Personal Narrative: A Trip To San Jose

It is not often that you get to wake up to a perfectly painted peach, pink and purple coated sky, witness the feel of a salty sea breeze brush up against your skin or stare out into the atmosphere, trying to figure out at which shade of blue the ocean concludes and where the sky begins. Had this been a few months ago I would be exploring Castle Hill in Budapest, making headway towards the glaciers of Argentine Patagonia or even tasting my way through Greece. But instead, I will pack my bags with a heavy heart to kickoff my expedition to the place that needs me the most. With my ticket in hand, I would board my flight to Houston, Texas.

It was April of 1999. My family was at home. Children were running outside. The asphalt was burning. Cars rolled up to the entrance of the apartments and BANG. I grew up in Stockton, California. Surprisingly, as a minority, I wasn’t really a minority. There were, in fact, a large and diverse population of Asian-Americans. But, Stockton is not the ideal place to live. It was hot and dry, almost to the point of a drought. Stockton was also ranked as the one of the top 5 most dangerous cities in California. So, having a nice and safe family is kind of difficult. Eventually, my family decided to move to Crescent City, California when my dad retired. It was a world of difference. There were trees, plentiful water, and a nice cool temperature. This

San Luis, Colorado is the oldest town in Colorado. The Rio Culebra winds through the valley, surrounded by majestic mountains. It is one of the most beautiful scenes I have ever seen. My family along with many others have been here for generations. The beauty of the land is only accentuated by the beauty of our tight-knit families and culture. To counteract of all the physical and cultural beauty, there is social and economic strife everywhere around me. I live in the poorest county in Colorado and being impoverished is a challenge my community faces because of a lack of education and job deficit. As I have delved into community and family history, I have better understanding that the fact the that while many things like our support and love for family and culture have remain unchanged and untainted, so has the fact that our community struggles

I am one of the following students who had the chance to obtain the South Bay Promise Scholarship. I didn't know about the South Bay Promise, nor the First Year Experience. I am thankful for having such an amazing statistic’s teacher, Mr. Espinoza from Hawthorne High School. When he told

I was born in Modesto ,CA on August 17, 2003 in Modesto hospital . I lived in Atwater ,CA most of my life ,but then I moved to Merced this year. Places that I have visited that feel like home is Watsonville and Santa Cruz. I have been in the same school for 8 years . Also, I have had a separate year in preschool. When I was in preschool I went to a school near Winton ,CA. During my magical 8 years I stayed in Bellevue since kindergarden through 8th grade.

I don’t remember much, I just remember not wanting to leave. The place I would be spending the rest of my life I had only visited a few times. I, only being two at the time, was absolutely terrified of moving. Moving. It seemed like the worst possible thing that could’ve happened then. At first, when we left, it felt the same as the last time I had gone there. Then the realization that I would be gone forever kicked in, and the fact that this time, my dad wasn’t coming with us. Just my mom and I.

It was mid-winter of 1848, I was doing my daily chores when my neighbor brought news that two days earlier, on January 24, James W. Marshall made a discovery of gold on his piece of land in California. At first, I didn’t think that this would affect me in any way, but then I realized I could start a new life in California filled with gold and fortune, away from my small farm in Missouri. I decided to pack up my things and start on my long journey to California, I packed enough food, water, and supplies to last me a few months. The next morning I was surprised to see that not many others from my town were seeking gold, I knew it was unsafe for me to travel alone, but I was sure I’d meet others along the way.

From Mexico to Arizona “Don’t stop, keep going because something great is waiting for us on the other side,” my mother kept reminding me while crossing the desert. Crossing the desert to come to the United States was the hardest thing I had to. This was not optional; it was necessary if we wanted to survive. Crossing the desert is challenging, scary, and tiring

I have lived in two distinct communities: the first was the town of Moraga, the second, is the city of Stockton. The former is the epitome of white picket fence suburbia, with friendly neighbors, a high ranking public school system, and a non-existent crime rate. Growing up in Moraga, I was able to receive a great education, roam around freely, and never feared horrors such as gang shootings and drug abuse. Sadly, when I moved to the latter, most of these horrors were apparent weekly.

Hi, I'm an established freelance writer based in San Diego covering environmental issues in the Southland and beyond. Although it's hard for me to

My brother, my mom, his friend, and I was going to a Vacation for the weekend, driving to San Diego. We've admire and took picture of the sun setting the ocean with the rippling flow and could hear the noise of the ocean fresh breezes, when we got the hotel

There was one severe weather even that had happened during my childhood while growing up in the south tip of Texas. It is an experience I would never forget.

Living in the Rio Grande Valley for most of my life, I’d have to say I was raised in a very loving environment. My family members were never too far away from us, either being directly across the border or being a mile or two away from my house. The thing is is that everything seemed so close, yet so far. Family was close, but everything else was a lot farther, meaning that I’m no stranger to 7 hour flights or forty-five minute drives.

San Jose, hot, sweaty, and huge. This place was rich with culture, and this place would be where I would make it, or break it. I had landed three days before and woke to the gentle shaking from my grandma urging me to wake up. I tossed and turned then, it hit me, it was Day 1 of fighting. I got up and put my thin, white uniform on. After I finished dressing, I stood and stared at my black belt, neatly folded on the hotel room chair. I picked it up, tied it around my waist, and looked at myself in the mirror, this was it… My first Juniors as a black belt. Was I ready? Well, that was the million dollar question, wasn’t it.

There is a huge sense of relaxation and being fulfilled while sitting on the patio with my wife enjoying an adult beverage, the glow of fire radiating from the fire pit. The sound of laughter and the joy on your child’s face while he runs around the grassy area of your backyard. Pretending he has just hit a walk off home run in game 7 of the World Series. Over the last nine months my wife and I have been through the ups and downs of selling and purchasing a home. When we received an offer on our home last spring we experienced a time of excitement and exhilaration. We were getting out of San Tan Valley. Ten days later, the offer fell through and we felt resentment and disbelief. Six months later with a new realtor representing us we had