Essay #1: The Narrative The waves crashed down at a velocity only measurable by Mother Nature plunged me down into the abyss of the ocean floor. Her volume and mass of water tossed me around like a pin ball bouncing off rubber paddles. I helplessly squirmed around trying to find my sense of direction. Thoughts of accepting a trophy, coated with a glazy gold plastic dip, on a podium at the Olympics ran through my head as I demonstrated different variations of underwater cartwheels: one handed, two handed, and round off. I finally reached the bottom of the cold murky Manhattan Beach shore where particles of sand engulfed my toes. Having noticed the drop of beats per minute in my heart due to the lack of oxygen, I suddenly turned into a dolphin frantically swimming to the surface of the water for a fresh gasp of air. I opened my squinted eyes, looked for my 6’8 surfboard, sat on it, and faced towards the waves. After I struggled to learn the art of surfing, I finally learned how to surf and its metaphorical meaning to it. Bicycle bells ringing to aware pedestrians/surfers to move out of the bike path, a lady wearing a brown bamboo hat feeding the birds with her husband, and a European chick smothering slabs of sun block on her friend that looked like she came out of a surfing magazine were the first things I noticed at the beach. My attention suddenly adhered to the sound of rams clashing their horns for dominance or, in other words, Mother Nature’s ocean of brute force and aggression. My friend, who finally snapped me out of my trance, yells out “let’s go bro you are not going to learn by simply starring at the waves!” I strapped my warm Dakine branded leash to my ankle, cuffed my sticky sex wax coated surfboard in between my arm pits, and tip-toed my way out of the scorching hot parking lot. A sense of urgency arose to my attention in thoughts of riding my first wave. As I stood in front of the ocean, I inhaled a dense clump of air. The smell of crisp salt, seaweed and the fish market inundated my exuberant thoughts of swimming in the ocean with fish that I ate for dinner. I paddled out in search for the oceans kind tender love, but instead received the opposite. She slapped me in the face with a wave that appeared to be 6 feet high, flipped my board over and spat me out of her stomach as if I was food that was poisoning her body. I was disgruntled and dissatisfied with my performance, which lead me back to the drawing board. Giving up was definitely not an option for me at the time so, I got back to my feet, stretched my legs, tilted my head sideways, and jumped. The water in my ear slowly trickled down my lobe causing my senses to become keener. Then I noticed baby footsteps scattered throughout the sand which indicated a child in his youthful leisure. His energy is what inspired me to tackle the wave without a care in the world. Like a child running out of his class on the last day of school out for the summer, in the same way, I firmly gripped my board and dashed back to the ocean. I sat on my board while I waited for another set of waves to come and attempt to challenge the limit of my body’s strength/balance. A flock of birds migrating south added shades of orange to the sky with every stroke from their feathered wings. I looked at the oceans periphery and saw the horizon, simultaneously, drooping earth’s shutters and slowly blinding us from daylight. It was getting late. I needed to surf a wave. Having suddenly noticed a treacherous wall of water slowly creeping up to attack the surfers like it was hungry for flesh, I grabbed the rail of my surfboard as if it were my weapon of choice. I felt the waves torque through my legs and told myself “this is going to be a big one!” It picked me up about 7 feet high and positioned me in a 45…
Michelle E. Diaz
ENC 1101 - 189381
November 3, 2014
Narrative Essay Revision
Resentment: Self-Inflicted and Self-Cured
Overcoming an obstacle doesn't mean that certain events have to stop occurring so that it's classified as overcome. I was once told, “Life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you respond to it.” I believe that to be 100% correct. I was raised in a culture where the man of the family, the father, the husband, holds the utmost authority and responsibility…
The transition of a high school student to a college undergraduate is a life-changing experience that most youths go through. The course that led to this transformative event began on the first day I entered high school. Attending a technical school for four years was the best decision I could have made. It prepared me for the real world while simultaneously providing me with the skills needed for college. My first year in high school was like moving into a new city and trying to…
A couple of years ago, I was mowing the lawn in my grandmother’s backyard. It was extremely hot and the sun was beating down relentlessly. Then all of a sudden, I spotted an object under the six inches of grass. I picked up the faded pink object only to discover that is was a monkey. Not a real monkey, but one of those monkeys from those Barrels of Monkeys. At that moment when I first realized that it was a monkey, I immediately thought of my grandfather…
DESCRIPTIVE VS. NARRATIVE:
WHICH ONE IS BETTER?
ENG121: ENGLISH COMPOSITION I
MAY 25, 2014
DESCRIPTIVE VS. NARRATIVE : WHICH ONE IS BETTER?
Descriptive and narrative writing are both two different styles of personal writing that are used to enhance a writer's portfolio. When looking at descriptive writing, a person is using words that describe a person, place, thing, or event to paint a vivid picture to their audience. Narrative writing is when a person…
In the narrative, Shooting an Elephant, George Orwell shares his personal experience of a moral challenge he has faced. Orwell was an officer in a poverty infested place called Burma and was hated by many of its citizens. Burmese people saw him as an evil white imperialist. But one day, when a raging elephant tore through the Burmese town the citizens looked towards Orwell with burning eyes that persuaded him to shoot the beast. Every inch of Orwell’s body…
Working from a Narrative Family Social Work Practice Framework
Case Vignette of Tiffany
Tiffany is a 25-year old African-American woman with an 8- month old son who came into the agency at the suggestion of her ob/gyn to be evaluated for postpartum depression. She discloses that she is having conflict with all of her interpersonal relationships and expresses that she is a bad mom. She described her mother as strict and very critical even from childhood. She reports that her relationship with…
telling. Narratives tend to feature the use of
past tense verbs (mostly simple past but past perfect, past progressive, and sometimes would/could for past time meanings)
adverbs with past time reference
chronological order (signaled by those adverbials)
proper nouns (for the names of people and places)
personal pronouns (to refer to those people and places)
In addition, research on narrative structure (see Bardovi-Harlig's work) points out the two major divisions that make up a narrative: (1)…
Week 2: Narrative and Narration
The film, using an airheaded, high school girl as its narrator and main character, is defining clueless as someone who is more interested in the latest fashion than other people’s feelings because they made her the subject and cluelessness was the theme. Her idea of community service is helping a new girl become popular by teaching her how to be just like herself. Cher is “clueless” because she thinks the world is centered around her, the newest fashion…
Abukhalaf /Picture p 1
Freshman Writing, Block 4
By Summer Abukhalaf
“Meet with us in science after school, okay?” Maggie says.
“Okay, let me call my mom and tell her about it,” I say.
I know my mom will never let me walk with my friends to go to someones house.
I’m so excited to go trick or treating with my friends. This year is supposed to be
absolutely perfect. Eighth grade is very important. It’s your last year in middle school…
“Paper #1 – It’s a girl”
The narrative story called “The F Word” by Firoozeh Dumas talked about she came to America when little and all of her family had some exotic names. Firoozeh was so embarrassed of how people used to change her name because they were not able to pronounce it on the right form. Firoozeh could not even find a job just because of her name. Firozeeh finally changed her name to “Julie” even now her parents did not want to. Firozeeh changed her name, and after that she finally…