At some campuses, the college administration assigns parking spaces; at others, anyone park wherever he or she likes; at yet others, a student is not permitted to park at all. The hospital interviewed dozens of people, seeking the most friendly and kindest person to serve as an aide in the children's ward; the staff decided the best-qualified candidate was me. Driving defensively is not particularly difficult if we remember to watch out for the other driver and left enough space between ourselves and the car ahead of us. My father himself built these sturdy bookshelves for myself. My roommate and her cousin was telling an extremely interesting story about her most handsome uncle to anyone who would
listen.
Commonly, vehicular collisions are considered a negative occurrence. Dave Eggers hints towards this mindset in his short story Accident. Plotted in the middle of an intersection in 2005, the story commences with the main character driving his automobile through the intersection and striking an older Camaro. The three teenagers in the Camaro are fine, but the main character notices all the damage he has done to their vehicle and he fears an unpleasant encounter with them. Dave Eggers uses irony throughout the situation to illustrate the main character’s relief. The characters’ involvement with the collision emphasizes Egger’s theme that no matter how unfortunate an incident, positivity can result.
I felt as though I was watching a train barrelling towards me, an inevitable bullet that had come tumbling out of the opposing pitcher’s arm. But instead I stood immobilized, watching my team's only chance of winning whiz by me. Strike three. I heard my team from behind me shouting “SWING!” with my mind screaming the same. But my bat remained unmoving, the pop of the catcher's glove like the nail into the coffin that was our defeat. All I had to do to keep our hopes of winning hope alive was swing, and yet I couldn't. I stayed on the field afterwards, tossing the ball up in the air and swinging away, landing it on the thick maple barrel of the bat.
1. The cemeteries are full of people who thought they were “Ok to drive” along
Throughout my four years in high school I have been fortunate enough to fulfill many of my aspirations and my thirst for knowledge. One goal that I would like to achieve is to become an international attorney. I have aligned my involvement in specific academic and extra-curricular activities to aid me preparing for the long road between my present situation and the day I pass the bar exam. Through my high school activities I have learned three virtues that I have deemed necessary to achieve my goal, passion, self-discipline, and perseverance.
I ambitiously decided that I would brighten the lives of the elderly by volunteering at a rest home, but discovered that the elderly were being neglected, shoved aside and forgotten. As I stepped into the home a pungent odor penetrated my nostrils, causing an instantaneous gagging reflex. The place was abounded with neglected and subdued inhabitants, yearning for attention. Anybody that passed them caused a sudden outburst of ranting. The negligence and disregard the home displayed appalled me, but helped me to realize that I wanted to make a difference and change the condition people live in.
It was my first year at the most venerable institution in the world, and my high-school dreams had been achieved. Yet, that fall, I was feeling empty inside. As I drowned my sorrows in a latte at Au Bon Pain near the "T" entrance, I noticed a large crowd gathering outside. I later learned that a short time before, an undergraduate running to the co-op had carelessly knocked a homeless man to the ground. As I looked up from my latte, I saw a homeless man crawling around the sidewalk, yelling something about being
Parking was a breeze this weekend as many Americans have chosen to recess their spending since the September 11 attack by terrorist. Only I, whom at one time had confronted their type on the operation table, was not about to give them the pleasure. Now bless me for my behavior for I was rewarded for the first time by the gift of front row parking. As I headed for the sporting good shop, Gilbert dashed to the video sale to assure his chances of getting there before his prizes were all sold out.
When I was entering into High School, I tried to join as many clubs as I can, since I wanted not only to be superior in grades, but also extracurricular activities. So as usual, I joined Key Club. At first volunteering at the events was fun, but as I went to more events, it felt as if it was a chore. I did not feel any passion; it was rather tiresome.
I have been dancing hula for six years, both in school and for a halau hula, or hula group, and danced in numerous performances and competitions.
High school is meant to be the time of your life, but for most seniors just like me it can be some of the most emotional and crazy time. The things in my past make me who I am today, and the things I do now are the first footsteps into the future. I’ve learned a lot about myself in these past four years, and I still have so much learning to do. This is my high school story; the good, bad, and the ugly.
Growing up I never had time for anything. A normal teenage boy would’ve gone out almost everyday or just partied , what I basically , mean is that they would’ve been very outgoing and social. I on the other side I was a boy who didn’t had time to hangout friends , had to handle with work , school and sports. Waking up at 6 in the morning take a shower , change and by 7 had to get out from my house or I would’ve been late to school. Always had to walk , in the rain or snow it didn’t matter I had to walk because my older sister needs the car for her to go to college. After I get to school I had to do my do now for physiology and always trying to understand the class because I really don’t like science , but I had to try my best to get a good
When I was six years old, I hated car rides. To a six year old, a car ride was the epitome of boredom. There was nothing to do on a car ride except sit there for hours watching the trees. I would get carsick every single time I was in my mom’s Volvo. If I wasn’t sick or bored, I was waiting painfully in the backseat for the next exit ramp so my mom could turn off the road for a bathroom break. My mom would have to bribe me with candy or some other special treat just to get me in a car everyday. Some six year olds were afraid of monsters and doctor’s visits; I was afraid of the car. About ten years later something happened, a change. When I finally got my driver’s license at age sixteen, I was no longer afraid of the once dreaded car ride.
Let’s flash back in time to before our college days. Back to then we had lunch trays filled with rubbery chicken nuggets, stale pizza, and bags of chocolate milk. A backpack stacked with Lisa Frank note books, flexi rulers, and color changing pencils. The times where we thought we wouldn’t make it out alive, but we did. Through all the trials and tribulations school helped build who I am today and shaped my future. From basic functions all the way to life-long lessons that helped shape my character.
I remember the day well. There was a disturbance of some sort in the house of which I had taken part. I am not sure whether I was the malefactor or was the beneficiary, probably a quarrel with my brothers, but I do remember what happened thereafter. After my rebuke, I walked through the back door and proceeded to the garage. In those days, and even now, the garage was not meant for cars but for storage, so there were boxes upon boxes of stored junk. Upon entering, I moved a few boxes away, found a familiar hole where my brothers and I used to go and hide, bellied myself on the dusty flour, and crawled about three and one half feet under stored chairs and one desk to my destination—a hidden spot in the far corner of garage. None would find me there! Immediately I began to cry. “No one loves me!” and “Everybody hates me!” were the phrases that I would say. Tears flowing, I would condemn the world for its hatred and console myself with the words I knew too well, “It’s okay. You can survive though no one understands you.” How hopeless words can console is a mystery—but truth switches places with lies when you’re deceived.
Finally it passed through the other side followed by an eerie screeching sound. The dreadful sound was emanating from the dry rotted tires that were rubbing against the rails. After the car emerged from the exit of the car wash, it was then wiped dry by the co-workers of the car wash. Watching the employee’s wipe the car I could hear the boy my age say, “I feel bad for who ever owns that car”. The car was fully washed and ready to go as one of the staff members approached the benched and asked which one of us the owner of the vehicle. Again the muttered another comment, “sure isn’t mine”. The comment from the boy made me hesitant, but for a moment I realized the only person I was fooling was myself. So I picked myself up and as I was about to leave, the man in his mid forties stated to me “it could have been worse, my first car barely ran”. With that comment I was a little more encouraged to get into the car and leave with some dignity.