Personal Narrative-Constructive Essay

I speeded up, crossed the bridge, and headed north to Santa Clara. I was going to college. After so many years, I was still moving. Ten minutes later I finally saw it, the Santa Clara University.

HAROLD, is a flight instructor. He is in his mid fifties, and is too lackadaisical to be giving lessons. His hair is a frazzled mess. He looks as though he just rolled out of bed. He leans back in his seat wearing sunglasses, having not a care in the world.

There was a small group of friends Jim, Mark, Tom, Mary, and Jane. They were all going on a vacation to a cabin up in the Himalayan Mountains. Marks parents owned a cabin up there for many years and they decided to let the group stay for the weekend. All they had to do was promise to not do drugs and break stuff. This wouldn’t be a big deal since all of them were in their senior year of college and were honors students.

I descended from the claustrophobic, poorly-lit stage, hands shaking, body following suit. I unequipped the instrument from around my neck, resting it on the stand beside me. I maneuvered through the sea of drunken 50-something regulars so that I might find my way to a seat. Another featured musician approached me to express his satisfaction with my performance. As per common courtesy, I extended my bloody, wet, blister-ridden paw to introduce myself properly and return the compliment. My family was visiting my extended family in Canada during New Year's, and I had never played for a crowd before. First blood being drawn, my fiendish addiction to live music faced its birth.

I wake up in my shabby bed, my eyes bloodshot and my lips facing the pillow, I let out a small scream. There's something satisfying about screaming into a pillow, nobody can hear the anger and sadness in your voice. Last night was pretty rough, Dave (my father) beat me for getting a C in maths, I tried, I really did, I just don't understand maths. It's not like art, art makes you feel something, like a world of your own, where only good happens, and abusive dads and bullies are non existent, art's filled with emotion and creativity, maths is just numbers on a page with right or wrong answers.

Aleigha’s eyebrows raised and her bright, baby blue eyes got big as she relized she could have drowned but she was happy she survived! One day she woke up to a massive flood, her house was flooded everything was all over the floors looked like an earthquake hit them up. Things were all over the place people were outside on canoes helping to save the drowning, the whole city was flooded. She new she had to get out of there as fast as she could but first her and her mom have to board up all the windows then they need to evacuate. They step outside and BOOM get hit with strong wind and heavy rain! Mom is scared she looks at Aleigha and says ”Aleigha i can’t do this we are going to just have to stay”. Aleigha answers back as she cries and says

Walking on the street on a cloudy day I decided to go to a coffee shop. I was talking to a friend and noticed someone awfully familiar. When I tried to identify, him he walked out and I rubbed it off as not important. Then I noticed he left his wallet on his table. I dashed out the door to look for him, he was nowhere to be found. I started to wonder will I ever be able to give his wallet back?

My entire childhood I lived with my maternal grandparents. My grandpa drove a truck and was only home on weekends, while my grandma stayed home with me. I had the same rotating schedule for visiting my mom, I stayed the entire month of June, a week in october, a week in January, and if it was an odd year I went to stay on all major holidays. My life was fairly predictable until the day my grandparents decided to divorce.

I woke up late...it was the day after my most recent move. Therefore, it is safe to assume that I was tired and not entirely on my A-Game.

When I reminisce about springtimes passed, I think of how the evenings frost became the mornings dew that slowly dripped from their perches. I remember how the tear-shaped droplets sparkled like diamonds when the sun hit them just right. I can still hear birds singing sweet morning songs as white puffy clouds floated by lost in the vast blue skies. And who could forget how bumblebees darted from the wildflowers that colored the valley floor and scented the air with fragrant perfume.

On a cool and crisp Saturday fall morning, I tiredly moved out of my bed and stumbled to my feet. Barely able to open my eyes, my dad comes barging into my room with a job in mind for me to do. “Today I want you to vacuum, mow the lawn, and clean up your room before you go out with your friends,” stated my dad. I knew from that point on that my day went just went from being potentially really good to really bad. In my mind, I knew that I didn’t want to do my chores, but I knew that by doing them was the only way that I would be able to go out with my friends. I knew that Friday during school I had made plans to go to Six Flags with my friends which we have wanted to do for what feels like forever. I then felt motivated to start my day from there on forth.

A situation that best describes a time when I initiated a new venture was the decision to purchase a restaurant business. Prior to this opportunity, I had recently graduated with my first university degree and was already presented with an offer to work full-time at GE Energy where I completed my internship. As I was considering the offer, the opportunity to purchase a restaurant presented itself and aligned with my strong desire to become a successful entrepreneur.

As I stood in my cabin with my cousins changing into our swimsuits I couldn’t wait tonights game. We were at Stoney Glen a camp that my cousins and I go to each year. Every night we play a game and tonight the game was the water olympics.

It was a misty morning right above the ocean’s surface. My brother’s head, along with seven others, was bobbing in the waves and obscured by the morning haze. The sun had just broken the horizon and emitted its luminous rays of scarlet red, orange, and pink underneath the clouds. Beyond the clouds was the sky, an endless pool of blue. I felt like I had jumped into a picture of a brochure. Subsequently, reality came back to me and I no longer felt pleasant emotions from the scenery.

To understand my personal narrative, you must understand it from the very beginning. In 2003, my grandma was talking to my mom about a job available for her. The reason why my mom was looking for a job was because she separated from my dad and she was looking for a job that paid decent money. The job available was to clean a house and to cook for lady named Mrs. Alba and her husband Lovere. The benefit of the job was my mom and I can live in the house that she was going to clean and it was decently paid. Obviously, my mom took the job offer and when I was 3 years old, I went from living in a apartment in Walnut to a 3-story mansion in Diamond Bar. Mrs. Alba and her husband Lovere were both millionaires. Lovere was an engineer for a big company or the Air Force. I am not really sure but I just knew he had a lot of money. On the other hand, Mrs. Alba came to the United States from Cuba when she was about 17 years old. Once she arrived in the United States, she got a job at a chocolate factory and with the money she received from the job, she took classes to learn english. After Mrs. Alba learned english, she attended a community college and transferred to USC and received her doctorate degree in education. In all honesty, until this day, I have no clue on what she did for a living but just like Lovere, she made a lot of money. As I was getting comfortable living with Mrs. Alba and Lovere, I became very close to Lovere. It is pretty funny because Lovere was not affectionate