November eighth of last year‚ a day that will live with me forever‚ evolved into a day that my car (Lexi the Lexus) and I almost died. On this lovely Sunday afternoon‚ some friends and I headed out to enjoy our normal Sunday Funday. Shortly after leaving the house for a drive‚ the song “Jesus‚ Take the Wheel” started playing. About ten minutes after the song we sped along about 75 mph down a blacktop back road‚ singing‚ laughing‚ living the time of our lives‚ and carrying on as normal‚ when we
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for the mistake by saying “I’m sorry”‚ or “I apologize”. In my situation‚ a little more effort‚ other than two words was definitely necessary. It truly took almost a year‚ to fix my mistake‚ and it was a horrendous outrage. A few years ago‚ it was a warm summer day‚ and my family had been considering getting a side-by-side. Growing up on acres‚ and acres of land is amazingly beautiful‚ especially with an off road vehicle. Eventually‚ my parents decided to buy one‚ and yes‚ of course‚ I had a strong
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is 5 AM in the morning‚ my room was just plain dark as if there was no existence. I noticed my door open with a loud *Squeeeeak*‚ a quick hand motion I saw‚ almost looked it something of the speed of light. My owl next to my door was gone‚ I screamed out loud scared‚ yelling “WHOS THERE?” no one replied but a very loud *Screeeeetch*. There was someone moving down the staircase‚ the sounds it made spooked me. I thought to myself “Who would steal a stuffed owl?” could it be my brother or sister? I quickly
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went back into the building for my cheer shoes i left in my locker‚ i felt people staring but i know the only thing looking at me was the silent emergency lights at the exit signs. When i walked i felt someone walk behind me but it was only the sound of me not picking up my feet. When i finally got to my locker i couldn’t open it‚ the number turned into letters and i started to panic in even a faster pace‚ Got it! I snached my shoes as fast as i could and slammed my locker‚ all the noise went back
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wanted to get put into a group with one of my close friends. I was almost as excited as if it was going to be christmas‚ because I was waiting for this unit for a while. The teacher told us to get into straight lines like a ruler would make. I was imagining playing this sport with my friend and showing him cool things in it like‚ shooting it from half court or dunking. The teacher was spitting us our groups and I heard my name first and got chills crawling up my spine like a cold frigid winter breeze
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the American Dream along with his immigrant parents. My neighbors were good people‚ I lived on a cul-de-sac playing sports and other classic games like tag. I was the only foreigner in my neighborhood (Turkish-American)‚ but I felt as though I fit in. My family‚ however‚ was another story. My parents divorced when I was four years old. My father remarried within a year and took us (my older brother and I) in with him. I immediately rejected my stepmother at first side as she tried to impose herself
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blood pouring out of my mouth. Thats a good story. I am here to tell you about it. I was about ten years old‚ 4th grade. My basketball team was awful and horrible combined into one word. Awfible? Well anyway‚ this game was leaning toward us this time. We were winning by two points‚ and I knew i had to step it up. I did. I got a few buckets‚ a ton of rebounds‚ and some steals. I was doing great. Until a kid on my team elbowed me in the face‚ which cause my braces to split my lip wide open. It took
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“Something deep in my character allows me to take the hits and get on with trying to win.” If it wasn’t for the beautiful game‚ I would’ve never possessed this character that allows me to be so determined and willing to fight. I would have never found my passion to compete or for being a goalkeeper. Through all the broken bones I had over the years from jumping and diving I never once complained‚ I always aimed to finish. ‘’No one was going to wear my gloves!’’ I thought. My injury’s started
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do with your culture as well. My cultural identity is a unique one based on the influences of technology‚ food‚ tradition. Which is some of the things that is used within my Cultural Identity. In my cultural identity my social life is a big part of that. Technology is the biggest connection to my cultural identity. I use social media as a form of identification to describe my culture and tradition. Technology such as laptops and cell phones can be a big a part of my cultural identity. Social media
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When I was in elementary school‚ my parents and teachers continuously told me I was brilliant‚ gifted‚ and naturally smart. I was given opportunities that other kids didn’t have. In fourth grade I was nominated to take the Explore test‚ which is an above grade level test similar to the ACT. My scores on this test confirmed that I was intelligent and needed to be challenged. Other students and teachers found me likable and I was able to make everyone laugh with my sense of humor. Elementary school
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