Personal Narrative Analysis

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.

By the time I reached Kindergarten and started my middle childhood years I already possessed several gross and fine motor skills. A few of these gross motor skills which I possessed were the ability to catch a ball, climb a flight of stairs without help, and the ability to stand on one foot for a given amount of time. A few of my fine motor skills were the ability to draw shapes, cut on a straight line, and to color within the designated lines. Upon entering Kindergarten I had an accident where I cut off the tip of my right index finger. I had to keep my finger bandaged for the first nine weeks of Kindergarten therefore it delayed a few of my fine motor skills. By the end of Kindergarten and the beginning of my 1st grade year I learned fine

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.

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.

At the age of twenty nine, I faced an inevitable, drastic, and ultimately life changing decision. My options were limited, with no stress-free path to select. One path led down a very dark road, one that would have led to an abrupt end to my own life. The other route led to personal happiness, however, met with great sacrifice. Being that I felt strongly against the first option, I chose the second path. A reset button was pressed.

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.

All my life, my main goal was (and still is) to move out of Wisconsin, say goodbye to the negative fifty degree winters, and explore the world. Looking for a career that incorporates my love for traveling and my intrest of Business has always sounded like a dream.Going to new, exotic places has always been a significant part in my life. After all, my first trip was when I was eight months old to Turks and Caicos. Throughout time, our family traveled to most of the Caribbean, I was infatuated with everything about these countries. At the age of ten, I started taking online Spanish courses.In the past year, I started to learn my third language, Italian. Learning a language takes a strong memory, from memorizing the spelling to all the forms the word has to be in.

Most of your posting was geared towards something I mentioned in mine, and I couldn’t agree more. How exactly do we combat the nature of warfare used against us for the last 13 years? How do we counter the ruthless tactics? Using women and children as shields and weapons themselves, seeking shelter in mosques, suicidal tactics and IEDs? Up-armored vehicles and better equipment will only go so far, and while we’ve made huge leaps in the realm of modernizing our force, I don’t believe it to be enough.

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

While I have had a surplus of extraordinary events happen to me it is still very hard for me to choose just one. I have already enjoyed high school more than I ever liked middle school. I think I can narrow it down to just one thing. It sticks out like a sharpened stake.

I’ve had various jobs since I was 14. My parents have always wanted me to be independent. I started working at an assisted living home a little over a year ago in Lincoln, but a month ago I decided that I wanted a second source of income. I hastily started working morning shifts at a Dunkin Donuts. Working in the coffee industry made me tired all the time, made it difficult for me to go to school and do my homework, and took a toll on my body.

I can’t remember falling, but I know that I did because by the time I come to it’s already gone dark outside and my near-sighted worldview’s been gauzed by that seventh shot of Wild Turkey, and that’s when I start feel the nullifying grasp of the Alaskan winter take hold. Who would’ve thought it? A backwater kid from steamy ol’ Missisip come to die way up in the icebox of Juneau, Alaska; I’d like to think that that must be what they mean when they talk about irony and poetic justice and all that.

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.