Personal Narrative Essay

“The Falling Man,” taken by Richard Drew on September 11, 2001, remains one of the most controversial, yet underappreciated images of the 21st Century. The picture captures one of the final moments of a victim from the World Trade Center, who chose to commit suicide rather than perish in the burning fires on the top floor. As the man plunges to his doom, he is positioned upside-down with legs flailing in the air. In the background lies the Twin Towers, positioned precisely to split right in the middle of both the image and the man himself. Understandably, this scene drew much backlash by the public, as it revealed the private moments of a man on the worst day in modern American history. At the same time, it also caused others to reflect soberly

“I was at home, in the country in McLouth Kansas, watching Good Morning America,” my mom remarked. She was talking to her good friend Cindy Akasaki on the phone, having a nice morning conversation. Cindy abruptly told my mom she had to leave. Why? The twin towers had been hit by a plane. “I watched the very beginning of it as it unfolded.”

I never would think about showing an animal. I decided to go wild and show a steer my junior year, I did not think about showing an animal so big before but it was worth the wild. I knew it would be hard work, dedication and responsibility. I worked so hard to get where I wanted that steer and it sure did pay off. Being successful is something that someone feels when they work for something that they tried so hard on and then succeeded in it. Success is the way I felt when I was getting ready for the show while I was standing to be called in my class and how I felt when I got out of the show ring.

It was my Grandpa Buck his story changed his life. It was one beautiful afternoon my grandpa decided to go to the Drunken Bar and Grill after he was done with worked. He was going to meet his friend Peter there. They had a hamburger and some cold beer. After he was done at the Drunken Dar and Grill he went to another bar. He had some more beer and he got drunk and he had to call my grandma Judy to have her come pick him up. Then my grandpa decided that it was fun to go and party with his friends every Friday night. Then he said very quiet

I believe in having responsibility for my actions for the rest of my life. Responsibility can earn me a ton of things, such as money and treats. If I do an action or sometimes help my mother with an action, I gain a dollar or two or my mom gives me a treat, like Sweet Frog’s. In this case, I wouldn’t mind being responsible because it involves something that I care about dearly.

Middle to Late childhood I continued to remain small. At eight years only I was only 48 inches tall and not even 50 lbs. I continued to be advanced academically. I had to start attending speech therapy as I was unable to clearly say R’s. They thought this may have been due to me being born prematurely. With many years of speech therapy I was able to say words with R’s appropriately. Physically I was involved in softball, tennis and spent a lot of my free time swimming at the pool. I was the girl who was always picked first to be on a team and often times was picked before many of the boys. I had no problem playing rough and taking hard knocks. I had a group of close girlfriends that I spent almost every day with starting from kindergarten.

It was an ideal day to do an inquiry for my social study project. And to face death. Not that the two have anything in common. When you hear the term “sudden death,” you don’t expect there to be an actual loss of life, but there was nothing ordinary about that day. It was the day that affected everyone’s life. It was September 10, 2018. It’s not natural when in one flash you are doing a typical class project and, in another flash, something clicks your brain. Bahm! You then start acting like detectives. Suddenly everything falls as you come to realize the truth.

I was talking to him on my cell phone again, only this time I was standing over the smoking Weber grill in my backyard, flipping burgers and barbecued chicken breasts. Krista and I were hosting a Sunday afternoon cookout for a small group of friends who were making a fuss over Lorraine while Daniel and a group of his friends played a noisy game of tag. It was a perfect suburban scene with radiant weather to match. Bright sunlight slanted through the leafy maple trees that shaded half our lawn, reflecting the freshly mowed grass into a brilliant emerald green.

When I go and meet people, they say this “Kim why are you so confident.” But the truth is I was not always like this. I have insecurities when it comes to talking to people, and sometimes I would have anxiety due to uncomfortable situations. This has been a huge struggle of mine because I would be made fun at and I was a victim of bullying which makes my insecurities worse. It has prevented me from standing up to myself, asking for help and many more. But this the story on how one comment made me so insecure.

There have been many times that I've wondered to myself if I should write a book about my life. One way to describe the events of my life would be a roller coaster ride that I'm strapped in and unable to get off. With great heights of excitement, lows lower than rock bottom, and never ending loops in between, itt's a wonder I'm still alive. I have very few recollections of my life before the age of eleven; for reasons I'm unsure of, but I can certainly try to reminisce.

How can anyone defeat an opponent if they can't even defeat themselves? The struggle between internal conflict and external drowned out any ability to reason as I took on something I knew well, but I hardly recognized it for it's true nature. Ignorance is not the bliss that it is often mistaken for.

Junior year, known for being the most strenuous academically, and full of the most changes: you get your drivers license, take the dreadful SAT and ACT, and the list goes on and on. I feel I grew up immensely through the course of those few months, not only on an intellectual level, but socially as well. I have always been confident and enjoyed conversing with my peers, however, I was deathly afraid of public speaking, and February 13, 2015 I was forced to face those fears.

It was a beautiful Friday morning, I wake up by the sound of grown folks laughing and arguing about who's the better man and by the sound of children screaming of excitement and joy. They were most likely playing tag or something, it wouldn't surprise me because in 15th Street it's always the children who wake up first and you can hear them throughout the day playing outside. I started my day off hoping in the shower, brushing my teeth, and saying good morning to my abuela. Not really in that order but you get what I mean, I have a routine. My grandmother was in the kitchen fixing me up some eggs, I quickly gobbled everything up on my plate, gave my abuela a kiss on the cheek and headed down the flight of stairs on my way outside. As I made my way

Then the 134 arrived. I got on, showed my pass to the bus driver and

Music may be the universal language, but those of us who spend our lives with it are expected to know it in depth, from early on. Many composers, whether traditional or experimental, have been steeped in Western classical music from the cradle. That was not the case with me.