✯✯✯ Personal Narrative: My Grocery

Wednesday, January 05, 2022 7:18:47 AM

Personal Narrative: My Grocery

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Let's Learn English at the Grocery Store (Supermarket) - English Video with Subtitles

Even though it was just a bounce house it was fun because my true friends were with me. While young adults might do costume parties and children may wear costumes on October 31st, it is rare to see children go trick or treating or see a house decorated with Halloween decorations. While I enjoy Halloween and its myth, I grew accustomed to not celebrate it. However, when I came to Japan, I was surprised by how colorful and how fun shops decorations and designs for any kind of products would become during October as Halloween approached. The commercials of Disneyland on television would amaze me with its amazing costume design and its rapidity to adapt the park for Halloween and Christmas. Back in high school, I discovered the joy of celebrating Halloween with my friends as we wore our costumes to Japanese most famous spot during Halloween: Shibuya.

A quick turn down Dembs road and we arrived safely. Devin looked at me and laughed like a hyena and blurred out that there is a girl at the party that told me she wants to meet you. As I looked at him an smiled like it was Christmas day again all happy and ready to go inside the party and see my present. The "slug" rolled around gleefully in my mouth as Erika and I chuckled at the various mallrats screaming and laughing in the opposite corners of the food court. A putrid scent was carried our way by crowds of people that were walking by us. I could taste the stench in the air. Home Page Personal Narrative- Parties. Personal Narrative- Parties Satisfactory Essays. Open Document. Essay Sample Check Writing Quality. Personal Narrative- Parties Every weekend there is a party somewhere.

Whether it is out at the "Momma," the lake, or even at someone's house, it is the "cool place" to be. Last year, I arrived at the Halloween dance not wearing a costume but expecting to have a great time with all of my friends dancing and listening to music. I overheard someone talking about a party that was going to start at Mary's house. Being invited to go with all of my friends, I didn't want to be the wimp of the group, so I decided to go along.

I drove away from the dance thinking that I would only stay for a little while at the party. Pulling into the driveway, I instantly knew that this wasn't a good idea. My hands were shaking, and I had goose bumps all over my arms and legs. How would I be able to explain being at a party to them? I was supposed to be at the dance. I looked at the trailer and saw people going in and out. Can I still leave? I was going to leave. However, I stepped out of my car and could hear the music playing from someone's system. It was the song "Joker" by the Steve Miller Band. The aroma of the trailer could be smelt outside, and the Jack Daniels was being circulated like popcorn at a baseball game.

I looked inside and saw people sitting on a dark pumpkin-colored couch playing cards. They were hanging out in the kitchen. People were going to and from the small 70's size refrigerator popping the tops off of their beers and letting them fall on the floor which was covered in dirt, pieces of broken dry wall, and glass from a broken window. The looks on people's faces were that of sheer fun, they were making fools out of themselves, and, even if they hated it, they weren't going to stop.

I found Mary, who was gloating with the thoughts of her fantastic party, and behind her rose a voice that I recognized very well. I looked and saw Tonya staggering down the concrete steps of the trailer. However, the sacrifices my parents made, from working hour a day jobs, to learning English and establishing themselves in this country from scratch, motivated me everyday to push harder in school. Missing school was not an option. I could find solace in the fact that I was doing well in my classes. Beyond the bullying, studying was enjoyable. Soon I realized that my childhood dream of becoming a dentist was too small a conquest.

Why not study the whole body? Soon, I began high school with a modest but very helpful premedical academy, which satisfied my curiosity for medical knowledge. My father made sure that I retain my Spanish speaking skills. I hear those exact words in my head every time a Spanish-speaking patient comes to the emergency room for which I scribe. In those moments, I could not be more proud of my Nicaraguan heritage or of my parents, who it made it possible to be the college-educated woman I am today.

With this, I believe I would offer a greater insight on Latin or Hispanic American struggles—their customs, language barriers, and beliefs.

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