Personal Narrative Analysis

I am a proud San Francisco native, whose parents come from Mexico and Guatemala. Due to housing opportunities, my family moved from San Francisco to the Peninsula, where we eventually rented a house in South San Francisco. South San Francisco is what I consider to be home and my community. I grew up in a Mexican, single-parent household with my mother and brother. Alongside my mother, I witnessed and experienced at an early age sexism, racism, and poverty. My mother was discriminated against the majority of her life not only because she was a woman, but a Mexican woman at that. Many times, she was unable to get a decent, living-wage job and had to repeatedly settle for low-paying jobs as a house-cleaner, babysitter, and even selling water filters door-to-door. I remember playing with the newest toys only when my mom

Me just like any other human being make mistakes we’re not perfect, but we’re all special in our own ways. Something I feel makes me special is that at a very young age i started playing sports. I now consider myself an athlete. That makes me feel special because not everyone is capable of having to do school work and play sports during school. Sports have also showed me discipline. Another thing that it showed me was how to take leadership and help others.

Throughout one’s lifetime, it is almost guaranteed that he or she has heard the saying “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” This saying is pretty self-explanatory, and it is extremely helpful in multiple scenarios, especially in times of struggle. From a young age, I have always been a cheerleader. Recently, circumstances have changed causing me to question my abilities. I have numerous personal experiences throughout my life that illustrate this saying; however, this one is the most recent.

I have learned throughout the years that I am a person who gets nervous easily. Whether it is a speech, difficult test, or sports game I can count on the fact that I will be nervous, no matter the context. For me there are two things that I constantly worry about in these situations; the many possible bad outcomes, and the hype that comes before any of these situations. For example, when I was younger and had to go get a shot I would always stress about it leading all the way up to the shot. My mom would always say that the build-up is worse than the actual event. But, by over exaggerating the pain I thought I would feel, I validated my claim that shots are stressful. She was right, the shot and the accompanying pain were gone in ten minutes.

What makes me feel most successful? Setting a goal, working towards it, and seeing what I have hoped for become a part of my reality. Most people apply this thinking to things that considered universally important, like getting their dream job or investing and growing their money. I agree that these are important in life but I like to balance the practical things in life with the things that excite me. For me, nothing is more exciting that going fast which is why one of my most significant accomplishments in life to date was buying my Mustang GT.

Travelling throughout the dirt roads in the green state of Michoacan, Juan Cabezas Jr. expected a pleasant afternoon. He is a carpenter who travels from village to village often taking roads isolated throughout the countryside, but on this sunny day with spotted clouds in the sky he expected what any other human being would expect, a calm day, he was wrong. As he drove along the road, he thought he was alone, but he soon began to see a convoy of large Ford pickup trucks. The convoy then began to snake in front of his car eventually bringing him to a hault. Men in ski masks armed with what seemed like American made rifles, handguns, even grenade launchers. A man soon approached my cousin Juan telling him to keep his head down because these men

One of the most physically painful days in my entire life was March 10th, 2015. That morning I woke up with my side aching. As the day progressed it continued to get worse. The more I worried the worse the pain got. After many hours waiting at the Emergency room, the doctors came to the conclusion, I had appendicitis.

“the strongest people are not those who show strength in front of us but those who win battles we know nothing about.” This is a quote I have recently found and it has opened my eyes up to the fact that there are over seven million different and extraordinary people living in the world today. Every one of them has endured hardships, made tough choices, and been influenced by other people around them their whole lives. I know this is true because I have been on my own journey since the day I was born three thousand miles away in Guatemala city.

Thirty- seven, the total number of minutes I walked to school at five in the morning on April 12, 2011. That night was the first time I called 911 for my mother. That night was the first time my younger sister and I found out our mother had stage III stomach cancer. I had no one to turn to, my father was abusive and I was never close with my relatives. Being the tender age of sixteen, I was unable to process what was happening. I recall walking to school, so I could confide in my tenth grade English teacher. At a time where my world was upside down, ripped apart, and burned alive, Ms. Chu was my rock.

I had grown tired of the glances I received on the train that lasted too long and broke as soon as I dared reciprocate. I couldn't fathom the fascination with watching a stranger simply sit on the train or complete a routine however, I was compelled to make an effort to understand the fixation. The next time I boarded train I was no longer simply a commuter hoping for a brief train ride independent from nameless commuters. I was an analyst on a freelance mission to disclose the reasoning behind the fixation on the mannerisms of the population. I took out my headphones, put away my book and for an hour I sat and observed, I watched the girl who couldn't stop biting her nails, a man who looked like all the coffee in the world couldn't prepare

I was born a flimsy, colorful piece of paperboard. I still remember unknown figures supplanting the empty spaces in my body with vital chocolate organs. The rest was just a blur. I woke up about a week later in a drug store. All I saw was a barren aisle with nothing, but people similar to me. Then, I saw a child jumping and pointing, at me! His mom spotted me as well and grabbed me. I fainted and woke up later secured to a wall. But then, something ghastly happened. The child opened one of my flaps and ate one of my organs. I felt violated; some may say exposed. I thought this behavior was over, but it didn’t stop. Day after day this child incessantly consumed parts of me I would never have again. This needed to stop, but it never would. For

hanging out with my family because I had not yet made any friends. When school started by the end of the first day I had quite a few friends. After seventh and eighth grade I started my high school days at Loveland High School. As a kid I moved around a lot, from small towns to big cities. It sucked as a kid, but in the long run it was good for my social skills. The earliest memory I have of moving is when I was going to kindergarten in fort collins and we moved to scottsbluff nebraska which is where I was born.

“You cannot discover new oceans until you have the courage to lose sight of the shore.”

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

I was nine years old when my father passed away. The death of my father no doubtfully circled a list of negative affects around my family and me, yet a modicum of positive aspects shimmered in eventually, making the dark room just a little brighter. Following the incident, my mother decided to move out of Montreal; our home at the time, and move halfway across the country, to Victoria, BC.