As I pushed the Toyota door open and stepped out of my car on Friday morning, I said to myself “What am I doing here?” At that exact moment, I heard someone scream from across the field “FUCK YEAH, PENN STATE!” and I knew I made the right choice in picking this college. My self-doubt had disappeared.

I graduated from a Catholic grade school class of eight and a private high school class of 94. To tell you the truth, thinking about 10,000 students being in my class is madness. I do not even know how I got here. I was not even going to apply. I was just good friends with a lot of the older classmen because I was always better friends with people a grade above me for one reason or another. With my best friend also applying to go here, it only added to the attractiveness of the university. I have never even taken a tour of the campus. All I have done is visit for one weekend, but that weekend was probably the most insane weekend of my life.

Apparently, I have a full scholarship to go here based on academics which is beyond my comprehension of how I received it. I am no where close to being smart. My friends at home always call me a "waste" because I always ask for someone else’s notes and do my homework while walking down the hallway to that class. When I told them about the full scholarship, they laughed hysterically (in a funny, but somewhat insulting manner) and we never talked about it again. When I started bringing it up at the end of the school year, people thought that I as joking before and never even thought I was serious. As you can tell, I miss my friends because they think so highly of me.

With the news of my scholarship to my parents, it was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Once they knew I received it, they adored the ground I walked on. I could be just sitting on the computer or eating some EASYMAC and my mom would start fanning me as my dad massaged my feet. This soon faded to the normal grunt I receive as a full conversation with them. During the time of adoration though, I did get them to approve of me doing my dream.

Starting on June 21, 2005, Ashley, my best friend and current roommate, and I pulled out of my garage towards I-95 South for our road trip. We went to Virginia, Georgia, Orlando, Miami, Key West, and everywhere in between. The sense of independence is so incredible. We met locals, visited sites, and went to amusement parks and the beach. I honestly believe that everyone should go on a road trip at least once in their life because there is nothing like it in the world. With the territory of going on a road trip, you must be ready for some unexpected events. From personal experience, getting in an accident within the first nine miles of the road trip is something that will catch you off guard. As I felt my car hit the one in front of it while merging onto the highway, I had to just stare blankly not believing that it just happened. No damage was caused, but Ashley and I were yelled at in Chinese for about 15 minutes. Even though I still have those moments of asking myself “What am I doing here,” I love not knowing the answer and always trying to find out.

After reading other narratives, I have noticed that I did not include other parts of my life that make up who I am. In JuliusRockfordNarrative, he talked about the different activities and sports that he was involved with in high school.

In high school, I was big in community service and art. In our school, we called people who were accepted in the art program “art majors.” I do not know how that came about because that was not what we majored in. It was only what we chose as our elective once we had gotten accepted. For community service, my school was a huge advocate of how important it was. Every day, there was something going on and to participate in. In addition to art and community service, I was also part of the World Affairs Club, Track and Field, Glee Club, and Pure Love Club.

In PburghClarkNarrative, she mentioned how the death of her grandfather this summer affected her family. Ironically, I also lost my grandfather to cancer this summer. All of my family lives in Venezuela, including my grandfather. It is only my mom, my dad, my brother and I that live in the United States. With my grandfather dying from cancer, my mom left home to be with her father for the remaining time she had left with him. She was gone for almost a month before my grandfather eventually passed away. It was a surreal time being without my mom and knowing why she was gone. My grandfather was loved by everyone and impacted who I am today.