Personal Narrative: Where The Wild Things Are

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

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.

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

Last summer I wanted to work and earn a little cash and distract myself and not be home all summer. I didn't know where to apply so I applied everywhere I was even open to working in the fields my parents told me that the fields were the last place they ever wanted me to work. My mom and step dad Raul always told me that field work wasn't easy and that it was not for me but I didn't listen.

When I was young my Dad would always remind me of how important these years as a kid are. He would always say watch how you act as a kid, for it will set the stage for the rest of your life. So many people I know ruined their lives when they were kids. This small, yet so important statement runs through my mind everyday. I love how everyone says they don’t care what people think of them, but I wish they knew how important it is to have a good image. I am not perfect, but I would like to be close as possible. But as Salvador Dali said “Have no fear of perfection, you’ll never reach it. “ The problem I see is everyone wanting to be someone that they are not. Sure, we all have our idols that we look

Just so you know, this is the Big Apple and I rule this town. New York City is filled with tall buildings, great culture, and historical sites. No other city has so much beauty that it takes your breath away; yet, there is a real danger that lurks on the streets. I should know because I am Detective Michael Morgan a United States Super Spy in charge of capturing dastardly villains who are set on destroying our world. Armed with mind-altering powers, Alex Higgins is on the top of the FBI’s list of the ten most wanted men in America. This thug is one of the greatest danger to our world and must be captured and jailed in the vault of death. There is no place safe for him to hide from the law and rumor has it, he is in my town. You break the law here in New York City, you pay the ultimate price: freedom.

“Hey you want to drive”, my step-dad yelled over the loud engine of blue grizzly 4x4 quad I yelled “yes!!”, so as I got one the quad I put on my helmet and fased the strap on the same color helmet.

Home is the beginning of one’s book. It is where your story begins, forms its characters, shows its purpose, and reveals its ora. This is how mine is written. Home is on the buzzing highway down a bumpy gravel road. It’s Brandon, Mississippi. It is the only home I’ve ever known. Home is the smell of homemade biscuits and tomato gravy on Saturday mornings. It is “Bless Your Heart” and “Yes Mam” and “No Sir”. The little bedroom in the back of a grey double-wide where Carrie Underwood songs played and where I learned to curl my hair and put on mascara. My cousins and I running around with mason jars, chasing the lightning bugs. Bar-B-q on the back porch and never meeting a stranger. It is the morals learned and the identity

In one of my recent fellowship group meetings, we were studying Acts 16, and it was pointed out that Paul and Timothy kept going back to places, regardless of the rejection they often received. Their tireless efforts paid off handsomely, rewarding them with the salvation of many souls, for which they always gave thanks to God.

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.

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

After seeing the monster I was I had got my answer to my question, that had been haunting me for as long as I could remember.When saw the monster I was, i had a new question that I was determined to find the answers to.Who am I and who had created this monster I see.

Life really doesn't like to tell you what's ahead; sometimes it's nice and gives you a little hint, sometimes life replays itself so at least there's some familiarity in it, but most of the time my life seems out of my control. As a fifteen year old many people would hear me say this and scoff saying I don't have 'real' problems, or I don't know what the 'real' world is like. On one hand they're right, I shouldn't know what the 'real' world is like, most fifteen year olds are thinking about what picture they Instagram is a 'real' world problem. But being the not-so-average teenager, I do know what this so called 'real' world is.

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