My First Date Dax and I have been communicating for the past few months and he finally asked me to dine with him on February 14th. It was my first date and I can clearly recall the details of our exquisite night from the beginning to the end. He picked me up at home with his Subaru Forester exactly 6pm; dressed in a red long sleeved plaid shirt with black jeans and sneakers while I felt comfortable in a black and white leopard mini dress with black stockings‚ red heels and
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Ung had felt a wild amount of emotions that had to do with the war in Cambodia. Distraught. Disbelieving. Disoriented. Confused‚ on how everything changed and ultimately a rebellion took over her life. In “First They Killed My Father”‚ Ung had her childhood stripped away from her‚ forcing her to work‚ adjust to wartime‚ and the consequences that come from war. During the war‚ Ung had to experience hunger and let this affect her daily intake of food. This was something Ung was not familiar with
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My first ever rollercoaster “Tickets please!”‚ as I handed my ticket to the generous lady I could start to feel my hands and legs trembling with fear‚ it was almost like they knew what was coming. I started to walk along with my friends into the queue of death‚ sweating with every step. We waited for what seemed like hours until we finally reached a dark tunnel‚ so dark that a whole army of bats could live in it‚ I knew we were getting closer I could feel the vibrations in the ground and the intensity
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and excitement; I was finally getting my first car. Well actually‚ allow me to dial that back just a tad‚ I was filled with excitement and joy about my new car‚ but it was not really for the same reasons that any old average-joe might be excited for. I was really excited to wash my new car. Being the perfectionist that I am‚ I immediately set out to make my car look as if it had just rolled fresh off the assembly line some twenty long years after the fact. It all started when I began wandering aimlessly
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yet a hopeful felling on my HBCU campus. Like many of my fellow students standing in one of the two lines separated by the first letter of our last name‚ we would be voting for the first time for President of the United States. On the Ballot Senator Barack Obama. The loud scream that erupted at 10:00 P.M. that night after CNN projected Barack Obama to be the President-elect. The campus became a place of celebration‚ happiness‚ joy that America had chosen to elect its first black president. That what
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headed to my first class which just so happened to be my favorite subject‚ English. The hallways were very wide but when filled with students I felt like I had to shove my way through just to get to my locker. The lockers were a mixture between Gray and purple. The school colors were supposed to be purple and silver but there was no way that these lockers could be considered. I took a look at the little piece of paper that the lady in the office had given me and tried out the combination on my locker
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I was running as fast as I could. I didn’t know where to‚ all I knew was that I couldn’t stop. Pushing myself to run faster‚ I sprinted down the nearly deserted street. I could hear the smashing of glass and gunshots behind me‚ only matched by screams of terror‚ as they invaded Szczebrzeszyn like a tidal wave. Drowning any Jews that were too slow to escape. I cried out as my knees buckled‚ causing me to collapse to the ground. Too weak to stand‚ I dragged myself towards a nearby car and crawled underneath
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something about dancers I have always been in love with. I’m not quite sure what it is. Maybe it’s how dancers are so driven to perfect their technique. Or maybe it’s how they have so much passion‚ emotion‚ and character in their movements without having to say a word. Those were the thoughts going through my mind when I went to go see my first ballet. It was only a few years ago and I still can remember how excited I was before watching it‚ during‚ and after. My mother and I went one afternoon to watch
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this mostly with extreme violence. The book “First They Killed My Father: A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers”‚ written by Luong Ung‚ is the author’s story of growing up during this time period. She was five years old when the Khmer Rouge came into power. As stated in the author’s note‚ “From 1975 to 1979‚ through execution‚ starvation‚ disease‚
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at my grandparents house‚ when I learned to ride my first bike. All summer I feel off my bike more times than I could count. Practicing everyday nonstop finally gave confidence to do it. This was exciting time for me‚ for my six year old self. I felt just as excited as a sixteen-year-old on their first day on the road. School that day was super anxious‚ not thinking about anything else but riding in the wind. I could imagine myself speeding through the neighborhood‚ humid‚ dry wind in my hair
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