My Experience : My Personal Experience

One of my personal experiences that I had was when my family decided to move from New Jersey to Florida. I never planned on moving with them but my mother basically forced me into moving with them. It wasn’t really all that moving stuff because the new house was actually pretty nice, it was just I had all my friends there and I was doing well in school. Nothing I said convinced my mother so after a week of packing we was off to Florida. The first week being there was a horrible week. Nothing was going right for me, I missed the school bus for a whole week, dropped my milk on my new shoes, and tripped over nothing in lunch. It was just trying to move back but parents always have this life lesson speech about trying to make new friends and try to get used to being here until we move again. It’s been about a month since we moved to Florida and I met about zero friends but I got used to living here since I’ve found something that interested me as an after school hobby and that was fishing. There’s barley any lakes or ponds in New Jersey so fishing wasn’t really something you do as a time waster. I usually fished right after I got home but on that day it was rainy and it wasn’t really a good time to fish so I just decided to practice my free shots until it started raining hard. I think I was outside for about 20minutes and suddenly a couple kids from my new school asked if they can shoot

September 27th 2009. I was on my dad’s weekend and my mom was in the hospital for a weeks. I would visit her every day and sometimes bring her flowers. But on september 27th I woke up and walked into my living room and my dad was sitting on the couch looking sad. I asked what was wrong and then a knock was heard on the door it was my step dad and half brother. My step dad had puffy eyes he was crying. He told me to sit down and my brother came out and sat next to me. My dad looked at us and he spoke up your mother had just passed this morning. I was shocked I was hurt I was scared.I didn’t know if i should cry or run away. I’ve learned that losing someone you love is tough.

One sunny day in the summer of 2012, I was up at my Aunt Jenny’s house when I got the unexpected call from my grandmother. I knew that my mom had health issues but I thought they were all solved when she got the first surgery when she was 14, but I never thought that I was going to nearly lose my mom again from the same situation. It was hard to know that I could have lost her so abruptly. It was extremely hard to get used to my mom being in the hospital and having to learn what I was going to do next in life. I tried to keep myself occupied so I would not have to think about her in the condition she was in but that only made me more depressed than I was to begin with. I did not have any one to talk to about it and I just kept all my feelings inside because I did not want anyone to know how horrible I truly felt. I started to understand for what reason and why it happened when I met to my best friend of four years. Sophie is a big

I spent most of my days immersed in a fantasy world while curled up with a science fiction book on my big brown couch in my living room. If I wasn't reading, I would be drawing cartoons, watching movies, teaching myself random skills on YouTube tutorials, or singing loudly along to my favorite songs. Activities like these filled my youthful and solitary days as I patiently awaited my parents to return home from work.

It was the cold of January. We had just gotten back to school after the short, but still sweet, winter break. The first few days were a blast of course. But as time moved on, I quickly realized how bored I had become with my life. I had fallen into a routine almost as strict as a soldier standing guard a fortress. I woke up, went to school, came home, and went to sleep, just to do the same thing the next day. Sitting and contemplating for hours about possible new hobbies became my speciality. Yet, even with all of the thoughts, nothing new sparked interest in my mind. This was until my Drama teacher brought something to my attention.

Walking up to Las Vegas Academy’s campus as a freshman for the very first time was unimaginably exciting. I noticed right off the bat that I have many more responsibilities that teacher rely on me to fulfill, awesome friendships that seem unlikely, and genuinely fantastic, pure enthusiasm that fuels all the teachers and staff at LVA. At first, I was a little scared of my placement in terms of my abilities, and I thought I was in the wrong place at LVA. However, no I believe I’m right where I’m supposed to be. I waked into LVA thinking I knew it all, but I realize now that I have so much to learn, and LVA will fill in the gaps. As of now, I look at last year, already, and think about all the unwise decisions I made academically and socially. For example, I would procrastinate to work on some of the most crucial assignments, succumbing to distractions, and I would let my friends be alone sometimes just because I wanted to be alone. I wish I could change some of those instances. Nevertheless, these decisions and their corresponding lessons make me who I am, which is someone that wants to change for the better.

It was around 2:00 p.m. on a temperate day in mid-August. My family and I were on vacation in Walker, Minnesota. We lodged in a rented cabin at Big Rock Resort on the expansive Leech Lake. My gracious grandfather decided to rent a Jet Ski for the day, so we all lathered up in sunscreen and hit the water. Little did I know that the next few hours were going to be some of the scariest I’ve ever experienced.

It was my senior year in high school, Fall of 2000. I was so excited, ready to wear my new clothes and see all, my friends that I didn’t get to see over the summer. I knew that this would be the best year thus far, look forward to so much fun and lifetime memoirs. I had the best teachers and I got out of school early, couldn’t wait to get home and tell my parents all about my first day back in school as a senior. My mom always seemed to be a happy person and cheerful never really down. Only to get home and see my mom crying and in pain. To see my mother upset was to know something had to happen. I was praying inside saying, “Lord please don’t let it be death in the family”. As I set down beside my mother to ask what was wrong. She just set and moan and carried, no words seemed to come out, she was so hurt and I never knew my mom to be so mute. Something was going on something so real and a detriment but she could never utter the words to tell me. I thought at this point I needed to call dad. As I dialed my father’s number the phone rang but no answer, I redialed the number several times, still no answer. I called my grandmother and as the phone begin to ring, the front door opens and its dad. I hung up the phone rushing down the hall to ask dad what was wrong with mom why is she so sad crying and no words seem to come out at all. My father asked me to sit down. I knew this couldn’t be good. Thinking out loud, “ is my brother okay?” Dad replied, “ sure, your brother is fine

Being raised in the Chicano culture in a small underprivileged metropolis which had very little community spirit, I was taught to be able to fend for myself at a young age. My family was uptight about my reputation as if our family’s honor depended on it. I was expected to be an admirable and thoughtful person to others while keeping my personal problems inside. This setting vastly affected on how I presented myself my whole life.

This whole summer was the worst summer I have ever encountered. I learned many different lessons and the whole experience taught me a lot. It all started in the beginning of May 2016, when I first ever talked to Raf, the new foreign exchange student, over Facebook. We talked and Facetimed several times throughout the summer. Most of the time I could not understand what he said because his English sounded truly horrendous. His bad English and his accent would be difficult to adjust to.

Waking up in an unfamiliar classroom full of strangers sure is an interesting way to start the first week of summer. My eyes peeled open as I looked over at my phone...6:30 am?! In this moment, I felt confused and misplaced. My phone had said it was 6:30 am on Monday, June 21st. In the span in about 5 seconds, I had so many questions for myself. Isn’t it summer? Why am I being woken up right now? I opened my eyes fully and looked around my sleeping space. Hold on a second...where am I?! I peaked around the room, saw air mattresses lining the floor of a school classroom, and saw my best friend sleeping in the mattress next to mine. I finally made the connection. It was my first day working in my Mission Trip group!

In my personal experience, the agents that I believe have influenced me the most are my family and peers. I think from the beginning and even before I was born, I was influenced by my family. I believe that the environment my parents were in, primarily my mother since she carried me, affected me in a good way. The reasoning behind this is because if my mother had suffered from malnutrition then I believe I would have been born with defects that would have sooner or later been detected. Since I consider myself pretty normal, then I think my mom did a pretty good job with me. Then after I was born and before I had friends when it was just me, the center of my parents, I was well fed. If not there could have been problems with my health, but there really wasn’t so I was in good nutrition. If a kid was malnourished then many medical problems could have arisen, to support my claims “if malnourished as a child, their growth may also be stunted, making them shorter than average (KidsHealth).” Also my parents are Catholic so I was raised in a catholic church, which has shaped my values that concern sex before marriage or how to be forgiven of my sins. As well as to how to take the word of god into my everyday life to support this “faith-based activities is good for the body and mind” according to a LiveScience report.

Hands shaking, heart fluttering, staring into the mirror, I prepared myself for the first day of college classes. My eyes searched my reflection, trying to make sense of the jumbled thoughts in my brain. This transition into college life caused thoughts like, “Who am I?”, “Why am I here?”, and “What is my goal in life?” to speed through my head, making me dizzy and anxious. These are questions that every living person will experience, and every single person will have to discover the answers for themselves. Many use aids, such as assessments, to help understand the complexity of their minds. Although who I am will continue to shift and evolve, I’ve finally started to understand who I am as a person.

I am a perfectionist, or a precisionist as some may say. I am deathly afraid of failure, and possessed with the notion that if I make even one minute error, I will lose everything I have fought to achieve. And unfortunately, that fear controls me. My goal of being best I can be is what damns me, and it was not until recently that I how inhibited I am by my anxiety. When I first enrolled in College Credit Plus (CCP) Composition 1, I had no idea what to expect, all I knew was that I was going to get an A in the class no matter what it took. Like normal, apprehension consumed me and I could think about nothing but the grades and the possible ways I could fail. Now, I am nearing the end of the course. Looking back, working hard, in spite of my fear, gave me an irreplaceable gift. I have come to realize, through taking CCP Composition 1, that my perfectionist attitude has complete control over my writing, and furthermore, through the ordeals of the class I have come to understand that I can change, that I do not have to be consumed with worry, and that I can allow myself to write the true feelings of my soul without restraint.

I always wonder how it feels to be heard and what the reactions of others will be. I never had that feeling but I constantly question myself if it’s worth the try. My fear for society has always been a thing, I don’t know why. It may not be a big deal to others and easy for others to speak up but to me it’s not. It’s not easy to be speak nor share, people who know me may wonder why but not even I would understand why. Growing up I have always been quiet but little does everyone know how I really wish I could be heard.