Hi all. I had to write an Autobiography for one of my classes a few weeks ago, and I liked how it turned out, so I thought I'd share it. Keep in mind, the assignment only allowed for us to write 3 pages worth of stuff, so it may seem a bit rushed. And if you don't like it you can fuck off (because I got an A on it so I don't give a shit what you think unless it's positive.)
Thanks!
-Alex
My story
begins in the second-largest city in the state of Indiana: Fort Wayne. I came
into the world on November 2, 1993, at 2:30 AM, a full two weeks after my
original due date (sorry, Mom.) I spent my childhood, which coincided with the
birth of my sister (Samantha, named after my mom’s childhood dog) in 1996,
roaming Rosemont Drive, a fairly mundane street, save for when the school
across the street started and got out. I spent most of my early days breaking
various bones in my body, mostly fingers. When I realized that I wasn’t a fan
of frequent hospital visits, I decided that I would turn to reading, a much
less dangerous source of enjoyment, although paper cuts can be a pain. From
reading, I was able to fall in love with one subject: History.
Some of my earliest scholastic
memories involve reading a book on presidents, and bringing that book to
show-and-tell almost every week, each time talking about a different president.
From this, I made my first friend. Adam was a year younger than I was, but when
I saw him playing in his yard, talking about William Howard Taft and how fat he
was, I knew we were soulmates, at least until I moved away two years later and
never spoke to him again. I spent my early-elementary years cultivating this
friendship, welcoming a new baby brother (Chandler, named after the sarcastic
guy in Friends) in January of 2001,
and becoming more engrossed in presidential history, at least until my life
turned upside down in the summer of 2001.
On a warm June day, Adam and I
noticed a peculiar sign in my yard; a sign that said “FOR SALE.” Obviously,
this had to be some mistake, so Adam and I spent countless hours (actually
about five minutes) trying to remove this wretched sign from the ground in
which it was entrenched, but it was all useless. I moved away from Fort Wayne,
and everything I ever knew, to a strange town known as “Logansport,” where we
lived with my aunt for two months until we found a reasonable place to live. I
began attending All Saints Catholic School in 2nd grade, which
started with me forgetting my gym shoes and having to sit out P.E., which
alienated me from my new classmates. I hated my new school. The nuns were mean,
most of my classmates were snobs, and I had the hardest time figuring out what
that white thing was on the priest’s neck. Luckily, I had my books to keep me
company, as well as a new interest emerging: Pokémon!
Unfortunately, the more I played
Pokémon, the less time I spent reading and expanding my surprisingly-vast (for
a 2nd grader, at least) knowledge of the presidents, much to the
chagrin of my parents. I changed schools, and with the change came even more
identity switches. I began getting into sports and music, especially. My
weekends consisted of watching football (Go Colts!) and playing with various
neighborhood rascals. More and more, I began forgetting about the subject I had
so adored just a few years earlier. As elementary school turned to middle
school, and I welcomed another brother
(Colby, named after the cheese) in the summer of 2006, I had almost completely
forgotten about how much I loved history.
My middle school days consisted
mostly of two areas: music and sports. I was remarkably-average at the sports I
tried (except long jumping- I was terrible at that) but was able to find more
success as a musician, originally playing the trumpet. Middle school flew by,
and before I knew it, I was a freshman at Logansport High School.
Unfortunately, that was the only year I spent there as, once again, my mom had
a kid (a girl this time, Emma, named after the child of my mom’s favorite Friends character) and we packed our
mini-vans and drove west to Washington, Iowa. I spent three fairly-forgettable
years in Washington, mostly spent playing in various music groups and being
under the watchful eye of a controlling girlfriend. Thankfully, by the time the
fall of 2012 rolled around, I was ready to embark on a new journey: college.
I had a fresh start at St. Ambrose,
but I still mostly kept to myself. I had a small group of friends, but my
friends were, and still remain, awesome, so it’s like a huge group. During my
Freshman year, I convinced myself I wanted to be a Political Science major, a
decision I regretted as soon as I took a political thought class my Sophomore
year. However, as much as I hated my political classes, I found that my
favorite class was a History role-playing class, one taught by Dr. Skillin. As
odd as it may sound, I had actually forgotten how much I had loved History when
I was younger, and I soon discovered that I loved it just as much now as I did
back then. I began taking more and more History classes, loving each one in a
different, but equally appreciative way. I became a History major, picked up an
English minor (why not?) and now I’m a little over a year from graduating.
I honestly have no idea what my
future holds. I’m really hoping something will spark my interest fairly soon,
as time is running out. A History degree lends itself to many different career
paths, but I’m not quite sure which path I will follow. I may be uncertain
about many things, but there is one thing I can say with 100% confidence:
History will be involved. I still maintain my interest in sports, especially
Colts football, and music, I play the Euphonium in the Symphonic Band, but
history is special. I was never able to fully shake off the “history bug,” even
after a nearly ten year hiatus, so why wouldn’t I want to do something in that
field as a career?
DISCLAIMER: None of the stories about my sibling's names are true. Except maybe the dog one. God, I hope that's true.
