Personal Narrative: My Life Beyond Valley

I am currently a senior at Santa Ana Valley High School. I am planning to further my education and obtain a degree. I am certain I want to be in the medical field; I have in the medical academy for three years here at Valley and I’ve never experienced anything more amazing. Most of my classes were honor classes and a couple were AP, Advanced Placement, throughout my high school years.

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

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.

Normally, this weekend would find us in the Carson Valley; traveling up Hwy. 395, past a marker grandma green church of my childhood. Our post Ironman week was less than typical. Hence, we are home turning over flagging remnants of overgrown August herbs, a plethora of scarlet blistering shishito peppers, and multi colored bells, discovering another garden dinner in the doing. My mother often made stuffed bell peppers which began with blanched, whole peppers full of ground beef, bread crumbs, bacon, and raw Minute Rice which magically cooked the tiny white bits as they bathed in bubbling stewed tomatoes topped with American cheese. Sixty years later, my sister and I reminiscence about those delicious packages of meatloaf and buttery new

The alluring Mead Valley; where there’s roadkill on every main road, starving dogs on your trail, and The Red Store where the whole town is acquainted with one another. Having a large family in a small house is not an uncommon occurrence, and with this sizable household, it’s evident that my mind and persona was shaped by many from a young age. My mom always advised me to be appreciative of the situation I was born into, because in the real world, when deprivation in any form struck me down, I would have the resources to get back up and labor through the rigorous times. I was disciplined through trial and error parenting. Instead of putting a stop to my mistakes completely, I was given the privilege to make my own decisions and learn from them,

Much of my life I have been an outsider. One could not tell this by solely looking at my life. I have a well-established friend group and was Prom Queen on top of that. I am also an officer of various clubs, which could not happen if I was disliked by my peers. If one looked closely, and had an almost omnipresent view of my life, they would see that despite these accomplishments, I have wandered through much of my life feeling alone.

Have you ever felt robbed of a childhood? At the age of six, I was placed into the DYFS system. I moved from house to house, not really having the chance to grow up like normal children. I didn’t get to experience things such as ; asking my older

My Influences We human beings are all works of art. Every experience that we have is a new stroke of paint to our canvas. The things that influence us do the same. I am not a completed work of art, but I can show my progress of what makes me. I am influenced by the media, my teachers, and the neighborhoods I lived in. Now here is the showing of my work.

Downard took a different path. “I wanted to be a chef. And then for a little while I actually wanted to go into journalism. And that’s what most of the way through high school I thought I was going to do until about my junior year when I started thinking about music, and then senior year I applied,” said Downard.

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

My road starts in Iraq, where I started playing soccer. Soccer has and still is, a big part of my life. I started it after my uncle died. He loved soccer and was the best uncle ever. My father did soccer and so is my brother at FFC. 2 years in soccer at a game is where I first broke a bone, my right leg. I threw up and then fainted. I spend about a week in the hospital. My road keeps moving to Jordan, more specifically in Amman. I have stopped playing soccer after I broke my leg. So I got into karate. I began karate about the 2nd month living in Jordan. I picked it up very quickly.I earned my black belt. One tragic day at a competition, the same leg broke again.

I would say distraction was one of the challenges I had to overcome to get where I am today. My friends, relationships, staying up late, watching television or doing something else rather than doing my work, would always back track me even if I thought “I’ll be okay” and

Living in the Southeast of Texas were white is right, black is wrong and anything in the middle lived in the gray area of life. My family is filled with living in the gray areas of life. Drugs and alcohol is that colorless friend that helps my family get thought life. At an early age alcohol was that friend that shown up and many the adults laugh and do silly dance during family gathering. It was that friend that lived less than 50 feet from my grandparents’ home. Its house was open too young and old and as a child I was sent over many times to welcome it over. As the years pass it became divide and was seen and given a name drugs and alcohol.

I grew up in a town called Happy Valley, located just outside of Portland, Oregon. A lot of people from outside of town look at the name and make some sort of joke, like "Is everyone happy there or something?" While it's impossible for there to be a place where absolutely everyone is happy, Happy Valley really had nothing wrong with it, and judging by its absence of negative attributes, I would consider it a decently happy valley. Oregon in general is a beautiful place, with a lot of lush greenery and fairly good weather, and Happy Valley was obviously no exception to Oregon's splendor.

My heart was thumping heavily, as the bus took a turn towards the mountains. I didn’t know why I had agreed, but it was too late to turn back.