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Conclusion of women entrepreneurs
Conclusion of women entrepreneurs
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There's no energy that can mimic what's released when a positive, high-stepping woman enters a room. The attitude of a successful woman is the fuel needed to drive us from idea conception to realization.
I remember as a child, hearing dishes clinking in the kitchen, the smell of coffee, and the sound of frying bacon. I always woke to these little sounds that became a comfort when I heard them, because mommy was in the kitchen. She always looked at me with her big brown eyes and long brunet curly hair and smiled at me. She would pull out the kitchen chair and say “good morning lady bug”, I always responded with a giggle. I remember when she hugged me every morning her hair would cover my face it always smelt of roses, her body smelt of vanilla, and her clothes were pressed and neat. I loved my mother dearly, and cherished every moment with her as I was a little girl.
My mother’s attitude towards everyone was always so prude, and kurt. I never knew why she acted one way towards me, and choose to act another when she put on this beautiful pressed suit. As years past by in my life, I would go to my mother’s office, where I was told to be quite and stay in a room. I remember occasionally peeking out to see something going on, nothing but to hear phones ring, and my mother talking on the phone. I never knew what I was supposed to do when I got there, never knew the purpose, and couldn’t quite understand why I was forced to sit in a quiet room, with just a television, and some plants. It was the most boring place I could ever imagine being, and couldn’t think why my sweet, loving mother would want to be in such an awful place.
My childhood I could remember being quite nice, and simple. We traveled, and I never remembering wanting...
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...ough. I was respected, acknowledged, and most important; I was a smart, I was successful and I was a woman! My attitude changed, I was happy to be with my mother every day, I was like her. I was proud I was like her; I had a sense of self worth. She taught me to be tough, handle hurtful words, criticism, control and structure. She was molding me into a successful woman. I finally understood. The greatest point of resistance is just before breakthrough. We must have a stubborn resolve to see ourselves to the other side. When challenging circumstances seek to derail us, if we just take that next step, we'll find that we've made it. Our lives revolve around four major categories: family and friends, health, wealth and spirit. These areas must be balanced to lead a fulfilled life. My mother was aware of this, and instilled it in me, which made me the person I am today.
There is a woman, she will always in the softest place in your heart, you would like to spend all your life to love her; there is a love, it is Real and selfless and it will never stop, you do not need to return anything...... This man, called "mother ", this love, called" Motherhood "! “Mothers” by Anna Quindlen. I could not stop reading this essay again and again, because this essay tells exactly what I want to say when I am young. My parents leave me alone when I am 6 years old. They have to work outside of the country, during that time, transport and communication is not as convenient as now. So I can only see them once in three years. Growing up with “knowing that I have a mother and she is never around me whenever I need her”
They have gone from being an object, that seemingly does nothing other than look pretty while making sandwiches in the kitchen to being scientists, amazingly talented surgeons not just the cute nurse, doctors, lawyers, teachers, artists, writers, professors, actresses, politicians in front of everyone not just behind closed doors, and the list goes on and on. Each mother, each woman has fought for her place, whether she knows it or not. She knows what exactly is at stake and she refuses to fail to become just another statistic, another number, and another blank face in a crowd that is full of desperation. It is in these times of struggle is when the true heroes are born. William Shakespeare wrote, “but be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em.” Hopefully he knew that these words would be remembered and said over and over by people for years and
I have always grown up around the influence of hard work. My mother and father’s life together began off to a rough start. My mother got pregnant at the age of 20 with my brother. Her family was not very supportive of it; therefore, she was on her own. She used to tell me about how she would sit and cry in a one bedroom apartment that she lived in with my brother wondering what she was going to do. Although she had to grow up faster than she
TS - Harwood succinctly explores the memory of motherhood as a quintessential part of being human in the poem, “Mother who gave me Life”.
Equality for Women in the business world always has been a reason for debate. However the article "Why It's So Hard For Working Women To Get Ahead, And What We Can Do About It", written by Jillian Berman is written to get employers to make it easier on the female members of their teams.The article was posted in the beginning of 2014 in The Huffington Post. Jillian is an Associate Business Editor for the Huffington Post. She is an opinion based writer who uses her "freedom of speech" to write about many different topics. In this article, Jillian discusses the shyness that women experience when in the working field which keeps them from reaching higher positions. By writing this article, Jillian is putting out a request to employers to assist women since they tend to be shyer, more modest, and have a hard time "selling themselves to their employers". The article written informally, begins with Jillian's personal experience. By including personal details and supporting opinions, Jillian makes her article extremely effective.
When I was born, my mother breast fed me for two weeks, I stayed in the hospital room with her instead of going to the nursery, and she was home with me for the first five years of my life. My father worked and my mother tended to the home, with the help of her mother and grandmother. I ate Gerber baby jarred food and my mother read to me every night. My family did not adhere to many other cultural norms however. It was culturally expected that a husband and wife would have a home, with stable jobs and an established relationship before having children. My father was eight years my mother’s senior, and my mother was only 18 when I was born. My mother never earned her high school diploma. My parents were married the month before I was born. My father worked in construction and had a criminal record. Every single one of these descriptions violates the cultural norms of where I grew up in North Carolina. Although my story starts to sound a lot like a Lifetime movie, my mother defied all odds to provide a safe and secure haven for me. “When they sense that a parent is consistent and dependable, they develop a sense of basic trust in the parent” (Crain, 283). I could rely on my parents and trust that they would be there to take care of me which lead to my development of “the core ego strength of this period: hope” which emerges from the child developing a favorable balance of trust over mistrust. “Hope is the expectation that despite frustrations, rages, and disappointments, good things will happen in the future” (Crain, 285). My mother is the living embodiment of that sentiment. As early as I can remember, I can remember her insistence that as long as we were together, we were
Throughout my life my mother has always been my backbone and push me to strive for excellence and be academically perfect. I was taught to go above and beyond everyone else in class and work nonstop without excuses. However, the pressure from my mom triggered a negative effect in me and I eventually shutdown. Though I still managed to finish strong I felt that I did it to please my mom. That is why going to college is so important to me because I know that I can go to college and be triumphant on my own, so right now I am pushing through adversity in an attempt to prove myself right.
Life in the middle school and high school was not easy for me. I had become an introvert, I still didn’t know how to be social, and I had very few friends. I was teased for being very quiet, and some people insinuated that I’m scared of fellow people. On the other hand life at home was difficult. My mother had become so bitter and pleased her was next to impossible. She became very harsh with my brother and me, and we were always scolded for even the smallest mistakes. Once in a while, my father would come for us and take us to the city he lived. I would look out of the windows as we drove out of town and would imagine how life in another city would feel like. I looked at the skies, and all I saw were promises of a better future. All my life I had lived in San
I, of course, knew my mother as a mother. As I have reached adulthood and become a mother myself, I have also known her as a friend. My mom shared much of herself with me, and I saw sides of my mother as she struggled with her cancer that I had never seen before, especially her strong belief in positive thinking and the importance of quality of life. I was privileged to know so many facets of my mother, but certainly I did not know all. There were parts of her life that I didn’t see, relationships that I didn’t know about. Last night, at the wake, so many stories were told to me about my mom’s strength, courage, humor, kindness, her quietness, her loyalty as a friend. It was so special to hear of these things that my mom said and did, to know some of these other parts of her life. I hope that her friends and family will continue to share these stories with me and with each other so we can continue to know and remember my mom.
Finally, she made it home. “Sorry I am late I got held at work.” She said. My mother ran her own clock which was always behind schedule. She thanked her six children for that. My mother always wanted a big family so had six children which the first three were from her previous marriage. She later divorced and remarried then had three more children. That afternoon I noticed she struggled to get off her enormous truck. It was probably her physical rounder body frame or working a double shift that made her incapable to get off her vehicle quickly. I’m sure being a nurse is hard work physically and mental. As she walked towards me I admired her style, her normal hair up in a bun and her unmatched scrubs. She wore a red mickey mouse top and some lime green pants. She didn’t mind others opinion because for her there were far greater things in life. As she got near me she hugged and
I wearily drag myself away from the silken violet comforter and slump out into the living room. The green and red print of our family’s southwestern style couch streaks boldly against the deep blues of the opposing sitting chairs, calling me to it. Of course I oblige the billowy haven, roughly plopping down and curling into the cushions, ignoring the faint smell of smoke that clings to the fabric. My focus fades in and out for a while, allowing my mind to relax and unwind from any treacherous dreams of the pervious night, until I hear the telltale creak of door hinges. My eyes flutter lightly open to see my Father dressed in smart brown slacks and a deep earthy t-shirt, his graying hair and beard neatly comber into order. He places his appointment book and hair products in a bag near the door signaling the rapid approaching time of departure. Soon he is parading out the door with ever-fading whispers of ‘I love you kid,’ and ‘be good.’
Summer was coming to an end, the night air grew brisker and the mornings were dew covered. The sun had just started to set behind our home; my father would be home soon. I walked into the kitchen only to be greeted by my mother cooking dinner. She stood there one hand on her hip, her one leg stuck out at her side, knee slightly bent, stirring the pot holding the spoon all the way at the tip of the handle. She looked as pissed off as could be. My mother always felt she could be doing a million other things besides cooking dinner. We sat there talking until I heard a familiar soft rumble in front of our house. The rumble was accompanied by my father fidgeting at the front door. His old noisy Bronco always made his presence known. He plodded down the hallway into the kitchen to greet my mother with a peck on the cheek. After one more quick stir she plopped a hot pad on the table followed by a pan of sliced meatloaf in sauce. The smell of the meat, potatoes, and veggies filled the kitchen instantly and the family gathered around the table. The meal was a typical one in our household, my mother who had a million other things to do that day, including having her own personal time did not feel like cooking a twelve course meal. However, my father who always came home expecting steak did not see the meal as appetizing as the rest of us.
On the day my father died, I remember walking home from school with my cousin on a November fall day, feeling the falling leaves dropping off the trees, hitting my cold bare face. Walking into the house, I could feel the tension and knew that something had happened by the look on my grandmother’s face. As I started to head to the refrigerator, my mother told me to come, and she said that we were going to take a trip to the hospital.
The challenges that my mother faced were, lying, stealing, cheating, running way, being promiscuous, and most offensively disrespecting my mother in every way possible. After observing these challenges I was determined that when I was a mom I would have a plan of action ready to use at a moment’s notice just as our armed forces have a plan of action when entering a battlefield. I was determined to have a plan of action for almost every conceivable offence against the house rules. I formulated the most basic house rules that I could put together than encompassed the basic rules of life which are: respect others, be kind to others, love others, forgive others, do not lie nor deceive, cheat nor steal, do your part, and most importantly remember who you are, what you stand for and what you
It was on a Friday morning at 4:30 A.M. that happiness and joy filled the hearts of both my parents. I was born on November 29, 1996 at Broward General Hospital in Fort Lauderdale Florida. My parents had five children, and among the five children that they had, I was the third (or middle) child from them. It started off as two boys, then I came along as the first girl, after it was another boy, then finally, another baby girl; so total was three boys and two girls. The way that my parents lived and treated each other was the same as if any other married couple that loved each other so much. They’ve gone through a lot to get to where they are now today, but they made it and along the way had us five children. They have been really strong with each other which made them only have the five of us and no other step children. My mom is a great cook and enjoy cooking for us; this is probably where my passion for culinary comes from. My dad is an amazing tailor, he is very good at making our clothes, and my passion for fashion probably came from him. My dad is also a teacher, one of the best math teacher I know, he is passionate about his job and his family is the center of his universe. I cannot finish this chapter without mentioning my grandmother, I was lucky enough to have ever met. I had spent part of my life time with her, like the rest of the family she is sweet, my grandmother Abelus,