Personal Narrative : Miles Away - Original Writing

The lake glistened before me as my mom and I pulled into Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp just outside Twin Lakes Michigan. I had been accepted into the International Youth Symphony Orchestra program where after spending a week at the camp the entire orchestra would be heading off on a six week European Tour to share our musical talents and American culture with another part of the world. I knew traveling to a different continent would give me further insight as to who I was a person, but did not imagine the people I would meet would impact me as much as they did.

I’ve always wondered what the outside world was like. As a cooter turtle, I’ve been living inside the same old glass walls filled with unnatural water. It felt like prison. No matter how much I swam, I would see the exact same things over and over again- small rocks, plants, and two other strange objects that I couldn’t identify. My turtle mate, River, had guessed that one of the strange objects were probably a human object used to keep the water “clean”. I found that kind of strange since the water was never clean anyway. River was a Red-Eared slider and was a few inches smaller than me. Or at least I thought he was. I’ve always thought of him as a scaredy fish because he always ran away from everything. Whenever the Twoleg came towards us, he would dash away like as if he saw a ghost, and whenever I asked him why he was so afraid, he would refuse to answer.

For my memoir I shall look back onto my past and the life lesions I have learned. Through simple things I have found in my life and the trails I have endured. To the earliest memories I have, to a not so proud moment caused by anger and regret.

Who knew that things could change so abruptly, it almost felt that my whole world was flipped within a blink of an eye. Things were going to be different from now on, the people, the weather, even the fresh summer breeze from the coast will soon become a cold bitter winter breeze. This all came to my mind when my mom announced to my family that we’re moving, to New Jersey, once my school goes on summer break. At first, I began to panic, why do we have to move? Why can’t we just live here? We don’t even know anyone there, except for my aunt. We just moved here three years ago from New Jersey, and we didn’t like it, that’s why we only lived there for a month. Then why would we would we like it now? I question my mom, and I demanded explanations

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

It’s no secret, life is chaotic. As a child, in fact the very second you made your debut in the hospital room, you probably took a great big gulp of tepid sterilized air and began to scream. Before birth you had been infected. The struggle had already begun. Mom and Dad did as much as they could to help you adjust, but the cozy world you lived in would never be available to you. You messed your diaper, you rolled off the bed, and you collapsed in ear-splitting tomato faced hysterics for no reason. You couldn't even get food from the table to your charming little mouth for several months. What is this ferocious disease you have been subjected to? You have been infected with the disease chaos. We’ll call it the law of Adam, because he deserves

While I was still little I didn’t quite understand why he had to be so far away. He would come down to visit once a year, I used to be so happy to see him. He would always bring me gifts and money every time he came home. Every year when he came home for a little while we used to stay at my uncle’s house, it was always fun. Me and my dad would always

Walking away from everything you once knew and starting over is never a picnic. Leaving Iraq, and moving to America has impacted my life more than anything. I was only 4 years old at that time, and the only English I spoke was “excuse me, water please.” My family and I did not know it then, but our lives were going to change; we would become “Americanized”. Learning English was one of the massive changes that occurred, the way I dressed (culture), and even the way I had power to go to school and educate myself.

He was like my second dad to me. I have been alive 9 years and nothing so tragic had happened to me. Even if i would not see him perfectly fine the next day I will never forget that moment. I wondered if i will ever see him again alive. That moment my mom told me my papa was having surgery was one of the worst

I was sitting at my desk, looking around for any small detail that I thought I may have missed. Everything looked organized and the way my roommate and I wanted it to look. I looked at him and told him “this is our new home for a year”. Every upcoming college student dreams about moving day and my time was coming soon. Three weeks prior to move in day, I began organizing and preparing for what was coming, “What are the most important things I should bring”, “How much is the trip going to cost?”, all these questions began to rush towards my head at once and if it wasn’t for the help of my mom, I wouldn’t have been able to organize myself and pack for college.

I was sitting on the couch next to my new dog Earl, I was about eight years old. He was a rescue dog from Upaws. He was about one buth this is the first day that we had him. We spoiled him with new toys, but his favorite thing that we had gotten him was his bone.

After Finals, I came back to San Pedro for the summer. You wouldn't think the place would have changed that much in a year, but it sure as hell felt like I was living in another country. Most of the guys I went to high school had moved on by then and the whole town seemed so fucking strange.

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

On a Sunday afternoon, I hang out with my friend to a local event hold by LA Times, which located at University of Southern California. When I got there, the first thing that got my attention was the books booth. I think the booth was too small because there was really crowded. However, I realized that a massive amount of people actually enjoy reading. I am not a good reader, but this kind of spirit influenced me that I ending up purchased a book. I think the best thing was that the books were so cheap, and be honest, I can spend a whole day finding books that I might interested in. After I left the books booth, I saw a conversation going on. I am not really into in, but I thought that this is a good opportunity

The days leading up to the fifth of August had been characteristically Irish, complete with clouds in Connemara, a daylong drizzle in Dingle, and forty-mile-per-hour winds at the Cliffs of Moher (which, under said conditions, were more deserving of their Princess Bride alias, the Cliffs of Insanity). In Ireland, the island nation that gifts its western seaboard with 225 days of rain each year, fickle weather is a fact of life. But now, for eight hours, my family needed the Wild Atlantic Way to tame itself—perhaps, for just one day, the Mild Atlantic Way could suffice?