Personal Narrative Analysis

Everybody has a lot of family, but not everybody knows of a lot of people. On one side of my family, the Schuylers, I can go back ten great grandpas! I am going to tell you about each of them.

Jerry wakes up in a dissociative state still hungover from the previous night’s drug binge, nullifying the pain with a fluffy, symmetrical line of Peruvian cocaine and a tightly packed bowl of luminescent green, trichome plastered cannabis nug sourced from California out of his Illadelph bong; naturally, Jerry was quite the aficionado in recreational drug use and progressive dependency. As dopamine floods his prefrontal cortex he’s invigorated with a renewed sense of grandiosity; he looks in the mirror, his eyes are sunken in, the pallor of his complexion is ghostly, an apparition of a once revered public figure. He averts his eyes to his many awards and commendations for a brief moment, before the cannabis takes effect. He brushes

Throughout the past year I went through a great deal of undertakings that caused me to become more experienced with my skills and how to overcome various challenges. These really built up my character and the way I am today. In all aspects, this past year consisted of going to Killington, Vermont, my brother going into the Air Force, meeting him in Texas for his graduation of basic training, completing a double backflip on a trampoline, landing a front flip on flat ground, accomplishment of a 2 ½ front flip on a diving board, getting 2nd at leagues, and competing in districts. All of these activities have advanced me in a skill or challenged me to an extent.

My paternal grandfather, Elmer Fynan, was born and raised in Riverside, Burlington County, New Jersey. My paternal grandmother, Grace Taylor, was born in Philadelphia Pennsylvania and her family relocated to Riverside, New Jersey after the Great Depression affected millions of families in America. One detail I learned about my paternal side of the family is my grandmother was originally married to my father’s uncle, Earl Fynan. Grace and Earl had one child, Earl Jr. Heartbreakingly, Earl Sr. was killed

For many, their formative years have a large influence on who they become as adults. This can happen in many different ways including new experiences, discovering a new sport or hobby, and uncovering what they are passionate about. For me, this was falling in love with a new language from a very young age and becoming very interested in the culture that was associated with it.

Ancestors completely shape their descendents’ lifestyles. Family values are rooted deep in the how a person was raised. My great-grandfather was born in 1924 in Little Rock, Arkansas. He was the next to the youngest of eleven brothers. After, his younger brother was born, his father left them. He and the other boys were raised by a single mom, during the Great Depression. Saying he was poor, is putting it mildly. He was dirt poor. He was smart, athletic, and willing to work hard. My great-grandfather, J.C. (Jake) Red, was the cornerstone of my family. He is proof that opportunities are endless, if hard work and determination remain the focus. I only remember bits and pieces about him, I have learned he was a very respected and revered man.

I was born on July 24, 2003 in Stuart, FL. I’ve lived in the same house in Palm

Admittedly, I've done a lot of things that others would consider abhorrent. I've also been subject to things that others would consider abhorrent but after 12,000 deaths you start to know what's a 'good' way to die and what isn't. I've had my head removed by plasma coated blades, I've been hit by 80GJ Compressed Railguns (you don't feel it), and I've felt what it is like to hold a Locus Grenade in the hand for too long.

I would have never thought my lonely, dark, cold, and miserable days would become heart warming, sunny,and enjoyable. it all started when I learnded what "society" thought being happy was. I became infuncataed with the idea of loving someone and being loved, but never thought about the repercussions. I only thought about being loved and motivated by someone else that was deeply in love with the idea of me. No-one seemed interested with that Idea and once I realized that I saw the world as a dull, black and white picture that was only painted with skinny paint brushes. Since i was only 15 at the time, at night i would pick up my cracked white iPhone 4s and began listening to music. I found myself listening to Tink somebody to love me and Tank

In my earlier days when i had first joined my club Nationals, i used to try and make sure that everything i did didn’t end up in failure. From my passes, shots, freekicks to even throw-ins, i used to be so scared that i would mess up that I actually did mess up every time because i would let overthinking get the best of me. As months went on, I began to think that i wasn’t good enough to pursue my dreams of working to be a professional soccer player.

Everything was normal and calm until the storm hit. A storm of anxiety, emotions, stress, and aggravation. It was a flood of overwhelming feelings that I had no clue how to manage. Imagine, one day, not being able to do all the regular things you once did. For a period of time, your life.

Throughout one’s lifetime, it is almost guaranteed that he or she has heard the saying “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” This saying is pretty self-explanatory, and it is extremely helpful in multiple scenarios, especially in times of struggle. From a young age, I have always been a cheerleader. Recently, circumstances have changed causing me to question my abilities. I have numerous personal experiences throughout my life that illustrate this saying; however, this one is the most recent.

Days after I graduated eighth grade, I woke up in the middle of the night with the worst pain of my life: a stabbing in my stomach. I reluctantly woke up my parents, and they decided we should drive to the emergency room. The stabbing feeling persisted as I curled up in the back seat trying to block out the pain. We finally arrived at the hospital, and I somehow staggered to the entrance. Right outside, I threw up and then began to panic realizing that whatever was happening was more serious than a simple stomach ache. After this point most of what occurred was a blur; the only thing I remember is being transferred to Stanford Children’s Hospital.

My grandfather’s name was Charles Asa Davis, Jr. He was the son of Charles A. Davis Sr and Lois Lee Loggins Davis. My grandfather grew up in Bradenton, Florida which is about forty-five minutes south of Tampa, Florida. He came from an extensive line of fishermen and was a hard worker by all accounts. As a young man, he learned the art of plastering to better support his family. When building was slow, he would then go on commercial fishing trips for more income. My grandfather which we called him “Papa” was an honest, good, and tough man.

The journey of my family from the beginning of memory inaugurates with my grandparent’s generation. Grandparents are the protective cushion while growing up stamping an unforgettable impact on your life. As far as memory serves, my grandparent’s residence was my shelter away from home. My grandparents conserve a special placement in my heart for every obstacle they have endured for me. Most my life my mother’s parents have occupied a mid-size pale house, covered the windows were olive shutters located along the pavement five lots down the road. My grandmother, Darlene was a big component in raising me and my two siblings to be the people we are today since she was located so close.