Personal Narrative: My Life In The Bay Area

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.

The later half of the Homelander Generation, also known as “Generation Y,” is known for having little to no identity. Popular culture says that history repeats itself and that I belong to a generation where an overall style does not exist. From music to clothing everyone is desperately trying to reach into the past. The 60s, 70s, and 80s all have defining styles prevalent to that specific decade, for example disco. As a result to addressing the uniqueness of California and its culture in the 1990s Bay Area patrons began a move toward rap, hard-hitting beats, baggy clothing and defined dance styles. California was home to the newest cohesive generational movement. It was home to the development of the Hyphy Movement and the defining aspects of a craze that in itself was crazy. In areas that include San Francisco, Oakland, Fairfield and Hayward transformed. The Hyphy Movement demanded acknowledgment of the Bay Area’s diverse and particularly its interesting take on the California Dream.

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

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.

In 1978, when I was 14, my family moved from Phoenix, AZ to Cerritos, CA; a small city in the heart of the greater Los Angeles area. Phoenix was mainly White, Barry Goldwater conservatives trying their best to hold onto 1950’s Americana, but Los Angeles in the late 1970s was different; it was alive, vibrating to frequencies of the differing cultures that called the L.A. basin home. Looking back it still fills me with excitement, but truth be told I was scared to death. When I first arrived I had no friends, no experience to prepare me for the full on culture shock I found myself facing, nor any thought of how special that area would be to me. No other place than Southern California could have provided a better backdrop to develop the foundation

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 United States has always been “home” to me because I feel that I am a bit of the quintessential American story. I was born to immigrants hoping for a better opportunity than what was offered from their third world home country. I was raised and went to school here, which blended many of my parent’s home culture and the new American culture. As I have matured, I have noticed how much my life has been influenced by society’s opportunities and issues. The American character is the crossroads of opportunity, struggle, and hopefulness because the it is not only a reflection of the founding father’s ideas, but also a reflection of minorities who have interjected their experiences that shaped my American journey.

The blaring noise of the wind through the streets mixed with the severe weather alerts on our cellphones. Through my window, I could make out silhouettes of trees blowing uncontrollably through the rain. This was not something that I was expecting during the holiday season. On the night of December 26, 2015, our family went into a safe room inside of our house and braced ourselves for the tornado that was tearing through my hometown.

What is California besides a state? California is different for everyone it depends on who you ask. I have lived my whole life in Coalinga. Coalinga is where my California story began. This is where I got my ideas of what California truly means. California isn’t always going be driving on a smooth road there are times where you have to drive on either a bumpy road or a cracked road. Coalinga has taught me that being different is a good thing, but there are struggles along the way. That’s how life is; it’s not always a walk in the park instead it’s a burning house. Coalinga was my environment and still has a huge part of my story. It was one of the factors that molded me to who I am. In retrospect, many decisions were made to get to where I am today.

From what I can remember my life began in Houston. I was born in Charleston, West Virginia, but moved to Houston before I turned two. I have an older brother and an older sister. I grew up in the Clear Lake area, and stayed there until I finished high school. My family is Catholic, so my parents raised me to be a person that follows the rules and tries to adhere to a moral code. While living in Houston there were relatively strict rules when I was younger that have since faded away. For example, they used to limit drinking pop by only the family drink it on Fridays and Saturdays, and we were only allowed to drink three cans each day. Although they had pretty clear ideas on how we should act, there was not much open communication about politics.

"Well, those residents were homes of the, you might say, the elite of Los Angles, movie people, politicians and the like... They would kind of like, well like yourself, they would rent these places as a kind of getaway... I guess over time for some reason or other, like I guess all things, they lost interest, and the houses just set there abandoned. That was a long time ago... But about 50 or so years back, the city of Fresno got a grant from the state for infrastructure.... Hired a lot of workers from all over, Fresno not being LA, they got permission to convert some of these big houses into rooms and apartments... Cut em' up and redesigned them... Some they left the way they were, I spect they let these out to the bosses and their families...

First, after high school my plan is to attend at Santa Ana college. For right now I'm still deciding on what I want study for. In the future I will find a academy I want to study for. I wanted to attend at occ but I don’t have the money to go and pay for the classes. I wanted to join culinary arts at occ but again I can’t afford it, so that’s why I rather be at sac and get free education. While being at santa ana college i'm just going for my 2 years and then join culinary arts after.

A few Saturdays ago I went to Bayside Miami to watch a life band playing. Personally I do not enjoy going to concert. I do not like big crows, and I dislike the fact in most concerts, one has to listen to just one artist’s songs. I do not know the name of the band playing at the Marina Stage in Bayside, so I will refer to it as the Bayside