My Attention Sp Personal Narrative

One of the most prominent human weaknesses that is revealed when conflict arises between the individual and the collective is fear. Arthur Miller explores human weakness caused by fear in his play The Crucible through false accusations and writes about this weakness in his article “Why I Wrote The Crucible: An Artist’s Answer to Politics.” Patrick Henry also addresses fear in individuals that arise from struggles with the collective in his speech “Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death (1775).” Ultimately, these texts all address the fear of being different, which drives people to match their beliefs with the beliefs of the collective, because those who do not conform to the norms of the collective receive differential and unequal treatment, thus suggesting that people who have different beliefs or practices from the majority tend to be silenced since it is difficult for them to overcome the collective’s discrimination against them.

It is true in life that everything happens for a reason. It is also true to say that sometimes it is all about being in the right place, at the right time. There was never a more prominent example of this than a traumatic summers evening, only a few years ago.

There are a lot of things that shape a person, A loss, A gain, or maybe a quest they undertook. Now I’m not talking about a quest to save the world like you might read in books, or watch in a movie. I’m talking about a goal you might strive to achieve or something you want to accomplish to learn more about not only yourself, but the people who surround you or the community you might live in. This is my quest, a quest that took me years to understand, but one that defines me as a person. A quest that showed me how to express my opinions, and to let others do the same.

If you could visualize the world through the deep turquoise eyes of a kindergarten teacher, you would see a classroom filled with young, impressionable innocent minds: blank canvasses preparing to be turned into masterpieces.

Staring at blank space in the dark. Tucked under my covers, tear stains on my face. Red as a tomato itself. I couldn't comprehend why was I was being punished. I did everything right, everything that you could think of. Mistakes were made here and there but as for myself, I was a good person. I know that everyone's worried. Till this day I cried and cried every night to a cold empty pillow where he use to lay wondering how. Memories floods my mind with every object that comes across my sight. Reminiscing as if it were yesterday. In my 2014 Chevy Malibu laughing, enjoying what God created. I smiled, a smile that stretched across my face as the cool autumn breeze kissed my skin. Staring at the most beautiful human being I could ever imagine.

I started my walk from the AGO which is located on Dundas Street West. It was a sunny and bright day early in the morning. People seemed to be walking towards the art gallery from all directions of the city as well as riding up on their bikes. The many bikes standing by the gallery gave the impression that many visitors were flocking to the site. The revolving doors of the art gallery were moving continuously, people were going in and out. The constant movement indicated to me that the place was popular. The entrance of the gallery seemed also to be a temporary meeting hub for people. It is by the entrance that people stood together and chatted. As I stood and observed the gallery, I also witnessed many groups of children walking

I had been employed in the spirit realm. This wasn’t just part time job that I happened to obtain the fry. The pay sucked and I’m sure the working conditions wouldn’t meet the typical standards. Now onto explain how this came to be.

I was twelve years old when my family moved to the mountains of Humboldt County we moved at the beginning of winter and my father said there would be snow where we were going to live. I had never seen snow before and I couldn’t wait to build snowmen, throw snowballs and build igloos, like I had seen children on television do. A child’s excitement blossomed at the prospect of a new winter paradise

One of the main objectives in any organization is to have a team of employees that is able to work at their maximum best to meet the set organizational targets. For this objective to be achieved, employees of the organization should be fit enough to ensure maximum production. Organizations that appreciate that success is mainly dependent on the output of their employees place priority on the wellbeing of employees.

I looked at him, disbelieving. He seemed like such a part of this world. I glanced at Jordan, and he looked just as surprised as I felt.

I scrambled across the floor, my knees grazed and bruised purple. Catching my breath, my head spun and I quietly reminded myself that I must keep breathing. In and out. Steady. I silently recalled all the places I've hidden, crossing them off the list. He'll look at those places first and I couldn’t afford to be caught this time. I told myself that everything was on the line, I had to flee - hide.

It is a wintry fall, mid-October, 1868. I stood beside the tree where my parents decided to marry for the second time. My father is said to be a blinded scoundrel, he had been married once before. This tree means a lot to me too. It is where my friend, Roy, and I used to play. Roy was the closest with me since I never had brothers or sisters. Now, play is lost, it was at least two years ago. I am eighteen. Soon to be married and having to leave dear Ferndean behind me. The shutters, the ivy, and even my old brown cat, he certainly could not be fed by a minister’s wife. My mother is apprehensive and my father utterly distraught, however, I am at peace. Timothy Cromwell is a kind man. He knows only two emotions, thought and gentility. He finds tasks such as darning socks as pleasant as I find piano. Perhaps a third of my charm comes from the ability to play, although that and modesty are probably what primarily hold his interest. The organ will never need another once the marriage commences.

“Rima, honey, hurry up or you'll be late for school." my father called down the stairs, trying to make it seem like he still cares.

I was laughing and joking with my cousin when I overheard my mom get a call. “Hurry! She’s in the hospital.” That’s all I heard; I blacked out. Next thing I know is that I am filled with so much rage like anger from inside out and is yelling at cars to move out the way. My mom was determined to get there and was hoping everything was going to be ok.

On a drizzly Sunday evening my first summer in New York City, I was walking in Chelsea when a man rode up beside me on a bike. I really don’t want to bother you, he began, a baleful look in his brown eyes, but this ridiculous thing just happened to me. He explained that the costumes he had designed for a Broadway show had accidentally been locked in his apartment, and he had lost his keys. He just needed to borrow a little money so he could get in touch with his assistants and sort the whole thing out.