Personal Narrative: The Alliance Of The Targeted

At the age of nine, I watched my uncles lowering my father into the ground and what took his life was addiction. All my life I have watched addiction take over the lives of people, I love. My father's side of the family, besides my grandparents, has always faced addiction. Although, addiction runs through my blood, I will not take the same path I have watched people take all my life. I will be the one to end the cycle. Watching the majority of my family waste their life has motivated me to change the direction and better myself from living a life of addiction and misery.

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

“Earlier today, we learned that an attempt was made on your cousin’s life,” her father said to her. “Your mother has so much grief for your cousin, because of the actions that he has made since the past two years – deeds worthy of being told to all

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

It was a peaceful and normal first hour. Well, at least for the people in it. Everyone was yelling, and the teacher had just given up on trying to stop them, and now was just browsing for a retirement home in Key West. I looked up at Jordan, who was my best and only friend. Her spiked blond hair was never put down, even in the toughest rain. Her tan legs sat on top of her desk, and her pine green eyes scanned the school newspaper.

Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three.

They called me an apple. Since I was supposedly red on the outside, but white on the inside, I was automatically a walking bullseye. Being one of the many oppressed Aboriginals, I understand their need to hurt someone else in an effort to release some of their internal pain. I understand why so many give up or turn into raging alcoholics in an effort to numb their pain. Coming from a reservation, my greatest challenge was proving to everyone that all the stereotypes about my people were fallacious. However, the need for a government and an education system that won’t keep on failing us repeatedly is imperative. The only way that I can make my voice heard is to break these stereotypes and to reach a higher education; hence my application for

“National intelligence is still organized around the collection disciplines of the home agencies, not the joint mission. The importance of integrated, all-source analysis cannot be overstated. Without it, it is not possible to “connect the dots.” No one component holds all the relevant information.” While all agencies collect information, only through joint integration can we truly paint an accurate assessment of the facts. As a reference, the report cites the Goldwater Nichols legislation of 1986, in which Operations as a whole were better envisioned though joint co-operative training. It shows the strengths of these types of events and why we must incorporate more joint intelligence to be successful.

Hunter laughs at the remark and continues on to his office. His feet echo on the freshly waxed floor he always liked this time of day he could concentrate and get things done. Most of the foreign military had arrived for the conference so today would be nothing more than getting to where they needed to go. Getting to the entrance he pulled out his card and swiped it across the coded keypad, he then entered his password and the tumblers on the locks clicked allowing him entrance. It was a small place for such a big job but he hated wasted space. Thinking of all those Generals with big offices that did very little work. Hunters was a working man’s domicile with nice neat stacks of paper positioned right where he could find them. Today's meeting really wouldn’t be much different from others of equal importance except for the fact that everyone is not exactly comfortable being away from home and in America. Sure it was safe and secure but old ghosts from the Pentagon's tragic past loomed ever-present in people's minds. Fortunately, it would not last more than a day and they all could be on their way. This is an annual affair to go over strategic planning for the coming year. It had a little more urgency than some of the one in the past with a heightened awareness of the growing terror attacks that have increased in the

“All true,” he said. “But you deserve a break. When you come, we’ll celebrate your birthday with cake and champagne. My guest house is vacant and ready for you.”

I hate when people mess with me by irritating or annoying me. Also I hate being talked about me behind my back too. It bothers me so much that I can probably be mad, and upset for a whole day and not say anything to anybody. However, I do not do that a lot I just keep moving forward on what I have to do. I do this because I would not get myself into trouble by fighting or calling names, but instead I’ll try to be as positive as I can be.

I quickly swallowed my homemade authentic Indian food leftovers and gulped down my chocolate milk. Looking down at my watch that read 11:28am, I knew that I only had two minutes until my most favorite part of the day: recess. This particular day in 5th grade, I had run a lap around the playground before getting the rest of recess to myself. As I started walking for my warmup, another student ran up and said, “My parents said that your people caused 9/11.” Completely caught off guard, I held back the tears in my eyes and tried to shake off his comment. I had never encountered something like this.

The cold water rushed down Emily's hands. There was a slight breeze coming in from the windows that gave her a little chill. Emily looked at all the writing on the wall. The walls were so dirty that you would have never have known that they used to be blue. Everything was run down here in west high, especially these bathrooms on the second floor. Whenever someone heard the school name, bullying would come to their mind. Poor Adam, he always got bullied for having these bright blue shoes. Just as Emily grabbed a paper towel, an alarm started to ring! ring ring! Lockdown lockdown, lock the door, stay away from the windows, this is not a drill! Yelled principle Winston on the loud speaker. Was this really happening Emily thought. It was probably

and I was afraid if you were there you would have gotten hurt, and as much as