My First Memory- Personal Narrative I’ve had many memories during my lifetime, many good, and some bad. My very first memory takes me back to my very first house, a substantial s0mie- detached house situated in the heart of Hartford. I was probably about six years old and so was my sixth Christmas. I have a vivid memory of waking up very early in the morning, staggering into my parents’ bedroom and literally dragging them out of their bed. I then progressed onto forcing them to follow me down the stairs, and as I reached the bottom, I just stood there, gazing at the extravagant tree, mesmerised by its beauty. As I stood there, gazing at the excessive tree, it suddenly struck me, it was Christmas! What was I staring at a tree for? I had presents to unwrap! I ran over to the tree and began to tear open the presents, engulfed by the many different colours of attractive wrapping paper. When I had finally finished demolishing the paper off the presents, I had a huge pile of toys, lego, power rangers, action men, you name it, and it was under that tree. Just before I headed into the kitchen to help myself to a drink, I noticed a huge figure lurking behind the curtain of the dining room. I ran over to it and threw back the curtains – a bike! A real life bike! All for me! Completely oblivious to the fact that I was only wearing my pyjamas, I hauled the bike outside and suddenly realised it was snowing! I began to ride the bike up and down the road, leaving tracks in the snow everywhere I went, just like a s... ... middle of paper ... ...nd made me feel so cool. Suddenly I started weeping. I did not know why I wept for a while. I did not want to show my tears to my father. After I wiped my tears, I said to my father, "Father! Hurry up! I want to see the top." After two hours passed, I was able to get to the top of the mountain finally. My clothes were totally wet but this did not matter to me. [IMAGE]I felt so proud of myself and I thanked my father for helping and encouraging me. On the top of the mountain I could see the huge sun going down in the west. It looked like a prize given from God. The colour of the sun looked like a big fireball. At that time I did not know what he said to me exactly, but now I realized why he said something meaningful. He taught me the way to get over my problems in the future and helped me develop my self-confidence.
because…because of something inside me that felt the need to cry. That was all I knew,” (Wiesel
- and that it would always be this ordinary face - I began to cry."
My first signature theme was discipline and it means that I need to have everything together all the time. I need order and stability in my life that I created in order to be happy and feel safe. Others can come to find my need for order annoying and this may be because they do not understand my need for predictability. My next signature theme was competition and it means that I thrive when it comes to winning or achieving something better than others. If I don’t outperform someone that I may feel hollow and that I am weaker than that person. It means that I need to compare things that I do to others. My third theme was included and it is having a large group of people of friends in your life because you want to make sure everyone is included. It means that I am very accepting of others no matter what race, gender, religion or other barriers that may arise. The fourth theme I had was an activator and it is an indicator that I believe that action is required to get things done. It means that I need to get things done in an instant and that if
The story of my history as a writer is a very long one. My writing has come full circle. I have changed very much throughout the years, both as I grew older and as I discovered more aspects of my own personality. The growth that I see when I look back is incredible, and it all seems to revolve around my emotions. I have always been a very emotional girl who feels things keenly. All of my truly memorable writing, looking back, has come from experiences that struck a chord with my developing self. This assignment has opened my eyes, despite my initial difficulty in writing it. When I was asked to write down my earliest memory of writing, at first I drew a blank. All of a sudden, it became very clear to me, probably because it had some childhood trauma associated with it.
as a tear ran down his face. "Yet I will never forget the family I so
My patience was running extremely thin, and it felt as if I myself might start to cry. I looked down at my tiny 6lb son, eyes wet with tears, cheeks and chin shaking. My heart throbbed
I was being held under with no idea when I may get up, getting tumbled and dragged along the ocean floor. Each chance I pop up and gasp for another breath of air another wave crashes on me causing me to choke on the salt from the ocean. This has been my experience in high school, and once I am graduated it will feel like I can finally catch my breath and ride that first wave.
Crying is often seen as a sign of weakness. This is a cultural myth in our country. Crying is a reaction to something that triggered emotion or physical pain. Some people cry easily and tears can be a sign of joy or pain. Other people perhaps were raised to never cry o...
... at the man, the unbidden memory of my parents’ lifeless body in the open casket washes over my mind. My head begins to throb. I fight back tears, screaming in agony.
Going into college I thought everything was going to be a breeze. Actually, I thought it would be just like high school. I quickly found out that, that wasn’t the case. It was so many different people. The setting wasn’t something I was used to at all. You know how in high school majority of the people were goofy not really focused on what they should be focused on? Here it was the total opposite. Everyone was ready to learn and do something with their lives. In high school we never started learning on the first day or even in the first week. I wish it was the same! Then coming home after a long day to nobody at all telling you to clean this, do that, help your sister with this, but actually coming to your room of peace and quiet. All together
Long ago, the goddess of life and death, Erius, watched over the humans and gave them light. She shined her light for centuries, but the humans were not grateful. She grew tired, and knew the humans were taking her for granted. So one day, she created the Sun, which shone light upon the world. The humans liked the Sun, but they wondered why the Sun was moving. They watched the sun set over the horizon, and as the sun set, it grew dark.
Virginia Woolf, English novelist, essayist, and critic has beautifully portrayed the natural phenomenon of eclipse. She has also enlightened the importance of the sun. She has narrated the essay dramatically and has regarded sun as an actor that was going to come on the stage to perform as if a drama was going on. The sky served as a stage. She has made the scene vivid and ravishing by the usage of colors, images and similes. The way she has described it is so highly coloured and realistic that the readers visualize the eclipse to be occurring before their eyes. People were anxiously going towards a hilltop from where all would view the sun with reverence. People had gathered on the hilltop and stood in a straight line that it seemed they were statues standing on the edge of the world. As the sun rose, clouds glowed up. Light gleamed and peered over the rim of the clouds. The sun raced towards the point where eclipse had to take place. But the clouds were impeding it. The sun with a tremendous speed endeavoured to escape the mist. At some point it came forth then again was shrouded by the fleecy clouds. The sun then appeared hollow as the moon had come in front of it. A substantial proportion of the Sun was covered and the loss of daylight became noticeable. The writer has efficaciously described the sun’s efforts to break free from the cloudy hurdle. She has continuously personified sun as it was putting its best efforts to make its face appear before the world. The clouds were stifling the sun’s speed. The sanctified twenty-four seconds had begun but still the sun was entrapped and was striving to disencumber itself from the clump of clouds. “Of the twenty-four seconds only five remained, and still he was obscured.” The time of the eclipse was passing and it seemed that the sun was losing. It was continuously obliterated by the clouds. The colours of the valleys seemed to disappear. Everything was fading as ‘All the colour began to go from the moor.’ The colours were changing, “The blue turned to purple, the white became livid as at the approach of a violent but windless storm. Pink faces went green, and it became colder than ever.” The light and warmth were vanishing.
..., but no trace of tears. I suppose, then, your heart has been weeping blood?’” (344).
Teens deal with conflict on a day-to-day basis. This holds true especially for Jared. You could say Jared was your average everyday teenager. He plays the guitar in his free time and has a great number of friends. But as for girlfriends, that’s a different story.
It was December 4, 2014 and it was snowing outside. I was sitting at the kitchen table doing homework. All my family was downstairs, so I was all alone. My English teacher told us to write a paper about how I am different from my classmates. I was thinking about what in my life makes me different and slowly my whole life was playing like a movie in my head. The first memory that popped into my head was my fourth birthday party. It was supposed to be the best birthday ever. My dad was going to come. It was February 24, 2002 at my birthday party. There were so many people there, but I was so focused on my dad coming, no one else seemed to matter. My cake was pink and yellow with a bicycle on it. I had a red and blue inflatable that kids were