Personal Narrative: West Dallas On Toronto Street

I leaned my head against the car window watching the leaves blowing around, just trying to distract myself from a slight feeling of emptiness inside of me. This feeling seemed all too familiar to me. My family and I had all of our possessions packed into boxes yet again. We were moving to a new state. At this point, up rooting our lives and starting over almost seemed more like a hobby than anything more significant. However, I have just now come to realize that what seemed like constant inconveniences in the past, have actually taught me how to be the best me with influences all around the country. Living in three different states and five homes may have been a challenge, but it provided me with memories that I wouldn’t trade for anything because those moments created the person I am today.

When ever you’re traveling, you dont really have an adventure if you dont try new things and go to new places then youre not having an adventure. I am going to share some of my favorite activities that I have tried when I went traveling

I’m just a girl from a small town called Dale, South Carolina. I grew up here most of my life but I’ve been back and forth to North Carolina. I currently live in Burton, South Carolina now still with my parents and other three siblings. As a child, I was troubled. I grew up as a preacher’s kid it runs in the family. I hardly missed a Sunday of church but that still didn’t stop me from acting up in school. I knew better then to act the way I did but I always had to prove myself to somebody. I was always named a bully because of my size even before somebody took the time to get to know me I guess that’s the life I chose. I live with both my mom and dad, plus my 3 siblings. I have 4 siblings total but I only see my other sister on my dad’s side

I grew up in a city named Colorado City, TX – the city is located in Central West Texas. I had a really good friend, that I became best friends with, named Daniel. We went riding our bikes everywhere around this little town, scraping our knees on concrete and crashing our bikes on practically everything (since there was practically nothing to do in this town – this was before the 3M Palace Theatre was reopened).

I was born in St.Catherines hospital a couple blocks away from my brown bricked house on alder street. My home was fairly simple, more on the cramped size. It was an apartment. In the streets litter everywhere, the neighbors cared less on how they presented themselves. They cared only about drinking, partying and having the time of their life. The odor of marijuana floated around the whole city. The crime rate in East Chicago is one of the highest in the nation. Drive-bys, drug dealing, and robbery was a daily activity. Yet, that never

Growing up in Dallas, I have always been interested in my city’s diverse culture and rich history. Not too long ago, I learned about one of the most tragic events to occur in the Dallas area, an event that not only impacted the future of Dallas, but also affected Texas, the United States, and the world as a whole. No, this is not the unfortunate shooting of John F. Kennedy, but the untimely cancellation of what physicists planned to be the most significant and largest science device in recorded history - a 54-mile circumference particle accelerator named “Superconducting Super Collider.”

Our yearly pilgrimage to our deer lease in Menard, Texas starts every year on the first Friday in November. To get there we head four hours north thru the sprawling metropolis of San Antonio, full of its traffic and impatient drivers. Upon leaving the city limits of San Antonio, we head west towards Kerrville and the landscape starts to change drastically. No longer are we driving on flat land but now the car is climbing small hills and the road winds. We drive in this direction until we reach the vast acres of ranch land located on a lonely farm road between the small cities of Junction and Menard. If you drive too fast down the winding road, you will miss the old metal gate that is almost hidden by brush trees. My husband is the hunter, yet I love to come with him, because this is the place, where I disconnect from the fast paced life of city dwelling and feel reconnected once again to nature and I find peace and rest here in this cactus and dirt oasis.

Kat held on tight to the chuck wagon’s seat. Its heavy wheels whipped down Farlow’s front street, bouncing with such a calamity the townsfolk scattered for their safety.

Have you ever seen the TV show the “Walton’s?” If you have, then you will definitely be able to identify how unique the place was where I was raised. I was raised in North Arkansas in a small community called Onia. In fact, the road that I lived on was called Lawrence Road. It was named this because all of my relatives lived down this road. My Grandpa, who is now a retired Baptist preacher, lived down this road along with his brothers and sisters. The church that I grew up going to was also pastored by my grandfather for over thirty years and it was about two miles down the road. The community bordered the Ozark National Forest so it was very rural and isolated. Most of the traffic on Lawrence Road was mainly the people who lived

When a typical person considers taking a vacation, they do not immediately consider Windsor, but the city has plenty to offer such as the WFCU Centre, Canadian Historical Aircraft Museum, and Ojibway Nature Centre. The WFCU Centre hosts fantastic entertainment acts and it also feature sports, music, and comedy performances; some acts that have performed at the centre include: Jerry Seinfeld, Neil Young, and the Windsor Spitfires. Not only does the city provide wonderful entertainment, Windsor is home to the Canadian Historical Aircraft Museum. One of the projects the members of the museum are working on is the restoration of two airplanes: a vintage Lancaster Bomber and Mosquito. Furthermore, pilots fly other antique aircraft and there is

I considered just simply taking the zero on this assignment and walking away. I do not enjoy talking about my childhood; my life growing up was very different than anyone else I knew. I am twenty-four year old woman; I am married to my best friend, Jeremiah and we have an eight month old son named John. Jeremiah and I have been together for eight years, but have not even been married for one whole year yet. I was born and raised in Cedar Rapids, Iowa where I met my husband in 2006. To Begin with my childhood though, I need to say that my family is very complicated; I will try to make everything clear and in chronological order. My mother and father were never married, yet they maintained a very unusual relationship up until my mother married my step-father Jim in 2003. My mother Tish, was married before she met my father, at which time she took her husband’s last name Gerlach. My mother had my oldest sister about nine years before I was thought of. My mother and father, Alan, had me in January of 1990. My mother refused to marry my father, when I asked why years later they both have different reasons for her saying no so I am still not sure the real reason. My Dad ended up starting a family of his own a year later with his new wife Cathy. I have three half-sisters; my oldest sister Kandis Gerlach is from my Moms first marriage, I have the same last name as Kandis and at the time

On the first of May 2017, my vehicle (Toyota Hilux, 2008) was damaged at Fortland Road Security Point, Discovery Bay, St. Ann. I was driving through the said security point when the manual Security gate broke and damaged my vehicle. The security personnel raised the bar and as I was driving through the exit, I heard a loud sound, on investigating it was evident that the broke pole felt on my vehicle and damage it’s Windshield, the roof, front bumper, map lamp assembly, inner rear view mirror assembly.

Dallas hated boys. She grew up in an unfortunate family. Her mother died from a heart attack when she was ten years old. After five years, her father, a taxi driver, passed away after a car accident. At a very early age she learned to work hard and save for the future.

At the age of six I was officially adopted by the Henry family. My name was changed, my history was left behind. Not only was my history left behind, however, so where my siblings. My parents were not able to adopt us all, causing all of to have to split up. This is one of the most traumatic moments in my life. I still remember being pried from my little brother’s arms, one of the most traumatic events in my life. I would have to say I was going through Identity versus role confusion at this time. Being adopted, for a long time, meant to me that I did not belong. I did not know who my brothers and sisters were. I also didn’t know my mother and father, which caused an emotional hit on me. This caused me to feel like I didn’t have an identity. I was confused and was unsure of how to deal with the stress that was being thrown at me.

Through Dallastown Cemeteries younger: St. John’s for mass, we’d creep through a graveyard, weeds & blue birds & my father said to grasp tightly onto our breath’s fingers as we walk or else we’d inhale souls of dead people & I’m sixteen now but still, at sunrise service I hold my breath tightly because I don’t want Ms. Hartenstein & her old, shriveled fingers in my alveoli, she’d rather be in heaven, playing grand piano, anyways but my father said she built a wooden home in that graveyard & after church my brother’s dark, crooked eyebrows teased stories: 19th century axe man trickled into mental asylums during dead quiet nights, chopped feet off of patients who slept with their legs out in midnight’s sigh of open air.