Personal Narrative: What It Meant To Be Human

What makes up our identity?This question has been asked for a really long time that some have attempted to answer but often look at the wrong things that make up our identity.Some people have thought that what makes up our identity are the different important times in our life.Though what really makes up our identity are the 7 categories of otherness.The 7 categories of otherness are race, sexual orientation, age, religion, able- bodied, gender and finally socio-economic.

If you saw me how most people saw me, you would be too. But you don’t because you’ve only seen a part of me. You see what I mean?” That killed me. I thought about all the people I used to know. I thought I always did a pretty good job at being myself but I don’t remember at all, I really don’t. If I was less of myself and more of a phony then maybe all the other phonies would like me more, but I didn’t want to be a phony. I wanted to be me. Just then, the girl’s phone rang. It startled me and I nearly fell out of that goddam window. No kidding. She answered it and it turned out her sister and D.B.’s flight wasn’t as delayed as they thought it would be. I could hear the whole conversation because it was so goddam quiet where we were. When the call ended, the girl turned to me and smiled really nice and wide, which amused me. I was never really one to smile at all, but some part of me decided in that moment that I should smile right

The Sherman Act of 1890 as referenced in McConnell and Campbell (2011), consists of two main regulations;

Starting high school can be a little scary, especially when you have no guidance from siblings, like me, being the first one from my family to have an education. But that did not stop me from succeeding, I?ve always been confident and determined. I?m an enthusiastic when it comes to trying new things. Who would have thought I was going to be a good athlete plus a book geek, when in my past years I was just a regular kid. I was pretty excited about joining a club that had a connection with high school, that way I didn?t have to start from zero, I always want to be a step ahead. Fortunately, in summer, a high school coach was recruiting freshmen for running either cross country or track, they both involve running, so I considered it like the same sport with different timing. And this is when it all started. Running

Throughout the conversation, Susan did not inform me that the home was still in First Look and not open to investors at this time. Susan did not highlight any features of the home, nor did she talk about the neighborhood or the surrounding area. When asked, Susan paused to reference the property file and stated, "In looking at the pictures it appears that it needs interior paint, carpet, appliances, and a few windows, which the previous seller must have taken." She stated, "I don't know why they have to remove things from the homes." I asked, "Do you have offers?" She paused to check the property file and answered, "No offers." I asked, "Is the property behind the home farmland?" She paused to reference the property file and replied, "It appears

I breathed in the after rain smell. It must have rained the night before but I hadn’t seen it so I wasn’t aware that it would be wet. As I strolled onto the sidewalk and began my route to school I stomped on the wet, fallen leaves. I walked about a half mile each day to get to Florence Nightingale High school , or as I liked to call it, my daily prison. It was a good high school but it was still a high school. The usual American high school is full of people who are unsure of themselves and because of their un-surety, they feel the need to others down. Now take those people and add in an over-confident deaf girl into the mix and that's my every day. I am extra isolated but that’s fine by me. I really don’t care what they say about me. It's not like I can hear it

I never thought I would be labeled an outsider, a misfit even. As I trudged my way through the halls of my small town high school, I would endure the gazing pairs of eyes, that belonged to my peers, followed by whispering and often times some laughter. I always used zone out during those repetitive speeches and commercials about the effects of gossiping and rumors; never did I imagine that one day I would be on the receiving end of of the everyday potshot. Growing up I was always the center of attention, the one everyone yearned to be friends with, never was I the antisocial child in the corner with nowhere to turn… not until high school. They say high school changes you. They say high school accounts for some of the greatest years of

Raised in a household of 3 other guys, by a wonderful lady by the name of Annie. I wasn’t raised in the best of ways and nothing came our way easy. We came from having nothing, no decent clothing, no healthy meal, no transportation, which cause little minor problems at school .Going to school i felt like an outcast. Reminding me of a story written by David Sedaris called “Me Talk Pretty”. She felt so different from the other classmates to where she felt left out. Moms was always working or out gambling and we were home with no money to purchase things we needed to get through the day. we didn't even have enough money to get a haircut from the barber college, which resigned on the second block down from our street. So i started cutting my brothers hair, as well as my own.

Although I have not thought about how I would stage a play I will give myself a chance to thinking thoroughly about how I would want an audience to receive a piece of work written by the four playwrights we have read this semester. Drawing on Wilson’s famous speech, I have an idea about what I would want. The Ground on Which I Stand is one that acknowledges the amazing playwrights we were able to read this semester. I appreciate what they have given to the world through the stage and in print. There have been plays that I resonated with me and some that were harder to grasp. Many of these playwrights talk about connections and family which is a way that I have connected with the characters. I wouldn't use many of the playwrights as influences

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.

I was always the kid that didn’t talk. The kid that watched the world go by. I was the kid who acted apathetic just so I didn’t have to get involved. I didn’t want to be seen. I just wanted to float by. A ghost. But gradually, I guess something in me changed. Flash. Bang. A spark lit me up from the inside. The girl who once was transparent shined. The weirdest part was that, all of a sudden, I realized I’d wanted to be seen all along. I just never wanted to ask.

My is name Kyra Alexandra Avila Kepfer. Kyra is my mom’s name and Alexandra comes from my dad’s middle name “Alexander”. My Dad’s last name, Avila, is from Spain and Guatemala. My mom 's last name, Kepfer, is German. My mom was originally going to call me Katherine Andrea. My names meaning is light, throne, and sun. Since my mom’s name is also Kyra my family calls me Kyrita which is my name in spanish. At times my mom will call me “Alex” which is short for Alexandra. My mom has always called me that and my family has called me Kyrita for as long as I can remember. Many strangers pronounce my name Kira which kinda gets annoying after a while but it 's understandable. To my family my name means a fun, lovable, and active 15 year old girl who loves to spend time with family and friends. I like my name because its original and not common. The fact that my name means the sun is interesting because it 's so unique and bright, which is how I want my future to be. If i had the chance to change my name i wouldn 't because i 'm used to it and i feel like it defines me as a person. I’m grateful that my mom named me Kyra and i 'll always embrace it.

Reflect on a time when you challenged a belief or idea. What prompted you to act? Would you make the same decision again?

But the rest of the world doesn’t seem to understand either. Everywhere I go it seems as though someone has focussed the brightest spotlight onto my every movement, highlighting every fear and insecurity. Everything about me has changed except my physical appearance. My beliefs. My values. My virtues. My dreams. Yet how can it not be as painfully obvious to everyone as it is to me? How can they possibly not see how drastically I’ve changed? That I’m desperately trying to make sense of a confusing world that I thought I had figured out? But they don’t see that. To them I’m no more than an identical replica to any other football jock. That I’m too wound up in nothing but my own selfish life to be able to maintain a conversation, that I bluffed my way through high school and now struggle to form a sentence. That I’m an exact match to the stereotype despised by so many. But all I want is one person. One person to prove to me that

There are many avocations that I would chose from. But, more specifically, I would aspire to be a unique, “at home style” photographer. Being able to capture simple moments in a strange place like Elsewhere seems so interesting to do. Each day I would grab my camera, go outside, stroll around and observe nature. I would be able to go outside and capture moments of people, the warm sky, or anything that I would want to. The thing is, there are no limits to photography