My Memories - Original Writing Essay

In the novel “W, or the memory of childhood” written by Georges Perec, we see the story of a Jewish child that lived through his childhood during World War 2 and the time of the Holocaust which was a depressing time for Jewish people. This is an autobiographical novel which uses alternating chapters to help better describe his journey through this depressing time as a child, with trauma comes emotional and psychological harm which causes you to do whatever it takes to numb the pain, whether it is to find the source of the pain or to submerge them deep inside your heart to forget it. In this case, Perec used alternating chapters

My heart pounded as my feet slammed along the beaten path in the woods. When I was certain I had gained enough ground, I dove under a bush. I began to crawl from the path, the branches tugging on my hair. I smiled as flowers danced across my face.

In Hunger of Memory, Richard Rodriguez situates his individual experiences with education in such a way as to expose what he sees as the fallacious logic behind bilingual education and affirmative action. He uses arguments to propagate the systematic problems with such programs. His autobiography explains in great detail the entangling problems all American children face by instituting bilingual programs and affirmative action endorsements.

My breathing is getting rough, and I'm starting to feel fatigue, my muscles ache and I'm also starting to get dizzy.

The snow had all but melted away and the smell of spring filled the air. Just a few months of school were left; it was my eighth grade year. Much preparation and months of work had been done to get ready for the last dance of the year. It was the last dance of our middle school career and the excitement was building.

The theme of separation is an important development in the novels Hunger of Memory and How the Garcia Girls lost their Accent. The novels deal with separation differently. For Hunger of Memory by Richard Rodriguez, the separation allows Richard to move from the private world to the public world. Here, separation is a movement for a solution, which is citizenship. In How the Garcia Girls Lost their Accent by Julia Alvarez, the separation is an effect from Antojo.

I sprinted up the stairs, taking no time to stop for breakfast. I had to make it to the factory by 5 or I’d be beaten. The fear of punishment gave me extra speed as I ran out the door into the smoggy darkness. As I ran, I tied back my long blonde hair with the ribbon tied around my wrist. I ran down the cobblestone street, careful not to step in any of the piles of mud. The streets were devoid of carriages, anybody rich enough to own a horse wasn’t getting up this early. The only people I shared the streets with were other children and adults going to work.

The trees blurred together as I whisked past them. I had to keep running, the fear pumping through my veins kept me going for this long. I never was good a geography and judging by where I am, I’m lost. This was bad, how was I supposed to hide if I didn't know where I was hiding.

My shoelaces whipped at the backs of my ankles, urging me forward. Rain-drenched, I ran. I had felt the venom of desperation before, but never of this caliber -this was its purest form. It tasted of whiskey. I 'd never been fond of whiskey. The branches of the fir trees scraped against my cheeks and I forced myself to feel each individual needle. I deserved as much. His voice laughed “Come find me” amongst the trees, echoing throughout the forest. It was a wet winter, as wet as one would think a winter could be with Washington 's climate. I slipped on the moss coated roots and sliced my right cheek on a jagged rock. By midnight, it would all be over.

She took a quick look around the last turn before the main street that led to the school. She noticed several boys and girls in the alleyways on both sides of the narrow street. It looked as if every class at her school, several young ladies and even her teacher waited for her in ambush. She ducked back before they could see her, hiked up her dress, and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her in the opposite direction of the angry mob. She didn’t stop until she had found the forest path that she needed and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard no one in pursuit. The forest surroundings felt different for some reason and it frightened her. It had a forbidding feel to it this dawn like she had never felt in the past.

He counted to ten, took another deep breath and set off running, every step taking him deeper into the emptiness of the wilderness. His long legs rapidly eating up the ground beneath him, digging his heels into the soft undergrowth. He was in for a long journey, every step of it alone. The cuts on his wrist stung as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of

Her breath shown in the cold moist air of the lake side. She quickened her pace, dashing from one underbrush to the next, twigs and branches scratching at her face as if begging for her to take them away with her from this wretched land, her breathing became increasingly vigorous. Her limbs grew heavy as more and more mud started to cling to her boots as if also wanting to go with her and the distance she had to cover seemed to become more and more. She started to think she couldn’t go on anymore, except for one reason and one reason only. The warm infant wrapped in blankets and cloth started to become heavier and heavier in her arms as she felt her body starting to fail her. But she couldn’t stop she had to get her baby to safety. As the sound of dogs barking and the hooves of horses and the screams of soldiers yelling,” She went this way!” “No this way!” The ever growing thought of are they going to find me, did I do all this just to get

My heart began to race faster than a cheetah, my legs were numb, and I couldn’t tell whether or not I was actually running. The feeling of the crisp and hot summer air quickly entering my lungs felt rough, while the air was escaping even faster. As I struggle to look behind to see if he was close enough to get me I tried to exclaim while trying to grasp some air for my lungs, “Xouse, he’s gaining, on us, come on!”. As the hot asphalt burnt the bottom of my shoes off, I continued running into the alley of two apartment complexes as my cousin followed. I looked at Xouse, I saw the agony on his face, my vision went blurry, next thing I knew I was standing in front of a wall, with nowhere to go. I looked back to see if we were finally safe, and then I knew, I should have never left the by myself.

Memory is defined as "the persistence of learning over time through the storage and retrieval of information." Our memory can be compared to a computer's information processing system. To remember an event we need to get information into our brain which is encoding, store the information and then be able to retrieve it. The three-stage processing model of Richard Atkinson and Richard Shiffrin suggests that we record information that we want to remember first as a fleeting sensory memory and then it is processed into a short term memory bin where we encode it ( pay attention to encode important or novel stimuli) for long-term memory and later retrieval. The premise for the three step process is that we are unable to focus on too much

Memories of a Personal Event The door slammed shut. I wasn't sure what I was going to hear. To be