Personal Narrative Analysis

It was the summer of 2012, my brother Ashton and I were in Hollywood, FL on vacation. We had been fishing since eight in the morning and we were bored out of our minds, so we hopped in a canoe and set off to what is the most thrilling event of my life. We were not prepared physically or mentally for what we were about to encounter.

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 I have had the opportunity to travel and broaden my horizons. I have been blessed with the ability to accumulate to different cultures and environments. From being born in Italy, moving to Japan, and now currently residing in Louisiana, I have seen more than what most others can only dream. Those three very different places are just a few of the dozens areas of the world I have traveled to, yet out of all of destinations I have visited New York City most definitely tops the list. This city is a world of it's own in my eyes. There is no other place I can see myself continuing my journey in life. It is no secret that college is a major stepping stone in the life of a young adult. It carves the path to their future. Ever since I can remember my parents have pushed me towards gaining a good

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.

When I was in fifth grade, I was caught between two worlds, playing the a woodwind or strings instrument. After much thought on which one, I decided that the violin was the best instrument for me, because it had a beautiful, unique sound, plus the possibilities are incredible. I could receive a compliment from a teacher, or even get accepted to the symphony. In elementary, I was known as the best player for my patience and understanding of every piece we played. “Your daughter is my best student in all 4 schools that I teach,” exclaimed my orchestra teacher, Ms. Nichols, to my mother. Ever since then, I have been practicing my violin every minute of every day. At the end of my sixth grade year, I received a letter stating that I have been invited

It was a late night, my family was finishing dinner while I was watching tv. My older sister Kristen ate a chickpea not knowing that she was allergic. Her lip started to swell and my family began to panic. That night we went to the hospital where we found out about her allergies. She is severely allergic to all nuts, shellfish and legumes, which are beans and peas.

A long white and cold road trip. It was about 5 years back. My family and I were heading to Wyoming for spring break. Worst. Mistake. Ever.

Hartford, SD, the town that I am from, is a pretty small town with about seven churches. My family attends the Lutheran church nearly every Sunday and even sits in the same spot every week. When I was younger, I attended daycare and elementary school with kids who attended churches of different denominations. We would go through our days without discussing our differences. My parents would never discourage my sister and I from interacting with children who went to other churches. In fact, if we had a sleepover on a Saturday night with a friend, my parents said it was okay to go to their church the next morning. This allowed us to see what the different denominations looked like but we were young and often thought that it was all the same. Middle

Then she wandered into the kitchen. Removing the bowls of veggies and fruits, she placed them on the counter and found the cutting board and a strainer. Rhian busied herself making a light dinner. A basket she had not noticed earlier sat on the table with a bottle of wine and a fresh loaf of bread. Grabbing the bread out of the basket, she opened the package and inhaled the scent. Her stomach growled as she sliced off a piece and spread some of the soft churned butter over

During my childhood, I grew up knowing only my close family members. As the youngest son in our family, my father was quite protective of me. This created a huge barrier with the external relationship environment. Upon starting school at a tender age of ten, I immediately found myself in the wilderness, knowing no one despite majority of my classmates hailing from my immediate neighborhood. On one of those initial schooldays I was teamed up with a certain blonde boy named Michael Smith. We were required to perform some minor physical exercise which involved competing with other pairs of boys and girls in short distance sprinting.

I remember when I was 16 years old, I was in so much emotional pain. I wanted someone to tell me what to do, and I guessed my problem was I needed a mentor. I had heard that some people had mentors and I wanted someone, anyone, to help me. I did not have money but had to see if there was something or someone out there who could help me. I did not know where to look, we did not have the internet at the time, so I looked in the newspaper.

One day, I'd grown tired of running the hamster wheel of a life I'd created, and I suddenly realized that I was running nowhere quick. The longer I would run, the further I would become from myself, and yet, I kept running, due to the lack of direction. In other words, I’d devoted myself to living a life according to others, rather than serving the greatness that automatically comes from inside our true-selves. Rather than moving according to my true-self, I adapted and conformed to others, which left me with no direction, confused, lost and running in circles. Therefore, causing me to ignore and run from my commitment to nourish and develop my Higher-self, the inner-spirit. Nonetheless, the more I ran from my inner-spirit the further disconnected

“Man oh man,” I exhaled. It was half-past twelve, according to my cellular device. The bright LCD screen of the computer illuminated my eyes of little sleep from a full night of anime. Bowls upon bowls, derived of noodles, cover the entire surface area of my desk. The bowls only left the lingering sent of the various flavors of broth. The one that stood out the most was the kimchi flavored broth. Tasting the smell, it had the flavor of a pickle soaked in brine, with a hint of sweetness from the napa cabbage, and a small kick of heat from the various spices kimchi is fermented in. Feeling the strange urge to play some video games, I decided to load up my JRPG. Before while booting up however, I felt like someone or something was watching

I swallowed hard. I was alone. I studied the cereal, swirling it around the bowl. It smelt good. I took a bite, and it was surprisingly good. Taking another, I couldn’t stop the thought from entering my head that I might actually be able to get use to this.