All the girls saw me buy that expensive drink for myself, seeing that I was at self-pity and they all repelled away from me. Those $30 extra dollars that I had was gone in 10 minutes of self-pity. I was starting to get really drowsy here and there being at the bar for hours and hours. I eventually approached the girls at the V.I.P. area, but they all ignored me and was being dragged away.I got drowsy again. The last thing I heard was screaming and arguing from the girls before the door closed . Something came into my hands before I was dragged away, but i don’t know what it is, anyway I didn't care as long as i got home. I called my wife to bring me home who was later that

In my essay I am going to compare things from the book Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet to events in my life. In the book on page 9 paragraph one it talks about how after Marty’s mother passed away Marty kept busy at college to avoid his dad and the reality of the situation. Marty only came back home for laundry and in asking his father for money which his dad always gave him because he felt awful. In my life I have known a lot of people that deal with death in this same way. They work a lot and keep themselves busy to avoid the life situation that’s really happening. In my opinion, this is not the best way to deal with grief because eventually it’s going to catch up with you.

I curled up on the sofa in the corner of the room, attempting to get a temporary escape from the chaos. In front of me laid my shot of unfinished vodka and a mess of other party foods. The others, a dozen feet away from me, were screaming, wiggling and jumping around as if they just got out of jail. With nightclub music blasting in my ear, I murmured to myself: “why does this happen?”

When the Weeping Willow trees became abundant around every sector of the car, I knew we were getting close. Once we passed the bridge by the small, grass bank called Cypher Beach, I could barely sit still in the front seat of my grandparents truck because I knew we were about to arrive. There I sat, waiting anxiously with my size ten feet smashed into a size seven foot box because if I removed them, I affected my grandfather's ability to drive and my grandmother’s ability to sit and look pretty. Even though the flip of the coin always caused me to sit in the front, compared to the comfy back where the other four children sat, it was all worth it when we arrived to our destination. The destination was just up the road, where we turned right

The Festival return to Greenfield, MA after being in Turner Fall, MA for a couple of years. I had never been in the Art Block, but found one of their stages The Wheelhouse one to be inmate setting like you what you might find in a coffeehouse. I heard Julia Cira sing on that stage and she had a beautiful voice. One that I like much better than Rosie Porter. It's just a good one to have for ballads. Its a strong one. She plays an electric guitar as well as sings. She was accommodate by a man on drum set and another young woman on an electric guitar. That woman played it well. I listen to her sing a couple of songs and she sang beautifully each time. According to her, They were doing full on rock songs and they sound like very nice quality

It was a spring afternoon. It was my birthday and i was turning 11 and my mom exclaimed she wanted to take me somewhere. So we hopped in the car and we left. Then we were driving and about 10 minutes later we were on Tuttle Crossing Blvd. We turned left and i saw BJ’s Brewhouse. Then we pulled into Bj’s Brewhouse, we hopped out of the car, and on the way inside, i saw some delicious looking food. I could smell the food so much it felt like i was in a new world, I could have exploded because it was making me hungry.

College was a culture shock. Gone were my Asian and Latino friends with whom I found it so easy to relate. I was in a new environment surrounded by strangers from different places and backgrounds. I initially dealt with this by gravitating toward people who were similar to me or appeared to share the same values I had grown up with. Instead of trying to develop relationships with students from diverse backgrounds, I put up my guard, with doubts about how I could relate to them. However, everything changed one fateful night in the college dining hall at the much-anticipated fajita bar.

I opened my eyes and looked up to see the bars above me and the suffocating smell of chalk filled my lungs as all eyes peered down at me. I was 8 and being in a situation as extreme as this without your parents is pretty difficult. I was at gymnastics camp in Pennsylvania 4 hours away from my parents. I had no phone and no way of contacting them except through letters. This was my second year at the camp and I loved it. I was on bars trying a squat on jump to high bar which I had previously done by myself. I fell in a funny way and landed on my arm so perfectly that it broke. A complete piece of my elbow broke off. I was rushed to the hospital.

There I was on the block next to the High Bar. It was about 5:00 at night when my coach told me to do a Kip. As I got up on the bar my nose filled with the smell of chalk. I started to swing, and as I came out of my half turn I looked good. Everything seemed fine but as I came to the part of the Kip where I have to pull my legs up to the bar, I slammed my shins into the bar. My momentum was stopped and I dropped on to the mat, missing the Kip. I felt like I had let down my coach and I had let down myself too. That day I experienced failure. That failure made me want my Kip even more so I worked harder and had support from my teammates.

My nights and weekends so far at Marquette have been pretty relaxed. On nights during the week, I tend to go to the AMU or the library to study and work on homework with friends. Also, on week nights, I have club tennis and try to spend at least an hour working out. If I get all of this done, I usually go back to my dorm to play a little Xbox or go to bed slightly earlier than usual. Weekends are different, in that I focus less on studying. I will hang out with friends at different dorms to watch movies, go bowling, attend any sporting events, play basketball at the rec center, and on Sunday, I finish any homework I have left. For me, this plan has been perfect. It allows me to balance my school work with some fun, keeping me sane.

I was walking home from the Bart station in San Francisco one afternoon, heading back to my apartment from work over across the Bay, and walking up the street in front of one of the real classy hotels on Geary Street (The Broadway of SF where all the theaters are). Just before the corner where I turned right (my apartment was right next and above a restaurant which I think it was a Benihana’s) I looked down o the sidewalk in front of me and there, sparkling in the afternoon sun (the fog was strangely absent that afternoon) was a gold bracelet of an intricate design, festooned with diamonds. I looked vintage in origin and the diamonds were not chips but I figured they were probably about a eighth to a quarter karat each, and there were probably 15 or 20 of them.