Personal Narrative: The Norm

It's been an interesting year so far, and it looks like it is about to get even more interesting (more about that in a moment). What I wanted to write about in this here journal of mine is a new brand of shoe that I just purchased; they are called Nike running shoes, and I love them. They fit well, are comfortable and seem like they will last quite a while. I just had to have a pair (I think I'm the first one here at school to have them most of the other students have never even heard of them; Neanderthals, I know!). I predict they will be a big hit in the future. Okay, enough about shoes, let's move on to more serious matters, my love life! (just joking journal I have no love life right now). Oh well, I haven't written in here for the past few weeks, I guess I better talk about the events of the month. Let's see, it's October 1962 and a number of events have taken place; some here at the University of Mississippi, some in the United States and some internationally. Many of these events will likely have long-term impact on some very serious matters. Of course, I did not think any event would foreshadow James Meredith being admitted into the University, but, the first Negro being admitted into a higher education institution is an event that has only national implications, while the missile crisis in Cuba, could lead to death to thousands or even hundreds of thousands of citizens in both the United States and in Russia.

Seconds had seemed to pass like minutes and minutes like hours. They were addicted, or in love. Neither had been able to distinguish which. He'd spent the days doing everything in his power to find a distraction, pouring himself into his work nine-to-five and then letting a drink, or ten, settle him in the evening. They had tried tirelessly to find a balance but somehow couldn't tune themselves to vibrate on the same frequency. They stood close, cramped up in a corner by clubbers completely oblivious to the energy flowing between them. His surprise to see her was shadowed by the fire in his stomach, he couldn't take his eyes away from her lips, his own tingling with longing for their

It was a cool November day, in the middle of Afghanistan. As a medic, I was sitting outside my make shift aid station with one of my buddies sharing stories about home. We hear a loud explosion right outside of the wire. I looked up and could see the cloud of smoke billowing up from about two hundred meters away. Not knowing how bad the situation was, I grabbed a few of my soldiers, our translator and my aid bag and ran straight to the smoke. When we got there, a group of civilians were huddled around a group of people who were yelling, screaming and crying. The translator found out that a group of three men and three children were walking around a field when one of the children stepped on a mine. One of my soldiers grabbed the mine

The social norm I broke is making too much eye contact, or staring excessively, at my teachers. While sitting in class, I stared at my teachers more than I stared at my paper or looked around the classroom. It is usually normal for students to stare down at their desks and not look at the teacher a lot.

I grew up as one of the hardest things to commit to, black and alternative. My meaning of alternative is being interested in goth fashion and heavy metal music. From what I was told, being black is listening to hip-hop and dressing like everyone else around them or what is the social norm. Clearly, my definition of alterative is contrasting on what it means to be “black.” I say it's hard to commit because coming from a closed black family, I felt pressed to let go of what I felt about myself just to make them happy. Questions like, ‘’Why are you trying so hard to be different?’’ or ‘’Who told you that was okay?’’ Still replay in my head whenever I decide to wear something that I would feel most comfortable in. Not long ago, I got into an arguement

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

In between these moments, she catches a glance from the window, and your eyes meet. She holds your stare long enough to ascertain recognition, and quietly drags the curtains close. You stare blankly at the yellow walls, the brown pillars that hold them erect, the drawn curtains that would forever divide you. Between your fingers, the car engine gears up, and you turn your heart away from her. You reach into your soul and find her there—leaving—fully

"No, you promised me today. Admittedly, tell me. What knows you'll find your love here," she stumbled out the last words, with tease she always liked to do.

I personally found trying to find a single “Social Norm” to break challenging so I chose to do two instead. The first was to end my phone calls with I love you, and to talk to a stranger in the bathroom stall next to my own. Which is how I confessed my undying love to a coworker. Working at a casino, employees have to call surveillance for anytime they move around with money or have to be escorted to the vault. I’m a pretty lively person but going into work, I started to get this bashful nature about myself especially the closer it came to performing both of the social norms I gave myself to break.

It was just the beginning of February. The winter cold, brutal, and yet normal for the people living in Michigan. My best friend Brian, his uncle Craig, and I were driving back together from Craig’s up north cottage. Brian and I were riding passenger with Craig in his Chevy Silverado pick-up. We were coming back from the annual Perchville Polar Bear Plunge that took place in Tawas, Michigan. A lot was on my mind since it was the second semester of my senior year, and graduation was right around the corner. I had no idea what I wanted to do, or where my future would take me.

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.

“You’re pretty for someone who has dark skin.” I stood there in the middle of my 10th grade English class, stunned. Trying to fathom whether or not to accept it or acknowledge it was a backhanded compliment. I sat there thinking to myself did this other student who shares the same color skin as me, just feel the need to associate my beauty despite my color? This was just one of many times in my life I had encountered phrases like that, but that day in my English class, I realized society had created a social norm that just wasn't going to sit right with me.

Is usual to hear people associating common behaviors from a cultural background to how they expect an individual to act and react to certain situations. So I was really curious to see the results of the self-assessment comparing me to my cultural profile. I was born in Venezuela, and I lived there for most of my life, for that reason I wasn’t really surprised when my answers were almost the same to my cultural norm. The dimensions that I’m most similar to are in leading, trusting, disagreeing, evaluating, and persuading. In “leading”, the scale measures between egalitarian and hierarchical, and my cultural norm and individual answer is more hierarchical than egalitarian. Also, in “trusting” Venezuelans (including me) are definitely a relationship based society, where trust is built by affective connection, for example is very common that most of the business partnerships in Venezuela are made between friends and family rather than with individuals with

“Is the real world frightening and hard?” Is the question I ask to my parents all the time. On my birthday they always tell me the story about how hard it was for them when I was born and now I am about to tell you the story. My parents had me at a very young age. They did not finish college, imagining what they went through while telling me the story was having me put in a lot of knowledge about the real world. You make one little mistake and it is over for you because, you cannot go back and fix it. Now I know why my parents push me and motivate me and lead me into the right direction. They are preparing me for the future and what I have planned after I graduate High School and College.

It all began last Friday. The time was nearing midnight, but the television was still blaring infomercials and crime shows. My older sister, Laura, and I had been watching movies for the past few hours.