Survival- Original Writing The sweltering jungle felt like a death trap; it was infested with venomous species of plants and animals. The humidity was intolerable. All I had was a small bottle of water, and a tiny, partly eaten, bar of chocolate. I had lost my main supply in the trees earlier, when I missed my landing target. I didn’t feel secure; yet I had no choice to continue. It was life or death for now, it was survival. I was mentally ill equipped for this alien world. I became more aware of strains and sores. I felt as if my rucksack was gradually beginning to eat away at my arms as if it was a highly potent acid and as if my feet were tightly compacted into my boots. Every step I took, I feared the Vietcong would find me, soon, and then the gruesome, merciless torture and public humiliation would begin. I began to think my eventual capture was inevitable. After I fiddled with my GPS to get it operational, it somehow managed to force its way out of my hands, as if by its own will, into a small pool of stagnant water. When I reached into the pool I found my GPS, it had malfunctioned so I was forced to bury it, to leave no trace for enemy detection. The canopy was alive with activity and shrills of excitement resounded throughout the jungle. On the forest floor insects swarmed like a carpet on the move. They ceaselessly foraged for food. I was a banquet to them. They were hunting me for their survival, but I would certainly not give up to their will. The pests grew persistently inquisitive and began to crawl up my legs taking chunks of my skin with them. I had to continually shake them off and crush them underneath my boot,... ... middle of paper ... ...felt weak as the current dragged me downstream, I persevered but I felt it was all in vein. I continued to battle against the current and at long last managed to grasp a clump of mud from the bank with my fingernails. I drew myself inward however I couldn’t gather the strength to climb. The combined resonating noise of several semi-automatic weapons blasted from nearby, my saving grace had arrived. I yelped like a lost puppy out to them, but the roaring gunfire was too thunderous. I mustered up all my residual energy for one last call. I took a deep breath and bellowed out for help. The shriek reverberated all around and eventually I felt someone clasp onto my arm and heave me out off the water. I was carefully lowered onto a stretcher and transported towards to the helicopter, where I lost consciousness from the pain.
In war, most actions are motivated by survival. In the graphic memoir “A Long Way Gone” written by Ishmael Beah, survival and trust cause people to do what they consider necessary. Throughout the book, the reality of survival and trust in war is constantly explored. In the duration of the war, Ishmael struggles to come into the presence of new people without being threatened and chooses to be alone to survive. This suggests that trust is a foreign idea that is replaced by the need for survival.
Yes, I have pestered someone before. I pestered my dad when I was younger. I pestered him for me being able to play on my ipad. I couldn't have it and I just kept on asking, and asking, and asking, until he finally said yes. I don't recommend pestering someone do get what you want. Because you could get in trouble. There was this one time where I was pestering my mom, and I got in trouble. I would recommend being nice do them and then asking them politely. Doing this, you have a better chance at getting what you want.
Once upon a time, in a cabin far away, it was Halloween night October 31st 1973. A group of friends decided to go to a cabin in the woods to celebrate their favorite holiday together. Busses packed full of people were going to the party that me and Skyler had planned. We invited almost the whole school. Finally after hours of searching for our final destination we arrived. Skyler and I were the first to be at that raggedy torn down cabin. We brought the lights and the beers and the snacks , we spent hours and hours of decorating and setting up finally Andy showed up to help with all the heavy work.
My life intersects with Into The Wild because I never had a good relationship with my mom or stepfather Dan who was 21 years older than my mother. So I “escaped” to Columbia much like Chris did from his own reality. Dan would drink every day; you would rarely see him without a drink in his hand. His drink of choice would be either whiskey or beer depending on what he could afford. You could always tell when he was smashed and when he was I was the person he wanted to tear down with his words the most. I remember one night after my grandma just had surgery and she was staying with us my mom asked me to cook. I told her I would. I then went outside to check what I was grilling and I knew Dan was out there intoxicated.
“Hey kids come on get in!” My dad yelled across the parking lot. Reilly, Olivia and I were going camping with our dads just for the weekend. We got in the car and began our 2 hour drive to Hocking Hills. It was a boring drive, and we were cramped in the back with all of the camping gear, tents, food, clothes, bedding. Eventually we got to the campground and set up our tents. It was a nice cozy little area. We had woods all around us except in front of us where the car was. Reilly, Olivia and my tent was in the middle of our dads’ tents. After we had everything set up we did some exploring in the woods. We didn’t know what secrets it held.
Jeannette Walls had a horrific childhood that truly brought out the survivor in her. Jeannette had troubles with her family, friends and siblings but she was not hindered by the difficult situations and the choices that she had to make. In order to survive she to had be resourceful and use what she had to her advantage and also learn to adapt to any situation. Through it all she had the drive and purpose of a true survivor. Her survival tools of Ingenuity, Adaptability and Purpose helped her to grow into the person she is today.
In Schechtman’s Stories, Lives, and Basic Survival, the author argues through her narrative self-constitution view that narrative is extremely important to our lives, and that we identify with our past actions, while using our larger narrative of our lives to make decisions for the future as a survival technique. She then goes on to explain that we have “empathetic access” to our past decisions, and that we must look at our lives as one large narrative, and learn from living our lives in the past, to survive on as the best possible person in the future. I disagree with her viewpoints because they do not allow the possibility for someone to radically change and they force people to identify with their actions they would not like to be remembered for in the past. In this paper, I will explain Schectman’s “narrative self- constitution” view on narrativity, but disagree with her views that one must identify with their past actions. I will align my view more towards Goldie’s “narrative sense of self” because that people don’t have to identify with their past actions, and that while incredibly difficult, there is a chance for people to forgive themselves for a bad occurrence in the past and radically change for the better.
This is a rebuttal to Mr. Albuquerque response. His response is an untruthful account of events.
"Deedee get up it 's time for school," my mom always said. Up until fifth grade that was all I could remember hearing. Every morning before school, I can remember being so anxious and excited about going to school, school is where I shined. I was not like everyone else, I did not play sports and I could not sing or dance. However, for a long time school is where I showed off my talents.
Original Writing - The Conflict He could hardly see anything. It was dark, wet and the
My mom prioritized my education. I now find this very admirable, that a woman so young who barely graduated high school and married a mechanic found it to be essential their daughter should be reading, calculating multiplication and square roots, and helping to change oil all before entering kindergarten. Upon entering school, my parents were told I would be held back due to being anti-social. I don’t remember being anti-social; I just remember reading all the time because I was done with my work and I was taught not to disrupt others. I was not held back that year; the school later asked my parents to allow me to skip the second and fourth grades due to my achievement level. They refused and convinced me being
It is easy to assume that you are supposed to live for a long time. However, a long life is not guaranteed to anyone. As you grow up, you wake up every morning is if you are supposed to, not realizing that the previous day could have been your last. If a long life is what we strive for we should always be aware, avoid putting ourselves in dangerous situations, and attempt to make the most out of every day. Some people don't understand how great having breath in your body is. However, this could possibly change through experiences that show them why they should appreciate everyday of their life.
I grabbed the material that was blocking the water from going down the hole that led to nowhere with my left hand.
The wood was enormous. It was dark and it was cold and I needed to get
Naturalism developed from literary Realism in the late nineteen century and was heavily influenced by Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution. The movement sought to explain the underlying causes for a person’s actions and beliefs. The notion of free will was cast aside for the belief that individuals are conditioned and controlled by their heredity and environment. This was a considerable shift from writing about people in a realistic manner. Naturalists tended to concern themselves with the harsh and often low aspects of life. Many times characters are portrayed as uneducated and of a low class. Naturalistic stories revolved around real people verse traditional literature that wrote of kings and princes with magical powers. An analysis of the short stories “The Open Boat” by Stephen Crane and “To Build a Fire” by Jack London will show how these stories fit into the American Naturalistic genre.