"Autobiographical narrative essay" Essays and Research Papers

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    Curt‚ Even though I pulled the majority of this from your reflections about the trip‚ I feel like I went out on a limb writing it first person. I included research on flow/mindfulness. I think the last few sentences‚ in particular‚ need to be re-worked‚ but did not want to do anything further without your input. Epilogue Curt Spring 2017 Phoenix‚ Arizona I recently read an article about “flow‚” which is at times called mindfulness. Flow is also what some people refer to as being “in the

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    I love cooking in the kitchen with my dad. It smells like spices and juicy vegetables. Are kitchen has recently been remodeled. The walls are an atomic tangerine and the counters are bronze. Though the floor‚ the walls‚ and the ceiling are a mess. It looks like a tornado went through. He has taught me so much. Did you know that pork and apple go together well. Well anyways‚ I don’t like Mexican food‚ and my family loves Mexican. I have no spice tolerance‚ but my family does. They eat spicy food

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    I often mind myself in the awestruck sight of my friends when I pass by them‚ running during my practices. They watch me as if they were seeing Mo Farah himself‚ with his long elegant strides that gracefully propel him forward‚ past his rivals‚ past roaring crowds‚ and right over the thin white line‚ telling him he’s won it all. To them‚ they know no one else who runs‚ and thus in my almighty five foot ten‚ lanky limbed runner’s body type stature‚ I must be the new‚ slightly more milky white Mo Farah

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    They are E’er there! When I confiscate discipline of my new take up (11 months old) on smooth streets‚ and totaled it in 2007‚ I was all incomparable. No one for miles in any route. I called USAA to let them fuck what had happened. I was afraid and lonely‚ and the representative stayed on the sound with me until someone got to me. I was physically safe‚ but scared. She relieved my veneration and talked me through everything I requisite to do. Gave me sensation advice as to where to have the cart

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    One Sunday‚ as I was driving back home from visiting my family‚ it began to rain. It was just me and the boys and they had finally settled down from fighting sleep and I entered into a place of worship and dialogue with God. He began to take me back to the moment when I wanted to mend the broken pieces of my life and fill the voids with a relationship with my father so bad‚ that I came so close to meeting him but God blocked it.  I began to reminisce back on the moment I visited Texas for the first

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    It was negative two degrees fahrenheit outside as I walked down the sidewalk. My house was just a block up ahead and I was slowly getting closer. Now the house was visible‚ but there was a movement on the front porch. I made it to the house to see a family of four homeless people trying to hide from the cold. I asked‚ “ Do you guys have any shelter?” The male‚ presumably the dad‚ of the family said‚ “No.” “Well come inside‚” I said as I opened the front door. They all hurried in as quickly as possible

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    It seemed that all my years of hard work had all come down to this moment. All those days that I would spend hours at the gym‚ making sure I had made all my shots and perfected every dribble move‚ not even bothering to take Sunday off because if I wanted to go somewhere with basketball‚ I would have to eat‚ sleep and breathe basketball. I refreshed the inbox of my email‚ and there it was‚ the decision that would make or break my basketball career. I had tried out for one of the most elite club basketball

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    I did not become addicted to alcohol or drugs‚ instead‚ I became addicted to escaping from reality. Born in Michoacan‚ Mexico I experienced the reality of feeling unsafe and unprotected‚ sleeping with an eye open just to see if I was the only one in my room. In a country where kidnapping and killing were the solutions to keeping a mouth shut from speaking the truth. Murder victims’ tortured bodies frequently appeared on roadsides without an explanation. I lived in a country where a good education

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    Friday night‚ as our entire family sat together in the living room watching an episode of Jeopardy‚ listening to one of the contestants give their story about how they taught their African grey parrot to not only have an eighteen hundred word vocabulary‚ but also be bilingual‚ you could feel everyone’s boredom spread throughout the room. My brother‚ who was sick and tired of hearing Alex Trebek said‚ “Guys‚ why don’t we ever go do something fun! We should go to Magic Mountain this weekend.” I shrugged

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    Middle school was really weird time for me. It seemed like it was the most dramatic / drama filled. Our school at St. Peters was messed up‚ anything that could happen did. I’ve had teacher come up to me and ask for answers to what happened. Students doing bad things and etc. Also middle school to me was so fun‚ because people who I like got in trouble because of me. If you weren’t my friend at St. Peters you better hope that you weren’t mean to me‚ because if you were the teachers would find out

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