Personal Narrative: My Life In Houston

A poem written by South Carolina pastor, Jeremy Rutledge has given readers a lot to think about. The poem was composed after the great Hurricane Harvey tragedy in Houston. In his poem Rutledge mentions the word pray many times but the meaning of it goes way beyond that. When praying for something it is important to know the aspects and struggles of it, and that is exactly what Rutledge is doing in this poem, stating all the things that make Houston unique, diverse, and capable to rise from it all.

The main place where I have received my political socialization from is from my family. This is logical because I have been with my family since I was born so I was bound to pick up a lot of there beliefs as the years went by. My family

In my life I have never had any political enforcement or strict religious influence. My parents were very lenient when it came too political preaching. I was taught to be a caring and respectful individual. My political understanding and beliefs have been molded from my early political memories and socialization experiences. As a young adult I have always strived to become knowledgeable about political ideals mainly because I was never really taught to believe in something specific. I eventually was drawn towards many different social and political perspectives, which is how I came to a logical conclusion of how I view the world politically

Before my big move to Houston about three years ago for college, it was my last summer back home in a little city called Amarillo, which is considered “West Texas,” although it’s actually located geographically north within the heart of the Texas Panhandle. I was enjoying every last bits of the time that I’ve had left with my friends and family. The last thing I could think of worrying about during that summer was a romantic relationship. My intentions were to make bittersweet memories and to have what they would call, fun. I went out almost every single weekend for the first month of my last summer and met tons of friends and I became closer to old casual friends. Within that first month of consistently going out and hanging out with all these friends that I became close to, I met a very sweet, charming, and interesting guy named Andy. Something about him caught my attention. He was silly and funny without even trying, so I took an interest in him. We started messaging each other on Facebook then texting and making polite conversations. Before I knew it, this was the starting point to a whole new friendship. When he first messaged me, as much as I hesitated to respond to him because I knew I was moving and I did not want to develop feelings just leave everything behind, I wanted to not just respond but to strike more conversations. I became curious about him and I wanted to find out more and more.

Do you remember when you were a kid, there was that one place that always seemed so amazing, but once you got there you were so disappointed? When you are a kid, a disappointment like that seems to be a big deal. Well when I moved to Texas, it was just that. The worst place I have ever tried living, was in Bethel, Texas. There are numerous reasons that make me say this including, the excessive oil drilling, how spread out each town is, and how god awfully ugly it was. I would never recommend going there. I moved there, and within a month, I came back home. Even if I think of it as a Vacation, it still was a horrible experience.

When I arrived in Dallas, I was legitimately surprised to see that people in Texas were normal. They were not all wearing cowboy hats and boots with pistols tucked into their belts. I was ten years old, and I had just become accustomed to life in Missouri, right after leaving to Texas. Previously, I had moved from Albuquerque, New Mexico to Missouri when my dad’s job relocated us. Then, my dad quit his job and decided to pursue his dreams of owning a cattle ranch because his job had asked he relocate us to White Plains, New York. While his worst nightmare was being forced to live in a crowded, bustling urban municipality, mine included simply moving again.Visions of tumbleweed and desert haunted me the days following his announcement. This

Being a proud native Texan, you can trace my family back to the time when Sam Houston was President of the country of Texas. However, shortly after the US attacks on 9/11, choosing to not live in fear my father accepted a position in his company which entailed moving our family to New York City. We witnessed first hand the beauty of neighbors coming together and holding each other up while rallying to rebuild and move forward. Sadly, we also shared the personal heartache of one of my classmates who was fatherless due to the heinous acts of terrorists.

I did not know anybody. The closest person that I knew was a six hour drive away, not even in the same state as me. The day that I moved to Texas was the day that I left my sense of security behind – everything I had ever known was taken from me, and having no say in this discouraged and frustrated me. Being part of an expat family accustomed me to moving, but this time it was different. The transition from living in Qatar to living in Texas physically and mentally exhausted me, but, with the right skills and resources, I was eventually able to overcome it.

I am not from San Antonio. I am not from Texas. I’m from California. Where no one twangs, or drawls, or even says hi to the stranger standing in line at the grocery store. Texas, half way across the U.S and what seems like a whole other country compared to California. It is a completely different place that I could have ever imagined living and calling home. I came to Texas to find myself. I didn’t know that when I came here, but it is what ended up happening.

My parents grew up in a small rural city just outside of Youngstown, Ohio. They then moved to San Francisco and soon realized that the environment did not suit them. They noticed that the people have different beliefs and ideology and as a result, they influenced me into learning about politics.

During the summer I moved to Houston with expectation of a bigger and better life. In this I met a man, his name was Chase and he was tall and very handsome. We exchanged our information and continued to stay in touch, as we talked we began to develop feelings for one another. The passion grow between us, the good and the bad and I felt as though it was something that I couldn’t get with anyone else. Chase understood me and seemed to know everything that I was thinking before I could even form the words to say my thoughts. We spent endless nights together and I felt completely safe in his presence, but he was poison and I didn’t know it yet. I was warned by my very good friend Jordan that my feelings toward Chase would soon

Longview, Texas is a unique hometown for many reasons. First of all because, more than likely, any given person who attends Texas A&M and did not play football in high school has never heard of it. When meeting new people in college, I’m always asked where I’m from and 90% of the time the response I hear is “Oh I’ve never heard of that”, 9.5% of the time I hear “Is that kinda by Houston?” (a question that, after hearing for several semesters, I’ll just respond yes), and finally .5% of people I meet know where Longview actually is. Living in a small town—not in the suburbs to any city—offered a unique perspective on life going into college. There are 4 high schools in town. The largest, Longview High, was an athletic and academic powerhouse: always going to state

I think what has also contributed to my political views is that I have a stay at home dad, doctor mom, and Sudanese family members.

Although I was born in San Antonio, my childhood life wasn’t spent in the Alamo City. Up in north Texas, there is a miniature city consisting of three thousand people named Nocona. The town was my childhood life until my mother fell into a deep depression. As a result, my mother was unable to hold a job or take care of my sisters and I. This resulted in my mother giving us up to my father in San Antonio. When arriving in San Antonio, my mother would tell me that she was going to come back for us. It has been seven years and I have not lived with my mother since.

The environment in which I was raised was not the prettiest of sceneries, but it was filled with a lot of love. My family and I grew up in a compacted cul de sac with 5 houses each one broke down and very little no more than two bedrooms. Despite not the best living conditions the neighborhood was very peaceful and quiet. There was never no problems, fighting, or arguments between neighbors, we were like a enormous group of friends. One memory that I will always remember is when before my family moved to San Antonio all of us threw a barbecue just because it was going to be our last time seeing them. After that barbecue I realized that you can’t be happy until you love what you got. When we moved to San Antonio our family started having our ups and downs due to the fact that transitioning from state to state was hard.