Where Are You?-Personal Narrative

When I was at school the other day, my band instructor told me, “You are one of the hardest workers I have ever seen, why do you work so tirelessly if you know that you might fail? I was quite surprised because she has been teaching for 33 years. I responded with your book, Almost Home.

Life is like a puzzle. Everyone wants to find their place and feel like they are “at home.” Sometimes that can be a bit challenging if someone is different. In “Where Are You From” , the author deals with going “back home” to South Korea and finding out that because she was in America for so long, she no longer fits in or has a place(Park 357). I can relate. My parents are not together and because I live with my mom, it was my duty to visit my father during Christmases and summers. I learned that even among family, it is possible to feel like the odd one out.

"You can't keep holding on to stuff like this, James." Natasha sighed, slipping a delicate hand through her hair. "It's not healthy."

I was awoken from the lights coming on and my grandma yelling at me saying “Wake up, we got to get to the hospital your brother was just in a car accident!” At that moment I was dead I didn't know what to do or say, so my only option was to get up and get dressed. When we were going to the hospital it was a straight down pour and I sat there looking out the window with my mind racing with questions like “What's going to happen to my Connor?” and “What's going to happen

It was 5 A.M. and my thoughts were everywhere. I kept tossing and turning, desperately trying to fall asleep, but knowing I couldn't. I finally slipped out of bed, carefully so that I wouldn't wake up Olivia, and proceeded to walk down the stairs. I sat down on the living room couch and exhaled deeply as I stared into the sunroof.

“Dad!” Was the only word that had rushed out of Russell’s mouth the instant he saw his father enter the room. And, once he finished hugging Cary he then added, “Have you found him? What did those people you arrested say?”

I don’t get why my sister is sending me here, sending me to rehab. Its not like I have a problem. Ok, I have a slight problem but that doesn’t mean I need to go to rehab for it. She thinks it will help me “get better”. I get so annoyed with her when she says that. All she ever says to me now is do this and you’ll get better, try harder and maybe things would work out. Try harder. You don’t think I’ve tried my whole life to fix the things that are wrong with me. I have. I fought every single day and nothing ever changed. I’m still the same way I was since I was little. I’m still messed up. I know I am but she can’t honestly think that rehab is going to help can she? I highly doubt it.

The swish of the basket marks another point for my team. We cheer, and I go to high five Lauren who's closest to me.

Out the window and down the fire escape, twenty floors was nothing at this point, and considering police would have to get here and go all the way up to the top, I was in the clear. As I slide down the ladder to the ground, I heard the sirens pulling up in the front, perfect timing, I walked out the alley, taking off my hoodie and slowly joining the crowd forming behind the cop cars. “The best place to hide is in plain sight,” something grandpa told me that I'll never forget, though considering I was a college student with a backpack in New York, blending in was a given. Making my way to the side of the crowd, trying to catch a word of what the officers were saying. “Suspect, average height, weight, witness says all they saw was a shadow going out the window.

Where are you from? Although a common icebreaker question, this is one I often hesitate to answer. I’ve never felt there was a clear-cut answer to this simple question. This question has always seemed to me to be asking more than just where is one born, but who one calls family, where one feels most comfortable, and what experiences have shaped one into who they are?

When she passed by him minutes later, he stepped out from behind the lockers, his fingers forcefully latching onto her wrists. She yelped as she was pulled into the restroom alongside him, a hand quickly pressed to her lips, muffling her cries.

The hardest question for me to answer is when people ask me “Where are you from?” Do they want to know where I was born? Where I lived last? Where I call home? I end up talking for a long time about how I have moved around. I was born in Bountiful, Utah, and I lived there until I was nine. I moved to the small town of Hawthorne, Nevada. It wasn’t a great place for me to grow up, so my mom got a new job in Daegu, South Korea. I liked Daegu a lot more, but we ended up moving again to Vicenza, Italy. My mother works as a civilian for the United States Army, so I technically am not a Military Brat. I like to call myself one because I have had to live a similar life. I currently live in Las Vegas, Nevada, and I am trying to leave as soon as I can. I call Vicenza, Italy my home because that is where I really grew up. I moved to Vicenza on July 5th, 2010. That year I was starting 7th grade at the middle school. I spent 4 years, 7 months, and 13 days living in Italy, and I hated that I had to leave.

When I was in high school, I distinctly remember the foreign exchange program the languages department ran throughout the year. Students from Russia, Germany, France, and Spain came over to the United States to live with a host family and have a taste of what everyday American life is like. By the time I graduated from high school, I had never hosted any students, and never intended to be a foreign exchange student in another country. However, upon exploring and researching extracurriculars for studying medicine, I came across Projects Abroad. After applying, it was only a few weeks until I was receiving emails about what Córdoba, Argentina would be like, who I would be staying with, and the types of activities we would be participating in throughout the week. Before I knew it, I was flying alone on an international flight to an unfamiliar city almost 5,000 miles away from home. I was nervous, jet-lagged, and my Spanish was more than a little bit rusty. However, after spending just one week with my host family and Projects Abroad leaders in such a lively and welcoming city, I fell in love with Córdoba. My Spanish skills improved, my passion for medicine was stronger than ever, and I was a confident in navigating a completely foreign city.

'I had to brush the snow off of then main door's handles- which I guess was a sick reminder of how people seldom came to visit and seldom got to leave. It was an old building with what I hoped was an outdated sign. The doors were heavy and difficult to pull open, but I hadn't expected anything less. A wave of regret and cold shivers came over me as I took my first step into Winterwood. The air was dry and much hotter than the bus and for a split second I had the urge to turn around to see if it was still there. From the exact moment that I looked upon the sanitarium I had an overwhelming sense of fear. The feeling hasn't gone away since.

“The Thorntons have four cats and two dog, they live in a place called greendale"