Personal Narrative: Continuing With The Word Scavenger Hunt

Starting over. Those two simple words pretty much sum up where I am at in my life at the moment. I am a 34 year old mother of three. I have never been to college. My husband just recently left me. It has been a whirlwind summer to say the least, but before I get into what brought me back to school, I'll start at the beginning. I was born in FL., and quite literally spent all my time either at the beach or running bare foot on my grandparents farm. I loved every second. Shortly after I turned 8 my mom met my step-dad, and we were quickly headed on our first big adventure, moving to Texas! While I missed my family in FL., I can not tell you enough how happy I was that my mom married my dad. He has been a rock and solid foundation for me my whole

Author's Note: The Choreo awards was amazing because I got meet the actual characters in my book for the first time. It was odd because the people I idolized for so long, suddenly became more human. If you'd like to know all of the juicy details on my night, feel free to PM me :) Also because of this wonderful occasion I didn't have time to write for 2 days, but don't fear, I will try to get back into my writing routine for you guys. This chapter is longer than usual to make up for lost time.

When I was young my Dad would always remind me of how important these years as a kid are. He would always say watch how you act as a kid, for it will set the stage for the rest of your life. So many people I know ruined their lives when they were kids. This small, yet so important statement runs through my mind everyday. I love how everyone says they don’t care what people think of them, but I wish they knew how important it is to have a good image. I am not perfect, but I would like to be close as possible. But as Salvador Dali said “Have no fear of perfection, you’ll never reach it. “ The problem I see is everyone wanting to be someone that they are not. Sure, we all have our idols that we look

My Current Contest PrepHere you will find weekly updates as I prepare for my first step onto a bodybuilding stage.

An evaluation of the initial implementation of the chair yoga group provided positive results from both, participants and staff of 5 east. Prior to the activity both the nursing and occupational Therapy (OT) staff expressed interest and appreciation that our group was designing and testing a chair yoga group for the patients.

I carry my backpack, and it is heavy with books. I carry these books on the lives and details of the living creatures in front of me: the ants, the bugs, the worms. I carry the memories of all that time in my life spent looking at the ground, observing these tiny lives lived mostly underneath pavement. I will never be small enough to go underneath the pavement, so I carry the duty to avoid killing the creatures that can. I carry an odd feeling of kinship with arthropods. I picked it up somewhere when I was small, maybe because I liked feeling gigantic in comparison, and I never removed it, although I have gained perspective. I carry the knowledge now that I am human. Being human means inheriting a legacy of callousness and I

It became normal. I started to believe these names. If somebody called out, Tree, I would look around. In the barn scene, Kunta was getting ready to escape, and Fiddler was helping him after he was singing that lullaby. Kunta had asked Fiddler his name, his real name, and I have to admit, that moment was really emotional. Fiddler seemed to come to an understanding of how unbreaking Kunta was. I feel Kunta wasn’t built for a slave, his roots, his mindset, and his resilience wouldn’t allow it. This leads to him escaping, or trying to escape, many times. The first time he was bought by Samson, and the other times, he was caught by dogs. A very disappointing moment for me, because my nerves had built up while he was running, so when he was caught, I was extremely disappointed. It seemed to me, when he was escaping the second time, he was doing it not only for himself, but to Fiddler, and his family. Maybe even Jinna. At the end, where he was losing contact with his parents, was absolutely heartbreaking to me, because he is giving up. He was giving into his new identity, losing his

I have only one word: listen. Humans became so loud, shouting to be heard over everyone else. So concerned with ourselves, our jobs, our money, or the internet that we stopped paying attention to the pieces of nature around us, beautiful and ugly alike. We try so hard to fill our lives with meaning in the most unmeaningful of ways, promotions and new cars, when there’s so much more to living. The trees sing when the wind blows and we’re listening to the radio. Hermit crabs chirp, dolphins name themselves, prairie dogs have voices and we ignore it all in favor of Facebook What doesn’t directly affect us is blocked out or put on a back burner so we won’t think about it. We became so removed from the natural world we no longer notice what’s

“There is a house in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun, it’s been the ruin of many poor boys, and God I know I’m one”

The exercise I have chosen to explore is playing volleyball, something I did a lot of in high school. In order to fully break down exactly what is going on in the brain when playing the game, each aspect would need to be broken down and analyzed. In this paper I will be analyzing receiving (from the opponent or teammate) and passing the ball (to the opponent or teammate), In each of these actions, there is a certain amount of planning and execution involved, along with some reflexes that come into play when there isn’t enough time to plan, as volleyball is a very fast moving game that involves many other people’s actions that are sometimes hard to judge.

When setting out on my search, I felt confident I would have the most luck on Google. There I searched for not only “Jocelyn Nadeau”, but my name along with each of the towns I have lived in. I was aware depending on the search engine used, different results can be found. Consequently, I used the same tactic on Yahoo. After searching on a large scale, I decided to scour to the online archives of my local newspaper. I also signed up for a free trial of Ancestry.com, in the hopes there would some exciting information there. And, a helpful friend recommended trying out Instant Checkmate, which although I had never heard of, was willing to give a try. My last course of action was to search social media sites. I do not use social media myself, nevertheless, I wanted to see if my name was out there. I checked Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and Myspace.

When you think of Austin, Texas, you think of music, food, and the Capitol. There’s the infamous 6th street, all the barbecue you could ever dream of, and being inside the Capitol is, in fact, incredibly beautiful.

With much haste, Beth began the sentence, correctly reading The, a sight word that is clearly recognizable to my student. This shows me that Beth has mastered a few sight words. As if gaining confidence with the first word, she quickly continues reading The dad bear….This is a big whoops. Beth recognized the last two letters in the word bad, however the initial letter made an unfamiliar word to my student. Thus she replaced the initial letter with a d, creating a sight word she was more familiar with, dad. I’m assuming that my student read bear correctly because of the illustration and sight word knowledge.

I found my objects in a variety of locations around town. The first object I discovered was number 16, the hand sanitizer. I was walking across the school parking lot when I noticed the bottle in front of me and immediately thought of my project. The next object was found later that day while I was dropping my sister off at Starbucks. Lying in front of me was a Coors Light beer can that had been run over multiple times. The next object was found while I went on a walk with my dad around his neighborhood to hunt for discarded objects. This area is kept in pristine condition, so it was difficult to locate any objects. However, we did find a piece of a shingle near a house that was being worked on. We spent about twenty minutes walking around and bonding on this trash hunt.

Coming home from a repetitive, colorless, and lifeless day at school, the one thing that would bring me expressive release was my little blue notebook. My exotic colored pens would hit the paper and I could have sat there filling those college-ruled lines for hours. I would write whatever came to mind: the monotonous routine at school, the girl who sprained her ankle at practice, or my dreams of becoming an Olympic-level figure skater. Images of my future-self as a skater twirled from my mind, around the room, and right onto the page. For my introverted young mind, the notebook was a place where I could vent, dream, and unveil secrets that I would have never been inclined to share. My twelve year old mind was not yet tired from the labors