Personal Narrative Analysis

Walking the overgrown paths in the expansive woods behind my house, I tried again to escape the claustrophobia of the cul-de-sac and the boredom of a small town. The forest was my sanctuary, and I walked knowing every rock, root, and bush. Then suddenly, it was different. My eyes hit the familiar clearing ahead, and I launched into a sprint through the underbrush, leaping up and over the barbed wire-topped rock wall. Landing with a whoop of delight, I eyed the novelty, a huge, brown steer, staring back at me. Molten joy turned to icy fear, and the steer began to charge. Thirty seconds of terror later, I noticed two things as I heaved against a maple tree: my now dung-covered shoes were ruined, and my curiosity was finally piqued.

Once upon a time, there was an illegal immigrant named Rosa she came from a poor family and her mother left her when she was 4 years old for another man.

All my life, my main goal was (and still is) to move out of Wisconsin, say goodbye to the negative fifty degree winters, and explore the world. Looking for a career that incorporates my love for traveling and my intrest of Business has always sounded like a dream.Going to new, exotic places has always been a significant part in my life. After all, my first trip was when I was eight months old to Turks and Caicos. Throughout time, our family traveled to most of the Caribbean, I was infatuated with everything about these countries. At the age of ten, I started taking online Spanish courses.In the past year, I started to learn my third language, Italian. Learning a language takes a strong memory, from memorizing the spelling to all the forms the word has to be in.

Jumping about two years ahead now, I have graduated high school; I think I am going to get a job and stay home at home to take a year off of school. A week before college classes were scheduled to start, I signed a letter of intent, packed the car and drove to Williston, North Dakota. While in North Dakota, I was to play softball for the Williston State College Tetons; or so I thought.Within the first two months, I had proved myself one of the best players on the team. However with injuries and asthma holding me back, I was called to speak with the coach one day. The conversation consisted of a general consensus between herself and the assistant coach, that I was not a good teammate on or off the field and I was to return my uniform and my gear before dinner. This moment marks my journey to the dark side; on this day I lost any faith I had. Skipping ahead a couple of months, I came home for Christmas and managed to find myself again; through family, friends, and my spiritual leader. As much as it hurt to bite my own tongue, I typed the most passionate and appropriate letter I could to the coach, explaining why I should be brought back to the team. Leaving

A time that I faced a challenge was my junior year in high school. This was my hardest year academically. I felt as if three out of my five classes were impossible to pass (the other two being electives). It seemed like no matter how hard I studied or how much tutoring I received, there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Going from a straight A student with an occasional B here and there to then being in the low B range killed me. I stressed myself out tremendously over grades to where it became unhealthy. I would have migraines daily. I would come home, go straight to my room and dwell on the fact that I had no idea how to start my homework let alone complete it. I would sit there, depressed, crying my eyes out because I had nowhere to

If this was my introduction, I would change the last sentence in the first paragraph. There are too many "we", so I would integrate the sentence in a "we", or separate the sentence.

Imagine a world where people don’t have a say in what they want to do. They do not choose what they get to do because their gift of personal freedom is nonexistent. They can’t choose their own classes, friends, sports, etc. I love having the option of choosing what I get to do, and if I didn’t get my own personal freedom with wrestling, music, or hunting, I would rebel.

The summer before my sophomore year, my cross country coach challenged our team to run 400 miles over the summer in preparation for the oncoming season. Numerous athletes on our team participated, including myself. Equating to running over four miles a day, it was not going to be effortless, however the challenge sparked a drive for success in me, and I was determined to satisfy that drive. In the final weeks, I grew excited as the finish drew near, and I eclipsed the 400 mile mark with a day to spare. Success soon followed, as for the first time our coach could remember, our team won our home meet. Overall, we were much more competitive as a team that year, and it was a fantastic experience. Partaking in those experiences again was something

I can’t remember falling, but I know that I did because by the time I come to it’s already gone dark outside and my near-sighted worldview’s been gauzed by that seventh shot of Wild Turkey, and that’s when I start feel the nullifying grasp of the Alaskan winter take hold. Who would’ve thought it? A backwater kid from steamy ol’ Missisip come to die way up in the icebox of Juneau, Alaska; I’d like to think that that must be what they mean when they talk about irony and poetic justice and all that.

I have always been amazed by the incredible ability of one’s brain. We can’t live without it, but it is also a pain to live with it due to it’s ability to create random, depressing scenarios in our brain that worsen our already stressed out mood. As a child, I was afraid of failure, criticism and most importantly, others’ judgments due low self-esteem and my lack of self-confidence.

White-water rafting here we come, yes, the whole family and I are vacationing in Colorado and the kids are pumped they’re now old enough to join in on their first trip down the thrilling San Miguel River (we have twin boys and they just turned 10-years old and that the minimum age requirement for this beginner, but challenging trip and they’re committed to pulling their weight by participating in the demanding paddling that is required), of course it gives us peace of mind to know we’ll have a professional guide assisting us as we maneuver our way through the wild rapids for about 3-hours worth of a long lasting memory.

I was really busy this summer the first thing I did this summer was go fishing with my cousin and my aunt’s boyfriend. The biggest fish was a huge 18 inch bass also I caught with that was about 30 other fish by myself. It was a long day we was on the boat for about 4 to 5 hours I was starving after the end of that.

Up until I was thirteen, I had been in the same school district and had been in classes with the same kids since preschool. Then between the ages of thirteen and fifteen my family and I moved three different times between two states. In that short amount of time, I had to learn to adapt to teaching methods, school rules and the type of peers I encountered at every new school I attended. I believe I am fortunate for these experiences because I never knew how hard it was for me to adapt to unfamiliar situations until we moved and it became necessary for me to do so. I struggled at the first school a lot and hardly had any friends, due to cultural differences between the rural Wisconsin town that I was from, and the poverty and drug stricken reservation that I had moved to.

Growing up in the small town of New Castle, Colorado, my family and I remained very close. We spent the majority of our time together, working and playing around the small ranch my parents owned. My sister and I were just 3 years apart, and my brother joined our family much later. Being 9 and 12 years younger than his sisters, he began his journey much differently than ours. He was spoiled rotten by his sisters while he was young, and when we graduated and moved into college, he was granted the ‘only child’ role. Though this began in a very exciting manner, it became somewhat lonely. My sister and I came back on every break, but it didn’t compare to our childhood days of spending every evening and every weekend sharing the household chores

On my first year of the second semester in Valencia College at building five in the middle of a Monday night during the cold winter. As I was waiting for my ride sitting there at my usual spot nearby the door nothing, but silence in this building where the bookstore and cafeteria was closed after I was done with my night classes. No one was around nothing, but silence only my music blasting out loud through my headphones. Suddenly a girl is walking towards to the building that I am in. As she got in the building she was wearing a black leather jacket, red cloth beanie, red scarf around her neck tied up like a knot and warm boots. She was on the phone which I did not try to make a conversation with her because that would be rude. Even though