The site may be able to write you an essay without plagiarism, but the second you turn that essay in, you have committed plagiarism. You didn't write the essay, you paid for someone else to write it. Those aren't your thoughts, ideas or beliefs on the paper. The disclaimer on their website stating that their essays are for research purposes only is basically just their way of covering themselves from you trying to sue them if you are accused of plagiarism. The fact they aren't willing to stand behind their product should be a sign that something about what they are offering isn't straight forward. School is about learning, and you learn by doing. If you aren't good at writing papers, and you pay to have someone else write you a paper, that makes you no better than you were before at writing.

It's hard to be wanted on the level I am. I'm warm, toasty and delicious, but I have never been wanted like this before. Some man bought me, and was enjoying himself on a lovely, clear morning. He was tearing me apart with his fang-like teeth, which was a searing pain, but it's part of my job being a bagel, ya know? Suddenly, this little pip-squeak pigeon with alot of guts came hopping up thinking he was gonna get a piece of me, but really he couldn't resist my buttery aroma and he had his mind made up to devour all of me. The pigeon and the man start to fight over me, which I'm used to with the lady bagels, but man, they were really going at each other. I started to smell a burning, and not the burning that I smell every morning when I get toasted, but a real burning. Somehow, that idiotic pigeon got into some sort of metal contraption that was firing little lasers every which way! People were shrieking in terror, running wild in the streets. A car was completely engulfed in yellow flames. This is where it got bad on my end. The man in the black suit, held me over this flaming volcano like car, using me as some sort of bait to make the crazy pigeon chill his jets. The shooting stopped, and the street was still and quiet. It was like a scene out of one of those old western movies, a showdown. Being a bagel, I've never experienced heights of great distance, but today I did. I was thrown up into the air, a distraction of some sort I suppose. The pigeon left the metal contraption, and I saw my opportunity to get away from these two lunatics, so I twisted my body like a gymnast in the air, and landed perfectly in the metal box. I didn't mean to hit this little button, but in reality, it broke my fall so I was okay with it. I couldn't get the lid closed in time to hide from the man though, and next thing I know I'm locked in this box and it feels like I'm flying. This box was dark,and it smelt like the pigeon relieved himself in here and  wanted out. Suddenly, like my blessing was answered, The box popped open and leaped out, only to realize I was literally in the sky, and THE DANG BIRD WAS RIGHT BEHIND ME! It was colder up here than I had ever been before, and it was hard for me to breathe. I could feel my delicious buttery goodness losing warmth. I won 't lie, I panicked. When the bird grabbed me, I knew it was over. I was going to be pecked to death. I gave up hope. When the bird landed on the ground, myself in tow via beak, I began to whimper like a whipped puppy. Just as I saw the beak coming down to begin its painful and long torture, The pigeon looked up, and saw the man walking on by as if nothing ever happened, little metal box in tow. I saw my opportunity, and with all my strength, muscled my way up, and began to roll away down the rock hard sidewalk. Good thing I moved when I did too, because by the time the pigeon turned back, I was a few feet away. A loud crash, followed by thick, choking black smoke rolled out. I was thrown off balance. When I regained my bearing, the pigeon was no where to be seen, except the few floating feathers blowing in the wind. Some sort of plane of spaceship had fallen and crushed him. I was excited to live to be ate another day, but a squirrel scurried up to me with cheetah-like speed and before my muscles could react, I was toast.

sky

The sky is full of possibilities. It can bring sunshine and make you're day, or it can bring clouds, and rain or snow and change your mood. Most everyone can recall laying on their back as a kid just looking up at the sky, watching clouds pass, thinking. The sky has probably heard millions of hopes, dreams, and laughter of friends describing clouds to each other. It truly is amazing to think about how when life is so busy, so crappy, you can catch yourself watching a sunset and unconciously you absorb the raw beauty. The sky brings new life in the spring with sunshine that was hidden for months, and rain to spark growth. It brings the hot sun in summer, the kind that allows you to enjoy swimming or baseball. It's clouds of fall roll in and chill everything, changing the world from green to a canvas of colors. And it brings darkness in the winter. Yet, through all of it's bipolar actions, it remains a symbol of hope and dreams to millions of people. The sky seems to have an allure of endless possibilities waiting for each and everyone of us to find our's and conquer them.

warm up- I will never do that again.

I will never be unprepared again. That's a big statement, because it covers everything from school to personal life, but I will never be unprepared again. Being unprepared is something people do alot. It is human nature I believe to forget one or two things that you wind up needing. My real reason for never be unprepared is because in situations I have found myself in, being prepared is a vital role in life. I'm not going to indulge into scenarios where I wasn't, or someone I knew wasn't, prepared, but it is something that can change the outcome of a minute, a day, or a life. Prepardness is a responsibility that everyone should place upon themselves because it makes life easier when you have the things you need to work, study, or just purely function. Lots of people can make do without an item if they forgot it or didn't have it, but sometimes you can't, and this is why I will never be unprepared again. IT's the same concept of telling someone they should carry one item because it would lead to a positive outcome of a situation was solely dependent on one thing, would they have that one thing? Most people would make sure they had that one item. So why not make sure you had all items, just to be sure. Prepardness is neccessary, yet often overlooked and that can be a very uncomfotable situation to find yourself in.



She was blone. - Her hair remidned me or corn tassles. The color, the way it blew around her shoulders in the wind.


Toys are strewn about the room like a tornado blew through the house. Ear piercing shrieks and cries of a temper tantrum echo off each wall. The little child's face is so red it's almost orange, like a summer sunset, and I am suprised to not see steam rolling from their ears. Suddenly, the cries are quieted, and the house sounds like a monday morning church, because mom 's hand and the childs bottom resemble the same color, a pinkinsh red. Punishment was dealt it seems.


Chili all starts with the basics for me, meat, beans, and tomatoes. I grab a big pot out of the cabinet, and sit in on the stove, which is on low. On the back burner i have a skillet, which will be for my meat. There's probably some weird recipes that require different meat, but I like hamburger, after all, this is America we live in. So I throw some hamburger in the skillet and use this sweet little utensil that helps grind it up, after all I don't think anyone wants a spponful of just meat when they're eating chili. Once I get that all ground up and down to edible size, i just let it cook and I turn my attention to the other 2 main parts. Beans are a huge part of chili, and if you have ever been to a store before, you know there's 2000 different types of beans. I, personally, only use chili and kidney beans. Why kidney beans you ask? I really don't know, but if I had to guess it's because they taste slightly different and mix it up as I eat it. So I open those cans with a can opener, which takes forever because mine is junk and never seems to want to bite fully through the can. This leads to me normally cutting my finger on the can, which really ticks me off. Can openers and I have a love-hate relationship. Once i throw those in the pot, I do the same thing with tomatoes, normally just diced. After those simmer, and my meat is brown and not gonna kill me to eat it, we have a little wedding ceromony on the stove by adding the meat to the beans and tomatoes already cooking in the pot. I'll let this simmer on low, and get to THE number one rule in good chili, spices. Now, I enjoy spicy foods, so I just add salt and pepper and chili powder and cheyenne pepper until I think it suits my taste buds. I never measure it, just keep adding and adding until I think it's alright. Which normal leads to eyes watering because I went past the point of spicy and achieved extremely spicy. After this, I eat.

Description

Three colorful lizard on some sort of Mexican or native american stlye banket. All three lizards are brightly colored, but all with different patterns, which I believe symbolizies a difference in all things that exsist within the world. The feather between the lizards might be some sort of common things that draws the differences in the lizards away, and shows that while different, they are still alike in atleast one way.

I would rather be in Cainsville, Missouri. Cainsville is a tiny little town where my grandfather was raised, and where I used to spend countless hours as a kid roaming around the property. All the old sheds, and the barn were huge playgrounds for me, and everything was a new toy. As a grew up, I started to get more into hunting, and once again, every piece of the property was a new adventure. I spent many weekends hunting, enjoying the peacfulness of nature. Cainsville is also were my grandmother is buried, and she meant the world to me. She spoiled me rotten, and was always there to lend a word of advice or help heal a scraped knee as a child. Cainsville is always just, an escape for me, a way to get away from reality or the busy life I sometimes have and just relax. I can be myself there, and I can remember just what matters to me.

I can see the old white farm house. It's exactly what you'd picture a farm house from the 1920's to appear like, large front porch, dark wood floors and cabinets. I can see the sheds that used to hold all my grandfather's tools, and junk he'd aquired over the years. I can smell fresh food cooking in the kitchen, just like my grandmother always busied herself with. The things my grandma cooked would have you slobbering at the smell alone, it was that good. I can smell fresh earth, the sweet aroma of soil that only comes from the ground being turned up. I can smell the sweetness of hay after it's cut, but before it dries. Of course, I can smell the waste of cattle, but as my grandpa always said, if you could smell them poopin, it meant you still had money to come from them. I can smell the mustiness of the barn where i used to play for hours on end. I can smell the distinct smell of my grandmother's perfume, and it literally takes me back to being a kid and she was still alive. A farm is full of different feelings. From the rough ride of a tractor banging up your rear end, to the first rub of a newborn calve's smooth coat. The feeling of sitting on the couch after working all day with my grandfather and it being so soft, just like sitting on a cloud. Most vividly, i can feel the touch of my grandfather, and grandmother, hugging me before I would leave to go back to my parents house. Their lovingness in those hugs was so dominate, so caring.  I can hear the familiar sounds of a tractor out in the fields, a cow from the neighbors bellowing. I can hear my grandmother's voice talking at the dinner table, or while watching tv. I can hear darks barking, my grandparents always had a dog for as long as I can remeber. I can hear myself playing, banging into things in the barn. I can still hear the glass shatter on a vase of my grandmother's that I knocked over one day when I was paying inside. I can still hear my grandmother telling me it was okay, while at the same time my grandfather was scolding me about playing inside when there's plently of things for a boy to do outside. I can taste dirt from driving a tractor or the combine allday in the heat of the summer. I can taste the water that was ice cold once I got off the tractor . I can taste my grandmother's wonderful cooking, and her pies at Christmas time. I can taste the bitterness of the first beer I ever drank, the one I stole out of my grandfather's fridge when I was a teenager. I can taste fresh air, not the kind of air you get when you walk outside your house in Springfield, but the kind of air that taste like it's never seen any sort of pollution. Pure, crsip air. I can taste the deer and turkey that I shot while hunting. I can feel, see, hear,smell and taste happiness.

The first time I ever remember truely getting yelled at my my Grandfather was at the farm. For me, the farm was a playground of old, cool junk. The back porch had a crawl space under it, and typically it's were the dogs slept since they stayed outside. I believe I was either 4 or 5 years old and I had been playing outside all day, just as my grandfather liked it. I'd been in the barn and found these cool little wood stick with red ends on them inside a box. I knew what matches were because I'd seen my grandfather start alot of fire's in the old house to keep it warm in the winter. I decided that the best place for me to play with these matches would be in the nice shady spot, out of the hot sun, underneath the back porch. I didn't fully grasp the concept of the porch being wood as an issue with matches. I crawled under the deck and started to light match after match, just watching them burn like any 4 year old pyro would do. I remebeer lighting one match, and dropping it, conviently on an old ratty blanket the dogs slept on. Boom. The blanket acted like it'd been soaked in gasoline because it lit up quick, and thus starting to burn the deck above. Luckily, my grandmother was in the kitchen and got it put out before it did too much damage, but man, my Grandfather made it hard for me to sit comfortably for the next week.

Weird item freewrite

The blue plastic milk cap ring. Seems irrevlevant, but really it may just be the most important part of the milk gallon. I hate warm milk. And I hate soured milk. This little plastic piece is what seals all the deliciousness of milk that everyone loves, and keeps it fresh. Atleast until the ridiculously short expiration date is up. I remember when I was a kid and most the milk gallons had the little tab that you had to pull to get the cap off. That was this little plastic piece. This is really all I've got on freewriting about a blue plastic milk cap ring.

I don't have my backpack and the only things I have in my pocket are truck keys and my phone. So my phone it is. My phone is an iPhone 4s. It's pretty cool I guess. I'm sure in the hands of someone extremely techy it has endless possibilities for use but for me it calls and texts. My screen is cracked awfully bad, which just gives it character. Really its like a built in security system because nobody is going to steal a broken phone right? Other than that its just a phone. Maybe that's weird that were in an age where a cell phone is no longer cool. I'm sure people in the pre-cellphone era would have loved to have literally the world at the touch of their fingertips. It probably would have made their lives easier in lots of ways, and complicated in lots of ways just how it is for us now. Still, we take forgranted such a great technology item simply because it is so common. There's still alot of people today in the world who don't have cell phones, let alone running water, or even electricity. It really is crazy how we can have so much cool stuff as a society, and just not even think twice about how lucky and thankful we should be to have those things. I guess my first sentence shouldn't have been the only 2 things I have in my pockets are truck keys and a phone. I should be thankful that I have things like those available to me. Life wouldn't neccesarily suck without them, but it would be difficult to adapt.

Creedo

The creed I try to live my life by was introduce to me 3 years ago, and while it is not unique to me, the meanings of the creed are. While it seems very straight forward, I believe the values it calls for transfer to everyday life as well. 

I am the Infantry.
I am my country's strength in war.
Her deterrent in peace.
I am the heart of the fight...
wherever, whenever.
I carry America's faith and honor
against her enemies.
I am the Queen of Battle.
I am what my country expects me to be...
the best trained solider in the world.
In the race for victory
I am swift, determined, and courageous,
armed with a fierce will to win.
Never will I betray my country's trust.
Always I fight on...
through the foe,
to the objective,
to triumph over all,
If necessary, I will fight to my death.
By my steadfast courage,
I have won more than 200 years of freedom.
I yield not to weakness,
to hunger,
to cowardice,
to fatigue,
to superior odds,
for I am mentally tough, physically strong,
and morally straight.
I forsake not...
my country,
my mission
my comrades,

my sacred duty.
I am relentless.
I am always there,
now and forever.