Personal Narrative: This I Believe

When I was younger I had always been described as mature. Although I wasn’t anywhere near being “mature”, it was a word always used to describe me, well-mannered and mature. While my brother was goofy and social, I was shy and serious. We were twins yet total opposites. As a child, because that was the word almost always associated with me, it crae unusual, almost toxic idea about myself. I had to be mature to be what people liked about me. So, it never occurred to me to be able to not take myself seriously and say something like “Oops that was dumb” and laugh it off. For some reason that didn’t make sense to me to say silly things like that.

I like to beat the rush for lines and do not prefer being late, but

Fourth quarter of my sixth grade year was a dark and rough time for me. I was very stressed and felt as if I was trapped in a box grasping for air. I felt like I was going to completely fail the sixth grade because there were so many projects to be done. Now enjoy my rant full of life lessons and stories.

An experience that has influenced my work and academic goals has been my family. My wife and I have one son, who departed for college this past weekend. His departure was a very emotional event for us because we did just about everything together (hockey, trips, etc). Four years ago, we brought in four siblings under foster care, which is the main topic for this essay. Four years ago, my wife and I were hoping to adopt one child and we were hoping to find a girl that needed what is commonly called a “forever home”. This process was extremely difficult as the system is not easy to navigate (I could be more blunt with this description but I won’t here). After many trials and tribulations with the foster/adoption system in Alaska, I had resigned

When I was 12 years old, and my grade wasn’t promising. My parents all blame me, but never encourage me to bring it back up, so for a year my grade never changed. During that year my mom treat me like I wasn't her son. Me and my mom fight almost every day. The next year, everything was the same. My grade was still on the ground, until the next semester my friend encourage me and helped me to bring my grades up. They tried to help me and try to convince me to compete with them so I can bring my grades up faster. When I was 7 years old, there was a bully back in China who was in 6 grade. He beat up first, second, and third graders. I told my parents so they can do something about it, but they thought I was talking about a third grader, so they say to deal with the problem myself. For a year he was still bullying people, so my friend courage me to go with them so that we can tell the teacher. The teacher didn't do anything about it, some and my friend brought bats and beat him up. Some of my friend got hurt pretty bad, but we got him into the hospital, and after that he stopped bullying people.

I have not always been a Christian, growing up in an isolated part of Tennessee were families lived apart from each other, Jesus was not a household name that was spoken of. We didn’t pray or nor did I see my parents pray. This became a resonating tradition in my life. Though I was very close to my mother and really didn’t interact with others, it created in my mind an introverted person. This created a covering of my feelings and started me on a downward fall in my life. Our family didn’t go to church, so it became a part of my belief system, so I continued to live my life as if nothing else matters outside of my family. I was gifted in many things, but I drew to my talent of Basketball and focused totally on it. The adrenaline and desire

She's got the black plastic of a cutting knife handle gripped in her palm. Beige-painted fingernails glisten under the scrutinizing lights of our glazed kitchen; a classy and neutral color, like herself. She's grinning in concentration, a thin upward-curving line shaping her lips.

"Are you sure?" These were the words the 8 year old version of me first heard after coming home from my grandparent's house. When I was younger, I spent most of my time with my father's parents. Both of mine worked, and we needed someone to babysit. Whether it be in politics or behavior, they are the epitome of being conservative; however, My mother is quite a bit more liberal. I grew up listening to the likes of Bill O'Reilly and Glenn Beck at my grandparents, and I would often come home to repeat their extremely conservative message. "Are you sure?" were always the words my mother would say to me. These words usually defeated an 8 year old me, but it is now the cue to start a friendly debate. I have grown to be much more like her since I

“Hah! BALDY!” He screeched. I was sure my head was gleaming like a street lamp as everyone chanted ‘Baldy’ to the moon and back. My chemo had left me as a nauseous, hairless, bag of bones, and my whole school situation hadn’t exactly gotten better either. My cheeks flushing, I shoved my hands in my sweatpants pockets and ran off. I would have started crying, but I really didn’t have any tears left. I had been crying for days. Weeks, even. Heck, I didn’t know how long. Could have been years, but I wouldn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. I looked up to my apartment window, and my mom was waving me on encouragingly. Thanks the lord she didn’t shout out the window, or her thick Russian accent would surely provoke

G sharp, C sharp, E natural. Finger 5, 1, 2, and 5 again. And then F sharp, and then…yes, I finally got it! I think to myself as I do a fist pump into the air. I had perfected a part of a piece I was playing that I had been struggling with for the longest time. My left hand was already tired from hammering away at the piano keys for what seemed like hours. I turned the pages back to the beginning of the song and played through the whole song. I was finally ready perform it at the recital.

Stop, stop, stop!! The kids are sleeping, please stop. “ I don’t care if the kids wake up you can’t do anything right, your worthless.”

August 2014 was the coldest August I had ever experienced. The month was filled with blankets and heavy coats. Though usually Brazilian winters aren’t much different than American autumns, this one made everyone chilly. I was born and raised in the United States of America with my father, mother and younger brother. But my mother was born and raised in Curitiba, a city in Brazil. When my parents got married, they decided to live in the United States to raise their family. Despite that, I grew up with a part of Brazil in my heart. We visited Brazil many times throughout my childhood, but when I was at home, my mom brought Brazil to us through her cooking. My family loved sitting down to various Brazilian meals, many of which were rice, meat,

Opening the link, I was hit with instant nostalgia, memories of my grandfather calling me to the living room, rambling about a man with no limbs. I remember sitting there with him, smiling as a result of my grandfather being passionate about Nick and his seminars, tuning in time to time, listening to the voice over translation in spanish. At the time, I didn't fully understand what my grandfather meant when he said he was an inspiration and how he gives hope to others, as I was a relatively cheerful (snobby for the lack of a better word) pre-teen. I went along with it, hoping to somehow get out of watching this man as it was translated in Spanish and it took quite the effort for me to piece the words and sentences together.

Racing at night going One-hundred and forty miles an hour on US-27 holding the lead, Shift six gear, speed topped out at two-hundred miles per hour passing by cars smoothly. I chanted I am immortal, I am a god! while I pushed my sports bike to its limit. Suddenly a black car approaches. WHAM! I get Rammed from behind and lose control of my bike slamming into a Semi-truck up ahead. Lights out. When I peeked my eyes, I saw 4 humans around me. Thump after thumb I believe I was in an ambulance rushing down the turnpike. I looked around and the first words that came to my head are “Rick this is just a dream”. This is the story of how I escaped from an illegal laboratory that clones and modifies humans.

One day my cousins had visited us from Texas . We all wanted to go to Wet N Wild .Then I had asked my dad if he could take us to Wet N Wild . Then he said ,"yes", but we will go on a Saturday . Then Saturday comes.It was a very sunny day with a bit of wind.