Personal Narrative Analysis

This is my first online class. I will be graduating next fall with my associates in Human Services. I have enjoyed all of my classes over the last couple of years, except Math. I am not a great Math student.

I always had trouble making friends. I was socially awkward, misunderstood almost every cue from my peers, and too clumsy for my own good. By the age of 9, I knew it would be exponentially harder to build a relationship with others. My parents started the process of divorcing each other, placing me in the mediator position. During this time, I was forced to help raise my younger sister and manage the household while my father worked. Instead of doing elementary school workbooks, I balanced checkbooks. Rather than trying to understand vocabulary words from novels, I had to figure out legal terms. I stopped trying to connect with my teachers and my only friend. I became closed off from other people, but more importantly, myself.

Seventeen years ago on a frigid mid-November morning, I came into this world with an opportunity-filled life ahead of me. Throughout my journey, my family has been a warm blanket of guidance and support with my successes and my defeats. They have molded me into a fun-sized bundle of joy with golden-blonde locks and lively green eyes. My childhood memories were filled with the toasty white, sandy beaches of Florida along with the magical world of Disney and scavenger hunt birthday parties that were simply unforgettable.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve spoken two languages. Russian and English both flow from the tongue effortlessly, without a second thought I can switch into either or. I was fortunate enough to be raised this way, and until I started school, I never knew there was anything different about me.

I always used to think I never had anything special, that I was just a normal human being. I would attempt playing sports, playing an instrument, but nothing would really click. It wasn’t until at around the age of twelve I finally found something I could do and actually prosper in. I was placed in an art class where I not only surprised myself but others around me as well. Thanks to this new found talent I was able to find something special inside me that would help me stand out from the crowd. My new love for this activity didn't fully grow until I was spontaneously given the amazing opportunity to help paint a mural on the front of a Thai restaurant downtown. With the help of a bunch of my friends, we would brainstorm ideas of what we should

From 1999 to early 2004, my life in Guamuchil, Sinaloa, was a routine one. I was born to two hard working parents, constantly surrounded by family as most of us lived within short walking distance of each other. This routine life, however, was turned upside down when my dad was laid off from his job. After years of financially struggling and contemplating our family’s future, my dad’s job loss was the push that finally motivated my parents to relocate us in hopes of a better life. Being a five-year old, I didn’t completely understand what our move meant until I found myself in a strange country with an equally strange language. Once I began school, my constant frustration was not being able to communicate with the other children. Making friends

Cheeks burning, I re-adjusted my grip on the synthetic plastic ridges and twisted. My classmate looked on in amusement as exertion painted my forehead and fingers a bright cherry red, only for my digits to slip off the now sweaty cap.

As we sat around the table draped in burlap to mimic the infamous movie Footloose, we waited impatiently for the cart of senior letters to come our way; the agitation of when they were going to be distributed was apparent in all of the students’ faces. We were served a hardy Chick-fil-A breakfast, entertained by a skit put on by the faculty and staff and were awaiting the tear-filled happiness of reading letters our classmates had written to us. For my senior letters, I simply printed photos that captured the essence of the friendship shared between myself and the addressed friend. Included on the back was a short, cute note recalling memories that we had shared and endless laughs that resulted in tummy aches. I didn’t really see the importance

Some of my first memories usually involve school in some way. School is a huge part of my life. Growing up in my family, I was always pushed to try really hard in school. That was never a problem because I had an internal driving force pushing me to try harder than expected of me. As I grew older, I was expected to preform well in order to get into college. However, this was a new thing asked of someone in my family. Neither one of my parents went to college, my sister and one of my older brothers didn’t get to finish high school, and my other older brother got into college but ended up not attending. When I ended up getting accepted into Columbus State for post secondary, it was a big deal to everyone in my family.

When you upload a video to Youtube, Google attempts to transcribe the speech into subtitles, usually with comedic consequences. I am able to add the correct subtitles at the correct times of the videos.

I was born on the third of March, 2000, three months before Eritrea broke away from Ethiopia. Ethiopia annexed Eritrean in the late 1960s. Long story short, those nations started to fight over land and see. They had ongoing fights for about 30 years until a major war broke out in 1998 which lasted 2 years. In May, 1991, Eritrea had gained its independence from Ethiopia; however, the fight didn't stop there. In May of 2000 Eritrea was officially separated from Ethiopia. Since then, Eritrea and Ethiopia government haven't reunited yet. During the war, villagers had to leave their land and flee to the urban areas; the battle took place in most of those people's land. My farmer uncle had to move in to our house with his kids and his wife who had just given birth to baby

It is hard to believe it has been two years since I retired after 37 years as an educator. After the initial withdrawal questions that I am sure most retirees experience such as what was I thinking to quit a perfectly good job; what will they do without me; what will I do without the daily interactions with people on the job; how will we pay the bills; and what will I do with all this free time; I finally came to grips with being a “has been” and moved on to being a “whatever I what to be." It took some time, but I came to realize there is more to life than a “perfectly good job” that requires 12 to 14 hour work days; I learned to accept they, the job, will get along just fine if not better without me; I still miss the job specific interactive

If you had told me a few years ago that I would get on my bike and ride to a different state, and all for a soda and some fries from McDonalds, I would have told you that was ludicrous. No-one would ever commute that far for something so trivial. And yet just last year, I would do exactly that.

Speculate a moment: can the universe be justly called infinite? I doubt it. It may not have a perceivable end, but it had a beginning. And its constituent parts certainly have a limited cosmological shelf life. Just like the universe, with so much for us to look forward to, can our potential truly be considered limitless? Perhaps we relate closer to that of comets, sauntering about space till we reach our subsequent conclusion either burning up or colliding with something larger. If anything, we always end up somewhere.

At the young undeveloped age of 17 I decided to be independent. However at the age of 17 I also learned that I wasn't ready to be independent. Being still in high school, and not meeting eye to eye with my family created a sense of direction that I believed I could attain. What most people don't do until college or even after college, I had done. I managed to move out in a impulsive manner. Statistically, most people move out between the ages of 18-25, I convinced myself that one year wouldn't make a real difference, it was only a year, or so I imagined.