8.45 A. M Personal Narrative

7This is the first year of my existence I'm 30.5 inches tall and weigh roughly 30 pounds. Considering this a time where my cognitivity is at a bare minimum i have no memory of this time just stories told by those around me. You know how most kids don't talk until they are about Two years of age well i was a very quick learner i was spitting out babble and even full sentences before i could walk but that didn't take very long either. Although i seem extravagant i'm truly just a normal kid. I'm from savannah Georgia. I did typical things like cry, poop, pee, etc. I went to disney and all the other places little kids go.

Twenty-six years ago I a 17-year-old boy joined the United States Army. I served my country faithfully for 22 years, two months and four days; I served in the Transportation Corps. My time in the army was a special period in my life. I gain a lot of life experiences as well as professional ones; the military shaped and molded me into the husband, father son, and brother that I am today. During my service, I grew up and learned several life lessons that would serve me well in and out of the army. To get a real understand on how the military shaped me into the person, I am today; I must first give you some insight into the person I was before I left for basic training. I graduated high school in 1991 just four months’ shy of my 18th birthday;

I clinch my bedsheets as the shots sound one, then another, then another. Strangely, I am still alarmed at the gunshots after thirteen years of living here. Walter, my cat, jumps into my lap, slightly twitching as he walks over and across the trash surrounding my mattress. I shove him out of the way and lift my body forward, the streaks of sore pulsing pain into every nerve in my body. I kick my way through an Elmo toy, pieces of paper, and my only pair of shoes. Nearing to the bathroom, I lift my only real possession, my Bible, from underneath my mattress. I swing open the door and start my daily hygienic process: a washing and drying with paper towels and small bar of soap I stole from the convenience store down the street. I look into the mirror. If only I had lighter skin, someone one would care for me as their own. The alarm of my phone triggers a sense of anxiety as I now realize it’s three minutes before the bus arrives. I quickly slide on my shirt,

It is I, Punxsutawney Phil, the groundhog for Groundhogs Day! I myself have been called a marmot. Which is a type of rodent, my closest relative is a squirrel, I know we don’t even look alike at all or do we? I question myself that all the time, because I don’t go up to a mirror and check myself out. Well anyways, I usually do is eat, and eat over and over again. It is my favorite thing to do that and to sleep, where I can eat again. For my birthday it’s not very important to people, it’s actually whenever I get scared to death or not, called Groundhog Day.

I remember when I was 12 years old, my grandpa used to take me to work with him. He had several ranches in Tamaulipas, the state to my hometown, Reynosa. Waking up at 5 A.M. each summer morning was very hard to me, and at the moment I didn’t realize the good it would cause me in the future. It was 2012 and I obviously had a very childish mindset and yet I never thought that summer would change my life so much.

It was a normal summer morning, the sun came up, and I woke up and got ready for the day, but it wouldn’t be any normal summer day. It all started when the same summer morning, when my dad asked, “Hey Gavin, you want to go to the Makers Fair at Union Station?” I didn’t know what he was talking about, so I asked him a few questions about what the makers fair was. He told me that it was a fair where people made products and technology. My dad stated, “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think you would like it.” I was sure whether to say yes or no. It sounded cool because I has an interest, but I was a little worried that I would let my hopes up too high and be upset when it turned out to not be as good as I expected.

i am my own i have built myself a one bedroom single bed home in my bones with a garden and white picket fence but if you had sense you’d look close to see the paint curling off the planks so obviously, i’ve never understood why i stain it so religiously when it’ll always be a mess underneath the fake

I used to do a lot of tasks at the same time. I worked for long hours under pressure and I felt confused at times regarding unclear tasks. But this course helped me to save my time through changing bad habits into good ones. I learned to divide a big job into smaller ones and define and limit the time for each task. Also, I got a great benefit from using different ways to avoid distraction and setting a deadline for each task. Over time everything become under control.

Five AM strikes and my alarm screams, along with every fiber in my body to not get out of that semi comfortable bed. Anything is comfortable when you're waking up at five AM though. I roll over to my side and prop myself up at the end of the bed. Ethan my kiwi roommate's alarm is going off in succession with my alarm. We look at each other and silently give each other the same look. breaking the silence i ask him what i know he's about to ask me, “Do you really want to go through with this. Five AM is way too early to be up.” He respond with, “Yeah it sucks getting up this early, but trust me it will all be worth it.” We stumble out of our small bedroom with 2 bunk beds in it. Both bunks are only filled with two occupants. Technically our room

Approaching, gliding my hand over the warm hood of the engine, feeling the texture of the minutely grainy forest green paint against my fingers tip, thinking “Hello my friend “. Stepping back, admiring the impeccable hand-crafted machine with tinted windows that are almost as dark as the midnight sky, with 15-inch tires and black stretch free rims. Clicking that rubber button to unlock the dent free door, it greets me with a loud honking two beeps. Climbing into the soft black leather driver’s seat, I am washed into that familiar feeling- a warm hug from an old friend. I began to tingle with excitement and the anticipation of what new adventures could await. Being inside feels like being in a different world. My imagination starts to wonder

"Emery, go with grandma to the kitchen, she baked some cookies for you," I whisper, glancing down at her with a grin. The skittering of my daughter's shoes on the wooden floor mask her squeals of excitement. The worn, familiar couch moans as I collapse onto it, taking in the entirety of the house; it hasn't changed much at all since I moved out. The overwhelming joy I felt when moving here is something that I remember vividly. My dad got a major promotion, allowing us to move into the house we had always dreamed of living in. The confinement of our old two bedroom apartment had come to an end, and I was ecstatic. Of course, my own future was rapidly approaching, and with that came the fear of failure. This fear resonated particularly strong

Bang! Katherine and I both flinched, then instantly jerked forward, grabbing at the smooth table top in a frenzy but coming up with nothing in our hands. We both turned to look at the perpetrator with anger in our eyes. But now, I’m getting ahead of myself. I never could tell this story in the same order.

Sometimes, it feels like the life I once had simply disappeared, I can no longer tell what is real or not. I woke up looking at my alarm clock as it read three a.m in the morning inside my dark room while a cold breeze blew through my window. Usually, the suburban neighborhood I live in has several cars passing by a couple hours, yet it was dead silent. Perhaps a little too quiet I thought, so I walked towards my window and looked outside and saw the full moon It was rather abnormal one could say as I thought to myself, and I do not recall opening my window either. Out of nowhere, I heard several knocks coming from the door. “Really, at this time?”, I thought to myself, “I’ll get my handgun just in case”. As I walked to my gun safe down the hall the knocks continued, but halfway I began to realize they weren’t coming from the door. It was from the mirror in the hallway. “Is this real or in my mind?”, I thought to myself . I then walked to the door

Twas the night before track meet day. My parents and I proceeded to Dick’s Sporting Goods and we purchased state of the art bright baby blue spikes. I was joyous to use them to run the 100 meter sprint the next day. I would finally be able to make my time faster. The next day approaches and I can’t contain my excitement. The whole time at school all I can think about is the race. School ends and I embody race mode.

Shortly after I moved in, his house was chaos: food rotting on the floor, dirty clothes piled on the kitchen table, hidden dog feces under the couch. That was when I realized that my mother had a well-founded reason for choosing to divorce him. But the issue ran much deeper than a mucky house. My father always locked his bedroom door behind him and only he had the key. Naturally, this secrecy began to eat at me; I was never allowed in his room, he left the house for days at a time, and sometimes when he'd come home he would ask me to stay the night with a friend. One day I came home from school and found the door to be ajar. The room was darkened by black-out curtains and like the other parts of the house, it looked like a bomb had hit it. Scattered on top of the dresser were clear crystals, a couple silver spoons, and a lighter. I was deeply disturbed by what I saw but it also gave me a sense of relief to know the facts and what causes his behavior. Soon after, I decided to live with my mom and my