Personal Narrative: Life In The High Rise

New York is a state where there are big lights and lots of people and busy streets. I live in Brooklyn, New York and I was born here and I have lived here all my life. Personally, where I live I can walk to go get groceries that I need and everything is in walking distance. I take the public subway or the bus to get to school and there are many public schools here in Brooklyn, New York. There are delis and corner stores almost around every block. Here in Brooklyn, it is very noisy and busy. I am so used to the noise that I can sleep soundly even with all the noise that surrounds my house. Personally, I think that if I were not born here or was not a New Yorker, I would plan to move here when I get older.

On 1/16/17 at 0225 hours my partner, Officer Thebeau #8402, and I were working patrol assigned to unit 3A11. We responded to a radio call of “shots fired” in the area of 814 N. Garfield Ave. The comments of the call stated, a 19 year old female was shot in the hand.

I didn't always live in California. Before California I lived in Denver, Colorado. Before Denver I lived in Aurora, Colorado. When we moved to california we had a family of five. We moved to California, when I was six, Then we lived at my grandma’s house in Riverside for a year. We found a place on Ferree Street and that became our home.

I witnessed my cousins boyfriend corpse lying on my neighbors lawn. It was a humid summer night around 3:30 when I peeked through my window and saw my devastated cousin sobbing uncontrollably on my decaying porch. Being from East chicago, Indiana has transformed me into the person I am today.

The Bowery is known for being a place of sleazy and sketchiness, riddled with punks, bums,con men, and other colorful folk. It was a dark neighborhood to be at, figuratively and literally– for the neighborhood was darkened by the shadow of the trains that ran above it. The blurring of gender was out in the open at the Bowery. Murderers and prostitutes in dance halls and dives claimed the neighborhood by the 1890s. (Moss, 86) What made the Bowery what it was, was it’s music scene. Famed punk venue CBGB was located there and in 2006 was made to shut its doors forever due to raising rent prices. For the Bowery had become the new “it” spot, with it’s edgy allure and overall toughness. CBGB was a landmark and the locals and true lovers of the venue wanted it stay and stand in the face of gentrification. Alas, it was not meant to be for the punks lost to John Varvatos who put his boutique in what was CBGB. What seemed to attract Varvatos to the space was its legacy, how it was a place for “others” to take refuge from the world and create. He had a “real reverence for the history of the space”, and yet in the next sentence Moss goes on to say how Varvatos would serve a “cleaned-up” version of the venue. (Moss, 82) A cleaned-up

After a long day of moving boxes and bags into my brother’s new home in the Wall dorms, my parent’s and I filed into the truck and headed for the hotel, just a few blocks from campus. That evening was spent exploring the French Quarter and driving through the city in search of food. My father decided to take a detour down Claiborne Ave. Initially, I did not know what father was looking for, but as we got closer to our destination, I soon realized we were entering Lower Ninth Ward. “Why are going through here?” I asked confusingly. I received no response. I peered out of my window curiously, and immediately understood my father’s hidden agenda. It was clear that Ninth Ward had been deeply impacted by Katrina. Despite the fact that nearly three years had past, this area was still in terrible condition. We had heard about the damage when everyone sought refuge in Houston, but seeing the poverty first hand put the situation in perspective.

Dawn’s early morning light crept over the city, the various shades of amber emanating from the horizon bringing life to the shapeless skyline. Outside Booker’s apartment, the resident sparrows began their morning song of joy, their cheerful chirrup filtering through the dark-haired officer’s dream, pulling him toward consciousness. Moments later, his alarm sounded, the annoying bee-dee-dee-deep, bee-dee-dee-deep shattering what remained of his slumber. With a sigh, he rolled over and hit the off button, returning peace to the cramped room, and stifling a yawn, he speculated about the upcoming day. He’d arranged to meet Tom at the abandoned warehouse before school so they could discuss strategies. But after the previous night’s events, he wasn’t sure where their friendship

All I could fit in my only small bag was a few clothes and a toothbrush and all my parents

Months later, clutching a pair of newly-cut keys to a more down to earth spot in Manhattan, I can safely say that while my first floor apartment is as adorable as a pre-war walk-up can be, no amount of air-con can replicate the feeling that living 32 floors high did. Dinner parties are still a thing, but the guests, more familiar, and the numbers much smaller. Perhaps, as with most who call this city “home”, it was bound to happen. But for me, those rooftop dinner parties connected the old and the new me. It was the city extending an olive branch and me welcoming it with both

I have a lengthy history with Urban Promise Miami. I first joined their program when I was ten years old along with my brother and cousins. The mission of their organization is to equip Miami’s children and young adults with the necessary skills to attain academic achievement, life management, spiritual growth and leadership rooted in the Christian faith, and that is a goal that I have become testament to them achieving.

On a day in which the sun was shining like a new fluorescent light bulb, I sat on a heated metal bench that was located in front of a large, stone fountain where a brace of ducks lingered, and I began to read Chasing Brooklyn.

I left my radio in the back room in was most likely with the volunteer who was covering for me. He yelled at me to "get up" and told me lets talk in Joshs' office (which was a few steps away). Daniel storms in Joshs' office, turns on the light and sits down in the office chair in front of the desk with his arms crossed and a sticky note in his hand. I follow him and prop the door open with the door stop is I say "lets keep the door open it's hot in here." The real reason I did this was because I was extremely uncomfortable. He then yells, "Do you want to tell me where you have been?". I was standing in the door way, not completely in the room when I told him that I met with HR. He asked very angrily who I got permission to leave from and then stated that I left my post without permission.

Although the beautiful winters in Rochester already make the university cool, I, as a student, can make the school even cooler by being an active member in organizations and introducing Bay Area culture into the campus. I have lived most of my life in the Bay Area, during this time I have grown accustomed to the cultures from here. I plan to introduce the cultures and customs that originate in the Bay Area. Since they aren’t known over the country, these cultures only occur in the Bay Area. For example, the hyphy culture began to emerge in the late 1990s and early 2000s as a response from Bay Area rappers against commercial hip hop. However, this culture and movement wasn’t popularized anywhere else in the country. Consequently, this urban

In the first place, there always a lot of traffic jam, where I live at Fountain Valley. After that, that was very difficult for a lot of me to find parking, which get crowed all the time during the cars needed to move from parking. Meanwhile, I will have a hard time finding parking spaces, I hate that I drove around every Tuesday and Thursday for 45 minutes or an hour. Finally, I couldn’t go there for meeting.

The dark specter of the cool night spread across the sky, while the alluring orange color of the sunset disappeared as nonchalantly as it came. A mixed medley of harmonious sounds streamed through the night from the violins. Music echoed from every street corner, awakening life, springing off the Eiffel Tower to Notre Dame and floating through the Arc de Triomphe. Soon, the people, scattered like trees in a desolate country, grew into a huge crowd like a lush green woodland. Noises of people shrilling, teenagers laughing and adults murmuring transpired from the crowd. The lads held their demoiselles’ hands lost in their world of immortal love. Eventually, everyone slipped into their dancing shoes. The aromas rose from the hot sizzling gourmet cuisine and cigarette smoke to quickly permeate the air. The streets shone with dazzling lights as bright as daytime, as the astounding Eiffel Tower took form in its enticing and glowing festive lights of amber, standing in its own elegance, like a gem on Champ de Mars. ‘La Ville Lumiere…’ here it is; Paris, the splendid metropolis, the home of the lovers and the city that speaks the language of love.