Personal Narrative: The Labels Of Home

The earth that we live on has had so many different classes and races of humans, various sexes and beliefs. Of the 7 billion people on the planet, each and every one of them belong to a social group in some way, whether they identify or someone else sees them as such. Diversity among humans can be connected to biodiversity in nature. Every creature, no matter the kingdom or species, is necessary for the web of life to remain complete. Humans seek to place a label on each other, to give them a category and with each category comes a stigma. Despite what many may say about the problems that conformity can solve, each being is essential to the step forward into the

“Hmmph! WHERE ARE THE PLUGINS THAT I WANT!?” My manager’s words resonated through my body and my eyes started to flare. My fingers nimbly typed out the words that would lead me to a comforting place. I dove into the world of coding languages where the limit’s the sky and I knew how to fly.

Renees heart was going to pound out of her chest that night. Her hands were clammy and beads of sweat were rolling down her face as she held her new bulky phone to her moist ear. She knew that she needed to tell her parents that her new business degree, that they had just paid for, was no longer what she wanted to do. She had found a new interesting in the medical field but knew her parents would be furious if she told them that every penny they had just spent was just a waste. The phone felt like it was ringing for a million years with the familiar buzzing noise, but at last she heard her mother's sweet voice in the other line. Not knowing how to address the situation renee tried to avoid the conversation for as long as possible. Her voice

To some I was black, to others I was Ethiopian, and to my brothers I was the “girl” in the family. These debates over who I was claimed a lot of my childhood. As a got older, I felt a sense of resentment towards my parents because they chose to raise me in a place lacking such diversity. A place where I had no choice but to constantly questions the burden others put on my skin and gender. The concept of diversity for some is just an ideal that must be implemented in their place of work or school in order to appear politically correct, but for me it hits much deeper. It’s about finding comfort, just once, in a space usually occupied by one, dominant race. A race not that of my

This week I got to take a trip to Gates Estate with Heather so that she could take a lesson with her trainer friend JJ Lavieri. At UNH I have learned to always dress professionally because you never know who you are going to meet and second people will take you more seriously when you dress professionally because you look like you know what you are doing. The night before this trip I set out my nice tan breaches, my UNH equestrian polo, and my tall boots. That morning I arrived to work a little early so that I could get the horse Deelite ready to goon the trailer. Heather had asked me to do standing wraps instead of shipping boots since it was only a short smooth trailer ride. Yet again keeping in mind that appearance is everything I dressed

Head spinning and sleep deprived, my black and white-striped Adidas drag across the taupe cement floor, begging to come to a stop in front of the lockers in the backroom. The cold steals away my sense of feeling, yet my nose still manages to alert to how cold it is by allowing nasal fluids to dominate. I sniff. Today is going to be long.

I wipe my sleeve along the muck covered window. Watching the people rush around trying to get to places, for some odd reason it soothes me. Shema, Cardo, Scien, Lud, and Tarsel fill the street. They walk shoulder to shoulder. The Tarsels keep to themselves and hang their heads as they walk along the crowded sidewalk.

We finally left Denver and I was excited to start a new journey-- well, I was mostly

This story is not like any other. It stands alone. Love and hate are not spoken about, yet felt through the words. This road is long with unexpected twist and turns. Words will be left unsaid but their absence will not make a difference. This is a story that was never meant to reach the light of day. Your story is now open. Terror and joy engulf your body as you read.

When we began this program, we were excited and ready to take on the year with full force. 2 months in and reality hit us. We couldn’t wait for Thanksgiving and Christmas break! We craved sleep and a few days to not stress about anything school related, which didn’t happen because we had plenty of homework to keep us occupied.

My family have been cattle farmers over in Woop Woop, since my great grandparents migrated here from Italy straight after World War 2. We’re the Costellos. Our neighbours are the Regans and they’ve been farming here in the district for “yonks” as well. The two families haven't been getting on ever since me ole man installed that irrigation channel that separated the two farms. But I say, Fair dinkum! that was yonks ago ! All that’s in the past...and...well...I can’t help it if I love Dani. I know she’s a Regans but that’s “no worries” . I saw her for the first time yesterday arvo at the Boozer and she was so beautiful ,even more beautiful than Queensland, but there was just one big problem; she was a Regen. I decided not to tell anyone that I loved her ,but me mates saw me gawking at her making snags they warned not to go down that path, but true love is like a slippery snake; you can't control it. Bazza said to me, “Mick her ole man’d be as mad as a cut snake if you go after Maria.” I was madly in love with her ,but I played it smart and tried not to go off like a frog in a sock every time I heard her name.

On Sunday, I drive to Laguna Beach for brunch with my mother. From our table, I watch the waves dissipate into the sand. I promised not to break up with Doug, so we’re on good terms again. We linger at the beach browsing galleries. By late-afternoon, I head back to Venice.

I laid down hiding under the covers as my tears began to fall. I eventually ended up crying myself to sleep. When I woke up again it was the middle of the night, I looked to the foot of the bed to see Eren in the form of a lynx curled up there.

I currently reside in my mom's house in Prescott, Wisconsin. She is the only parent in my household because my parents divorced four years ago. When I was born, I lived in Apple Valley, Minnesota. When I went into kindergarten, my family moved to Farmington, Minnesota, and by the time I was in fourth grade, I made my way to Prescott. All of this moving around was due to my dad and his job. Sometimes, I wonder how all this moving has impacted my life, all the friends I could of made, all the opportunities in

What is home? A home doesn’t consist of objects or possessions; a home is a place filled with memories, love, and happiness. Home isn’t a physical place, it’s a feeling of affection inside of a house. When I think of the word home, I think of a safe zone. It’s a place where one can feel sheltered by things from the outside world. Home is a place that I can count on to provide stability and structure in my life. It’s a place I can be my complete self and express any emotions I may be feeling, without being judged. At the age of twelve, my parents got divorced and the meaning of “home” changed. I often moved back and forth between parents and did not have a steady place to stay. Even though while growing up I faced many different family challenges and struggles each day, it has shaped my identity and provided me with many life lessons. My experiences can set examples to my peers by portraying that nothing is guaranteed and anything is bound to change at any given time. If I could give any words of wisdom to my peers it would be to never take your family for granted because it can be gone in the blink of an eye. I am thankful for the setback that I was given because I was able to make a powerful comeback. More importantly, I have had the opportunity to find who I truly am as a person throughout this journey.