Personal Narrative: Final Memoir: Terror In Target

Yeah, I directed an episode of Haven in its last season. And that was something I had always been working toward even before I worked on Haven. I've shadowed directors as much as I could and as long as I could in the hopes of one day getting to direct myself. And that actually came to pass, and the experience was beyond my wildest dreams. It was just incredible. I loved it. I was terrified and just completely overwhelmed the whole time with a combination of sheer terror and pure joy. It was amazing.

My first disturbing encounter with SFC Wilson was in November 2016, we were housed in lodging across from one another and he made the remark that I should make sure my door is secure and rattled off my key door lock number. After that incident, I shoved the sofa that was in my room up against the door every night until I moved to permanent housing. I was very relieved that I would be away from him so that I could sleep better at night. The second incident was during the first course of the 42A30, SFC Wilson introduced himself to the instructors and made it known to them that he did not know what he was doing and he would need assistance from all of us. He would ask my opinion about issues or situations that he was assisting in creating

As a former company intern, the possibility of returning to Targeted Victory to work with the client strategy team serves as the ideal situation for both the company and I. The experience and training that I gained at Targeted Victory, in the year that I was there, has been one of the most insightful work periods of my life. Now as the opportunity to return to the company presents itself, I see no better move than to return to the company that taught me and invested in me while I still relatively new to the political arena.

I had watched Leisel over the last few years. She had grown both physically and emotionally. She had made new friends, like Rudy and Papa. Leisel had even learned to read. When I saw those planes flying in I knew that the person I had watched would never be the same. The bombs dropped, and I took the souls of her most beloved friends, family, and even her enemies. The only soul I didn’t take on Himmel Street was Leisel’s. I had to watch her fragile heart be broken into more and more pieces with the more and more bodies she found. The sky was black. I delivered the souls and though on the terrible tragedy I had seen. I see these aweful things every day, but for some reason I could not stop thinking about this one. The bombing of Himmel Street

Some people may ask me why I am writing this now. Why I didn't tell everyone before. Well, I finally have an answer. I used to tell myself that nobody would believe me if I told my story, but the truth is... I wasn't ready to tell it. It's been 68 years and I'm still not ready. I can never forget what happened during the summer of 1943, and although I might try, a part of me doesn't want to let go... Not yet. I don't think I'll ever be ready to tell my tale, but this is a tale that needs to be told. My time is slowly coming to an end and I don't have much longer...so... here

After taking Honors Written and Oral Communication freshman year I have changed as a communicator. I have grown in many areas as a writer and speaker; however, I have also have skills that need improvement. From the Fahrenheit 451 essay to the six-word memoir, my writing capabilities and experience has changed. I have sincerely grown in certain areas whereas I have also fell short in other areas.

I was a dresser for the PDG fall concert, 1968: The Cusp of Hope and Rage. I was backstage doing quick changes, helping with props, and communicating with tech on a headset with any unforeseen issues (which did occur multiple times). I worked with PDG for all of tech week and the six shows that they performed.

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

As a young man in World War II, Jean Eugene Havel not only faced family challenges but also witnessed Nazi violence and social struggles.

“Fire, bullets, death” that’s everything I saw when I was in Afghanistan. I open my eyes, i’m at work again, but, everytime I close my eyes I see all the tragedies that happen over there. Before war everyone use to tell me, “Jeff don’t be too shy” or if not “Jeff you are so loveable and friendly with everyone.” Brandon Wallace was my best friend since childhood, he even went to war with me. Then there's, my lovely wife, Nicole Sebastian, she is the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I was in my senior year in high school when army men came to my school and ask for recruiters for war. At that moment I asked myself, “what am I going to do after high school? Am I going to survive in war? Should I enter myself in this situation?” After all, I out my name down, my heart was pounding, my breath was hard, I knew there wasn’t no turning back. When I got home

“On my honor, I will never betray my badge, my integrity, my character, or the public trust. I will always have the courage to hold myself and others accountable for our actions. I will always uphold the constitution, my community, and the agency I serve.” This is the oath average citizens take right before they become police officers. The oath shows us why police officers are here, they are here to protect us. The police, and other Government officials, should use police brutality because, if the same people who are supposed to be protecting us are hurting and killing us, then regular citizens are not going to respect laws and authority.

Everyone have had that moment when they look back at their past-photo, Mother’s Day card, or a letter to Santa which would make them go red. That was the way I felt when I read over my essays from the beginning of the year. My old self wrote in a way which was informal, the word choices were not the best, and he also thought too highly of himself. That is why he was so surprised when his first essay got a measly 90. His ego had been boosted by his middle school teachers who would give an A to every student who put a bit of effort into the essays, just to be shot down by the harsh reality of high school. However, as that student progressed through the year, he improved as a writer by not using so many personal pronouns, became a reader of multiple

When it comes to my writing history the way I express my wordplay has changed a lot in the past year, from not being able to keep my paragraphs on topic to actually understanding how to use punition, this is my greatest achievement. The way I used to write was rattled with tons errors; so much so, that most of my essays were given back because the sentence structure was everywhere. Much like a book by Sean Penn, my ideas were in places that would leave the reader wondering how they got there. In all honesty, sentence structure has always been a clutch that held me back. With regards to this, I like to think that my writing has improved leaps from where I originally started.

Now that I have completed the Johns Hopkins University Center for Talented Youth course Crafting the Essay, I feel I have tremendously grown as a writer. Even after submitting the first assignment, I looked back at a position paper I wrote for school that I received an A+ on, yet I saw several flaws I wished I had changed.

Reflecting on the process used to write my memoir was an enjoyable exercise, compelling me to contemplate the progression and detail of my thought process. During class memories came flooding back, and the more I focused on that day, the greater the clarity I had. Writing all the “show don’t tell” I found enjoyable and with an earthquake there are numerous sights to describe, with the details carefully filed away,