Personal Narrative: My Journey In San Joaquin Valley

California has always held a special place in my heart for many different reasons. I was born and raised in this state and although there has been many drawbacks to being Californian, it has always been a place of comfort for me. California has played a huge role when it comes to the person I am today and why I have such an open mind, love for different cultures, and my willingness to work hard for the so called “California Dream.”

When ever you’re traveling, you dont really have an adventure if you dont try new things and go to new places then youre not having an adventure. I am going to share some of my favorite activities that I have tried when I went traveling

Me, Ava, Korryn, Ali, Olyvia, Bailey, and Sophie were on the way to valley fair. The loud and crowded car ride was filled with music, laughter and Sophie screaming! We got some drinks and snacks along the way and played pranks on the people that our nanny Bailey went to highschool with. About 2 hours later we were there and waiting in line to get wristbands. When we finally got our wristbands we walked in the gates of Valley Fair.

Growing up in the Rio Grande Valley was an experience like no other. The RGV is full of Tex-Mex, laughs, and the most random things you can think of. Despite all its quirks it’s a beautiful place to live in, and it’s home to me.

I was born in Modesto ,CA on August 17, 2003 in Modesto hospital . I lived in Atwater ,CA most of my life ,but then I moved to Merced this year. Places that I have visited that feel like home is Watsonville and Santa Cruz. I have been in the same school for 8 years . Also, I have had a separate year in preschool. When I was in preschool I went to a school near Winton ,CA. During my magical 8 years I stayed in Bellevue since kindergarden through 8th grade.

Hello, reading over your discussion about growing up in Inglewood California brings to mind my African American co-worker who talks about living in Compton. She tells us often how growing up in that area you had to carry either a gun or a knife and be on guard whenever you go anywhere. She is a very dear friend of mine and she reminds me she is a changed person from the way she used to be. Her mother still lives in California but in a better neighborhood now but she is planning a trip to see her mother. My friend often tells me years ago she and I would have never gotten along because she had so much anger inside her. I am glad my friend did get out of that neighborhood alive and somehow found in her heart to not keep anger inside.

It was April of 1999. My family was at home. Children were running outside. The asphalt was burning. Cars rolled up to the entrance of the apartments and BANG. I grew up in Stockton, California. Surprisingly, as a minority, I wasn’t really a minority. There were, in fact, a large and diverse population of Asian-Americans. But, Stockton is not the ideal place to live. It was hot and dry, almost to the point of a drought. Stockton was also ranked as the one of the top 5 most dangerous cities in California. So, having a nice and safe family is kind of difficult. Eventually, my family decided to move to Crescent City, California when my dad retired. It was a world of difference. There were trees, plentiful water, and a nice cool temperature. This

San Luis, Colorado is the oldest town in Colorado. The Rio Culebra winds through the valley, surrounded by majestic mountains. It is one of the most beautiful scenes I have ever seen. My family along with many others have been here for generations. The beauty of the land is only accentuated by the beauty of our tight-knit families and culture. To counteract of all the physical and cultural beauty, there is social and economic strife everywhere around me. I live in the poorest county in Colorado and being impoverished is a challenge my community faces because of a lack of education and job deficit. As I have delved into community and family history, I have better understanding that the fact the that while many things like our support and love for family and culture have remain unchanged and untainted, so has the fact that our community struggles

My mind will often wander to all the places I've lived in and all those I would love to travel to, or visit again. I think of the streets of Santa Fe, how fresh it would be compared to the over 100 degree temperature of were I am now, the hot dry heat of El Paso, Texas, a place I often come back to, the soil were my roots are permanently ingrained. El Paso has grown significantly in the past 10 years alone and is now the sixth most populous city in Texas (World Population Reviw). It's far from it's days when it was widely known as “El Chuco,” or “ChucoTown,” nicknames whose origins and meaning have long been debated, but no matter how much of the new generation is unfamiliar with these terms the history lives on through the streets and current

In the first place, 1930 was hard for most people even though I hadn’t experienced it but my family and I were one of the survivors that lived thanks to my father. My Father died during the dust bowl due to pneumonia. Since my father died my mom is a single parent so I have to go to school. I go to school with a trash bag and out of nowhere people start calling me names like mentally retarded, but I don't care because they are the rich kids here. A few have passed and I started to do things like work go to school and other stuff people do. During the time of school I had better grades than all the students in my class, but one thing that was hard and distracting was my teacher. Sometimes she’d get mad at other students then she would get mad

I don’t remember much, I just remember not wanting to leave. The place I would be spending the rest of my life I had only visited a few times. I, only being two at the time, was absolutely terrified of moving. Moving. It seemed like the worst possible thing that could’ve happened then. At first, when we left, it felt the same as the last time I had gone there. Then the realization that I would be gone forever kicked in, and the fact that this time, my dad wasn’t coming with us. Just my mom and I.

Many people believe that Orange County, California is the best place to live for its great location, community and economic strong hold. But what those people forget to take into account is the people that make up this community. Living in Mission Viejo, an overwhelming amount of people think that this a place of Eden, that has the greatest neighborhoods to raise children. Well they are wrong. Our self-inflicting wounds are done by teenagers who choose to poison themselves. I was once one of them.

It was mid-winter of 1848, I was doing my daily chores when my neighbor brought news that two days earlier, on January 24, James W. Marshall made a discovery of gold on his piece of land in California. At first, I didn’t think that this would affect me in any way, but then I realized I could start a new life in California filled with gold and fortune, away from my small farm in Missouri. I decided to pack up my things and start on my long journey to California, I packed enough food, water, and supplies to last me a few months. The next morning I was surprised to see that not many others from my town were seeking gold, I knew it was unsafe for me to travel alone, but I was sure I’d meet others along the way.

I grew up in two very different communities, El Paso, Texas and Olney, Maryland. I spent the first ten years of my life in El Paso, which being home to a military base, was a community with strong military support. For the past seven years, I have lived in Olney, Maryland, a small town with families that have known each other for generations. No one really moves to Olney, most families have deeply established roots here, so when I moved to Olney when I was 10, I was very much an outsider. El Paso was fairly limited to El Paso as far as short trips, but in Olney you can be to D.C or Virginia in about an hour; there is always something new to do. Although Olney and El Paso are quite different, they have both instilled a common value in me, take

The first time I saw you, your smile mesmerized me and your laugh practically incapacitate my organism. Your mysterious eyes so profound that no conceivable mean to decipher the schema that your emotion unveil. The thought of you laughing right now can moisten the Mojave Desert; the echo of your voice is a manifestation equivalent to billions of neurotransmitters flushing into my hypothalamus at the speed of light. It enrages all the serotonin within my anatomy that I didn't know has existed. Now you know. And with silence, you have stolen my heart and every endogenous elements in my body. The thought of you has organically saturate the dopamine which will soon speed to my nuclei--everlastingly in my raphe core. The thought of you like testosterone