My Personal Experience In My Life

Writing about myself, is honestly the hardest thing anyone has ever asked me to do. My life has been filled with great opportunities; I have been able to see parts of the world; and meet some interesting people along the way. In doing so, seeing the world has given me a great perspective on myself, it

What provokes a person to write about his or her life? What motivates us to read it? Moreover, do men and women tell their life story in the same way? The answers may vary depending on the person who answers the questions. However, one may suggest a reader elects to read an autobiography because there is an interest. This interest allows the reader to draw from the narrator's experience and to gain understanding from the experience. When the reader involves him/herself in the experience, the reader encounters what is known and felt by the narrator. The encounter may provide the reader an opportunity to explore a

Writing acts as a vessel that allows one to express themselves in their own way. When one writes of personal accounts, they allow their heart and soul come out. They feel as though they have the ability to feel and say anything. Hopefully one may find personal satisfaction in their ability to communicate clearly and effectively using the written word.

“Writers end up writing about their obsessions. Things that haunt them; things they can’t forget; stories they carry in their bodies waiting to be released.” -Natalie Goldberg. As a writer, that’s one of the most relatable quotes I’ve come across. I tell my stories through someone else. My hopes, fears, past, and unrealistic dreams. I adore writing from past experiences and adventures I wish were real. I use to bottle things up. Then I discovered writing as a solution to express what’s rushing through my mind. Being bold with each word I peak onto the page. Writing has even guided me to becoming more outspoken. However I used to be even more timid than I am today.

There is a lot to say about a person and it seems very easy when someone else is the narrator or writer of that story. I have learned to admire all the writers out there that at some point in their lives, decide to write an autobiography. Writers have the ability to be storytellers, to create magic with their words and to inspire us to be imaginative; but it must be tough to sit down and tell their own life story. I have to confess that with the same passion I admire them, I cannot help but wonder: what inspired them to write about themselves? How did they start? Did they question the worth of the words as they typed them? Did they judge themselves in the process? How many times did they think about stopping? Did writing about himself or herself

I even wrote about family and friends. My life story had become a book. If the audience can understand my past adventures and experiences, then they too will feel a connection to my writings. As I dug deeper in my life experience ’s I realized that my audience may have been in my shoes in a few of these moments.

My altered views of personal writing and self-disclosure have changed the way I read, write, and teach personal essays. I’ve gained a heightened awareness of the power of personal essays that disclose – the way we can gain valuable insight and access to empathy, the impact of voices that may otherwise be silenced, the true connection that comes from identification and understanding when we read the words of someone who has similar experiences, thoughts, hopes, dreams, or pain. There are long-term – and likely very important – effects of the personal writing that we will be writing today and reading tomorrow. At a time when personal narrative holds such power – power to persuade, to illustrate, and to garner traffic on websites – it’s vital that we start having a different conversation about the personal essay. And in the new conversation, I argue, we have to start with disclosure.

Writing an autobiography is like getting to know myself in a different way. I have learned not so much about my self, but also the world and events during the year I was born. 2001, was a big and tragic year. Mostly known, the 9/11 where I was born exactly before a month of this event happening was very unbelievable. I can’t stress enough how terroist have affected our world greatly. I learned the time, the weight and my birth hospital. Also, learning where my family history and that my parents were both the first of their families to come to America was very cool!

Even though I am shy, it is easier to talk about myself than doing research on something; though what I was writing about was difficult to talk about for me. It was an easy paper to write because it was from memory; I experience first hand. Like the prompt for Project One said, “the old adages states that you should write what you know.” The old adages is right, Project One was not effortless, but because I was writing what I know it did make the writing go by easier. I am also most proud of it because I surprised myself in being able to write about that time of my life considering I try my best to forget about it most days. This in unlike Project Four, which has given me the most trouble to write. Researching was hard and it was a lot of information to try and put together. This was also kind of my first real extensive paper that I have had to write. I literally spent hours at my computer just looking at a blank document and internally crying because I was just so

I am not a writer. I hate writing, I would rather Jump out of a airplane and I am scared of heights then write a story. I like to tell stories but I don't like to write one. I don't like to write stuff about me. I would write something fake like fiction but I'm not good at it.

Overall the personal narrative was very time consuming and thought provoking. As someone who prefers writing papers based on logic and facts, it was difficult for me to creatively talk about myself. The hardest part of this assignment was showing the reader what was going on instead of telling them. Telling a story about myself from my own perspective made it tough to explain how I felt in certain situations. Assuming the reader knew how I felt, I’m sure I left out many details that could of improved my story. I also struggled with characterization throughout the writing process. Making the people in my narrative come to life proved to be quite difficult. On the contrast, there was absolutely nothing that came easy when writing this paper. Every apect of my narrative took tons of thought and effort. While

When writing about yourself it is about everything you usually want to say but can’t Verbalize. So to tell my story I have to tell a story through my personal experience and I have to bring life to my writing.

My life started like many American boy lives, easy childhood, fun adventures, and an affinity for cars. This charmed life was soon brought to a halt by the introduction to school. Previously the only social interactions were 30 minutes in the park or other gathering where my parents crossed paths with another couple with a child of similar age. This short meet and greet lead to some very weird situations, one that was most memorable encounters were with this 4-year-old, very thin girl at a library. At this particular library, there was a play structure where the parents could drop their kids so they could browse in peace. Having been dropped off, I was promptly greeted by a girl who said with a straight face, “I have a small ass which is good” which threw me off. Being 3 at the time made the situation even weirder. The other problem was at Three I was looking for the truths of the world so I accepted that a small ass was a good thing along with the other very suggestive things she said at 4-year-old. These truths stayed with me for a minimum of 3 years which includes my first year of school.

Everyone’s personality is molded by their life experiences. Good or bad, what you experience in life makes you the person that you are. I am only 17 years old, but I can look back at events that happened over my lifetime and relate them to the person that I am today. I am a caring, positive, driven, grateful and hardworking, sister, friend, teammate and student.

It was the summer before my eighth-grade year. I was thirteen years old and so excited for the upcoming school year. I earned a position on both the mixed and girls select choirs. I loved my school, I had a great group of friends, and life was good; or so I thought. On a muggy 100 degree July afternoon, my dad took my little sister and me on an “outing”. We walked to the nearby Zip- Trip gas station for finger freezing milkshakes. Once we purchased our chilly beverages, we proceeded to walk to Brentwood Park. We sat at a wooden picnic table held together by rusty nails and worn down by time. Etchings of hearts with initials inside covered the table like wrapping paper. The three of us chatted about our vacation to Portland and asked “get-to-know-you” questions. After about half an hour, there was a lull in the conversation and all that could be heard was the slurping of the last drops of cookies ‘n cream milkshakes. That’s when dad said he had some news. He announced that he received a job offer as the dentist on an army base, which was fantastic because he had been wanting to find a new position. Then the bomb dropped. The job was on Kwajalein in the Republic of the Marshall Islands, and I had no clue where that was. We had 2 months to pack up, say our goodbyes, and leave. September 19th, 2013, we embarked on our new adventure. We flew from Washington to Colorado to Hawaii and on the 21st we arrived at Kwajalein. As soon as we stepped off the plane, we were bombarded by