"Personal narrative my sociological imagination" Essays and Research Papers

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    November eighth of last year‚ a day that will live with me forever‚ evolved into a day that my car (Lexi the Lexus) and I almost died. On this lovely Sunday afternoon‚ some friends and I headed out to enjoy our normal Sunday Funday. Shortly after leaving the house for a drive‚ the song “Jesus‚ Take the Wheel” started playing. About ten minutes after the song we sped along about 75 mph down a blacktop back road‚ singing‚ laughing‚ living the time of our lives‚ and carrying on as normal‚ when we

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    went back into the building for my cheer shoes i left in my locker‚ i felt people staring but i know the only thing looking at me was the silent emergency lights at the exit signs. When i walked i felt someone walk behind me but it was only the sound of me not picking up my feet. When i finally got to my locker i couldn’t open it‚ the number turned into letters and i started to panic in even a faster pace‚ Got it! I snached my shoes as fast as i could and slammed my locker‚ all the noise went back

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    wanted to get put into a group with one of my close friends. I was almost as excited as if it was going to be christmas‚ because I was waiting for this unit for a while. The teacher told us to get into straight lines like a ruler would make. I was imagining playing this sport with my friend and showing him cool things in it like‚ shooting it from half court or dunking. The teacher was spitting us our groups and I heard my name first and got chills crawling up my spine like a cold frigid winter breeze

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    blood pouring out of my mouth. Thats a good story. I am here to tell you about it. I was about ten years old‚ 4th grade. My basketball team was awful and horrible combined into one word. Awfible? Well anyway‚ this game was leaning toward us this time. We were winning by two points‚ and I knew i had to step it up. I did. I got a few buckets‚ a ton of rebounds‚ and some steals. I was doing great. Until a kid on my team elbowed me in the face‚ which cause my braces to split my lip wide open. It took

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    might not consider that I have feelings or a heart. You might think I’m not human. That’s not true...I’m one of a kind‚ different and special in every way. I’m the exception of the stereotype of my ethnicity. I live with my Mom and Dad in our home in Lakeland Hills. My Dad provides for my family and my Mom is a stay at home Mom. I go to school everyday so that I can get a good education and eventually go to college so I can be financially successful. I play clarinet in the Auburn Riverside symphonic

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    sell what I offered to each new person I encountered‚ wondering if I had created a lasting impression. The people that had known me the longest hadn’t known me longer than a week. I as if nobody understood me yet. I then realized that I was looking at my vulnerability all wrong. Vulnerability is not a negative

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    While I was the president of a charitable Junior Achievement organization‚ PS Recycle‚ one coworker and I had strong personalities and leadership qualities. We were incredibly passionate‚ and each had many great‚ yet conflicting ideas. Her approach to disagreements was to crack down hard on our other teammates‚ act out‚ and try to emotionally-manipulate the others into choosing her side over mine. It was hard to be yelled at‚ undermined and insulted. For a second‚ I thought about calling her the

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    an Asian. My ethnicity acts as a cover with a mind that seemingly works quickly like a calculator. Most people don’t look past this and rely on stereotypes to define who I am as a person. But the stereotypes hinder me and causes me inner turmoil. On the outside‚ my race drives away people to truly know me as a person. Expectations are both the downfall and rise of my accomplishments. I’m not naturally intelligent‚ I’m not Picasso‚ and I’m not bound by music genres. Instead‚ my cultural identity

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    I’m sitting on the sand and feel myself growing. When she turns around and smiles at me‚ it took my breath away. And when I see her reach behind her and pull her top away... I had to take a deep breath and relax before I stand up. She slowly slides into the ocean until all I can see is her head. She approaches the edge of the water‚ reaching the point

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    stuck in this place my entire life. Same nurses‚ same needles‚ and the same room. I am not normal like the other kids that come and go in this place. I am trapped. I was born with the disease. My doctors say it is very rare and they have only seen a few other cases. I don’t remember what it’s called‚ but I know it’s incurable. I have gone through many surgeries and weakness destroyed my ability to walk. They don’t know how to fix me. I am fourteen now and I have lived my whole life in this

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