No Easy day by Mark Owen and Kevin Maurer, is the firsthand account of the mission that killed Bin Laden. Navy seal operator mark Owen was on operation Neptune Spear, also known as mission jeranamo and was tasked with leading a team of seals into the guest house of the compound that held Bin Laden. After they raided the guest house and kill Bin Laden’s brother he goes to the main building; c1, to assist the other operators. Once they got to the third floor of the main building, Bin Laden stuck his head out of the door; one of the operators squeezed off two rounds and hit Osama on the left side of his head. They cleared all the other rooms and gathered all the intelligence possible before they had to infiltrate.…
She had started kindergarten earlier in the year and loved hanging out with her friends. Unfortunately, today was not a good day for Valerie. During nap time, she had wet her parents. Luckily, Valerie had woken up before the other students. Completely ashamed, she asked her teacher to call her parents.…
Annie Dillard is a Pulitzer Prize winning author for non fiction writing. Dillard wrote about an autobiographic event that occurred in her childhood titled “An American Childhood.” The premise of the story is when seven-year old Dillard and a friend were chased relentlessly by an adult after they had thrown a snowball at a passing car. While in the process of reading Annie Dillard’s “An American Childhood,” I was interrupted numerous times, therefore I had to read “An American Childhood,” several times before I could understand the meaning of her story. I cannot relate very well to her quote by she was terrified at the time and yet she asserts she has “seldom been happier since” (22).…
In Paula Vogel’s “How I Learned to Drive”, we follow our protagonist nicknamed “Lil Bit” on a gut wrenching, and downright disturbing journey through her adolescence, told as a series of narrations, monologues, and flashbacks with the occasional interjection of a PSA like voice over. The play recounts the physical and emotional abuse Lil Bit encountered from the ages of eleven to eighteen at the hands of her uncle Peck, while he teaches her to drive.…
Turning off the ignition, I heaved a sigh of relief to unwind from the nerve-wracking experience. A thought crept its way to the front of my mind, disturbing my relaxed state; I was driving. I had dreamt of this since I was a tyke in lower school, and here I was, driving myself to school. While I would assuredly enjoy the freedom driving offered, the feeling was anti-climactic. It was not everything I had chalked it up to be. Why is it, that after so many years of dreaming, the former magic of driving had vanished? Now it was just a means of achieving a vague sense of independence. After a moment’s pause, I finally concluded that I was older. Somewhere, between here and there, I had grown up just a…
The setting of this short story is on the freeway of Los Angeles. Jake is a self-absorbed, lazy, irresponsible, protagonist, who is driving along the freeway. He begins daydreaming about a car better than his 58’ Buick, with crushed velvet interior and an FM radio. His daydreaming causes him to hit the car in front of him. The driver of the other car is a naïve, innocent women, named Mariana. Mariana is on her way to work, driving a car given to her by her father. Jake approaches Mariana with confidence and tries to smooth things over by flattering her and asking her for her phone number. Jake is a very dishonest person looking to keep his freedom and willing to do whatever it takes to do so. He gives Mariana a fake phone number, address, and insurance information. Mariana is gullible in believing Jake’s lies. Jakes intentions are to walk away from his destruction with no consequences.…
"Taking a break from studying around midnight, Sarah decided to drive to get coffee in her brand new convertible Mercedes. On her way to the coffee shop, while looking down to read an incoming text, she ran a stop sign on a neighborhood street and was pulled over by the police. In a thick Southern accent, the officer asked her for her driver's license and insurance verification. As she was handing both to the officer, she realized she was wearing her spring break t-shirt with the words, "I Survived Spring Break 2012." Nervously, she blurted out, "Officer, I am a college student, and I have been studying, and I have not been drinking, and I am just going to get coffee." After receiving a ticket from the police officer she noticed her badge, which stated, "Protect and Serve." Her frustration quickly dissipated as she realized that the police officer was carrying out her duty to maintain public safety and her actions could have caused a serious accident. Contemplating the night's event, she drove 10 miles under the speed limit the rest of the way to the coffee shop."…
Within “Driving To The Funeral”, there are some good statistics but she uses these statistics to make absurd claims. For example, that “why not 13- year olds drive?”. Or that “parents are ultimately planning their children's funeral”. With these aggressive statements, it's hard to read this essay without feeling personally attacked. It feels as though while reading this I'm being thrown into a category of breaking laws like drinking and driving, driving late, too many people in the car, always on my phone etc. I take driving very seriously just as many other young drivers do, not only is my life at stake but also the numerous lives of others.…
The subject matter I chose was M.A.D.D. – Mother’s Against Drunk Driving, Located at 2003 Howe Avenue, Sacramento, California on October 13, 2010 at 5:30pm. As I drove to an actual MADD meeting I still had my preconceived idea about the speakers, offenders, stories of unnecessary deaths and so forth. However, when I came through the door, I may just as well dismissed everything; Believe me in no way was it what I thought it would be.…
Everything was loud. The overstuffed bus of children was leaving the school parking lot for its normal route of sudden stops, unforgiving bumps, and of course, transporting students to their destinations. Opposite from every other child on the bus, I sit quietly in seat fourteen listening to the screaming laughter and shrill excitement of the conclusion of another school year. I sit there in silence because I knew that it would be my last bus ride home. I was trying to take everything in: the smell of the old brown bus seats, the half opened windows that tried to keep us cool, the pleasantly plump and incredibly sweet bus driver, and the jovial and rambunctious sounds of kids cackling and yelping. At every stop, I could literally feel my heart drop a little. As the bus neared my neighborhood, my mouth was completely dry. When I saw my house, my heart stopped. There was the moving truck. It was symbol of my leaving home, and the realization that the move was going to happen, and that I had no control over it.…
Author Pico Iyer, «The Joy of Quiet», emphasizes the problem due to the information overload. Soon after his arrival to Singapore he found out that people are willing to spend a fortune just on quiet. According to Philippe Starck, designer, the key success for him is that he lives outside generally accepted ideas which means alone and far away from civilization. Therefore the crucial role in his life plays the detachment from various sources of information. By using a combination of his personal experience and his own research he surprisingly notices that there are more and more people pay not for the comfort but for the lack of the internet access and other sources of information. As a result, considerably more individuals will prefer hotels without TV in their room, which will cause a noticeable increase in supply of such convenience.…
We were almost through the state of North Carolina as we traveled on Interstate 95. It was rush hour and you could tell everyone was antsy and excited to get home. Cars traveled at 80 miles per hour, and some were even traveling faster than that. I could now see why it was ranked the fifth worst highway in North America. Cars were weaving in and out of traffic at over 90 miles per hour. Traffic was getting heavy. Listening to the radio, my dad and I sang along to a familiar song we both knew, “Yeah” by Usher. “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!”, we both sang while he drove. My dad always loved this song, so we had the radio turned almost all the way up. The song ended and we turned the radio down. We had already been on the road for ten hours so we were beginning to get a little tired. It was almost 5:00 in the evening and we did not eat lunch, so we were both getting hungry as well. “Where do you want to stop for dinner?”, I asked him. My dad looked at the food signs next to the highway as I looked up places on my phone where we could grab a bite. Just as I was about to name off a few places where we could go, my phone flew out of my hand and my head jolted forward.…
The Pro-Life Day of Silent Solidarity began in 2004 when a student asked Bryan Kemper, founder of Pro-Life Day of Silent Solidarity, what he could do to help end abortion. A thought then occurred to Bryan and slowly it has evolved into a day of protest that people choose to remain silent for those who never had a voice. The poster advocating for the movement is not very effective at persuading its audience to agree with the act of remaining silent to help end abortion.…
I woke up on another school day, dreading that I had to wake up at the crack of dawn to drive for Driver’s Ed. I do the normal routine: brush my snarled hair, get on my blue jeans, a t-shirt and brush my pearly whites. I’m then standing looking out the window, waiting for Mr. Schimp to drive up to my house in the stylish, white, Driver’s ed minivan. I hop out the front door with my backpack and then get into the driver’s seat, ready to pick out my favorite radio station, Star 106.1. I was officially ready to start my 20 minutes of driving.…
Truck was packed to the brim with bags of clothes, necessities and sluggish children who had not quite realized we were finally leaving for our week long vacation. The drive was long and tedious and thankfully we had left in the middle of the starry night so that the children could sleep most of the way. The ride was quiet and peaceful until the morning sun brightened up the truck and the children woke from their slumber. Then the adventure began.…