Personal Narrative Analysis

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.

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.

I lost a job and did not find another one for several months. Once I did and tried to come back I was in 2 different car wrecks with the injuries and pain I was in there was no way I would have been able to complete successfully any of my classes or have them done in a timely fashion the concussion I suffered prevented me from remembering a lot of the time as well as the pain medications in which I was placed on. I tried again once I felt fine enough to go back and then I had health issues which required me to go in for surgery not once but twice. During that time I was not able to complete the classes as well in a timely fashion not only could I not lift my arms above my head but I needed help to assist me to be able to move about and therapy

Making cautious decisions are very critical right now; I have no choice but to get to higher ground because there are six people left in the game including my teamate and I. We are pushing to a moutain when suddenly we hear gunshots coming from our southeast. I yell at my teammate tell him that there is two enemys to our north and one to our southeast. We come to an agreement that we are going to push the hill to our west to take the higher ground but the enemy is playing with perfect tactics to make sure that he pushes us with great force. I could tell that the person we were faceing was great at the game and played at a very high skill level. As I am running to the mountian to the west, my teammate decides he wants to face the person that

After reading, I thought about the mental health continuum and how fear, the root of anxiety, was such a universal part of the human experience. While creating the piece I thought about how anxiety blurs out reality, trapping the individual in a swirl of fearfulness and intense worries. It is not considered pathological to be a “worry wart” or a “scardey-cat.” The problem is not the presence of fear, instead it is the overwhelming, debilitating, and persistence of those fears and worries.

To my mind velocity isn’t as significant, as the weight and size of the projectile. The larger and heavier the projectile, the less deflection. That is why the larger pistol calibers are preferable. I possess no experience with bonded bullets. However, I can see how they would be a better option in shooting through laminated windscreens, if the manufacturing process claim is correct that the design will control expansion, have higher weight retention, and deeper penetration. FMJ shares some of these characteristics and therefore in theory at least, if not in practice lesser fragmentation when hitting the windshield and in turn penetration into the vehicle.

I’ve heard how NYU is a hard place for undergraduates to adapt. They face depression and loneliness. The independence that is needed in this college is too much for them and they crack. But the reason why I’m not scared is because I know I can fit into this aura because I live without my parents 5 days a week and I know how to deal with such problems. Plus I love the pace of the college, I love the weather, the people, the cars and the incessant noise.

On a cloudy summer day in July, my mom, brother, his girlfriend, and I were hiking near the Appalachian trail in South Carolina, and at the first resting point on the mountain my mom and my brother’s girlfriend wanted to stop, their legs were noodles and were not convinced that they could to make it to the top, but my brother and I wanted to witness the view from the top of the mountain, to gazing upon the hills and windy roads we had traveled to get to the bottom of the mountain.

Robert and his father had enjoyed hiking and camping out together ever since robert was old enough to walk. Their favorite hiking trail was the Appalachian trail which stretches from Maine to Georgia. They had never walked that far of course but enjoyed the section of the trail that passed through their part of Pennsylvania.

Throughout my life, I have been exceedingly fortunate to have countless opportunities available to me. However, some of the numerous opportunities given to me, I have been unable to participate in due to the expense. I grew up in a middle class family, consisting of my father, mother, brother, and me, in which we lived paycheck to paycheck. The was barely any room for extra costs, such as tumbling and amusement parks. My father did not go to college, but graduated high school and received his General Education Diploma; my mother graduated from San Diego State University with her bachelor's degree in child development. Both work at mediocre jobs, not paying the best.

High school, I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember going to football practice and rushing home to finish my homework. I remember hanging out with my friends and joking around with each other during lunch time, and I remember stressing out over the test I didn’t study for. My junior year of high school however, is when things started to change for me. I became interested in furthering my education and began preparing myself for college. One morning, I went to school and met with the college counselor, to find out how to apply to colleges. She took out a sheet of paper and made a checklist for me. On that list, were the letters SAT, or ACT test scores. I asked her about it, and to my surprise, these were my “golden tickets” as she put

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.

My back locked as I stretched it to it’s furthest point, but I aligned my shoulders flat to appear a precious few inches taller. The eyes in my head darted left and right and fluttered around the field keeping everything in check as I nervously shoved air through the behemoth of a horn in my hands that only seemed to grow larger as time passed. Gliding across field as if I were on ice was the least of my worry, as at this point in the season I began to focus on other details; the direction my shoulders faced, what angle my horn was tilted to, and even how dynamic I played. Seven and a half minutes must have seemed longer than an eternity during the show, but when I look back to it, the best shows are the ones I don’t remember.

I used to hear all the time when I was young that time flies and before you know it that you will be an adult. Of course, my young naive self, brushed this off and acted as if I was one of Peter Pan’s lost boys who will never grow up. I went through life and before I knew it I was a junior in high school, at first it seemed like just another year of high school but once I started attending all of these college fair events was when It had just begun to sink in that, maybe just maybe I was gradually transitioning into an adult. One of the first times it hit me that I was no longer a child was in March of 2015. Spring break at the Albany Academies, most kids spent this two week vacation in florida or the Caribbean, but me no I decided that I would visit colleges. But this time I didn’t have my mom and dad to hold my hands for me, I was essentially on my own. Not entirely because I had a very close family friend that was living in the Philadelphia area where there was a multitude of colleges that I was interested in. So I hopped on a train and was on my way to Philadelphia.

Have you ever felt that feeling, that surge of pain that zips through your pinky toe after stubbing it against a piece of furniture. That agonizing sensation that makes you cry and laugh at the same time, is what outrages me the most. It happens at the most random times too, you’ll be walking to the kitchen and all of a sudden every bone in your body implodes. There are times where I just lie there for twenty minutes thinking about how stupid I was to let this happen. As humans, we think we are so aware of our surroundings until that moment; at that moment we lose all sense of control. I ask myself every time, “How did you let it happen again!?” and “Why is that chair there!?”. There’s absolutely nothing you can do about it because it sneaks