Personal Narrative: Tommy At The Playdough

Four, maybe five German soldiers surrounded me. They were moving in faster than a pack of starving wolves, and I was their downed prey. There were flying bullets, dark smoke, and explosions everywhere. I was oppressed and knew that this was finally it. All my hard work was about to disappear into a plume of smoke. I commenced raising my rifle, and then in the midst of this chaotic scene there was this ever so subtle giggle over the headset. I look upwards dumbfounded to see a firestorm of bombs hailing all around me, and enveloping my entire section of the battlefield obliterating everything. It was my brother Chase piloting this monstrous desert-sand colored beast of a bomber, which just unleashed utter devastation on the opposing

It was a dark thursday night in April. The sky was clear enough to see the moon shining brightly along with many small circular diamonds. I’m in a dark blue Avalanche, being driven to a baseball diamond. I play for the MIlwaukee Brewers on a little league level. It’s my last game of the season, and I can’t wait for the umpire to say the words “Play Ball” (which states that the game has begun).

One time I was bugging my dad for 8 hours straight to see if we could go to a Rays game so I kept begging and begging till he finally gave in, So we were going to buy them but my cousin called and said that she had season tickets to the Rays games, so we went to her house to get the tickets and she told us that we get to sit next to the dugout and if we get there early then we get to throw with the pitcher jake oderizzy so we were so happy, so we went home and got changed for the Rays game.

“Play ball.” Says the umpire as the Senior Rams take the field and the Hempstead Mustangs were getting ready to bat. This was it. This was our final chance to make all of our hard work pay off, and achieve the one main goal we all had in mind, state.

The end of an era is now upon many current and former West Virginia University students. After the 2017 spring semester there will be no more clanking of the heating system, no more puke in showers, no more shattered windows in the breeze way and ultimately no more Arnold Hall.

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

On one of those nights, when I drifted off into a nightmare, I found myself alone in a silent town that looked to be abandoned. The walls of the buildings, as well as the sidewalks had writing on them. Words such as "Mr. Piggyton" and "Play!" were drawn on with chalk. There were also random names written as well. The most troubling was the large drawing of Mr. Piggyton that was drawn on the walls of an abandoned candy store. Below that, "Let's all have some fun!" was written.

Ever since I was a little boy, I always wanted to be the person in charge. I put this to the test at a young age by being the captain of my travel baseball team. As the catcher of the team I was in charge of where everyone in the field is positioned. Catchers can see everything and everyone, so they have to communicate with their teammates about where they need to go. This role came naturally to me because I always want to be in control of what is going on. Taking this role lead my team to very well against competition that should have blown us out of the water. After that year I knew that I wanted to put into a position of authority later in life.

Tommy Read came in today and he was mad. He wanted to but a pack of air-o-cells, but his card did not go through. I called Kathleen Squares, and tried to get her to run the card, but it did not go through again. I managed to get another card from him, and he was finally able to pay for his order. Obviously, he was very irritated when he left the lab. He said that he would call Sheryl (his sales rep) because of what happened today. I let him know that it was fine to do that. Thirty minutes later Sheryl calls saying that Tommy was complaining about us. I clarified the situation, and she said that from now on he would call her, and she would process his air-o-cell orders. She will then send us an email to let us know that he is picking

I cannot believe it took one person to destroy me, one person to discard all of my trust for anyone. One person to make me forget who my real friends were. One person to banish me to the deepest parts of my mind. One person to make me think that I’m not worthy of anything. One person to be so ignorant as to make me think it was all my fault. That one person, under that pretty little face is called Ashley Melgar. From here on out we’ll call her “Little A.” Little A was a curious tale of my not so great past. Boyfriend and all, I still continued to fall for her lies and manipulation. My mind was clouded and there was no way to clear my vision. In my head she was a damaged soul with a fucked up boyfriend; in reality she was a fucked up soul with

Has anyone ever thought of one of your daily routines as being an art form. Well cosmetology is the practice of that. Thousands of women and men wake up every morning to make others look beautiful. Their main motivation; art. But most people try to hate on the people who work so hard to make them look like they want to. They’re looked at as stupid and ditzy. People believe that this a last resort job. I’m here to prove that wrong.

Short term goals for future development are focused on play therapy and family involvement. As a play therapist, I want to continue to learn and master techniques for non-directive play therapy. Additionally, I would like to Although I have evolved over the semester to involving the parents more in sessions than I had before, it is still a goal to get more of the parents involved and learning how to do non-directive play with their children.

This is a story I’ve been meaning to tell for a while, and this is also my first post here. I swear this is a true story and I’m glad I’ve found the proper forum to recollect these memories.

This is Prop Hunt! It's in the workshop and is available for Garry's Mod on Steam. This game is hilarious to play with a group of friends. I suck at hiding. Really, I do. I ma god awful. I seem to suck at everything these days. Except for sucking. I'm great at that. Wow, you're sick. I know what you're thinking. That's not how I meant it. JUST WATCH THE VIDEO, YOU FREAK!

We are at the Philbrook Museum with the class and of course it’s boring. My best friend Tommy and I are just walking around, waiting for something exciting to happen. Since we were raised by wolves and we’re alphas of the family we leave the pack. We go downstairs and there’s a sign that says “DANGER ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.” Us being who we are, we enter because we don’t even listen to our parents. As we’re walking in the cold, dim room there’s sarcophagus’ everywhere. I walk over to one of the sarcophagus and as I begin to open it, all of a sudden the electricity shut off. I got scared and jumped back so fast. I yell Tommy’s name as I’m running blindly to the exit. I was running faster than Forrest Gump but Tommy somehow caught up to me. We’re