Personal Narrative: The Yellowjacket Nest

Looking back at my original “The frog in the Well” essay from the beginning of the class made me realize how much my knowledge and perspective expanded from before. Before I used to think that individuals think and act in different ways because of the way they were raised, but this class made me realize that it’s not only that. Individuals think and act in different ways due to many different circumstances such as background, parents, environment, and other variation that involve in this.

We played a soccer game yesterday against Buhler, we beat them 5-1 our first win of the season. Unfortunately I got injured within like 5 minutes of the game, I sprained my ankle and it hurt really bad so I had to go out of the game for a little bit so the coach could wrap my ankle. After about 5 minutes of walking on it I started getting used to the pain. So the coach asked me if I was good to play, so I said yes. I ended up going back in with about 30 minutes left, so when I went back in coach put me as the striker which is the attacking position. Their team wasn’t so good so I ended up running a bunch because I’m fast and can produce chances. I got a couple of chances to score but didn’t get a goal, Juan Castillo got a goal and that basically ended the half. At half

Growing up was though. The hardest part was learning how to dwell with unpredictability. When I was a kid, it enchanted me. I was fascinated to observe how randomness could yield starry skies, carve underwater caves or compose the most fascinating stories. Still, I wouldn't let uncertainty flow through my veins. I craved for maintaining the status quo on whatever was within my reach. I built LEGO's exactly as the manuals suggested, did group projects my way and only accepted challenges I could handle. As a child, I was afraid to take a leap beyond my safe boundaries. However, I was obligated to flee far away from them.

When I think about my red house, a free and easy feeling rushes over. Worries consisted of macaroni being too hot, swinging too high, and Dora, my first dog, pooping in my room. With bookshelves filled with stuffed animals and countless Pooh Bear toys, I was always content. The playground in my backyard provided days of fun, and nights in my mom and dad’s bed gave me peaceful and comforting sleep, preparing me for the next day of work. The kitchen was where I liked to claim I “worked”. Although I didn’t do a lot of the actual cooking, I liked to be there while my mom was. A love for cooking and baking developed at a young age, around the same time I realized I wanted to be just like my mom. The song “Best Day” by Taylor Swift perfectly describes

I love to fish it is really fun. It is 1:00. I grab my fishing poles and my fishing bag. I get an my bike and ride down to my pound. Throw some bread on my hook and cast it out there. My brother said to bait the water so I threw some bread in. All the fish were eating the bread. The bobber twitched a couple times. I set the hook the fish is on the hook. I get the fish on land grab the fish get it unhooked. Then I cut its gills and it dies.My brother said eiw thats grose. Then i wash it off in the water.Then i cut the bluegill into three pieces.When i cut the guts The fish eat the bluegill just for the guts so I put a piece of bluegill on the hook and guts and cast it out. My hands smelled like fish they felt all slimey and they

A bouquet to Blue Heron Books. I was gift shopping and I found myself gazing, stumped, at shelves of shiny new books. I would’ve left empty handed if not for the friendly service I received. I approached the clerk and asked for help. After a brief description of what I wanted she recommended several books. They were all relevant and I was happy with my purchase. The recipient liked the gift and I can’t imagine what else I could have gotten. I hope the clerk knows I appreciate her individual attention and genuine suggestions. She didn’t pressure me to buy books but rather helped me to find the right gift. This unaggressive manner creates a cozy atmosphere perfect for a local bookstore. If you want to support a small business I highly recommend

My Signature Themes are achiever, arranger, responsibility, input, and significance. Each of these are very significant in defining my strengths and showing me how to best use my strengths in my future. My first strength was achiever and this is representing me as a whole, and is what I use in everyday life. I am a driven person who wants to accomplish many things and I visualize my life as a mountain that I will overcome every day and at the end of every day I will have a beautiful view of what I have accomplished. I use every day in events such as: relentless volunteering, working long hours and everything is done with an impeccable sense of satisfaction after completion. My second and third strengths are arranger and responsibility. These

I have only one word: listen. Humans became so loud, shouting to be heard over everyone else. So concerned with ourselves, our jobs, our money, or the internet that we stopped paying attention to the pieces of nature around us, beautiful and ugly alike. We try so hard to fill our lives with meaning in the most unmeaningful of ways, promotions and new cars, when there’s so much more to living. The trees sing when the wind blows and we’re listening to the radio. Hermit crabs chirp, dolphins name themselves, prairie dogs have voices and we ignore it all in favor of Facebook What doesn’t directly affect us is blocked out or put on a back burner so we won’t think about it. We became so removed from the natural world we no longer notice what’s

Hailey G. is a five-year-old girl. She is the second of three girls; her older sister is 13 and her younger sister is 3. She is half-Dominican and half Colombian. Her mother is from Colombia and her father is from the Dominican Republic. She has traveled to Colombia two times and went to the Dominican Republic for the first time in December 2016. When she learned she was going to D.R. she was very excited. She said that she had never been there and was so happy to go visit Abuelita. I reminded her that I used to live in D.R. before I moved here to the United States. When she came back from vacation, she brought my assistant, and I a souvenir. I really love the souvenir and it reminded me when I lived back home. Her paternal grandmother comes

I enjoy writing and editing, and I like The Wake’s unblinking eye. In all seriousness though, writing is a passion of mine, and there’s nothing more satisfying than making the writing as clean as possible. It is for these basic but essential reasons that I am applying for the Managing Editor and Copy Editor positions.

In Cage 15, there was a bald eagle. Regal and upright, imperial and intimidating, it stood on a log, paying me no heed as I scribbled adjectives. A sign beside on the wooden cage beside the barred window called her Spirit and informed the reader why she had been committed to the asylum. She’d dislocated her left wing in 1989.

In my Mind I sat outside by the fire for a long time, staring into the warm tongues of flame as they wrapped themselves around the dry pine logs, wondering why I couldn’t write. Every time I picked up a pen or opened my laptop to place words where they should be, my mind would drift away, leaving nothing but a frustrating inability to produce any work and another long evening staring at blank pages.

Some summers ago, my brother Jack, and my cousins, Amber and Ethan, and I were on my grandma's 600 acre farm playing in the fresh breeze that smelled like the flowers in my grandma’s garden. While the strong heavy wind whipped my hair around we discussed walking to the creek behind the house past the corn field. Without any consideration of the consequences we merrily headed towards the corn field that was full of towering, green corn stalks. Running briskly through the corn we almost got lost, but we kept running carelessly while being smacked by the corn husks until we were out and could feel the warmth of the sun on our backs.

September has arrived. The familiar yellow school bus halts to a stop, and I get on. Every year, I get a little older. And yet, each year, the same yellow school bus takes me to school, where I learn the same things over and over again, except a little more advanced as I age. It’s become a routine to come home at 3:00 PM, do my homework, then eat dinner and go to bed. My schedule will automatically reset the next day. The truth is, I hate it, and I hate how I’ve let it go on for so long. Sure, routine is safe and secure, but it gets boring fast. I realized that if I didn’t take action soon, this would become my reality for the next four years at the high school. And so, I decided to join the school’s swim team, in hopes of finding an activity

My Family and I were at home eating dinner. After dinner I told my mom that I had left something on top of the mountain, so she said “‘go up to get it Mary. But she didn’t want me to go alone so I went to go see if my friend was home but he wasn’t so I disobeyed my moms rules and went up by myself anyway. And it was starting to get dark so I had to get the base fast but I couldn’t find it. Now it was really dark and 2 hours had already passed and I couldn't my way off the mountain because it was so dark. And with my luck my phone died so I couldn’t call anyone for help, so I just started walking and walking after a little bit I realized I was getting nowhere so again I walked eventually I just fell and went to