Personal Narrative: Antonio Vs. Wells

As a Texas-born, Texas-raised, small town girl, I lack the words to explain what role my hometown and the state of Texas has played in creating the person I am today. I will say, though, that I have all intentions of paying it giving back to my community by furthering Texas scientifically and medically through research, and caretaking for Texans as soon as I have the chance, starting at Texas A&M University this fall.

William Carlos Williams' Doctor Stories tell the realities of being a physician. The physicians in the Doctor Stories tell the careful balance that many doctors face throughout their careers. From addiction to lust, to more, doctors are humans with human emotions. William Carlos Williams proves that doctors can still perform their jobs despite interesting conditions. Through the expression of characters and slight sadness expressed in his short stories, coupled with his expressive poetry, William Carlos Williams conveys the feelings a doctor has that makes them no different than other people.

I hope your Tuesday afternoon is going terrific. I am Miten Bhadania and I would like to formally introduce myself as your colleague working in the Tech department as Developer.

On Friday 02/23/18 at 1447 hours I was dispatched to a juvenile problem at 3340

I am not from San Antonio. I am not from Texas. I’m from California. Where no one twangs, or drawls, or even says hi to the stranger standing in line at the grocery store. Texas, half way across the U.S and what seems like a whole other country compared to California. It is a completely different place that I could have ever imagined living and calling home. I came to Texas to find myself. I didn’t know that when I came here, but it is what ended up happening.

After living in Barrio Logan for nearly my entire life, I have seen families struggle to make ends meet. My mother is currently raising my three younger brothers on less than $25,000 a year. To put that into perspective, that is roughly about $6,500 per person. As frustrating as it is to see the conditions my family is in, I cannot complain, at least not to my best friend Alexis. We both grew up in the same neighborhood, went to BLCI, and went to the same schools from kindergarten to high school. After eight years as students in BLCI we were now attending the same college. However, I learned that our homes were very different. Growing up it was rare for me to spend time at his house, allowing me only a glimpse of his life at home. Because education

Jamal Wallis at the start is a student attending a normal normal high school and is also decent at basketball. While Jamal openly doesn’t like school he is smart and a good writer. Things take a turn for the better after he accidentally leaves his pack after a bet but Forrester drops it to him with his edited writings. Jamal also starts attending a better school due to very good test scores. He starts to befriend Forrester and slowly Jamal becomes his student. Jamal's writing is too good however and his teacher thinks he isn’t the writer. He then turns in something referencing Forrester which Forrester said never to do. Jamal then must win states so that he can keep attending but, he purposely misses two easy shots. Forrester then comes into his class and states his friendship with Jamal and Jamal is dismissed from charges and

I believe in isonomy because there are innocent people getting murdered and nobody is doing anything unless they are of significance or a certain colour of skin. I’m talking about the “Man” who doesn’t look down on light skins but treats darker skins like they should be accused of everything even though they did not do anything.

As I step into the oversized building, I freeze in my tracks. I start to feel dizzy. I recognize this immediately as the courthouse I was in this summer, in Oconto County. This was the same lobby, I remember passing through it. I suddenly realize how long I’ve been standing there, and almost have to run to catch up with my class. When I catch up, my class is beginning to enter a courtroom, the same courtroom. I continue into the room with the class, and see the judge that I saw this summer. I already know, of course, that his name is Michael Judge, the main judge of this courthouse. He looks me straight in the eye, before turning back to the class. Indeed, he must remember what I said, before I had left this courtroom that day.

After coming home from a long tour in Alaska with her band Rosie and the Screamers, Flores wanted to quit music altogether, despite her growing success. “They broke me; I didn’t like the men I was working with; they treated me so poorly, stuff I don’t wish to talk about.” Although she could not imagine trying to find a new path, the burnout was insurmountable, so she came back to LA and worked in a kitchen making sandwiches. The act of doing something different helped her to refocus. Apparently, her new job didn’t last very long; within two months, she wound up answering an ad for a bass player in the Screaming Sirens. “I just liked the idea where I didn’t have to sing. I didn’t have to play the same songs I was playing and that I can be in

Mr. Dwyer wasn’t very kind to the students. He was old and grumpy. Students can usually go up to Mr. Simmons in the hall, and have a good conversation about their day. Mr. Simmons is more appealing to the younger crowd, versus my grumpy grade school principal. This creates a better environment for the faculty and students.

From my perspective, when Madrid uses the word “other”, he means anyone who is not the majority, anyone who is different. This could mean of a different race, having a different skin color, hair color, a different religion, and/or culture. For most Americans, people who are not white or straight (among other things) are the “others”.

Dallas hated boys. She grew up in an unfortunate family. Her mother died from a heart attack when she was ten years old. After five years, her father, a taxi driver, passed away after a car accident. At a very early age she learned to work hard and save for the future.

Her eyes were puffy from crying because she couldn't stop crying for the last three days. She was dehydrated, and sore. Sobs racked her body, no one should be able to cry that hard. We've been on the run limited to water and gas station snacks. We can't let them catch us, not that we've made it so far. The punishment will only worsen. We sprinted out into the woods so deep that we can't find a way out until sunrise. We slept beside a tree in very long grass huddled together for warmth.

But we did not find any cartridge case or bullet holes in the wall of the Base. A rare event. My comrades have said the humanoid vanished as a light that expanded and contracted almost simultaneously.