Welcome! AllFreeEssays.com is now Brainia.com. Same services, new name! Any questions or comments on this change? Contact Us .

My Room

My Room

My parents often call me a perfectionist because of how clean my room is, and how I have to take the time to neatly align each of my posters. Unlike most college students where their room is a complete mess, mine is organized from top to bottom. I find it useful to know where everything is located, because it helps me get my work done faster. I also find it useful to never have to clean up my home, when a friend comes over.
My bookshelf is arranged in alphabetical order which may make it seem like I am a complete fool, because I am not consider a mature adult, nor do I look or act like one. Someone might suggest that I am a bright learner and love to read, because of all of my books. However, almost every book on my bookshelf has not been open, or is just a sports magazine.
My room is surrounded with my love for baseball. Out of all the trophies in my room or all the posters of my favorite players, such as Mark McGwire or Jim Edmonds, it would be surprising if I wasn’t a baseball fan. Playing baseball all my life has changed the way interact with most people. It has caused me to hang around more athletes and play more sports with friends. Unfortunately it has also caused me to be immature and cocky when I play any type of game. I am often described as being a “sore loser” when I lose a game, because of all the complaining I do. I get the urge that I have to win everything, or I am letting myself down, because I know I can do much better.
Surrounding the walls of my room, are about 14 trophies that each hold a special meaning to me. Whether it was my first place team trophy, or the best center fielder in the league. My trophies define each of my greatest years as a child, and the commitment to get each one. My biggest trophy of them all is also one of my most memorable, because it marks a time when I took the greatest leap of all.
Standing about three feet tall with gold lines running across the sides, I cannot help but remember all the great memories I had...

Similar Essays