My Finale

Over the course of years Medical TV shows give excitement to viewers. Recently, Grey’s Anatomy has grown to be a very popular show, but has been numerously compared to Scrubs. When more attention is called to this, similarities are present. For example, the storytelling of each show, the platforms, and the classification of characters. There are even claims that lead to believe Grey’s Anatomy copied Scrubs. In Grey’s Anatomy, it starts off with Meredith Gray being the main character and narrating

Scrubs is a medical comedy-drama television show that air from October 2001 to March 2010. Scrubs resides in a place called Sacred Heart Hospital. This show is mainly about three medical interns and their respective journeys to become doctors. Most of the episodes revolve around the main character, John Dorian (J.D.) (a white male). The other two principal interns are Turk (a black man) and Elliot (white women). Carla (Hispanic female) rounds out the main characters. The supporting cast includes

I was going to the mental hospital to visit my nine year old son, Andy. Although Andy was just a child, he had a very disturbed mind. He had murdered both my husband and his older sister, yet I couldn’t see him as the monster that everyone else perceived him as. Neither my husband or my daughter were ever very nice to Andy. They called him names and told him he was a worthless, freak. I loved my husband and my daughter, but they were bullies in my eyes. They treated Andy like such an animal and

was 12-12 in overtime against Cardinal Gibbons. This was my last game with my brothers, best friends, and a family I will cherish for the rest of my life. I not only let my teammates down, I let my family down. We lost against Cardinal Gibbons in the 2015 3A State Championship game 13-12 in overtime. When they scored their final goal I immediately dropped to my knees and began to sob, I was not upset that I lost, I was upset that I let my family down and that was the last time I would ever step on

you think you can get the assistance from the program? And this it my essay. It is so ashame when i

wouldn’t take a genius to say who was on the other line. “Harry.” “And how exactly did you get my number?” I inquired and I could hear the smile that was growing on his face. “I get things, Gray. It is what I do.” God, it’s like I can also see him shrugging. Get what things? Phone numbers, or girls? I glared at myself, at my subconscious. “How do you get things, Styles?” I glanced up at the door, knowing my father was probably going to emerge any second. And I glanced again, feeling like I was having

do this anymore. It’s not healthy for me. I’m sorry.” I looked at him, my previously joy-filled face melted away into an expression of hurt confusion, brows tugging together tightly and tears building up in my eyes as I tried to process exactly what he meant. “Do what?” “This. The talking, the friendship, the love. It’s not real.” “But I love you,” I bawled, slowly dragging the back of my hand along my cheek to clear my face of tears, leaving a damp streak in its path . “I love you too, that’s

ONE Bruno is not dead. His voice still rings in my head, his scent of cacao and dirt still linger in my nose. I wish I could touch him and wrap my arms around torso, and tell him how sorry I am. But I cannot, I am a coward. I am afraid of looking at my son. I know that he is still around, I can feel him following me. I can feel his cold stare lurking behind me, I can feel the guilt he put upon me. Whenever you lose something, a necklace, your keys or whatever. Everyone tells you to look in the last

understood the definition of fear. To be victimised as the villain of the story. To be discriminated as the plague behind all creation’s problems. To be stereotyped as the face of the oppressors. The fear was so overwhelming and overpowering, as if my stomach was rotting away, with whatever dignity that remained of me being eaten by blood-thirsty parasites. I could only pray for the Earth beneath me to crack wide open and swallow me into an eternal abyss- away from this trembling terror. It was the

fairly, nice day. Work wasn’t to bad. My boss wasn’t on my tail for not getting him a paper on time. It was supper time when I got home. The food was already set out and the kids at the table when I walked in the door. Jane, 9 years old, had a book in her hand like normal. Billy, 4 years old, sat there picking at his scab. My husband came in with the last plate. Jason had been out of a job for 9 months now, so he was the stay at home mom for a little while. I set my bag down on our wooden table right