Personal Narrative Analysis

From the moment I was able to tie my shoes and button my jacket, I knew I wanted to be a doctor. While all my classmates at the La Petite Academy made macaroni trees and smiley faces, I drew myself with a stethoscope curing a poor man with the cold. Every year in elementary school, we had career day. Never straying from my love to helping others I wanted to be a surgeon one year, to a dentist the next, and even an obstetrician, I changed my mind quickly once I found out what they did. Looking back on my childhood, I always had a connection with animals and always loved being around them. Early mornings I would open our nearly frozen-shut windows listening to the birds calling. Beside from the squawking of the crows, I heard a soft, pleasant yet curious bird call. It stuck out to me

I was convinced at one point in my life that I wouldn't graduate high school, let alone get a college degree. I grew up in a broken home, where there was physical, emotional, mental, and sexual abuse. This all had a tremendous affect on me as a young girl, well into my teenage years, and early adult hood, and significantly impacted the choices I made for myself at the time. I moved out of my home at the age of 15 after my mother remarried, I went to live with a friend which I thought at that time was a great idea. It wasn't long after that I began smoking marijuana, doing cocaine, drinking and taking rohypno. I was hanging out with all the wrong people, and I stopped going to school for over a month my junior year. One morning after I had drank

Kevin and I stepped into a whole new world in the fall of 2009. We began our degree program at Emmanuel School of Religion, which is now called Emmanuel Christian Seminary. We were working on our Masters of Arts and Religion. I was excited and nervous about going back to college. Our first day was terrifying. Kevin and I attended orientation the week prior to classes starting. There was a definite realization this academic program was going to be a challenge. However, I wanted a challenge. On the first day of class, we started with Greek. Our professor was Dr. Marwede. He opened the class with a test. He came over to my chair first and handed me a paper with a list of Greek words on it. My immediate reaction was shock, which Dr. Marwede realized I was overwhelmed by the look on my face. He told the class we could take it home as homework. Many of the students in the Greek class had previous experience with Greek; however, Kevin and I had no knowledge at all. We were overwhelmed. We were assigned five chapters and told to return the next day for a quiz with our homework.

Growing up, my parents and I always took the time to read stories together. Before bed, before school, while playing with dolls in the bathtub. Fiction and nonfiction stories alike taught me about both the physical, literal world around me, and the world I could create in my own mind when I needed to find comfort. It was through the works of fiction, however, that I learned despite the hardships of life, I could disappear into a world I could mold however I pleased.

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.

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.

Through the rattling trees, my bloody eyes exploded, my body trembled and my lips grew dry. I felt a sudden numbness through my rushing blood and a murmur in the center of my body that made me collapse down to my knees. I hesitantly turned my head to the sight of the monstrous golden beast that was about ready to destroy and gush my intestines.It was at this moment that I realized the value of life and the aesthetic feeling I grew in my heart after this event. My mind rushed with chaos as I tried to figure out how to escape the attack of a defensive grizzly bear that stood by my side. My mind went into a temporary shock, a blank state, I thought of nothing but the dangerous predator. Her mouth bubbling, claws expanded and teeth shining in hunger, the feral beast gave me a second chance in life. My perspective on life and everything that I valued changed within a split second. I cherished every grain of sand found on the floor to every mountain that scraped the horizons of the clouds. The Sequoia National Park not only impacted me as a person but as a writer as

Growing up I had always been into action sports from riding BMX bikes, racing dirt bikes, snowboarding all the way to boogie boarding hurricane sized waves at the Jersey Shore. I loved it all. I will always remember watching Tony Hawk jump over a car on his skateboard at Six Flags. As a kid, watching professionals do unimaginable tricks sparked something inside of me.

- My older brother and sister were good students and they read a lot outside of the classroom so that really encouraged me to read and develop my own skills so that I could read what they were reading.

On the third week of a Trail Maintenance crew I did in the white mountains my mental and physical capabilities were put to breaking point. Our groups usual routine of lounging around on the weekend was going to change, we were going to embark on a Leave No Trace. A two day backpacking trip where we expand our knowledge on outdoor ethics. We loaded up our packs with supplies and then packed the van with our bags and departed.

I found this narrative interesting because I can relate to the speaker. We were both raised in religious families and read the Bible when we were young. The speaker talked about how reading the King James Version of the Bible helped her to better understand Shakespeare, which is something I strongly believe is true. Listening to her talk about sitting on her couch reading the Bible before she was even in school made me nostalgic of my own childhood. My mom has always been an avid reader who pushed me to read books when I was young. My mom entered me in a summer reading program at our public library every summer; this is one other thing I found that I have in common with the speaker, whose parents encouraged reading. I loved reading when I was

I usually worry about… everything. If one little thing happens then I freak out about it. I overthink a lot of things and that does not help. It usually takes me a long time to settle down after I start to worry.

I walked in to the cold, gray room looking from wall to wall seeing daunting medical instruments waiting to be used, and I glance over to my left hearing a whisper saying that everything is alright. On Monday, February 22, 2011, I entered the hospital as a panicked ten year old girl waiting to have Dr. Geissler remove the tumor out of my upper left arm. My mother and father were waiting in the lounge praying to God that everything will be alright, and that the tumor was benign not malignant. My two older sisters were at school trying to hold back their tears when saying their intention today was to pray that my surgery will run smoothly. I tried not to think about what was approaching rather to remember last night when my family celebrated

I understand the reasons why I was not admitted; There are others with better scores, higher grades, finer essays, but I believe the circumstances that I had to endure through the past four years were not adequately expressed in my application. Having a terminally ill parent meant I was never able to be just a student. Homework started when visiting hours ended. While everyone was able to focus on their school work, sports or social lives, I spent my summers being a caretaker for my mom. I never thought that after 12 years of sickness everything would end; I had that gut feeling, but I always hoped it was wrong. I hoped that after all the pain, tears and heartbreak that my family faced over and over again that we would be able to have that

I am so grateful for an unexpected day off to be able to get my life in order. When the week begins, I'm in absolute "go" mode. I must admit I don't like the feeling. There's a sense of anxiety that comes along with it and I can totally do without it. Today, I've become increasingly aware of how dangerous it is to be mentally somewhere else. There's a beauty and an ease that comes with staying in the moment and focusing on what's on your plate at that moment. I'm a total proponent for goal-setting and love doing that. However, we can't get so focused on where we're going that we don't appreciate and enjoy where we are. With that being said, here are my goals for this week! :)