project 2

Personal Narrative Outline

Within four plain white walls in the back of my high school parking lot reflects a deeper wound than the scratches and chips left behind by the constant bouncing of a rubber lacrosse ball. This barren room, a room of solitude and confinement echoes my inability to play the sport I love. Bouncing a ball off the wall brings a small amount of familiarity and simplicity to my brain, bringing a distraction from the hectic outside world that haunted me.

As the youngest child in a family with a massive lacrosse legacy, not only playing the sport but excelling in it was not an option for me. I have often been told by family and friends that I had a lacrosse stick in my hand the second I was capable of holding things. I vividly recall my father telling me I could not go home or eat meals until I had spent a certain amount of time practicing in this room when I was in elementary school. Growing up spending hours on end in an empty lacrosse wall ball room in solitude leaves a lot of room for thoughts to bounce around. Listening to the repetitive sound of the ball hitting the cement wall and then coming back into my lacrosse head seconds later quickly became therapeutic for me.

I never appreciated the act of the repetitiveness and how calming it could be until one of my closest friends, who I grew up playing with, died rather suddenly of a brain tumor. This blank room soon became a place to dwell on my thoughts for hours on end without being interrupted. My thoughts, which were once so consuming, were soon released for the time being while I repeated the same action over and over again. The familiarity of the muscle memory that was instilled in me at such a young age often reminded me that even though my world was falling apart around me, this was the one constant I had, the one thing I could hold on to and know that bouncing a little rubber ball against the same wall will always be the same.

While recovering from the death of a close friend whose life was taken so early by a rapidly growing brain tumor, I too began feeling the same symptoms that she felt months before passing away. That week, an MRI was scheduled for me to confirm that the horrible events that occurred just one year ago would not happen to me. I anxiously completed the MRI, and waited for the call that could forever change my life. Throughout this time, I constantly hid in the wall ball room as it was the only place I could hide out in and be alone with my thoughts.

Things to Consider for This Paper

1) My place is a very plain room so there are not much details to describe, but I am describing as much as I can.

2) I establish myself as credible because I am telling this story about my own life, and I was present for all events taken place in this room.

3) I stay in the same place the entire time, but as I grow up names of my family members get added on the walls, and it takes place over many years.

4) The intended audience are college students, and particularly college students who play or played sports.

5) I assume the readers understand what it is like to be connected to a sport, and I am discussing my connection with lacrosse in my paper.

Character

Full Name: Jaden Slavens

Gender: Female

Age and Date of Birth (as your story does not need to have a contemporary

setting): 06/28/1999, 4 to 18 (current)

Birth City: Maitland

Parent’s Names: John and Lisa

Siblings: Allie, Morgan, Jesse, Nick

Ethnicity: White

Pets: None

Education: High School

Favorite Movie: Talladega Nights

Favorite TV Show: The Office

Favorite Book: Harry Potter

Favorite Food: Sushi

Favorite Day of the Week: Friday

Favorite Hobby: Dance

Favorite Drink: Coke

Favorite Band: Rascal Flatts

Favorite Song: Front Porch Looking In by Lonestar

Favorite Halloween Costume (if s/he celebrated Halloween): A blind ref

Religious affiliation: Christian

Political affiliation: Republican

Love interest(s): Single

Physical Description

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color and Style: Long brown curly hair

Height: 5’3

Weight: 100 lbs

Skin Tone: Olive

Facial Description (does s/he have a unique nose, forehead, eyes, ears, lips,

ect.?): Small face, big eyes

Clothes (what s/he is wearing or usually wears): Athletic Clothes

Other Physical Characteristics (booty, busty, muscular, corpulent, scrawny,

disproportioned, ect.): Skinny

Defining Moments

The one childhood instance—good or bad—that indelibly affects who this

character is now: My friend Elizabeth that died of a brain tumor

The character’s proudest moment: Getting offers to play lacrosse in college

The character’s most embarrassing moment: Not getting into UF

The character’s career goals of future aspirations/ambitions: To be a public relations rep for an NFL team.

Whom the character would most like to have dinner with (past or present)

and why: Reece Witherspoon because she is starting many feminist foundations and charities with the money she made from acting.

Three adjectives the character would use to describe him/herself: Bubbly, talkative, outgoing

Rough Draft #1

As the youngest child in a family with a massive lacrosse legacy, not only playing the sport but also excelling in it was always expected of me. I have often been told by family and friends that I had a lacrosse stick in my hand the second I was capable of holding things. I vividly recall my father telling me I could not go home or eat meals until I had spent a certain amount of time practicing in this room when I was in elementary school. My older brothers were constantly in my ear, trying to give me advice by saying “put your hands an inch lower”, or “tilt your lacrosse stick 5 more degrees to the left”. Growing up spending hours on end in an empty lacrosse wall ball room, mostly in solitude, leaves a lot of room for thoughts to bounce around. Listening to the repetitive sound of the ball hitting the cement wall and then coming back into my lacrosse head seconds later quickly became therapeutic for me.

I never appreciated the act of the repetitiveness and how calming it could be until one of my closest friends Elizabeth, who I grew up playing with, died rather suddenly of a brain tumor in 2012. The familiarity of the muscle memory that was instilled in me at such a young age often reminded me that even though my world was falling apart around me, this was the one constant I had, the one thing I could hold on to and know that bouncing a little rubber ball against the same wall will always be the same.

While recovering from the death of a close friend whose life was taken so early by a rapidly growing brain tumor, in January 2013 I too began feeling the same symptoms that she felt months before passing away. That week, an MRI was scheduled for me to confirm that the horrible events that occurred just one year ago would not happen to me. I anxiously completed the MRI, and waited for the call that could forever change my life. Throughout this time, I constantly hid in the wall ball room as it was the only place I could hide out in and be alone with my thoughts. At this time, the familiarity of the room I had grown up in was the only thing I was holding onto to keep my sanity.

Rough Draft #2

I never appreciated the act of the repetitiveness and how calming it could be until one of my closest friends Elizabeth, who I grew up playing with, died rather suddenly of a brain tumor in 2012. This blank room soon became a place to dwell on my thoughts for hours on end without being interrupted. My thoughts, which were once so consuming, were soon released for the time being while I repeated the same action over and over again. The familiarity of the muscle memory that was instilled in me at such a young age often reminded me that even though my world was falling apart around me, this was the one constant I had, the one thing I could hold on to and know that bouncing a little rubber ball against the same wall will always be the same.

This small, empty room gave me a new appreciation for life and the sport of lacrosse after the death of my teammate. Such a simple act such as bouncing a ball against a wall was a luxury that I had, and a luxury that people like Elizabeth will never get to experience again. As I stood by myself in this wall ball room for hours on end, which used to seem like a chore, I began to reflect on the past events, and began enjoying the simplest things. I feel as though I had matured beyond my years during this time, creating a new outlook on life.

About a week later, while walking to the wall ball room before practice, my phone buzzes. My stomach sank as I instantly knew this call I was receiving was going to be the most important phone call of my life. I anxiously picked up the phone, lacrosse stick in hand, expecting to get a definite yes or no answer which would ultimately tell me the fate of the rest of my life. The doctor on the other line had a concerned tone, starting out with “so here’s the thing…” My stomach sinks. She followed up by saying “We see a mass on your brain but we are not sure what it is. It could possibly be a cancerous tumor, but it also could be nothing.” She says, “You need to come back next week so we can get a clearer image”. Again, I was back to unfamiliarity in my life. That day, I stayed in the wall ball room until darkness came and I could no longer see the ball coming back at me.

Final Draft

Jaden Slavens

Maddie Kahl

22 March 2018

ENC 2135

A Plain White Room

A plain 15 by 15-foot room with four plain white walls in the back of my high school parking lot reflects a deeper wound than the scratches and chips left behind by the constant bouncing of a small white rubber lacrosse ball. This barren room, a room of solitude and confinement echoes my inability to play the sport I love. Bouncing a ball off the wall brings a small amount of familiarity and simplicity to my brain, bringing a distraction from the hectic outside world that haunted me. The sound of the ball hitting the wall and coming back in a perfect rhythm played through my head, with a hollow sounding boom every couple of seconds. The rhythm soothed me, as my arms push my black and blue metal lacrosse shaft in front of my body to throw the ball, then back close to my body to retrieve it. My mind is racing, yet completely still at the same time. I blink as the sweat drips down my face and into my eyes, not stopping for anything. I am in a trance.

Growing up in this hectic family, lacrosse helped guide me and shape me into who I am today by teaching me hard work, dedication, and commitment. The tedious acts of practicing fundamentals showed me that succeeding does not happen randomly, but after hours upon hours of preparation and practice. No amount of work was too much after feeling the high of diving to shoot a buzzer beater shot, and watching the ball leap through the air, past the goalie, and into the ragged net of the goal. The roughness of lacrosse mixed with the gracefulness of dodges and shots created a balance that left me in awe of the sport. I often describe lacrosse as bloody ballet, so meticulous and graceful, yet so harsh and violent. Every single game I played added to the fire burning inside me, a desire to be the best of the best. The perfectionist in me would overwork myself to the point of physical and mental exhaustion, forcing myself to stay in the small room until my technique was flawless. Practicing the fundamentals of lacrosse, such as throwing and catching the ball against the wall, used to always seem like a chore. I felt as though it was just something I had to do for hours on end to get to the good stuff, the games. It was as though practicing in the wall ball room was the tedious, annoying warm up, and the games were where I really felt my heart soar.

I never really appreciated the act of the repetitiveness of practicing in the wall ball room and how calming it could be until one of my closest friends Elizabeth, who I grew up playing with, died rather suddenly of a brain tumor in 2012. Her death came as somewhat of a shock, as she was given up to 15 years to live, and passed away a year after her diagnosis. This was the first major death in my life, the first time I had to attend a funeral for someone so close to my heart. The mourning was a new feeling for me, one that caused a great deal of anxiety and deep sadness. The thought of death began to consume my mind, as I had never had to deal with or think about death in the past. The blank white wall ball room soon became a place to dwell on my thoughts for hours on end without being interrupted. My thoughts, which were once so consuming, were soon released for the time being while I repeated the same action over and over again. The familiarity of the muscle memory that was instilled in me at such a young age often reminded me that even though my world was falling apart around me, this was the one constant I had, the one thing I could hold on to and know that bouncing a little rubber ball against the same wall will always be the same. The constant sound of the ball hitting the wall, knowing for a fact that it will come back to me, created so much peace for me.

A few weeks later, the new test results eventually came back negative, and the mass that was discovered was not dangerous. Throughout those weeks, however, being alone with my thoughts in this small room was the only thing I had to hold on to, the only constant in my life. Everything was put into perspective for me during this time, and I learned more about myself in that small room than I did out in the rest of the world. It was in this room that I grew up in, matured in, and learned to appreciate life so much more. I learned that joy can be found in the simplest things, and nothing should ever be taken for granted.

Project 2

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