Personal Narrative Analysis

Failure is truly negative if we choose to not learn from it. When we face setbacks and difficulties, we are given golden opportunities to grow as people. Learning from our shortcomings makes us wiser, stronger, and unveils a chance to turn an undesirable outcome into a building block of character. My hockey career has been a sinusoidal trail of highs and lows, but I always learned from the downturns.

In my dream I was playing at the state soccer championship, and we were versing Spencer. It felt good being able to play this game because no one ever believed we would make it this far. Back to the dream the game just started, and we were trailing behind 1-0. We were all nervous because we thought that it was going to be a 10-0 game like always. All of a sudden I could hear someone out in the fans saying “JUDITH”, and cheering me on. So this made me get pretty excited, and I begun to play so much better, as this happens I pass the ball to Julie, and she just happened to be a the top of the 18 all alone. She shot… AND SHE SCOOORED. The game was now tied. Now there was only 3 minutes of them game left and Julie has the ball at half. (I decided to let Amber go up as a midfielder, and I would stay back to take her spot as a defender so she could make her first and last goal of her HS career.) Now there was a minute left Julie passed it to Amber, and Amber was at a good spot where she could shoot with her left. She took the chance, and scored just that moment we were up by one, and we ended up winning.

Welcome to my outlandish, yet in my opinion, amusing brain! The name presented to me upon birth is Taylor Lee Thompson. Currently, I am suffering through the struggles of junior year at Marion Senior High School. Difficult classes, early mornings, and extracurricular activities have made me an expert in the sport of juggling. The class that has appealed to me the most over the years is Criminal Justice. I found the behind the scenes instruction absolutely riveting! My instructor, Mrs. Hamm, kept me on my toes and I was always learning about crime, criminals, and cases. On the other hand, the class I utterly dread is history. Any and every type of history has always slowly bored me to sleep. I am convinced we are taught the same curriculum

As a 16 year old young man, when I think about responding to a writing prompt asking me to describe an event that I consider a launch pad towards gaining maturation, the first things that should come to my mind are getting my first job, graduating from high school, or being accepted into the college of my choice. This was not the case for me. The event that I feel has marked my transition from childhood to manhood would be the conversation that my mother had with me after the shooting death of Trayvon Martin.

It was a day that I had been waiting for all season, why? Because it meant that the pain was going to be over and it was my final race to prove how good I really was to everyone and hopefully fulfill the goal my coach, school and fans set for me. That morning of October 28th I woke up really sick to my stomach. Nerves were taking over my body and I couldn't sit still. The ride to the course I remember putting my headphones in and zoning everything out and never truly coming out of it till after the race was over. I remember my mom hugging me and telling me how proud of me she was and that no matter how bad my shins hurt to keep running. My coach grabbed me before I went to the starting line and surprisingly said how proud he was of me too, but that it wasn't over so that could change. It was so cold outside and I remember being able to see my breath and worrying that it was going to really effect my performance. I could also see the

When i was born, i had a breathing problem, and paralyzed from head to toe. The doctor had to straped tubes to me, so I can breath properly. They have to perform operations on me, but It was unsuccessful. The doctor said, that i will die in a couple of hours. My mom and dad were shocked that was still alive in the morning. I was recovered so fast it was a miracle. A year later, i was out the hospital. 10 year laters, my parent was watching nba on tv ,while i was sleeping in my bed. Then the power went off suddenly. BOOM!! Glass broke.! I woke up and got curious where the sound came from, so i got out of bed, grab my baseball bat and went to investigative.i tiptoe into the hall wall trying not to make a sound. Then i heard a gun shots and

Up until I was thirteen, I had been in the same school district and had been in classes with the same kids since preschool. Then between the ages of thirteen and fifteen my family and I moved three different times between two states. In that short amount of time, I had to learn to adapt to teaching methods, school rules and the type of peers I encountered at every new school I attended. I believe I am fortunate for these experiences because I never knew how hard it was for me to adapt to unfamiliar situations until we moved and it became necessary for me to do so. I struggled at the first school a lot and hardly had any friends, due to cultural differences between the rural Wisconsin town that I was from, and the poverty and drug stricken reservation that I had moved to.

Beep, beep, beep. This is the sound of an ECG monitor. The sound that fills a silent void as everyone waits with baited breath for the loved one lying in the bed to open their eyes. Unfortunately, this time the steady sound draws long and drones on and on. Then it hits you, the heart has stopped. Death is sudden and comes when we least expect; but then again, I don’t think you could anticipate if you tried. It can come to us many forms and so can the news of it. Grandma’s news comes in a phone call. I come home to an empty house that afternoon, nothing unusual. Awaiting the return of my mother, I went about my daily routine. Doing my homework, cleaning my room, and walking the dog; things I did everyday, but this time it was different.

In a series of unfortunate, clumsy events, I found myself walking home at three o’ clock

This past week it has been very interesting to learn about the various defense mechanisms that protect us against anxiety. While I was previously familiar with some of these ego-protecting behaviors, I was unaware of their purpose. These mechanisms distort reality in order to disguise the id’s socially unacceptable desires.

I used transitional phrases and sentences, adequately throughout the essay. I tried to place transitional phrases at the end of each paragraph, but my fourth paragraph doesn’t exactly transition well to my last paragraph. My sentences also had a lot variation and exceptional diction. I tried to string together as many Ideas as I could so I could have detailed and flowing Ideas. One way my essay is flawed is by not clearly explaining what the main Idea of each paragraph is. I tried to expand upon some of my ideas, but I feel like it made my essay harder to follow. I felt like my third paragraph didn’t really add on to my argument. One question I have is what’s the difference between passive voice and active voice? Over all, I feel like my essay

My background contains two adolescent years in the better neighborhoods of hydro electrically powered Zaporozhye, Ukraine, ten developmentally critical birthdays celebrated unceremoniously, while calling home an area in Sacramento known among locals as an actual antithesis to diversity, and a remaining lifetime enduring the tell-tale inevitable mishaps of time. Today, I house within me complex emotional ranges assiduously spattered along the spectrum of human expression, starkly vivid experiences collected through several once-in-a-lifetime moments, and, hopefully, a holistic identity deemed worthy by institutions purposed for passionate academic pursuits.

Last summer my uncle had me babysit my five year-old cousin.I was a little angry because my dad was taking my brother and sisters to the river and it was very hot that day.When I got there I was a little happier than before because I remembered that Iris,my cousin, is way easier to take care of than my other cousins are.When my uncle saw me he said that I’d have to watch her at the water park.However they said that they would help me by switching so that I would be able to go on the water rides.Although I knew that if we were going to the water park, it would be easier to watch Iris because she would be busy playing in the water.When we got there I found out that we were able to get as much ice cream, candy,and one meal because it was all

After skipping school, which became habitual for me, I would wake up and walk into my grandparent’s kitchen. When I wanted to fake being sick, I would always stay at their house because my grandmother was ok with me playing hooky. She would question me asking, “Why do you feel sickly” or “Why are you staying home?” This usually was returned with the proper response, “My head hurts.” I did this with the intention she wouldn’t find out whether I was actually sick or not. After two hours or so, she usually had it figured out. My only worry was the dread of my grandfather coming home for lunch to reprimand me for skipping school. I was not worried about myself because there happened to be a competition waiting at the house when my grandfather arrived.

Ever since I was young, my parents always taught me to give back others. At the time, I never realized how difficult of a lesson this must have been for my parents to teach my sister and I. Looking back, my parents sacrificed a lot of creature comforts to make sure that we had three, square meals a day, a roof over our head, and clothes on our backs. In the last 10 years, I have been able to look back at my early childhood and realize that no matter how little we had, we always managed to give back in some way shape or form. At first, it was volunteering our time and as time passed, we were eventually able to contribute more. Since I was old enough to volunteer, I began giving my time and money to food pantries, cancer research, homeless shelters,