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Descriptive Essay: "A Lesson Learned"

I smiled but only to hide what I truly felt inside. I was over my girlfriend’s house glad to escape the enclosure of my small spaced room. In her kitchen, about to eat the chinese food I bought I was happy to be with her. It has been a while since I’ve been over house to just hang out. Plus, I love seeing her little sisters smiles glow as we play together sometimes. But even with that joy and space to breath there was still that feeling I had inside boiling inside of me. It was my dad...

(Phone rings) “Hi dad!” “Hi sweetheart” “Are you still coming tomorrow?” “About tomorrow turns out I’m not going to be able to make it.” “Why not? What happened?” “My boss just called and said he needs me for tomorrow. But I promise I’ll see you another time, ok?” “Ok. I understand.” (Dead silence) “Mom’s calling me so we’ll talk later.” “Alright, I’m really sorry mama.” “Ok. Bye.” “Bye sweetheart” (Hangs  up) That was the dark cloud that rained over my parade yesterday afternoon. Its not like this was the first time I was “stood up” by him. But this time he promised me we’d hang out today. It was suppose to be our day yet I’m here instead. Don’t get me wrong I love Yourcenar and being with her but the disappointment that stirred up in my belly like a pot of boiling water was overwhelming. Almost every thought in my mind that involved what me, her, and what we could do today was put on hold. I looked down at my white rice shrimp broccoli delight and thought of what could’ve been, the fun we could’ve had, and the new memories we could’ve made if he’d just came...

But of course work is important too. I love my dad and the fact that he couldn’t take one day of work off to spend time with his own flesh and blood spent a piercing pain through my spine. After a while I realized it wasn’t just disappointment stirring up in my stomach it was hunger too. As I continued to chowed down trying to forget the sadness within me, Yourcenar came to the kitchen to keep me company, went into her fridge, turned & gave me that face. “So we have water, lemonade, milk, apple juice, fruit punch and... ginger ale. Choose your pick!” she said. I simply replied as always “ Well... um no, no, no, no, no, ohh maybe, NO!” This is a regular routine that happens every time I go to her house that I love never changes. She tries to offer me something to eat or drink and I deny all she has as much as I can until she forces it upon me. After rejecting almost every drink the last one that she brought out and suggested sparkled as I stared. Words Mata Goya written on it. I couldn’t help but muffle the word that would let her know she found my weakness “Eh, ok” I said under my breath “Finally!” Yourcenar replied. Pleased with herself she placed the drink right next to my plate of wonders and left me in the kitchen to drink it. I remember the last time I drank malta goya...

Staring at the drink in my mind I took a step back into time. Back to when I was 10 years of age. Shutting my eyes suddenly I was back in my room (which seemed much bigger at the time). The sound of their high and low pitch laughter, thundering in my head, taunted me. Feeling left out all by myself in my room while the grown ups laugh and have fun downstairs. “When will I be able to laugh so loud that I couldn’t care less if I was heard all the way from Arizona and have a never ending huge smile across my face?” I thought. “That good warm feeling inside? Its like getting a free ice cream with any toppings of your choice to cool you down on a hot sunny day! A feeling that I crave for!” With all these thoughts bouncing in and out of my young mind I slowly escaped from my big room of what felt to be hopeless dreams and warm comfort, tiptoed my way down the burgundy soft carpet stairs pass the living room where the adults have drinks in their hands watching t.v. smiling, through the dining room with a huge wooden table with snacks of chips dip, cookies and such on it, into the kitchen. Using that worned out look on my face that says “I’m so thirsty” on my parents to go downstairs instead of sleeping in bed I looked around the kitchen. “Looks like any ordinary kitchen you see on T.V. except its not all white” I think to myself.

My eyes holt to a stop at the master of it all. Our black fridge, one who carries all our the wonders that satisfies our hunger and thirst and covered with pictures and stickers that remind us of the good times we had. Opening it there’s not much but the usual plain boring undesirable food. Then I sigh for I feared this would be a long night that I would have to endure. But just then something yellow hiding behind the leftover lasagna. So I move the white colorful heavy bowl with the delicious cold smell of my favorite food over and to my surprise find just the thing I needed. Malta Goya! A pack of six small mini dark brown bottle filled with this fizzy, most satisfying, taste-bud tingling, dark brown soda, with a yellow label around the lower center of the bottle that says malta goya in big bold white letters with a big blue oval behind it. Malta Goya never ceases to disappoint me at the time. But I’m much older now and more mature to handle situations that include disappointment. As I traveled back into the kitchen I was in I took a sip of the drink hoping things could be easier like when I was 10 but to my failure all it did was allow my tears of sorrow to fall before my eyes. Making no eye contact I rushed my way into the bathroom. It was like a never ending river; my tears. I was shocked to see that i would burst at my friends house but i guess i couldn’t hold it any longer. Silently crying all i could think about was the excitement i felt when he told me he’d come. I should’ve known not to get  my hopes up..

But slowly I was realizing something. Of course disappointment is not a good feeling at all. Its like putting your trust into someone and the next moment watching them purposely throw it in the trash like it meant nothing at all. About dealing with such a feeling I personally like to first question myself, vent, and then forget about it. I like to question why such a person would do that? Was it my fault or did I do something wrong? Sooner or later I realized that you can’t completely trust anyone in this earth except for GOD. If I were to rely and trust in only him I would be alright. I like to put the blame on me (unless it really isn’t my fault) as much as possible because then nobody would get hurt from my anger except for me. I like to find out the mistakes and see what I did wrong so maybe just maybe next time I won’t encounter such a problem again. I like to vent as in cry or shout or scream or block the world out with my music to express how I feel. I like to forget about all of it and look on into the future for that is what should have all of my worries. I hate to waste my time thinking about something that happened a long time ago and allow it to take away my happiness. I realized that dealing with disappointment is a hard thing to do and that even with all the emotions that feel bubbling inside of you sometimes even in the worst situations all you have to do is forget about the stress, let go of the anger, JUST BREATH and let everything else fall into place.

So I got up, looked in the mirror, and washed my face. Allowing the cool waters to wash away my tears and drain my sorrow. Although I was still sad I wasn’t going to let it ruin my day with my best friend. As I opened the door with that thought in my head to my surprise she was there only to open her arms and give me a big hug that lifted my spirit a bit. It let me know that she understood and wanted to help...

Disappointment is a feeling we all go through and from my experience I can say that it’s not all that bad. Throughout my life I have gone through many experiences like this and it has taught a life learned lesson. Which is to not always put your trust on people and if so always have a back up plan. Which I now always do. I realized that we are humans and make many mistakes; we aren’t perfect. I feel like the experience of disappointment has taught me more about independence and being self-sufficient. I also feel like going through disappointment is a good thing in a way because without going through the bad you wouldn’t be able to learn from your mistakes, learn a life learned lesson and make sure your future is brighter because of what you learned.

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Descriptive Essay: RubyJane Anderson


Descriptive Scene

I can hear the anxious chitter chatter of everyone around me. Its a sold out show, so the house is packed. I can feel the hot breath of strangers on my neck, its one of the disgusting yet cool things about going to shows, being so close to strangers, the unbearable heat. Everyone shares a bond, the love of an artist.

Even though I am happy to be here, I feel so uncomfortable, like everyone is staring at me. I am self conscious, I feel like a giant. Standing at 5 foot 10, I tower over most of the other women in the audience. Everywhere I go I stick out like a sore thumb. I never felt comfortable in my own skin.

I have always been tall. I can remember being in second grade and having to stand in the back of the line because I was tallest, which sucked because I never go to be line leader. Its actually pretty embarrassing to have guys have to look up at you to talk to you. Something about that just felt so unpretty.

My friend Maris nudges me, interrupting my thoughts.

“Somethings happening!”

I have always been tall. I can remember being in second grade and having to stand in the back of the line because I was tallest, which sucked because I never go to be line leader. Its actually pretty embarrassing to have guys have to look up at you to talk to you. Something about that just feels so unpretty.  

Suddenly, the lights go out. A wave of silence rolls over the crowd.

We are at the Electric Factory, the largest “small venue” in Philly. Its standing-room only, but there is a balcony with a bar that only people of drinking age can go. The people standing on the balcony are all drunk and happy. They are all jumping around so much, I’m fearful that the balcony will collapse.

The lights are still out, people start chattering again, thinking its a glitch in the lighting or sound system. Suddenly, a single white spotlight illuminates a figure dressed in a brown robe that appears to be made from the same material as a burlap sack. People don’t notice it at first, but when everyone realizes what is happening, they are quiet immediately. The figure has on a mask that covers his entire head. It looks like a “Wild Thing” from Maurice Sendaks novel of the same title. It has a long, crooked nose and a furry mane.

Slowly, the robed figure walks across the stage, each step placed cautiously and purposefully. It stops at the right corner, turning to face the audience and begins raising his hands very slowly. His fingers are brown, long, thick, and crooked, somewhat resembling branches of a tree. On the tips of each finger is a bright white laser, the light of which illuminates the back wall of the venue.

I was hypnotized by this being. There was something so incredibly enchanting about the way it moved. I completely lost myself in its face, then snapped back into reality. I realized that I was standing on my tippy-toes and was instantly mortified. Everyone must have been staring at me! I quickly corrected my posture to my usual slouch (if I slouched just right, I could be 5’8) and looked around, sure that everyone would be staring at me and mocking me to their friends. But, as I turned my head, I saw that everyone was just as I was a few moments earlier, completely lost in themselves. It was then, right at that moment, when I realized that everyone was way too caught up with themselves to really care about what I was doing.

This completely shocked me. If no one was looking at me now, were they looking at me when I walked down the street? I am an idiot. Was I so vain that I thought that everyone was always caught up in how I looked that is was the center of their mine.

Yes, I was that vain. But I am not anymore.

I am not the center of everyone’s universe. In fact, I am perhaps but a tiny blip on their radar, a drop of water in their ocean, a single cell in their anatomy. If I am nothing to these strangers, why did I care so vastly what they thought of me?

I didn’t.

I didn’t care what these strangers thought of me. Everything that I had been afraid of, all the nights spent perfecting my slouch in the mirror, avoiding heels like the plague, and cursing my parents for “tall-genes” was not to avoid judgement from others, it was to deny who I am from myself.

I am Ruby Jane Anderson, I am 5 foot 10 inches, I am tall and I am proud.

In order to find myself in this one moment, I had to first lose myself.

It continues to lift its hands. As it does this, the music gradually gets louder and louder, until I can no longer hear my insecurities tormenting me.

The lights go off and the robed figure disappears.
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Descriptive Essay: Defying Conformity

Defying Conformity

Coming from an illiterate past is something to not be ashamed of, but to embrace as an individual, because you know you can make a difference by being the opposite of what you have been exposed to. I realized from a very young age that I wanted to be a well educated person and a well spoken person. I knew that I had to be presentable in life. With the way job interviews are ran and the way society judges, you must have a good enough vocabulary to write an email to your boss. Look at yourself in the mirror and think about the first impression you give off to others when you speak. If you have to think negatively about it, then there is something that can be improved.

    My father’s parents, who were both born and raised in the heart of the Middle East, Syria, only spoke a couple of English words. My father has lived in two foreign countries, learned two different languages at the same time, and has seen the side of illiteracy. Both of his parents were unable to read or write English when they arrived to the United States of America. My father decided to take English courses at Temple when he arrived, which improved his vocabulary immensely. He was then able to speak to strangers, speak to his boss, and speak to himself in English. His parents continued to speak in their native tongue, but my dad progressed and rose above the expectations as he learned his new national language.

    I have a neighbor named Pat. Pat was a huge help in the making of my vocabulary. She always spoke to me as if I was an adult. Pat, who never underestimated me and who always pushed me to greater things, would express her feelings towards things in a professional manner. She set an example for me as I was growing. She taught me how to enunciate my words when I speak and always make sure I am using words correctly in a sentence, statement, or phrase. Every night, after I arrived home from sixth grade, Pat would assist me in the completion of my spelling homework. She would yell, “THAT’S NOT A SENTENCE!” And I would reply with a, “*sigh* okay, but I don’t know how to make a sentence for this word.” “Well, I don’t know what else to do except send you into the kitchen until you figure one out.” This was hell. This was something I respectfully called The Hour of Hell.

    Both of these people are huge influences, but the biggest thing that made push even harder than I already was, were the people in school. You wouldn’t believe the things I would hear come out of some of my classmates mouths’. It was as if they were raised by wolves. The vocabulary and sentence structure was horrific and something I can explain no further, because it was just that bad.

    But it made me look deeper and further into the future. At times, I was unable to think, incapable of speaking, and unable to write a single word down on my page. I was frustrated and annoyed. There were many nights where I actually cried because I thought I would turn out like my classmates if I didn’t learn to speak correctly. But I got through it because I knew I had to.

One of biggest struggles I had while learning to speak correctly, was getting out of the habit of saying “like” every five words. “Like, I wonder what it would be like, if like, I didn’t know how to, like, speak? Like, you know?” That would be a sentence I would have said or at least something like that. I know many people who say the word “like” three or four times in one sentence. I say to them, “Was it like or was it?” That’s something that was said to me on a daily basis, up until I dropped the habit.

The National School Project is an organization that helps students express their individuality. They are responsible for creating the book called “Young American Poetry Digest.” A couple of years ago I entered a contest, that was run by the National School Project, to see if I could get the chance to have one my poems published in their book. I was finally confident enough to share my pieces of writing. So, I sent in about eight. A few months went by and I finally got the letter from them. I stood in my doorway for a minute thinking to myself “whether I’m in or not, I’m still a winner.” Slowly, I started to tear open the white envelope. I took out the letter, unfolded it and read the first word of the paragraph. “Congratulations...” You can imagine my excitement. The feeling of success was erupting in my body.

    Defying conformity can really change the  course of your life. My dad decided to take the road not taken. He showed me what is possible and what you can achieve with a little elbow grease. As I advance through my career, I become more aware of what the future holds for me. Education is the key to success and without literacy, you will never be able to achieve the ultimate goal.

Salty sea air

blows against the brittle body

sea crystals sticking

- Rahed Albarouki
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Descriptive Essay: A night To Remember

September 21, 2012
Descriptive Essay #2

September 22, 2012. a.k.a the best night of my life. This was the night of FIGURE at The SoundGarden Hall in Northern Liberties right across from the river. For those of you who don't know what this is, it is one of the most insane raves in the country. I clearly remember standing on the corner of spring garden and Columbus Boulevard anxiously waiting for the doors of the club to open. After what seemed like an hour we reached the front doors and my friends and I finally made it inside the mysterious looking building. "Oh. My. God.", were the only words my friends and I could get out of our mouths when we first arrived.
Now when I tell you that I've been to a lot of different venues, I mean a LOT, and I've never came across a venue  that was anything close to this place, I mean it. All of the walls are entirely covered in tall mirrors, with two big visualizer screens, and the widest variety of lights I have ever seen before. For the first five minutes of the show it was almost as if I was being blinded by the flashing lights. Blue, green, pink, purple, red, and yellow lights flashing all over. Flickering to the beat of the music causing your vision to become quite distorted. You'd think it would be bothersome, but it's far from it. Enough with the lights already, let me tell you a little about the music.
From the moment you walk into the venue your entire body is vibrating. The whole night my friends and I were directly in the front of the stage with the performing DJs. This is where the crowd was the most insane. I specifically remember this one part of the night when DJ Rion was playing my favorite song so I was even more pumped than usual. When the song first started off everyone was going crazy! Pumping their fist to the beat until suddenly the music cuts out, and the lights stop, then BOOM the bass drops harder than ever! Everyone in the crowd goes mental! You can feel the bass vibrating from your feet all they way up through your chest. Strobe lights and smoke machines blur your vision as if you're in a euphoric fog of happiness. Being at a rave is like a totally different world. It's a place where there are no worries. Nobody judges you, nobody tells you what to do, it is a completely drama free, care free zone.
When I am out raving with my friends I feel nothing but happiness. The whole environment of these crazy concerts is just so nice. You meet so many people, learn about so many different cultures, and theres absolutely no negative energy. Why is it that people can't get along like this all the time? This is something that I think about all the time. I feel as though people take happiness for granted sometimes. For those of you who have not experienced raving, I would highly suggest that you try going out to one sometime. I promise you, it will be a  night to remember. Full of happiness, dancing, and just plain old fun.

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7 :)

​​There is suppose to be a circle table, and a lot more words. but had a few small group distraction due to absences. The final one wil be up very soon :) But it talks about the negative! 


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Descriptive Essay: The heart has no color

   I ALWAYS saw this everywhere, interracial relationships. Whether it be white/asian, spanish/black, and more common mixes. I usually don't see a caucasian male with a female that is another race. I don’t know why but it always seemed really cute in the movies. Picture perfect, and anyone who feasted their eyes on the movies would say so too. As I got older, my mind opened up more and I fell in love with my bestfriend who is now currently my boyfriend and I guess its not like the movies, because we get different reactions... As a child, the only interracial relationship that seemed possible was a black/hispanic mix. But it was more common to be in a relationship with your own race, or else it didn’t look right (from my 3rd grade mind). I didn’t know who I would choose though. An African-American? Or a Puertorican? I’m half and half so I just settled it. I was going to wait all my life to find someone who was black/puertorican so I can marry and be happy. I’ll admit, I was proud of who I am and what I liked, but I didn’t like white people. Everywhere I went with my mom, a white employee was always rude to her and due to my adolescent ignorance I just connected those experiences to the WHOLE race. From pre-school to 5th grade I was pretty much this way until I hit middle school.

   I went to A.M.Y (Alternative middle years) 5 for middle school. I went to the meeting in the summer to get my summer reading assignments. Everything looked pretty good and the only white kids that I saw were maybe five? There were white teachers, but I was used to seeing them, so I felt pretty good. After I started my first year, thats when I saw it.         Mixed in with everyone else was a bunch of white people! I get anxious and nervous around people and cramped spaces (which A.M.Y was. Way too cramped). There were so many and I couldn’t believe it so I prepared for the worst. Now, after some time passed I came to the conclusion that I hated this school and so did all of my friends. But I thank this school, because some of my friends were white, asian, arab and more! This school showed me that just because some people decided to be idiots doesn’t mean theyre connected to the entire race. When I graduated, I ended up with all types of friends. I remember one time I was sitting in Amy’s library with one of my good friends Miranda. It was a nice day, but rare. I didn’t get to see her much because she was always in the hospital, so when I do get to see her I’m pretty happy. She was white. She hung out with this group of white girls that I guess didn’t like me that much because her friend Melissa said “Why are you hanging out with black people?” and Miranda replied “Why AREN’T you hanging out with black people?”. And when I heard that I felt a twinge of happiness; she didn’t care what skin color I was. And no one else should either. But I had one BEST friend and his name was Scott Sicilia, and he was different .

   After starting my school at Science Leadership Academy, the school year was all tense and I had a five minute breakdown over benchmarks (You see, I wasn’t used to so much work being bombarded on me so I broke down, cried and all). So, seeing some old friends eased my mood. I went to the mall and I saw Scott again. He ran to hug me and honestly, it was the best feeling ever. I’m not going to bore you with the whole love story thing but basically, we went to the movies as friends, and left as boyfriend and girlfriend. As we held hands to walk, people were already glancing, maybe more than three times and my eyes started to jet everywhere on my body. Was my hair okay? Is there something on my shirt? No, there was nothing wrong with me. So why were they glancing? Soon, I would come to a conclusion that it’s the guy I’m with, because I will be experiencing a lot of these glances.

   I always saw a African American male with a Caucasian female and that was okay! I’m fond and thankful for interracial relationships or I wouldn’t be here. Around where I live, a caucasian male and a hispanic female or an african american female OR in my case, both, is not common. You never see it. So I could understand why some people glance again and again. And most of the times I’m proud because I like who I’m with. He’s not perfect but he’s awesome and no one else should really have anything to say. It’s when they DO have something to say, that it kills my mood but makes my beliefs stronger.

   The first time I ever really felt angry and almost lost it was when a group of guys walked by and yelled out loud “What’s he doing here?” or “Yo he belongs in Kensington”. I would have thought that even today, some people would be more mature. One time I was with him at a bus stop and some guy came up in a car and said “I SEE YOU WHITE BOY” and his friend started laughing, I guess they saw the sharp and agonizing look in my eyes because they turned away and drove off. My boyfriend can defend himself very well but I won’t just let someone try to downgrade him. At other times, drivers stare as they drive by or flip us the finger. Occsionally we get “You guys are so cute” or “You guys are dating? That’s so nice!”. And it makes me feel good that we have some people who are accepting. I don’t care what other people think, but when you mess with me and my boyfriend there is obviously going to be a problem. No one should care who I hang around with and who hangs out with me.. It’s 2012 and people need to recognize that we aren’t in the old days anymore. I can be with whoever I want to be and go anywhere I want to go. There aren’t any Jim Crow laws, there isn’t any segregaion, we have a mixed president! So why is it a problem that my boyfriend and I are together? There are just some things in this world that I can never understand, I just remind myself that everytime we hold hands in public, it’s making a difference.
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Descriptive essay: Kodak Moments

6:15 in the morning, sitting at the corner of my bed with my eyes on the clock hoping that time will hopscotch to 7, O’clock, Holding on to my gold bedpost with the cold crisp air coming from the dark skies as I feel the wind hit my skin coming through the window. I only have one thought in my head “ALL OF THESE PEOPLE IN THE HOUSE AND NO ONE ARE OPENING GIFTS?!? THEY’RE CRAZY!” As I lay back down on my bed trying one more time to fall asleep. I feel something vibrating in my sheets, I through my sheets rapidly to see if I have a message from anyone, I Grab my phone to see to see that it’s my mother.

“ Merry Christmas Ron!” She said

“Merry christmas Mom” I happily said back

“I Miss you, I hope to see you soon” Said mother

“ I miss you too mom, I’ll get dad to drop me off today afternoon” I said

We hung up the phone after that, I laid in my sheets panicking to see everyone in my house, even though we’re all family, I was still shy coming around the family like they’re my new classmates in a new school year. I wondered why It’s always been like that between me and my grandparents, laying in my bed staring at the ceiling but my eyes were looking at memories and thoughts about my family... I looked at my phone to realize that it’s peeping 7, O’clock, The night before my father said when It hits 7AM, You’re allowed to leave your room to go down stairs, But I know I’ll end up leaving my room later than that because my father isn’t the lightest sleeper I know, and maybe just because I don’t like to be alone downstairs with my aunt & uncle, grandparents without my father, It’s just something about them I don’t like, I’ve always only been closer to my mother & her side, Well .. Just my mother, I guess it all started when I was a little child, My mother was always there for me, me and everyone else in my family just didn’t click with anyone else, I couldn’t laugh with anyone else like how I laugh with my mother, I just wasn’t as comfortable as I should be with my father, But I was damn sure more comfortable with my father than anyone else in the house.

I remember looking at my phone and I watch it hit 7:05, I slowly get out of my bed because the creeks in my bed make an alarming noise at the time, As I tiptoed to my door I stuck my fingers through it just to take a small peek with my eye to see if there was any sign of life walking down my hallway going down the stairs, All I could see with my left eye was my grandfather walking out of the room to walk downstairs, This sends some peace of mind in my head to let me know that someone is up & I wouldn’t be yelled at if I walked downstairs alone, But I still wanted to wait for my dad.

I opened my door at the way because I felt like I was serving a life sentence in my bedroom. I walked down my hallway on my burgundy carpet passing my bathroom to my right & my computer room towards my left, There is a set of back stairs to walk down other than taking the main way down, I stood there next to my bathroom looking down there to listen for anyone in the kitchen, As I post my eyes by the door, I actually hear my entire family downstairs in the kitchen laughing & cooking morning breakfast, Nasty eggs but I never complained out loud about anything unless I was angry, that never went well.

I slowly walked down the stairs amazed at the fact that it’s christmas morning, but everything really hasn’t hit me yet, apart of me was waking up to a regular day, but the other half of me was still a little child wanted to run to open the biggest gift that they lay there candy addicted eyes on, But I walked down to the kitchen where I learned that even my father was already down there at the stove making breakfast, Would've figured it was my grandparents making it, when I walked in I see my aunt and uncle sitting at the table by my window towards my right when I walk in, everyone screamed “GOOD MORNING RON! MERRY CHRISTMAS!” I awkwardly said hello to everyone with a fake smile like I woke up just to say merry christmas to the family that I don’t like, I sat at my island table towards the end at the back door hoping I’ll go unnoticed but that doesn’t usually work, depressing it doesn’t, My grandfather turns her body around the table to look at me and start a small talk conversation with me.

“Merry Christmas Ron, are you excited this morning” Grandmother said

“Same to you, Yes I am “ I said

Everyone but my father left the kitchen & Being the shy Anti family person I am, I chose to wait for my father as we cleans up the kitchen and collects everyone’s plates. My dad & I didn’t really have a very close relationship, but it was closer than everyone elses in the house, That’s a sad story. but it’s whatever.

We all got in a circle around my family room & said a prayer to be blessed on christmas morning, I held my fathers hand on my right, & my grandfathers hand on my left, My grandfather lead the prayer as he always does, It was short and sweet, everyone dropped hands and began to give each other gifts with dead christmas tree parts on it from sitting under the tree to long, everyone was opening gifts, my grandmother handed me one, Now I didn’t ask for much but money & a pair of Dre beats, from my expectations on previous years, I figured I was already going to be handed what I wanted, But instead I was handed a jean jacket that didn’t fit, and looked like a cowboy’s jacket, meanwhile I look to the corner of my eye & all I see is my uncle opening an IPAD 2 from my aunt, I brushed it off though, Christmas wasn’t over yet.

I opened up another gift that my grandmother gave to me, It was the Dre beats that I’ve been asking for, my eyes lit up like the fourth of july, I had a smile doing ear to ear, I know my christmas was better than ever, suddenly I was in the christmas mood, I felt like everything was finally coming into place, but Did I feel that way because I only got the gift? At first, Yes, But it opened my mind, to look at everyone’s reactions when they each got a gift from each other, the bear hugs given, all of the Kodak moments that were being made, I knew none of them were being missed because my grandfather just loved to hold history and take photo’s of every family get together.

This whole Time I know I’ve never been the closet to my family, but I still take hold times like these because I know they’ll never come back, and these are the people that will be with my until the end, I know I love my father, & the rest of the family I will in due time, But right now I just want to enjoy this moment.

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Descriptive Essay: A Weight Have Been lifted Of my Shoulder

A few months ago, I had just received an invitation for a scholar program called The National  Society of High School Scholar. I scan the envelope from back to front, I was so curious. The envelope texture was so high quality. The golden color, the rough paper which felted so smooth, the envelope looked so thin. I tumble up the staircase into my room to grab a scissor to cut the edge off smoothy. Slowy I remove the letter from the envelope and the first word that came directed to my eye was, “Congratulations!” I was even more curious on what the letter was about, I slowly read through the letter making sure I read every information. I was so excited on what the letter said, I immediately went to my dad, asking can I join, I was so hype. I believe I was talking so fast that my dad didn’t really understand me.

Finally, when I received my membership kit I was so excited that I ripped the box open. I flipped my laptop open, logging into the website to see any scholar available. As soon as the page loaded, I saw a event on August 3 at Washington D.C on their homepage about their 2012 Annual Scholar’s Day Event. I register for it immediately without think. I felt so conflicted with the idea of my parents letting me. So I told myself that I will tell them 2 week before the event start.

Two weeks later:
Me: “Daddy, can I got to an event in Washington D.C for the NSHSS?”
Dad: “No, it’s too far, who is going to take you?”
Me: “I will take the train there and stay in a hotel for 1 night or I can stay over uncle house at Washington D.C.”
Dad: “Ask your mom?”
Me: “Well it can help me in the future and I get to met famous people like Claes Nobel and it will even look good when I apply for colleges.”
Dad: “Fine, okay. You can go.”

That night when my mom came home around 9 o'clock. I told her that “Mommy, Daddy said I can go to Washington D.C for the annual for the NSHSS.”
My mom immediately responded, “No, it’s too far and your dad just called me saying to stop you from going.”
I grip my fist up into a ball inside my pocket and I felt like I had just been stab in the chest. I felt so hurt. I responded saying, “No he didn’t! He said I can go and I’m still going! I don’t care! I plan out everything already! You never let me go nowhere! All you care about is trapping me at home!”
She yelled at me how stupid I am and how I don’t know anything. Without thinking, I walked out the house sitting on my swing, refusing to look at her or to speak to her. I felt like my heart just skipped a beat and my chest felt so tight from all this anger. That night was cold so, I balled myself into a ball while sitting on the swing to keep myself warm. I rubbed my two hand together to create some heat for my body and started rubbing my forearm. I heard the door open and it was my mom. She said, “Get inside the house.” I ducked my head under her arm so I wouldn’t slam my head on her arm. I skipped two steps up the staircase to get away from her.
I shut my room tight and tear started to run down my face. I can taste the salting tear drip down my face. I wonder to myself thinking that Why can’t I go? She never let me go anywhere. She always get to choose what I have to do, this is so unfair. Sometime I wonder, why don’t parent believe in their child on making the right choice. Why can’t they believe them on the path they choose to take. More and more thoughts came to mind. I know I have a path that I want to take, I want to become a doctor. Can they really compare me to other people who they never met, or are they just want me to take their path, a path that they never took and want me to succeed that path.

People like me have their own dreams and goals and no one want to live of your parent in the future. Yes, there are time when I play around and act stupid but when it comes to education, I am a competitive person who like to stand out and succeed with my own acknowledgment or power with something that I earned, not from the power of my parent.

I flipped my laptop screen open again, logging back into the NSHSS home page and stared at the screen. I was debating on should I unregister or should I disobey her and do what I want to do and what is good for me in the future?” My tear stop running down my face and when I blink, my eye burn for crying and staring at the screen too long.
One week later, my dad, my mom and I drove off to Washington D.C to pick up my brother and sisters from my uncle house. I had a whole row open for myself and I layed down, relaxing until we arrived. During dinner, we celebrate and sang a Happy birthday song for my sister, Cindy. Suddenly my mom bought up the situation about me going to washington D.C. My uncle immediately said “why don’t she stay here? I can take her there since I live here.” I felt like a whole weight had been lifted of my shoulder and I was so relieved. I body felted so light like I was floating. I thought to myself, “how come only my uncle could understand me but not my mom?” My mom said, “okay to my uncle,” and I was so happy that I just ran up my cousin room and started jumping on her bed while playing the mini guitar.
That night, I layed in my cousin bed thinking. Why was my mom so worried about me getting lost? I am grown enough. I also soon realize that I was wrong. My mom was only worried and denied that I can’t go because she was concern of my safety. But still I think that we as her child have the right to make our right choice then living under a circumstance of their rules.

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AH Project Reflection

What surprised me the most, was finding out the reason of why immigrants come to America. And what they wanted to do in while here. Also the process that most of them had to go through surprised me as well.  What was obvious to me was the data in the graphs during different time periods. Such has how many immigrants came to the US during the depression. Over the next two years, I think the rate for immigrants to come over is very slim, until we there more jobs provided and the economy gets better. I don't believe we'll become over populated anytime soon.  As a group we already knew we wanted a keynote. We also came up with the conclusion that we just wanted to share quick facts instead of long paragraphs. The most challenging part was when some people didn't collect quicks facts. And also the process of agreeing on everyones facts. I would have more pictures and graphs, and try to add some more realistic things to improve my project. 

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Sweet 16!

“Happy Birthday Chaveliz”! I was extremely delighted to hear and see people entering my birthday party and wishing me a wonderful birthday. Nothing can or ever will make me feel the way I did on that special day to me. So much preparing and so much hard work to spend four hours with my family and friends.
It all started a few months before my 15th birthday. My parents asked me if I wanted a quinceañera or a sweet 16. I automatically said a quienceañera because it was a tradition in my culture. Unfortunately, my parents said if I wanted a quiceañera, I had to do it with my older sister because her birthday was a few days after mines and she wanted a sweet 16. I was a little disappointed but told her that I would rather have a sweet 16 too so that both of us could have our own day. We wouldn't have to worry about who or what people say or have to worry about whose friends can come or not.
When the time came for my birthday, all the preparations came along with it. The dress, the cake the decorations, the food, everything! My mother told me not to worry about all of that because the hall we rented for the night, came with everything that we needed for the day. The hall was a beautiful burgundy color with a lot of flowers everywhere and a really big dance floor. The lighting was a little dim so my dress would have its own spotlights when I entered and the lights would shine on me. All I had to worry about was the cake that I was going to get and the two dresses, and the invitations for the party. My mother asked me so many times what I wanted for my birthday but I didn’t know what to say or ask for because I had everything I asked for.  

When June of 2012 came around, I had to start working out to buy my dress or thats what I thought was going to happen. What girl would not want her dress to fit and look beautiful? During the summer, I was babysitting my cousins and staying at my uncles house. But at  the same time, I ate so much I always told myself that I would exercise later or go to the park in the morning. The reality was that I gained weight during the summer. “Did you finish working out”? my uncle asked me. I said yes because I knew he wouldn’t let me order my dress until I did. “okay then. come over here so you can order the dress of your choice” he said. I ordered my dress online. I orders a long poofy dress. It was a champagne colored dress with a lot of diamons on the upper part of the dress.I was hoping for it to fit because I got it the size I thought would fit. And also it was extremly beautiful! The shipping date was September 4th and I would get the dress September 12th. I finished babysitting and went back home because school was about to start. I got home on August 28. Everyday, I used to check if the mailman was there with my package. One day, i went out with my mother. “Mom we have to go buy my new pair of heels for my party” I told my mom. She replied with an okay we will get to the mall in 15 minutes. We bought beige colored heels that complimented the champagne and silver dress. When we arrived home,I saw a note on my door that said a package came to your house but it was left in my porch.My neighrbor left a note on my door. I was extremely excited to know my dress was just footsteps away. “Mom it’s inside Aalliah’s house”! I said. I will be right back with my dress. I bursted out of my house to go to my neighbors house and get the dress! I saw my neighbor outside of her house with the package and she handed it to me. I took it and said thank you for holding on to it. I was surprised because it was September 6 and I already had my dress! I was very joyful and thankful I got my dress.I was so thankful because I knew I had to adjust the length because it was 5 inches longer than it should be on the website. But when I went to put it on, that wasn’t the only problem. My dress did not close ! It was small! I tried and tried and tried to put the dress on correctly but it did not fit! My mom tried to put it on but still it did not fit! Extremely upset, I took the dress off and got ready to work out. I need that dress to fit! It’s my dream dress! The only one I ever wanted.

On the brightside, by my dress getting to my house three weeks before my party, I was able to work out and get it fixed on time. I got up early in the morning the next day and I heard my mother tell me to hurry up and get ready. We were going to work out! “ Run Chaveliz, You want that dress don’t you”? I replied with a yes! “So get to it and start running” my mom said. This happened for two weeks and a half. I saw the changes. I was so happy I saw physical changes. Now all I was waiting for was my dress!A few days before my party, I tried on my dress fitted perfectly. It had to be tweaked in a few placed to look better but it fitted. I was so grateful it did. Now knowing that my dress fitted fine, I went shopping for my changing dress. After two intense days of shopping, I found the dress that matched perfectly to my first dress and there it was ,it hit me. The idea of knowing that my party will be in two days!

On the day of my party, I woke up early to get beautified. I went to the hair salon and got a lot of curls on my hair, and got my nails done.I was extremely tired! But still tried to remember that all my friends and family will meet me at the hall. I left my house at 10 in the morning and got back home at 3:26 in the afternoon. In three hours, I had to be at the hall for my party. The hall that was full of flowers, full of butterflies and especially full of family and friends. I looked for all my make up and put some on. I was glowing and felt like a princess! Two hours down and I had nothing to do. So I sat and watched tv and took some pictures and then put on my dress. My ride got to my house ten minutes before. SO I had to rush out of my house and proceed to the hall. I saw so many lights on my way to the party. So many signs and I just sat there. Excited trying to  calm myself down and there I was. In front of my hall. People entering and everyone screaming“Happy Birthday Chaveliz”! I was extremely delighted to hear and see people entering my birthday party and wishing me a wonderful birthday. Thats all I heard when I arrived at my party. That day will always be held in my heart. I saw my friends and family and enjoyed it dearly. Now I know if I want my dress to fit, without any complications to work out or if not my party will be a disaster!
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What surprised you most about this information?

Not much really surprised me about this information. I did not know that they had to go through different processes. If they did not pass the processes they would have been sent back. So they would start all over or just give up which is sad.

What seemed quite obvious about explaining this data set?

The most obvious was explaining why immigrants decided to come over to America. America offered a lot of opportunity and still does which makes every one want to come here.

Looking at the overall trend and incorporating what you know about the US presently, predict and defend the immigration trend for the next two decades.

I think that the trend for the next two years will increase by a certain number. I think that America still limits to the number of immigrants per year depending on the population because we do not want to become over populated. I do think that our population of immigrants will increase unless we start a war or go into another depression within the next two years.

Describe how you made a decision on how to visually represent the information.

At first we did not know what to do weather a keynote or a timeline. At first we thought a keynote would have too much words on it and alot of slides. But we still decided to a keynote.

What parts of group work were challenging? 

The most challenging part of my group was trying to get everyone to stay focused. I hope that everyone was doing their part to their fullst potential.

What would you do differently if you had this project to do over?

I would try to be more organized and communicate more with my group.

This is the link to my project:

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Descriptive Essay: The Proposal

“Because I said so!” 

I shook my head in disbelief. If only I’d been meditating right now, my mom would be the perfect example of someone barking up my tree pose. I never understood the phrase, because I said so. I didn’t understand how someone could limit another person’s desires. Angry that my mother denied me getting four extra ear-piercings, I marched my loud, brick-like feet to my room, snatching white mac laptop out of my book-bag, and huffed into the only bathroom of our 2-bedroom apartment, slamming the door shut behind me. 

As a burning sensation sizzled at the basement of my eyelids, I quickly wiped the incoming flood from my eyes with my cocoa butter scented hands. I watched as the clear, single stream of sorrow rolled down my clear, hardened nail and over my ring finger. Miraculously, the tear rolled around the end of my finger. It was official, I’d cried these tears so many times, we might as well had been married. Sorrow was proposing itself to me. But my heart belonged to happiness, apparently the feelings weren’t mutual. 

I sat down on the toilet and went through my itunes’ Hot Chelle Rae playlist, looking for a song to listen to. I saw Keep You With Me and let it play, turning up the volume so I could hear it while I showered. After undressing, I threw my white towel over the silver, metallic shower curtain rod and stepped cautiously into the steaming shower tub. I sung along to my favorite Hot Chelle Rae song. When song was over, I wiped my hand dry on my towel before reaching out to switch the song, but then the softest song came on, Last One Standing. Suddenly a warm vibe flowed over my body from head to toe. Usually, that meant that my chakras were coming to alignment, a normal feeling whenever I meditated, but this was slightly different, more powerful. It wasn’t even as if the lyrics were getting to me, because it was simply a romantic song. 

After my shower, I went into my bedroom to dress in loose, comfortable clothing, and cleared my bedroom space as I always do when meditating. I turned off my cell phone and unplugged my radio. Electronics can interfere with my energy and set off unbalanced vibes.

Since I usually meditate with music, I left the exception of my laptop, and proceeded to turn on Last One Standing. Since my chakras were in a fair enough alignment for the time being, I decided not to focus on anything special tonight. I simply let the melodic sensations flow through me as they did earlier in the shower. I felt nothing as the song played. I had it on repeat for three times before I gave up. Maybe it’s because I’m expecting it. I thought. 

The next day I awoke on my long, soft, grey sofa I’d fallen asleep on the night before. My sister and my mom were sitting across from me, talking. The second they saw me pop my eyes open, they wasted no time badgering me with accusations and pointing fingers. I sat up, confused.

“What?” I said, wiping the morning out of my eyes.

“You can’t touch the laptop anymore. You left it on last night. Again.” Breanna said.

I tried my best to defend myself. This was only my second time in the three years we’ve had the old IMB. Still, my mother and sister banned me from the computer. Frustrated, I stormed upstairs and decided to take a much needed, relaxing bath.

 As I sat in the white tub full of hot water, I let my itunes music play on random. And just like magic, Last One Standing came on. There was that warm vibe again, stretching through me from head to toe. It was clear to me now, this was a stress relieving song that only affected me when I was washing up. That was the moment I fell in love with my bathroom. The bathroom’s main purpose is to cleanse, both your outside and your inside. Maybe it was cleansing my chakras, my soul, or even my mentality if not all of them. Whichever it was, it was the equivalent to slumber’s tranquility. On that day, I said “yes” to sorrow’s proposal. Because as long as sorrow remained holding my hand, happiness would come running back to me. I had the best of both worlds. Jealousy never felt so great. 

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  • What surprised me about this information is how the events occurring in the world effects where people move and why. I never explored why there were so many european immigrants during the early 20th century, and the reasons surprised me. 
  • What seemed obvious about the data set was the migration during the beginning of ww2 and how it was effected by the U.S/Japan tension.
  • Well the United States is predicted to be in a major war with (anihC) in the near future so I predict the immigration will be effected pretty heavily.
  • "Do you want to do a keynote?"
    "Ok lets to a keynote."
  • The only part of the group work that was challenging was finding a source for facts.
  • The only thing I would do differently is I would try to get a better source for my information.
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I think what surprised me the most was how steady the rates would be and then suddenly they would plummet. After doing certain research it was most obvious that there were drastic changes at certain points because of laws made and or important historical events. I think that it will continue to go up and down. I know that with the possibility of a new president that makes there a stronger possibility to change in how things are run. The first thing that came to our mind was keynote because it is a nice visual way to see the work that you did. I think the most challenging part of group work is making sure it is all consistent and of course that they do their part and get it done. I might try and do a more creative way of presenting the information. 

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Immigration Visualization Project

What surprised you most about this information?

The thing that I was most surprised by during this project was the amount of laws the United States government passed in attempts to slow immigration, especially to Asian immigrants. Multiple laws were passed that prohibited asian immigration, and other laws were passed to restrict immigrants to certain amounts by race.

What seemed quite obvious about explaining this data set?

The thing that was most obvious was the severe drop in immigration in 1931-1940, which was during the Great Depression and World War 2.

Looking at the overall trend and incorporating what you know about the US presently, predict and defend the immigration trend for the next two decades.

I think that over the next two decades, the amount of immigrants will increase, but not by nearly as much as it did in the most recent decade.

Describe how you made a decision on how to visually represent the information.

We decided to make an interactive graph to represent our information. For our project, you can look at the graph, and if you want to know what happened in a certain decade, you can click on it and it will bring you to a slide that explains what happened in that decade.

What parts of group work were challenging? 

The most difficult part of group work was trying to communicate with another group member while they were absent for the day. We were not able to talk to them directly, but we were able to tell them what we did the day we were absent, and what we needed them to do for our project.

What would you do differently if you had this project to do over?

If I were to do this project differently, I would try to come up with a plan for our final project in the beginning, instead of at the end. That way we would know what we would need to look for when researching our information, and communication issues would be as big of a deal.

Project link here.

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Descriptive essay: The struggle!!


On a hot sunny day, it was about 90 degrees outside. I was in the house all day lying down bored on the black, comfy sofa and with soft pillows surrounding me, flicking through channels and relaxing. I stood up tired, exhausted, and didn’t feel like getting bothered at all.  I was trying to go to the bathroom, and then I heard the front door open. It was loud and noisy. I knew it was my mother by the smell of her strong perfume. So, I got up slowly and ran to the bathroom because every time she walks in the house, she starts to annoy me. I heard her footsteps from the bathroom. While I stand in the bathroom, as silent as possible, looking at the bluish wall, the smell of soup and the sound of the TV outside of the bathroom door. As I walk around the wet bathroom floor, frustrated to come out because I knew she would act like the same person I knew all my life, and that will be her always yelling. Five minutes later I heard call me. She was extremely angry.

(Khadi).  She sounded like she had a bad day. I excitedly opened the door, pretending I was happy about everything, and couldn’t wait for the so call family meting. The cool air touches my skin and the bright colored pink is what my mother was wearing. This is when everything started.

She angrily give me wet five dollar bill, I didn’t even know why it was wet but okay…she asked me to go to the store, as she walk up stairs I stomp my feet and got really mad, face frowned and eyes red. I hear a footstep coming back down.

My mother with a green shirt saying “oh yea don’t take your bike with you”, and I said but mom. She goes up the stairs and slam the door while she was going back up I heard her voice but in a smaller tone saying I’m not going to repeat myself. I didn’t feel like getting dressed I threw on my pink overgarment; I then put my green sneakers with a black and white kemar. I headed on out. I didn’t listen I walked outside with the bike. 

Wait let me try myself, Heart beating faster the sound of family laughter and conversations. I can barely pedal, trying my hardest not to make a fool out of myself, but in my mind that was the only thing I knew was going to happen. Teenagers disparaging me. Sounds of whispers, bubble gum, and the feeling of humiliation. I always knew that I could do whatever I put my mind to so I kept trying. Every Time I fell off I pretend I was doing it all of on purpose.

I was asked by my mother to sit down and relax for 30mins, so I watch running children’s, the sound of ice cream truck, mom yelling and boys who claims to be gang members. I waited the 30 minutes; I even counted down the last one minute. After the count down I rushed to the bike. I get on my bike and pedal slowly of the block. As I pedal passing by the police station I felt shy and somehow embarrassed. I then look down to the blackish gray concrete, was I seen Doritos, candy, and a pop eyes wrappers. I start to feel and wish I had some. As I get closer to the street I smelled chicken from the Chinese store, African food from the African restaurant close by. As the bike get slower I starts to feel my overgarment pull and I was confuse as for what was happening, I looked down and saw my overgarment stuck in the chins I tried to get up and I was stuck. I looked down and saw that the only way I could have solve the problem was to tear my garment and that’s what I did. I grandiloquently walked back home with feeling of regrets, and blaming myself was the best way to make myself feel better. Back on the block to sounds of the winds blowing the trees and kids sitting, and no ice cream truck. Everything was Calm. Until when my aunt Amina came with her precious daughter Aishah. Her Aishah started to cry, and all the other babies started crying, I was annoyed I got back on my bike and rode to the end of the block with a lot of audacity. 

Babies crying, moms frustrated, and kids wearing colors that kept calm and me motivated. Green, red and grayish. Everything was good. I pit myself on the spot. I felt the need to stop the whole entire family to tell that I can ride a bike now; I had everyone’s attentions I knew I had to do something good. I felt sweat dripping, and my heart once again was my heart was beating faster and I felt like I was going to pop my tiny blood vessels in my forehead. I felt a lot of pressure. I rode to the end of the block then made a u turn on my way back down, I could see nothing but a blurry shirt running around so I knew I had to make sure, not to run the child over, trying to save the kid made me fall hard of the bike to the ground. Tears dripping, my knees were bleeding, hands all red, and my whole day became a disaster.






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