Personal Narrative-The Language Of The Teufel

As we close out the 43rd game of the season, the Phillies drop to 15-28. As the pitching woes continue, it's tough to look on the bright side. It's understandable for the fans to be anxious, but it's all apart of the rebuild. I'm here to tell you to R-E-L-A-X. The team is still incredibly young and in the process of getting back to October. Maikel Franco is struggling a bit at the plate. Picking up the slack in the lineup is Tommy Joseph, who has been on absolute tear through the month of May. Cesar Hernandez has cooled off a bit but still playing some good ball. What can't I say about Aaron Altherr? He's everything you can ask for right now and then some. One thing you can look forward to is one of the most exciting

Throughout the conversation, Susan did not inform me that the home was still in First Look and not open to investors at this time. Susan did not highlight any features of the home, nor did she talk about the neighborhood or the surrounding area. When asked, Susan paused to reference the property file and stated, "In looking at the pictures it appears that it needs interior paint, carpet, appliances, and a few windows, which the previous seller must have taken." She stated, "I don't know why they have to remove things from the homes." I asked, "Do you have offers?" She paused to check the property file and answered, "No offers." I asked, "Is the property behind the home farmland?" She paused to reference the property file and replied, "It appears

My initial perceptions about the students of St. Angela were very stereotypical. Honestly, I expected those students to come from single parent backgrounds and come from a low income household. I expected to deal with students who live life in a survival type of manner. What I mean by survival type of manner is for one to be on defense seeing the type of the children are from the Austin area. Walking in to St. Angela I expected to deal with kids that didn’t listen and know respect for authority. I expected this due to my upbringing in the same neighborhood.

Six consecutive second place, Science Fair trophies sit in the deepest, darkest, most isolated place in my house... my closet. Upon entering the closet, I’m automatically overwhelmed with a horrifying stench, a mixture of plastic, metal, and disappointment, also known as second place. Once the scent enters the nasal cavity, it immediately calls war upon the cerebellum, attacking strongly and injuring the motor cortex, thus creating a chill to run through my body, leaving me powerless and without words. After the chill, next follows the noise. Mockingly congratulates me, whispering “great job, you almost had it,” oh the humanity; “second place” repeatedly echoes in my ear until I escape the closet.

When you crash into a truck and your car flips over four times, usually you die. In my case I’m just in a coma, lying in a hospital bed. There are two problems with this. For starters, I’ve been in this coma since 2008 and it’s nearly 2016. The doctors say that pretty soon they’ll have to pull the plug on me because I’m not showing any signs of waking up any time soon. Apparently, I’m taking up a bed that could be used for some other sick kid. The second problem is that I’m not just lying half-conscious, but I’m in another world. This may sound crazy, but it’s true. When you become comatose your brain pulls a few strings and sends you to a lovely place called The Inbetween. The Inbetween is filled with people who are in situations similar to mine, but how they ended up like this could be different. The world is peaceful and everything until you realize the downside. When you wake up in the strange world, the first thing you notice is the bright blue tattoo embed onto your forearm. Every person here has a different one, and you can not leave until you find your match. This process could, unfortunately, take days, weeks, or even years. Sadly if your match dies before they can even get here, then you pass away as well. I have been stuck here for almost eight years and I’ve had no luck with finding my match. I wander around all day, greeting new people and asking them to have a peek at their ink and no one has

When I start to write a story, I try to reach into a particular topic, scene, or emotion and delve deeper to expand my understanding and its meaning in the human experience. I write not only to make sense of the world, but also to make sense of how others interpret what is written to their reality. I was drawn to creating stories when I was placed in an unfamiliar environment in the Solomon Islands. I made sense of and learned about my surroundings through crafting sentences; going from stressed and racy to calm and in control. Upon my return to America, I searched for ways to learn more about the craft, which I found through fiction workshops at Columbia University during my post-bac program and in my hometown of Austin, Texas. My interest

I hereby tender my request for my listener account to be deleted, immutably. Not deactivated, not put on hold, not suspended. I am well aware of my options, and trust me when I say that it is only after careful consideration and painstaking deliberation, that I arrive at this conclusion. Long, dreary nights spent agonising over which one is the right one ; which is the best possible outcome, under these set of circumstances? At this juncture in my life, what do I have to do, what do I need to do, what should I do? So many options, so many variables, so much room for error … a careless oversight, a lapse in judgement, a fatal miscalculation … that is all it would take to spell disaster. I would never forgive myself.

My weakness in this area is not having the confidence level to present my work publicly. The nerves starts to kick me. I begin to choke on my words and have shaky voice. I also mispronounce my words often and I don’t make eye contact with the crowd.

What stood out for me most in this text was the way that Phil included all of Valeries thoughts and emotions while a part of the story was being explained. What astounded me even more was the writers ability to write the story in Valeries point of view.

It felt as if the world was beating me up and then standing over me, while I was drowning in my own thoughts, reminding me it was always there. I was lost and confused, feeling as if i was wandering around the world clueless,even while i was sitting alone in my dark and cold bedroom. In the end, all i needed to do was realize who i was and be comfortable with myself.

The key to having an sensational essay is to have a breathtaking introduction filled with many powerful and complex vocabulary, that flows through like a story. Being a writer in a advance placement class, during the beginning of the school year, I was not very confident coming into the class. There were many concerns regarding my writing ability such as: spelling, punctuation and emphasizing advanced vocabulary. Starting off in this class put a huge stress load on my back. I was challenged in every aspect in writing, from the nine point scale to minor punctuation mistakes. As the semester continued, I’ve developed many new skills such as learning when or when not to use a comma, how to expand my vocabulary and how to use long and short sentences in order to make the essay’s more fascinating. Even though, the essays were very

I was never particularly fond of high school English courses, actually not very interested in reading and writing about any subjects at all. I’m more of a visual and tactile/kinesthetic learner. I’ve always preferred visual aids, diagrams, and active exploration of the world. Heck, I just like to touch and tinker with things to gain the necessary knowledge needed to perform a specific task. Reading and writing requires patience and an independent learning style that does not favor my cognitive learning style. As I continued to grow wiser and older my managerial requirments have forced me down the road of administration leadership. More powerpoint briefs, white papers, and continuous emails have largerly consumed my daily work routine. Taking

I have gone to Catholic school since kindergarten. Needless to say, my cultural experience is fairly limited; mostly, I interact with white people. So when I got to high school, it was mostly curiosity that made me sign up to take Mandarin Chinese as a language.

I really thought this was going to be the one... my first born, I felt it. I want to give my babies a good life, a happy life, why is it that terrible people like Hilly Holbrooke and Elizabeth Leefolt get to have children and I don’t?! It’s not fair! I must be doin’ somethin’ wrong. Maybe I ought to eat more pickles, pregnant women are supposed to eat pickles aren’t they? No, I’ve read all the books I could find and I did everythin’ right, it must be somethin’ else (SIGH)… Oh if only Hilly and the girls knew, I’d be the laughing stock of Jackson and they would never have me to brunch with them and I can’t very well stay home all day every day now can I?

I was born in Chicago, IL a city known for its diversity. Growing up here has given me the opportunity to meet people from various cultures. As a result of that, I concluded that by definition Hispanics are U.S citizens whose family background traces back to a Spanish-speaking country. My definition, however, is a vague representation of how my heart truly interprets being Hispanic.