What's wrong with this picture? Yeah. Fun right? Last New Year's Eve day I was having some problems moving around so after getting orders from my mom to call my doctor, we were going to the ER. I brushed if off as nothing more as being tired, or over worked from rowing practice, but to no avail, I was submitted to the ER. I went through all the standard procedures, and a CT scan of my head to make sure nothing was wrong. Piece of cake I've had those done a few dozen times before, they weren't going to find anything. A solemn looking nurse walked in and said that there was something but she couldn't tell what so I had to go in for an MRI. At this point, my parents are freaking out thinking I'm going to die, while my sister is at home with no clue what is going on. I am as calm as could be, sleeping through the MRI.

A week later I had surgery to take the tumor out, and was released from the hospital a few days after surgery. I don't let myself be defined as a brain tumor patient, but do define myself how I handled the situation. Calm, collected, confident. Yes, it was hard to call my family members and friends to tell them I was having surgery and that I wouldn't be back for the spring semester. But through it all, I was the one keeping everyone together.

People sent cards, money, flowers, it was nice but I just wanted to be left alone with my closest family and friends. I was sick of being told that I shouldn't be taking the news so well, or that they were surprised about how calm I was about the situation. They were more worked up than I was.

I personally think it says a lot about someone on how he or she handles themselves. Whether it be when you go to a football game, or go out and drink, or have to have surgery. I credit my family with all of my belief in that. My family isn't perfect either, we don't do the family dinners, or all get together and have a game night or something, but they have influenced me and I'm grateful. People must admit that they are influenceable before they can influence people otherwise it's a waste.

Some Things Change, but Others Remain the Same.

As a child, I was always curious and adventurous. I was your typical girl in the fact that I loved to play with dolls and dance, but I also had just as much fun playing kickball with the neighborhood boys and hunting for toads. Scary movies fascinated me (they're still my favorite) and I absolutely loved going with my mom to the Red Cross when she donated blood. To this day, my mom tells me I would be right up close saying, "Squeeze the ball harder, mommy!" as she worked to get the blood pumping into the bag.

I'm sure many of you are thinking.."Hmm, pretty strange kid." The thing is, these small details are telltale signs and predictors of the person I have grown to become. All through high school I excelled and adopted a particular love for science. I took all the courses offered as well as AP courses for college credit. As a junior in high school, I was awarded the Golden Scalpel Award for best dissections in my Human Anatomy and Physiology class. The body, whether human or animal, and its systems, were never something that made me feel queasy or uncomfortable. Instead, I marveled over their intricacy and functional capabilities; I loved being able to learn for myself through hands on interaction.

In college, I was admitted into the University of Minnesota's School of Nursing as a freshman guarantee student. This was an incredible achievement since Minnesota's nursing school is rumored as one of the hardest schools to get into on campus. It is surely one of the most renowned nursing programs in the country as well. Throughout my first year and a half of nursing school I took advantage of opportunities to partake in graduate level physiology short courses to be able get into the cadaver lab. My bank of knowledge has acquired so much material and continues to expand daily.

After a year and a half in nursing school, I realized my heart wasn't passionate about the job of being a nurturer to others, it just wasn't the right fit for me. I knew this, because I didn't feel complete and I wasn't enthusiastic about becoming a nurse the way I should have been and the way other students around me were. I withdrew from the program in search of finding a major that really awoke something inside of me. After tossing different ideas around, researching, and speaking to countless people, I was able to discover the best possible match for me. It was never a question in my mind my career would still be heavily science based even if I wasn't going to be a nurse. My lifelong love followed me through college, despite it being a time where I have learned the most about myself and what I want to do with my life. Many changes have taken place, but my passion for science has remained the same.

From Xinhua to Minneapolis

Five years ago, when I was just a normal Chinese High School student who was struggling between Exams and parents, I never imagined that 5 years later, I would become an American college student and live 7000miles from home. I even did not think I can come out with a complete English sentence with no grammar errors.

I was born in a small village in China named “Xinhua” which is hiding in one of the mountains that only be known by less than ten thousands of people. When I was very little I always wondering what looks like outside the mountains, it was because I usually saw people brought something that I had never seen before.

When I was six my family moved to a city called Changsha—the biggest cities in Hunan province, I finally got a chance to go outside of Xinhua. My parents found jobs in Changsha after we settled down, and I went to elementary school during that year. Six years later, my family moved again to an even bigger cities called Guangzhou, which is the third-largest city in China. Everything in Guangzhou was fresh to me, especially their language. Guangzhou is a Cantonese speaking city, but I only speak Mandarin with a south mountainside accent. Cantonese sounds like birds singing to me at that time, and which made me no friend in first two years in Guangzhou, but the good thing is, I became more independent and mature. Two years later, I felt no trouble with communicating in Cantonese and I had more and more Cantonese friends as well.

After my second year of high school, I made the biggest decision in my 17-year-life--- Come to the USA. Then I finished my last year of high school at a private high school in Columbus Ohio. And I went to the U of M a year later.

Everytime when I look back, i always found myself difficult to believe that I came from a tiny village which nobody knows, because most of people that village spend their entire lives in the village and never even be able to see what is behind the mountains. But now I know, most of people are not willing to move, but once they move, they will never stop.

control

All my life I've been more stressed out than the average person. I have generally high anxiety most of the time, due mostly to one singular issue: I am uncomfortable in situations out of my control. This may seem like something everyone deals with, but for me it's to an almost ridiculous extent. Every since I was small I've made sure only to place myself in situations where I am in complete control.
For example, where some people enjoy the thrill of roller coasters and haunted houses, I can't stand these situations because I'm not in control of my body.
Throughout the years I've tried many outlets to keep this stress under control (ironic huh?). I spent years playing and writing music and talking to both loved ones and professionals. I've had problems with various drug addictions and other self-destructive activities, but recently I have found what seems to be a fairly consistent aid: biking. As in bicycle, not motorcycle.
When I'm riding my bike, I'm 100% in control of what I'm doing. It also gives a perfect time to 'de-stress' in between my schedule. In between classes and work it helps me take the focus off trying to control my whole life and places the focus on the world around me. Being in traffic actually forces me to take my focus off of the rest of my life. It helps me do less over-thinking.

Life Changed In A Good Way.

Because of this particular incident, I strongly believe one event, one person and one experience can totally change one's life, one's perspective and even people around. 

One of my parents's biggest dreams is to support me through university because they saw knowledge as a key to becoming useful to one's society and country and to know more about the world. They did not have a chance to because of lack of financial support from their family. Their dream finally came true in the year of 2011 that I got accepted from the University of Minnesota. Although it did not change their life, it changed mine and is going to have life-long influences on me, I am sure. Start from the point where I waved to them, turned my back and walked toward the departure at the airport, I knew my life was going to change. I have to say that without my parents, I wouldn't know what my passions and dreams are; without them, I would never become the person I am now. Just because my family is able to support me to study abroad, it does not mean that I am rich. I rather say my parents planned this long time ago and that they accomplished it with tons of effort they have been putting in. 

Studying abroad in America did not just help me to improve my English, but more importantly is that I learned to be more independent, I learned how to communicate with others and it cleared my vision of the road ahead. Studying abroad can be a small tiny thing to some other people's life, but it is surely a major and significant change in my life, which I am 200% sure. Here I would like to thank my parents for their understandings and unlimited support and I truly appreciate that your dream is to letting me know more about myself and the world. 

The black belt within

My entire life I have been fascinated with martial arts movies. I love watching movies with Jackie Chan or Jet Lee kicking some ass. My father instilled this fascination in me from years of hearing his stories of when he practiced a chinese style of martial arts. He would tell me these grand stories of him back in the day having to use his skills in real-life situations to defend himself. These stories would blow my mind when I was younger. These stories, combined with tons (and I mean tons) of Jackie Chan movies ignited a flame within me that still burns today. Needless to say, this flame pushed me to become just like the great martial artists in the movies, but more importantly...better than my dad ever was. I joined a local tae kwon do club and quickly rose through the ranks. I was undefeated for 28 straight tournament fights. I beat ranks higher than me to prove myself. I earned myself nicknames. I was at the top of my game. My dad even admitted to me that I had surpassed his own skills when he was my age. I had all the success I ever wanted....and it wasn't enough. I still wanted more. I later found out that my dad was the same way..always striving to be the best. I am retired from the sport now just like my father. It's funny how a simple childhood story told from a father can shape his son's life. I guess the saying is true that the apple never falls far from the tree.

The Importance of Family

When I was a freshman in high school, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Initially, everything about the situation seemed surreal. You never think situations like that are going to happen to you, until they actually do. It was a very straining time, emotionally, and all of our heads were filled with fear. We talked about every aspect of the disease and treatment as a family and were able to prepare mentally. Luckily, because of the early diagnosis, she was able to go through chemo and was eventually deemed cancer-free. Throughout the entire time, I remember feeling hopeful and positive; something I know I would not have been able to do without my family by my side. We were all rather close prior to the cancer and came together even more as a system of support for one another. I always knew I had someone to talk to and help ease any worry. One of my mother's co-workers was also diagnosed around the same time as my mom. Her situation was vastly different from my mom's as she was unmarried, and had few family members to turn to. No one should have to go through something as painful as cancer by themselves. I can't imagine not having my family by my side and I know I would probably feel completely different about everything had they not been there. Though it was definitely not a positive situation, the outcome was very favorable as I now appreciate my family more.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pY9b6jgbNyc

Fix You by Coldplay

This may come to a surprise to you, but this particular song has touched me on a very deep level. Interestingly enough, the song didn't mean anything to me at first. I just thought it was a great song and I really really enjoy Coldplay. However, I was having academic issues at Brown University and became incredibly depressed. My mom and dad have been incredibly helpful in supporting me through that horrible time. However, I didn't fully appreciate the efforts and love that they gave me during that time. Looking back, I never really appreciated what my parents have done for me over the years. Let's be clear, I have been appreciative, but not to the extent that they truly deserve. I was also still in my rebellious stage, so the advice that my parents were throwing at was bouncing right off me. As I was driving around during my return from a brutal spring semester, I turned this song on and BAMN!!! The words hit me so hard, I was crying in my car: "Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you."

You might call it a revelation, but I honestly, for the first time, felt true appreciation for what my parents have done for me. They have tried so hard every SINGLE day to try and make sure I'm happy. I cried not only for how fortunate I was, but also, how I hadn't realized my fortune. I went home that night, and hugged both my parents while tearing up, telling them how much I loved and appreciated them. Ever since then, I have listened wholeheartedly and respected the advice that my parents lay out for me and I continually make sure that I let my parents know how much i love and appreciate them.

Uncomfortable reality

Growing up in India I was exposed to a different type of classification, the caste system which was undeniably related to social and economic classification. We were not wealthy …hell we could barely afford to buy a colored television, but we had a maid. I cannot remember my childhood without our maid, but it is not because she raised me, it was because she was there every day cleaning and she was a constant reminder of where my family stood in our society. I became quickly aware of how I should act around her based on how my grandmother, who raised me acted around her, but I never felt any superior to her. My heart would skip when I saw her sweeping or washing dishes and I never knew why until I came to America, it was guilt. Because of her presence in my life, I never noticed the difference between me and other kids who very well could have been ten times as wealthier and more privileged as I.

I cringe when I think about the fact that as a five year old girl I had a grown woman doing chores for me. I realized the true difference between our maid and I when I was asked a question about how my family is doing when I was standing next to our maid. I spent the most confusing 30 seconds looking at our maid and my neighbor wondering why in god’s name was this man asking me and not the adult holding my hand. I gave him an uncomfortable shrug and he left giving me a wave and a strange curt nod to our maid. From that moment on, I knew people my family mingled with though I was fit to have adult conversations than my maid. The funny thing was, our maid was the only person to have a child like conversations with me. My grandma thought I should act mature like my mom at the age of five and my grandpa had lost his ability to hold conversations years before I was born and I had no siblings, so occasionally, our maid was my companion….if a handful of dialogues all of which I can still remember counts. I guess being removed from that environment has provided me so many perspective of my childhood and it has helped me gain an idea of what kind of a person I want to be. I am proud of myself for having great respect for life and humanity, but I can and never will forget the people and the attitudes of my childhood. This particular aspect of my past reminds me of Stuart Hall’s classification claims and his belief that those in power will always try to maintain the status quo, because no matter how much my grandma considered herself superior to our maid, she gave her infrequent raises, gifts and reminded her of it later. I cannot deny my past, but I am now fully aware of the space between people created by social statuses and I am not quite sure how to close the gap when other people are not aware of it.

Divorce, Divorce, and MORE Divorce

I was in the sixth grade when my parents sat me down for that famous conversation. They told me that they were not getting divorced, but rather they were just "temporarily living separately".

I didn't really understand the impact this was going to have on me, and since my half siblings (from my mother's first marriage) seemed to be completely normal post parental divorce, I assumed this was a meaningless event. But my half siblings were much older than me and shit was about to get rather complicated.

After breaking the news to me, my parents picked a date some six months away. This date would yield their final verdict: move back in together or divorce. Until then, I would have to cope.

It didn't take long for me to experience the effects of a divorce (or a simulated one). I became a possession, fought over between two seemingly different people. All the images of my cheery childhood family gathered in our living room were slowly fading from my mind. In addition, my half siblings had gone to college and I was left alone in this mud of a marriage.

Six months passed and I eventually learned that these "verdict days" were completely made up. In fact, my parents didn't make up their minds for six years, when they finally signed the divorce papers. By then, I was in high school and didn't really care anymore.

I've since talked with my half sister about her experience with my mother's first divorce and my experience with her second. We both realized that divorce had a great psychological effect on both of us. In addition to our own divorced parents, the majority of our friend's parents were divorced. It was everywhere.

My half sister is now getting married in two months. I will explain why this is such a big deal: culture typically influences into thinking that the girl is usually the person in a relationship with marriageitis, but in my half sister's relationship, it was just the opposite. She has been with the same man for close to seven years and he's been ready for marriage since year three (not to mention they are absolutely perfect for each other). But my half sister was conditioned to be skeptical and careful with making commitments after experiencing so many failed ones in her childhood. She finally gave in, but I know she still holds her doubts. How can she not?

I am similarly conditioned. Indeed, I am young still, and if I am getting married, it is still a few years away, but the effects of divorce will always be with me. When I meet someone who claims to have happily married parents for __ years, I tend to laugh in their face. It's not even humorous; it's just that shocking to me. When I am asked if I want to have kids, I stress out pretty hard. The idea isn't stressful; I just fear putting them through what I went through.

In the end, I wouldn't go as far as to say divorce has turned me into an absolute pessimist, but it has inevitably shaped my views on marriage and long-term commitments in a very negative way. I'm sure there are many of you out there who can relate.

Tea Time

When I was growing up, I remember my dad would always make tea in the mornings. It was usually a Russian tea that had a really specific, delicious smell. He usually woke up later than me actually, so I would always be up and waiting impatiently for him to make it. Sometimes my mom would have cookies or biscuits out, too. I got pretty excited. It always ended up being the perfect time to just get together with my parents and my sister, and have some family time.

This still goes on almost every morning. For me, it’s such a good time to come home and take a step back from school and be able to relax with my family. I think this subconsciously taught me the importance of family and how to just enjoy the simple things in life. Even though making tea seems like such an insignificant thing, I think its shaped who I am today. I wonder what I would be like if I never had this little tradition. What would I be doing? What would I be looking forward to in the mornings? I probably wouldn’t be as addicted to caffeine.

I hate waking up in the mornings now, so I’m never up before my dad anymore. Now, I brought his tea making tradition with me to college and try to get myself to wake up when I need to. Tea (or sometimes coffee) is what gets me going in the morning. It’s weird to think about how such a small thing can make up the history of myself and take part in shaping the person I have become. I’m sure I’ll pass down this tradition to generations after me when I have a family someday, so the history will live on. I wouldn’t say this is a grand narrative because there was always a chance that I could change my mind and not like tea anymore. It’s not a set path, but I’ll probably keep the tradition going.

Sunday Funday!

Ever since I can remember, every Sunday my family would have dinner together. We would do appetizers, my mom would make recipes passed down through the years, and we would have a big dinner with turkey or ham and all that good stuff like mashed potatoes, or we would barbecue. My family has been having these dinners since before I was born, and we've had them throughout the years until recently because my Nana, pictured above, has trouble moving around and traveling 45 minutes from Minneapolis to Rockford takes a lot out of her. Growing I was constantly taught how important family is, and having these family days on Sundays proved that point. My sister's, cousin's, and my birthday are all in the first two weeks of June, so my family would just throw a big birthday party for all of us at our old house when we were growing up. All of our extended family and family friends would come over and we would play games and hit a pinana. Along with the family dinners, we would have these every year and it was so nice being surrounded by all of my family.

Family is such an important part of everyone's lives. They will always be there to support you and care for you. If I wasn't taught the importance of family growing up, I don't know who I would be today. I am so close with my family and am such a loving and caring person because of them. I will always have someone who will be there for me whenever I need help, or someone to talk to when I miss home, such as my sister, cousin, or mom. They would drop what they are doing to come here spend some time with me when I'm missing home and family. Everyone needs someone they can turn to when they need help, and family is a great example of that. My family has definitely contributed to my story and has shaped me into the person I am today. I look forward to the future dinners when it will be mine and my sister's job to create a Sunday dinner together for our families and we can show our future kids the importance of family just like my parents and grandparents did to us.

Refugees of War and Contradicting Cultures

      My parents are refugees of the Vietnam War who immigrated along with many other Hmong families into the United States between the 1970's to the early 1990's. And being born under such circumstances, the grand narrative towards my outlook form then to now has been built on that foundation. Coming into the United States, my parents were nervous and rather afraid of their surroundings. The integration from the lives on the mountain hills of Laos into a totally different, unknown world filled with technology shocked my parents. My culture in general, is family-oriented. In the villages back in Laos, it is possible to deduce that almost every family knew one another, their family background, and even people who lives in nearby villages. However, here in the U.S. the community is full of strangers. And because of so, you had to interact with strangers everyday. Which is problematic for my culture, because we are only used to talking to people we'd know. So integrating this into the educational system, I was that stereotypical quiet and shy student in class.
      Another part of my culture is the stratification of status and the continuous stress implemented on it. Whether it be from my parents, my relatives, or even a complete stranger who is also Hmong, the typical discussion I would have with them would always be about status, doing well school, go to college, get well-known, and bring fame to my family's name. Because in my culture, the status of the family's name meant a lot. It would determine if your girlfriend's parents would accept you as a son-in-law. It would also lead to how the community perceive you as a person just by who your parents are. These conditions are factors that lead to how my siblings and my future were planned out. We were pressured to excel in school, go to college, graduate, and bring in earnings to the family. We were to live by my families expectation so that we would bring only honor to the family name. If some of our actions were negative, even if its my own grandparents, they would leak it out to the public. The most recent conversation I had with my grandmother was that she told me to do well in college and graduate on time then continue on into the workforce.
     As of today, I still follow partial of the grand narrative set by my family. I still value family as the what comes first, I do challenge myself in college, however, much of stressed expectations, I've gotten rid of. I was more influenced by the western culture then my own. I was taught to think for myself, that my exposure to the community was about the individual. I've even strayed from the path my mother set for me. She wanted me to become a doctor or a lawyer (which I think she was in it for the money). I've also gave less stress to the family name, I would account my actions on my own. Though I've been more influenced by my culture, I still regret now to learn my own. The state of my culture is on the verge of dying. Only a handful of the Hmong community still know the traditions, and what it meant to be Hmong.

Would Have Been, Should Have Been

I was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and lived there until I was five and moved to Minnesota. From that moment my life had changed. I was no longer surrounded by family and lost the close connection we had when I lived only ten minutes away. Instead I created new families with the close friends I made. I started taking up sports as a kid and joined boy scouts. Soon after sports overran boy scouts. I was playing football, hockey, and baseball year round throughout my younger years all the way up to high school. These activitities brought me to meet many people who helped shape my life. My life was also shaped by events such as a grandparent's death, parents divorce, and my father moving half-way across the country for a job. Now looking back at my life I wonder what my grand narrative would have been like if I never would have moved one state over.

I always think I would have been a lot closer to my family and would have had people to run to when looking for advice. I wonder what sports I would have played or if I would have play any sports at all since my grandpa was so involved with racing, I might have become involved with that as well. Another thought that crosses my mind is if my parents would have still gotten a divorce or if my dad would have been able to keep his job at home.

It's just crazy to think how one event can alter your grand narrative and what could have been if that event never happened.

Ever since I can remember..

Ever since I can remember it was enforced by my parents, or more specifically my mom that I would be in girl scouts, do cheerleading and get a job in high school and go onto join the Greek system in college wherever I ended up going. Both of my parents have always talked in a matter as if they just assumed I was going to college, no questions asked. I never even brought up the idea of ever doing anything else with my life besides graduating from high school, going to college and getting a job and getting married. My grand narrative has been set out for me as long as I can remember in my 20 years of life and I have never stepped outside the boundaries of it so far in life. I think that these values of what I should do with my life were instilled in me when I was young and I agreed with them. On the other hand, my brother had these values instilled in him but he rebelled against them. They aren’t for everyone obviously but it was something I wanted for myself as well so I didn’t have a reason to rebel against them. My Grandpa always told me that I had to go to University of Minnesota and if I didn’t like it I could transfer. I always kind of ignored his “grand narrative” for me and didn’t take this seriously even though he was serious about it. I didn’t even want to go to the University of Minnesota but last minute I changed my mind but I wouldn’t say it was because of him although he was happy with my decision. Both of my parents went to college so it was expected that I would do so as well. I really never thought about not going to college or any other options that I could do because I just expected it of myself because that value of education had been enforced since I can remember. I would say that I would step outside of the grand narrative my parents have re-enforced my whole life if I had a reason to but I have no reason to complain with how my life at this point and I think I chose to do the activities my mom wanted me to do because I also wanted to do them. Maybe because I expected it of myself or maybe she made it sound fun my whole life or just because I by coincidence wanted to those activities as well but it ended up that way. But I guess you could say the values and expectations/this grand narrative of my life that my parents expect that has been instilled in me since I was very young have stuck and whether this is a good or bad thing, I can’t complain.

It wasn't all glitters

I was born in 1992, approximately 12 years from the war of liberation against colonial rule in my country. As a result, the grand narrative of that war became a significant director in my life as I grew up, till this day. I grew up in an environment in which the events of and leading to the war were always narrated to me by my parents, school teachers and all other elderly people I knew, who had experienced it. The stories I was told were somewhat similar, gruesome, but similar. Many people would think that they would have me bitter because of all the injustice they portrayed but the way they were narrated to me had a great impact in the person I am today. I have friends who heard this story also from the people they knew but the different perspectives from which they were narrated to us made us grow up with a different perspective on the world at large. I guess this goes to show that history is not just facts but rather a combination of other things such as subject position, partial truths and the methodology used to deliver it.

One thing common about what me and my peers were taught was that everything that happened leading to the war was a direct consequence of black peoples lack of knowledge, education 'white education'. We were taught that the knowledge of our ancestors was not going to be enough to sustain us in the future and so we had to go to school and become 'doctors', mainly because at the time that was considered the most prestigious job to have. So for most of my life this is what I worked towards, being a doctor. I put down everything, even knowing about my own culture because for some reason I felt it symbolized inferiority.

So now I am more open minded because of media and leaving here in America, not pursuing the medicine thing either. What I find sad is that the people here have their own culture and as much as I try to associate myself with mine its always really hard to go back to a culture a spent most of my life avoiding, trying to adopt a western culture which in no respect belongs to me.

Posting Assignment #5 (due Sunday 10/23, 11:59 P.M.; comment by 11:59 Monday, 10/24: Make History

Early in our work, we listened to Gang of Four ask 'Why theory?'  They sing 'We've all got opinions.  Where do they come from?'  This project asks us to explore where opinions come from—actually our whole views of the world—by examining bits of our personal and public histories.  Where, exactly DID some of our 'opinions' come from?

Robin does his homework: Mom put this picture in my babybook on the page for 'Baby's Fourth Birthday.' Apparently I didn't have a good time because I was worried that the other kids' balloons would break and they wouldn't have a good time.  From the left: Guy Huntley, Phillip Moreland, Donny Peterson, and me (what was Mom thinking with the flowered matching outfit?).  Guy became an insurance salesman. Phillip (the goofy looking one) became a Catholic priest.  Donny's father was a coal miner, and Donny followed him into the mines.  He died there in an explosion (Consolidated Coal) at 52. And me—well, you know me.  Somehow—even at four—we all knew that Donny was a 'working class kid' (though we didn't have the words for it).  The other three of us were supposed to do better in school (and we did). It's almost a GRAND NARRATIVE of what a good boy does with his life.  But I always thought Donny was smarter than the other two.  He knew how to wire up the electric trains.  He could track animals.  He was a lot more fun.  Maybe biology matters (I still worry about whether the other kids will have a good time). But class really matters. Class determined a lot of my history, and if I were writing this blogpost, I'd take that topic, and use this baby book and picture as my 'historical archive.'

Write a tiny mini-history in which you show how particular events, people, forces, spaces, objects and so on have contributed to your 'story' of who you are.  Remember that we're suspicious of Grand Narratives, and that we know that every story will be shot through with ideology—can't not be. In fact, it' this critical look at the 'stories' that ordered our lives that can be the most interesting part of this project. Got images?  Put 'em in. Find things that mattered (songs, movies, soccer, Girl Scouts, school, 4H)? Talk about it. Is it important who you (the writer) are, too?  Talk about that.  Need models?  Well, that's tough, because all of us are so different and so are our stories.  But no stupid Yearbook-ish generalities.  No pious 'moral lessons learned.'  Think Spiegelman—right, you maybe can't draw like him, but we can all try to THINK like him….

Look hard, talk with your family and friends, share your ideas with your group.  Show us how a life took shape, and how you shape the story.

Does this one need 'theory'?  Not so much, but it really does need to do our kind of work: to show us how big historical operations play out in our very intimate lives.