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My cousin Josh reminds me of rainy skies filled with sagging clouds when sunshine bursts through and illuminates the world. I used to worry and get stressed about little occur. Our family’s tradition is, as juniors, we travel to Florida to stay with our grandparents. Unexpectedly, Josh had foot surgery, and our plans disintegrated. No playing on the beach, no swimming, no jet skiing, none of the activities we had dreamt about for years. As we waited in the airport, I felt terrible for him. The trip was a disaster, and instead of complaining about standing in the security line forever, Josh stood unbothered masking his pain. Arriving in Sarasota starving, I couldn’t wait to eat fresh fish, but we arrived so late nothing was open but Subway.
In the result of her brother and father near death from a car wreck, my mother had to stay strong for all the siblings and family. The grief across the family was already bad enough and it wouldn’t have gotten better if it wasn’t for my mom getting mentally strong for everybody and keeping hope. It ended up her dad being fine but as for her brother it would've been a miracle if he lived due to the accident. After his rehabilitation and him getting better the family felt great but no one thought it could’ve gotten worse. Since the car was smashed her brothers head and left him with brain problems, Charles (her brother) forgot who the family was. The doctor and the whole family went through a long process of teaching Charles who they were. Eventually he remembered everything except for everything that had happened 2 years before the car crash. This was an experience that the family was not ready for at all and luckily my mom stayed strong for
Before, I could even take note, it was already October. It was time for me to pack everything in my room, and say my final goodbyes to my family members. I was going to leave everything that meant a lot to me behind. Previously, before October, we picked up my dad from the airport so that he could help us load all of our belongings to the U-Haul truck. Lily, ‘my cousin’, (we aren’t related, she is just a very close friend who I consider family) was staying with use because she want to see her father, who was also living in Denver. My mom and dad, sister, uncle, cousin, and I all stayed at the house one last night. I remember that my sister said that all her friends gathered around my mom’s car to wave goodbye to her. Her closest friends got very emotional and they started to cry. Not only did the move affect me, it also affected my sister greatly. It was like someone had given her a punch in the stomach. By the next day, we had everything in the U-Haul truck, and it was time for me to leave my precious Vegas behind. We had now started the drive to
Happiness is fake, like something forced upon me; something not real, fabricated and I don’t like it. I’m supposed to like it though. I’m supposed to like everything the government forces on me. I feel like I’m the only person who doesn’t feel content with my life, everyone else seems to be perfect while I’m falling apart at the seams.
Maybe it’s the fact that I tend to stay in my room all weekend, which leads to people thinking I’m studying when in reality I am probably binge watching a TV show or maybe it’s my glasses, but most people who don’t know me too well assume that I am smart. Now that is a great thing for me because I don’t have to try as hard to impress them, but I end up finding myself in a bit of a problem. The problem is that everyone thinks I enjoy admiring school textbooks. But the truth is I’m usually admiring my Justin Bieber poster on my bedroom wall. Ever since I was in sixth grade I’ve been a huge fan of Bieber. His music always brought a feeling of calmness and back in the day his “never say never” motto, was what I lived by. I might still be living by that motto because I’ve decided to write this essay
Unfamiliarity, in the broadest sense, can evoke a feeling of fear or anxiety. However, my unique cultural upbringing has made me comfortable with unfamiliarity, and eager to embrace differences among people with compassion and tolerance. I am the product of a cultural infusion—I was born in the United Kingdom to an English father, but was influenced by the Turkish customs of my mother. While living in England, I grew up eating dinner on the floor, listening to Turkish music on the radio, and waking up to a poster of Kemal Ataturk. I spent every summer living in Turkey where I learned the language, saw the way different people lived, and became familiar with the practices of Islam. At 14 years old I was immersed in yet another culture when I
The first activity I did that was outside of my comfort zone was go to the weight room at the rec and lift weights. I have always wanted to start lifting weights again, but I was nervous about going to the weight room here. I have a smaller build, and I am not the strongest person so I didn’t want to embarrass myself. It was outside my box because I was worried other people lifting would judge me because I am not in the best shape. At first, when I went in the weight room I was intimidated because there were a lot of people, and most of them were in great shape. However, once I started lifting I realized that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
In October of 2013 my family’s lives and mine were turned upside down when my seven-year-old cousin was in an accident. My cousin fell through a sliding glass door and cut the main artery in his thigh. He was flown to the Stanford Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital (LPCH) where he spent the next four months having surgeries and fighting for his life. My family spent those four months traveling back and forth from Monterey to Stanford in order to help and support my cousin.
Identity-“Ones personal qualities.”Identiy is something only he or she can fully define. My uncle says I am affectionate,cheerful, and calm. My grandmother sees me as slim, pretty and sweet. My dad described me as perky, cheerful and happy, my mom says beautiful, gentle, and self-conscious. These adjectives describe me accurately, yet they are only abstract versions of me. Adjectives cannot begin to describe me and I aknowlege these descriptions for what they are, a condensed translation from my outward self to the world. It is impossible for anyone to understand me completely because nobody has experienced the things I have. My mother has never cherished a raggedy doll named Katie and my father never spent hours upon hours making collages and scrap books for his future children. My uncle never hid in the back of a pick-up-truck and traveled four hours to New York and my grandmother has never walked hours in the rain looking for the Queen of England. My identity is something only I can define.
Most individuals have experienced the everlasting joy and love that comes with caring family and friends, but the realization is that agony and despair will always win the war of light and dark, and family and friends are simply just impeding the end result. When a child is born, agony is already set in place, for screaming and crying will commence as soon as the child feels hands clasped on to him. However, this agony is soon met with joy as the child is met with his mother’s soothing heartbeat. Moreover, sometimes this heartbeat never comes, and thus, agony and despair stay within this child’s heart forever. Jimmy Baca, a lost young man who has only witnessed pain in his life, is this child. Furthermore, there comes a time in every individual’s
Have you ever had a time in your life where you felt like everything was just dumped on you? I did, and undoubtedly it happened just as I came to school at State University. That saying, “When it rains, it pours,” just seemed to fit me perfectly. Within a two week period one of my friends from high school committed suicide, my grandma went in the hospital, and my boyfriend broke up with me. Yet, from these experiences in my life, I grew, more than I have ever grown before. This is why I am writing about it. Although, everyone goes through hard times, there were not many people out there who related to me. That is why it was hard to get help when it was needed. Maybe someone can learn from my experience and be just as strong as I was.
The sun gleamed vibrantly on August 5, 2008, but I did not sense the warmth as my thoughts were elsewhere. I was only six years old at the time and preparing to begin first grade in less than one month. As I crossed the threshold into the home of my best friend, I had a sensation everything would change. At such a young age, I was having to tell my best friend goodbye. Blake Basgall had leukemia and would not be around when I returned from vacation, according to my mom. That day, I had spent hours coloring a picture in his favorite color, blue, so I could give it to him prior to heading to my grandma’s for the week. Blake was my first real friend. He had a thoughtful and daring heart through all of his surgeries and medication treatments. Blake Lee Basgall would become an inspiration
In seventh grade my friend Abbie and I decided to go out for the basketball team. After a week of tryouts we both found our names on the team roster. We were both so ecstatic. As the season progressed Abbie and I grew closer as teammates as well as friends. We became so close I sometimes considered her family-my family. We had a great season together, one of the best the school had ever seen, until the very end. Two weeks after the championship game, Abbie’s mother took her to the doctor for severe headaches.
In December, my father suffered a ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm. His heart stopped twice during the operation, and he was not expected to survive. He had an intensive recovery period, and I wanted nothing more than to make him better immediately. His trauma had made me impatient and afraid to hope. I was having trouble waiting for things to unfold naturally and wanted to know what would happen in the end. Simple, everyday decisions or occurrences took on great importance.
If me and my family needed to go into hiding and I couldn't leave the room that I was in for two years, then in order to keep myself occupied I would probably draw or maybe write a small book about what has happened to my so far, or I would make a diary of what I do during the day. A new skill or hobby I might learn would be maybe a sport I could practice with my family, like maybe basketball or soccer. Some activities I would have to give up would be playing on my electrical devises like my phone. The hardest part about it would be being locked up in a building for two years not being able to go outside or being able to communicate with anyone. Another hard part would be not being able to play or use my phone because I wouldn't be able
Whenever we were kids, we didn’t quite understand situations as well as we would now as adults. No matter how many questions we asked at that young age, we were still left puzzled. That’s how I felt as a child whenever one of the most tragic moments in my life occurred. I was too young to see how severe the situation was at the time, but now, after growing up, I can understand the misery and depression my family felt.