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Responsible. I despise that word. Nor am I very good at it. My parents went through all the hassle to get my missed work from school, and I forgot it. Consequences. I loathe that word. But really it’s just a more complex word for “Grounded.” So then in a hop, skip, and a jump, I landed myself sitting in my room… Alone. I just simply sat on the edge of my bed, twiddling with my thumbs. I’m so bored! I complained to myself. So I got up and walked in a couple of circles before having the best idea- I could grab my phone!- Until it was the worst idea- I’m Grounded. Before I knew it I was sulking back over to the edge of my bed again and playing with my thumbs. One of the most obnoxious things about being grounded is everything you can’t touch. A …show more content…
So then I got up and opened the cluttered drawers and pulled something out. Not any glittery gel pens or a drawing of a cat. It was a piece of paper. A blank, crumpled, perfect for drawing kind of paper. It was just a single piece of paper, calling out to me. So I picked it up and laid it on my desk. Almost instinctively, I pulled out my chair and started rummaging around for a pencil. The only pencil I could find was unsharpened and dull so luckily since I could leave my room (even though I was grounded) I quietly walked down the steps, hugging the paper to myself and turned the corner into the laundry room. After sharpening the pencil for an hour, trying to get the perfect point, I sat there. I was completely mind blank. I just stared at my paper looking at it like it was going to be the most beautiful painting in the world. I’M GOING TO DRAW SOMETHING GREAT! I encouraged myself, silently. I picked up the pencil and raised it high in the air. HERE WE GO, IT”S GOING TO BE AMAZING! I shot my hand with the pencil in it at the paper like a rocket hitting the earth. But as soon as the pencil hit the paper, all that happened was the quiet sound of the pencil tip
...s remembering to pick up a gallon of milk at the store or showing up to school every day. It can also be difficult, though, such as facing the consequences of a mistake of taking on a summer job. Being responsible is completing the tasks one has agreed to do, no matter how difficult or simple they may seem.
middle of paper ... ... As I reached to pull the covers back over myself, I heard something brush against paper, and metal rings pressed into my arm. Cautiously reaching with my hand, I pulled out a notebook, open to the first page, with a pen slipped in the spiral ring. On the page was written the following: “Thought you might need these!
Responsibility, must be put down though we ought to change the definition notions. We want to be held responsible by society.
The essay “I, Pencil,” written by Leonard E. Read, describes the process of manufacturing a pencil. It explains how unexpectedly complex the process is. Despite the fact that a pencil seems like such a simple product, the process of creating one has an incredibly large number of steps and is very complex. The essay focuses on the fact that, despite seeming simple, no individual person has complete knowledge of the creation process of a pencil. Perhaps the most amazing fact that this essay brings to light is that no individual human being consciously created, or can completely comprehend, the process of creating a pencil.
something on the end of a pencil. That was the night that I started to figure and configure, contemplate, and computate just how I might leave my delible mark on this life” (Inquisitors and Insurgents). The pencil has been a life giving force, a fountain of life, a symbol of readiness and ability to write. Her professor and mentor Dr. Gloria Wade Gayles encouraged her to show her poems to Nikki Giovanni who corrected them with a red pen but assured Finney that something good was about to happen. She spent two years attending Toni Cade Bambara workshop with a pencil and paper. She stresses the metaphor of sharpened thought “The more I pencil-dig down,
From small stick figures, to cartoon characters, to more realistic anatomy and detailed work. This only happened because of my dedication and constant practice with a pencil and paper. Though I do not consider myself the best artist, I became proud of my growth and motivation that branched out to other aspects of my life. This habit of practicing led me to take challenging courses and pursue other passions, like music. Though music seems a little minor in my life, it runs through the family, and I could never be where I am without the practice time I put in both my passions. The small details I picked up from them have helped me immensely in school. From motivation to not give up and the extra effort to understand the material, I created a process of how to do things, and I found myself grateful for the times where I felt lost, and found my way back. Through art, I found my sense of self and the motivation to excel and challenge myself in everything I
Finally, I believe a character must be responsible. Responsibility comes with experience, and is something a person has, or they do not have. I am responsible by maintaining a grade point average greater than three point eight five while participating actively in numerous extra curricular activities and working more than a twenty-five hour workweek. With great power, comes responsibility in which I will always have.
Responsibility by definition is “the state or fact of being responsible or accountable for something within one’s power, control or management” (Dictionary.com.) In my opinion, the most important word in that definition, although they are just as critical, is accountable. When we are held accountable for our actions, we take or acknowledge a certain obligation and thus are able to correct our wrongdoing. If we are unable to take into account or admit our guilt, then how could we ever make peace with ourselves, will it ever end?
I went through the day numb. After school, I hurried home, closed the door to
I’ll admit that I may not have written a weekly journal every week and I may or may not have waited till the day before they were due to finish any of them. I like to pour over my papers and make them a work of art, but I have to remember that some papers are like doodles on napkins and in most cases they are drawn just to be thrown away.
I quickly reached boredom, as many young children do when left alone. So I began looking around, and lo and behold - I spied a crayon laying on the floor next to my foot. I picked up the crayon (red, I think it was), and I made a decision. I was going to take action against my cruel punishment! I grasped the crayon in my small hand and I scrawled "HELP ME!" on the wall in my corner! I do not know wh...
I frowned. It was training time for the tributes and my mentor told me to find partners for the Games, but I don’t want to. Sighing, I head towards the “ocean” section of the training room, my comfort zone. Looking around, I recall the reaping at the town square in Community Six. The shock on my mother’s face as Lucy Bell, Community Six’s reaper, calls out my name, Callista Prior! as the tribute representing Community 6 in the 55th Annual Game of Death.
"She is a really responsible person." "He doesn't take responsibility for his actions." "She was responsible for the accident." How many times have we heard statements similar to these? A definition of responsible might be accountable, reliable, dependable, or trustworthy. Based on my observations and experiences, I believe many people have a problem translating that into their everyday lives. If something bad happens, it must be someone else's fault, or someone should have to pay.
The pen I had borrowed a mere hour previously firmly grasped within my right, trembling as it scratched its way along the page. Heart pounding, mind racing, searching frantically for any final piece of information before the clock ran down and- Time up. That was it.
There is only one place in this world I would go to find the meaning of life, my childhood home. In my memories, that house has always been my sanctuary. Safety brings a touch of tranquility, free of twisted negativity that would clear the way of finding the meaning of my life. My house opens a door to a whirlwind of deep love for everything it stands for and distaste for the way it looks. When you 're living in an unseemly house, surrounded by people who thinks its an eyesore, was when I learned the superficiality of the people around me. That house became my heaven as well as, my hell. I was caught between my appreciation for my own home and the approval of others, but as I grew up I found out what I should treasure more is the simple joys of life.