Personal Narrative: Why Words Spoken Are Worth An Open Ear

An older man is slumped in a rigid metal chair. He is barely visible over the multiple rows of people surrounding him. His hands clasp his seat, trying to steady the rest of his body. A few tears trail down his rough cheek. The final notes of taps echo across the gymnasium. My brain takes a while to adjust to the fact that I had just seen my grandpa cry. I had never seen this tough yet loving man break down like that. I wanted to rush over to hug and comfort him. He located me in the crowd and shook his head, smiling. This was his moment. He finally acknowledged the sacrifices he had made, and was feeling true appreciation for his service. A simple middle school Veterans Day program was what it took to break through some of the pain of his

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

Her father’s words echoed through her head as one might hear a reverberation throughout the Taj Mahal. Continuous. Chilling. Having no control to distill the wavelengths until they mellowed out on their own accord. She tried to anatomize the depth of his phrase, more than dutifully needed but Davina needed to know why. Why did she need to keep an open mind and more importantly, who the hell was about to come bursting through that door. But then again, did it really matter in the first place. When she thought about it, the brunette could have laughed at the idea. That an unattributed, faceless figure had her panties in a bunch. Surely Dominic wouldn’t think to waste her time with venial diversions,

It was during those years that her world had seemed to be turned upside down. All her and her children's needs were the responsibility of her husband, now that he was out of the picture, she had to take on the role of sole provider for her family. "The toughest part was the feeling of hopelessness, "She starts. "Everything I knew, all the the things I had hoped for were gone. I had a feeling of embarrassment being back home, as if I had failed. Now my children were looking to me. I knew that something needed to be done. My parents were always the example of working hard, and that is when I began to take stock of my talents. Don't get me wrong, its not like I changed overnight, I had to do what I needed to do. I worked at least two to three jobs at a time to pay the bills and eventually saved up enough to move out of my parent's house... again," she smiles.

Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three.

I think that my family realized that I had crossed the threshold between childhoods when I began to form my own opinions. This first took hold when I took part in poverty stimulation at my local shelter. I was giving a character and a story behind the card I was given; the story made me become emotionally attached to this name I had been assigned and the family in which I came from. The experience made me question the prejudice of the society I was living in. How many times had I avoided eye contact with the people on the side of the road begging for money? I began a long journey of soul searching and questioning the beliefs my parents had raised me on. My thoughts were continually brought back to a book by C.S Lewis, it was called Out of the Silent Planet; a character named Weston believed that individual human lives don’t matter, they must be sacrificed to save mankind.

When I work as team, I has communication with other member so, it has several solution that can help to improve my communication to have more professional. The initially topics is meeting management. The beginning of working should planning meeting. Meeting divide into 3 parts are before, during, and after. In the part of before, I should know the purpose and role of meeting. During meeting, if it is face to face meeting, I should know agenda of the meeting and participants their role for easy to communicate about work. After meeting, I should sure that I and other team member understand the information of the meeting because I may discuss with other team member. In addition, after the meeting finish, I should prepare myself for the next meeting.

Have you ever been so desperate for something that you modify your motive in its entirety? Throughout my life I’ve found myself placed in this frightening situation multiple times; the most confusing of which would be what I’ve endured this year. People in their 20s have it rough. We’re old enough to feel like we’re supposed to know what we’re doing, yet young enough to roll in the tide aimlessly and clueless and it still be acceptable. Then there’s those of us who believe we’ve got it all figured out only to be proven tremendously wrong. I have learned, however, that being tremendously wrong can lead you right where you need to be.

A speak is moving on the paper. Tracing every letter with a little spark that flickers. I stick my fingers out to touch it and the instant contact burns me and I drop the paper with a gasp. Light comes up from the ground the second the paper hits the floor, shining so bright it could very possibly light a whole city. I cover my eyes at the brightness of it. The light gets bigger and closer and within less than three seconds, the light surrounds us. I want to scream bloody murder out of pure confusion and fear. Then, I feel as if I'm being sucked forward until my whole body, without my permission, is slowly being lifted off my window seat. I try to grab for Amanda, but everything is gone the second I blink.

Thanks for the conversations! I really like what we have here. Well, I'm sure you know my writing style at this point and if its at least before 1 AM, don't be afraid to message me if you need to reach out to someone. I definitely would be here for you, if you let me. Try and keep an open mind, I've learned that talking to someone helps gradually. In the moment, eveyrhting they say can seem as if they're playing devils advocate as well as being unsensical and rude. It's up to you to listen and comprehend, just as it is up to you who you talk to. I hope you find the help or a someone that can provide the support you need in those times of need. Housing at SJSU is going through a transition as a new building opens here is another coming to a

Be open-minded: an ability that is essential to connecting with others. As a Vietnamese-American female, it's feasible for me to be closed-minded as a consequence to how I was raised. I was taught subconsciously, “I am exceedingly fragile, merely ignorant compared to a man.” I was taught to behave a certain way to be accepted by others, and to find interest in specific things. I love the color black of boldness, but was forced to like the color pink of delicacy. However, I am not close-minded. I am an open-hearted teenager, who loves expressing herself and empathizing with others. I am an intelligent, daring woman, not fragile and uneducated. I am in control of my own life, not requiring a male figure for success. This is accurate, because I had the opportunity to attend my four years of high school at East Kentwood High School (EKHS); the most diverse school in Michigan.

Learning to read is one thing that was instilled in me at a young age. My journey all started with my great grandmother, Dolly, who kept me at her house up until I went into school. I had countless stories read to me when I was little and they ranged from Pocahontas all the way to Caleb’s Story. These stories allowed me to become enthralled in times of the past. Pocahontas was set during the formation of the colonies and Caleb’s Story was set in the time of the pioneer days in the West. However, the one book that ultimately changed my view point on reading was Listen to Your Heart. This story effected my choice in literature in years to come. Reading has provided me an escape as well as turned me into a complete romantic all because of my

My relationship with my paternal grandparents was interesting to say the least. Growing up I had a warm relationship with my grandfather who passed away when I was in 5th grade. His passing was the first time I had to consciously confront death in my life and it was a difficult time for me. The relationship with my grandmother evolved over time. I was not one of the favored grandchildren growing up and that was made clear to me in both word and action. The conservative politics of my maternal family that shaped me growing us served as a triangle that caused anxiety between my grandmother and me. Additionally, my grandmother’s relationship with my father, along with her dislike of my mother, was a contributing factor. However, something shifted during my college years. My grandmother and I grew close in the last years of her life as I became more liberal minded and she began to appreciate my musical talents. Her passing from stomach cancer came as I was transitioning between community college and my first year at Wayne State University. It was a difficult time and the loss also furthered the distance between my father and me.

She had little schooling, but she had run businesses. She had managed on her own, with a husband and sons, in a country that didn’t care for her or her culture, but only for their aggrandized version of it. Her experiences were rightful cause to be jaded and hard, and yet she saw brightness and she saw brightness in me. She saw the great things in life, she loved hard and appreciated the little things — us going for a walk together or just sitting in the sun on a warm day.