Biographical Essay: The Old Wire Road

Once, in the long past age on the large planet of Xaleth 'Tar, there was a story. A story of epic highs and dastardly lows. It follows three men and their struggle to survive in the wilderness. Their adventure lives on in the hallowed halls of old, showing us the origins of the welfare that we all receive today.

As with any story it is only fair to mention the rough times. Then when you read about the laughable times, it is worth it. There are a few incidents that I would like to mention in this book. Only because it might assist people in avoiding the ‘first time’ mistakes of owning this type of dog. Tailgate was built short and stout.

I was a remarkably timid seventh-grade girl who, for English class, was assigned to memorize and recite a poem. I recited “Where the Sidewalk Ends” well enough to advance onto the schoolwide poetry slam. I was incredibly nervous to be on stage before the whole school, nonetheless I did my best. When I walked off the stage however, I felt certain I was going to lose. So, when my name was called for first place, I was genuinely shocked and overjoyed.

Performance Analysis of “Appalachian Journey” An analysis of the documentary “Appalachian Journey” by Alan Lomax proves that the musical performances featured are examples of traditional music. The songs performed used traditional music instruments and styles. Many songs were passed down through oral tradition, and many were stories of real events. The people of the appalachian mountains used banjo’s, guitars, and fiddles while singing throughout the documentary, including hand carved instruments and sound making toys.

Disconnected 24 Hours off the Grid “Kerplop!” was the sound that my Smartphone made as it descended out of my back pocket and into the toilet bowl. Six years ago, this incident would have required a complete emotional and mental breakdown equivalent to a toddler breaking their favorite toy. Now, as a responsible adult, I calmly reached my into the bowl, retrieved my sopping phone, and rinsed it off (It was already wet, why not?). Following the advice of my husband, I put the phone into a sock and swung it around my head like a helicopter in order to remove excess water. Once it seemed like that was all that would come out, I plopped the device into a bag filled with rice and prepared to be phoneless for 24 hours.

Day 2 Immigrant. That word gives me a label here. I am crossing the border to the U.S because my parents think it will give us a new beginning and a better life. I think they’re wrong. Our life in El Salvador was fine: We had a nice house and we were healthy.

Thank to one of the woman around road we’re lost, she show us where to go. We finally came back to the trial, and continue the journey. The weather is better, no more rain, but sunny and warm. I change the food portion into filling, for family gain better health. And ride on the normal pace for better safety.

This semester we were asked to go to the Carriage house Museum located in Stony Brook, NY. In all the years that I 've been living on Long Island I never knew this place existed. When I walked into the visitors’ center and walked around I got to see work of many student on Long Island, which I thought was pretty cool. I liked how they showed the talents of different age groups from different school districts from Nassau and Suffolk. Also while I was in there I got to learn about the duck hunting.

I visited the Breman on November 6th from 10:00 AM to 11:00 AM. My first impression when I walked into the exhibit was powerful. As a walked in and saw those first few pictures of anti-Semitism, I was powerfully moved in seeing the plight that the Jews had to face. My emotions were solemn and contained. I wanted to be respectful for those who had been murdered.

In this letter tells of how I crossed the border between Mexico and the United States. I left my house in Guatemala at 4:30 in the morning bound for Mexico on 28 January 2002. Arrived to a central bus station in Mexico about 7:00 in the morning, where there was a man who would help me cross the border. I remember very well we took a bus as about 7:30 in the morning, while in the bus the man gave me a passport with a tourist visa for me to use to cross the border. The passport was from Guatemala, if I remember right, I do not remember under whose name was made the passport.

Getting down to Nebraska was harsh and the trail was dusty. The children like me had to take care of the animals. Jim, Antonia and myself became really good friends after living next door to each other for a while and we do everything together. When I work, I help my dad to plant and harvest crops and hunt for food. We planted and harvested corn, potatoes, pumpkin, wheat, peas, carrots and tomatoes.

Strong winds from the east pulled across the land, bringing dust with it. The grasses flickered in the gusts and filtered the dust. A light dusty haze laid atop the flat horizon that encircled and surrounded the land. Nothing could be seen for miles and for miles. The land and the blue above were infinite.