My Three Stories

STORY 1
When I was 16 my mom, like all other moms do to their kids, started to hassle me about getting a job so that I could stop leaching off of her wallet. After many failed attempts and months of 'searching' for jobs around my community, my mom took it upon herself to get me a job as a Patient Transporter at the local hospital. At first I thought it was great, I did not even have to try to get this job because my mom just happened to be one of the Director of Nurses their and had some power to throw around, and that would also make my job so much easier.

I soon found out I was far from right. My first day consisted of getting lost numerous times in the gigantic labyrinth known as Banner Baywood Medical Center. Seven floors of just utter confusion, not to mention the billions of codes I needed to memorize to grant myself entrance into different departments.

I also forgot to mention that I started the job in the dead middle of winter. As you all know, if you have lived in Arizona for any amount of time, winter equals snowbirds. Snowbirds for all intensive purposes basically live at the hospital. Along with the mass craze of snowbirds the term code purple, emergency department overflow, came into normal conversation as any other term.

At the end of my day I remember one lady in particular. As I was taking her up from the E.D to her room and had the most peculiar conversation with her. I could go into greater detail but their is honestly too much that happened and it would be rather difficult to finish the other two stories. I so I will some up the conversation, just keep in mind I have never met this lady before and she probably had dimensia. As i began to talk to her she described in great detail about how last time I saw her that i brutaly killed her dogs and left them for her to clean, afterwards she started to bark at me. I was horribly scared.


STORY 2
Every teenager dreams of the day that they finally move out of their house and into an aparment, where no one can control them or tell them what to do, need less to say I was one of those teenagers.

I had rented out an apartment with two of my good friends from highschool, Tom Dinovo and Nate Chesko. The great thing was not only was I living with two of my best friends, but also my girlfriends apartment was located about three feet away. Everything in the apartment was great except for a couple discrepancies with the land lady and a few with a roommate every now and then, I was practically in heaven.

There was one night I remember inparticular upon the first few months of staying in the apartment. I was watching a movie with my roomies and my girl when it started to rain outside. Like any true Arizonian I ran outside in glee and frolicked in the rain. After a couple minutes I was accompanied by my roomies. Out of no where the rain turned into liquid bullets and the wind became powerful enough to bend the antenna to my beloved car Betsy. Thats when I started getting nervous, rain like this is not normal. Soon I heard a snap, and in a haste of hurry yelled out "watch out!!" and ran like hell barely avoiding a tree which also came unsettling close to Betsy.

This storm seemed to go on for hours and destorying everything in its path. After the terror has passed, I went out side to observe the destruction. The pathes both in and out of the apartment complex were blocked by massive trees, and side walks along the complex where thrown into the air. It was an overall scary scene that is hard to describe.

STORY 3
In life I find that it is important to have an activity that you dedicate yourself to and keeps you entertained for long periods of time. Activities liek this not only to keep one out of trouble but to also help one feel a sense of accomplishment. For me this activity is playing guitar. I have been playing since freshman year of highschool. I have been in countless bands, gave guitar lessons and have so far achieved nothing but experience. There is one expereince I remember specifically, when I tried to play on Mill.

One day I had the bright idea, since I was broke, to go play on Mill to make a handful of cash. So I walked out to Mill with my guitar in hand and enthusiam in my heart. Walking down Mill I scouted out the perfect spot, a bus bench that was right before the coffee plantaition. It was perfect, everyone would be able to see me, im my mind that ment more money. Unfortunatly for me, I tried playing on Mill on a Wednesday. I soon learned that no one walks down Mill on Wednesday except for poor, starving college students. After half an hour I packed up my guitar and called it quits with nothing but a fallen leaf in my guitar case. As I walked away disappointed I was caught off guard by a man asking me if I could keep a secret. He intrigued me so I said I would, filled with antisipation I was eagerly awaiting his secret. He walked closer and whispered "Jesus Loves You". To say the least I was disappointed and walked the rest of the way home with my head down hoping next time I would make my first dollar playing gutiar.