I was happy because I was supporting what designs my favorite artist was making and I was watching his dreams play out as I see mine doing in the future. I think it is very important to have some sort of role model as a kid. Sometimes parents do not give you all the support you need so you look to other places to mold you. You are your role models, because you aim to be like them. You are inspired by their actions and often you try to be more like them. Kanye West was a big role model for me because he always stood up for what he believed in. His ideas are never compromised by those around him who always try to tell him what to do. And I believe that thoroughly; If you have something to say, you must put it out there in the world so that it can become more than just a thought. The world can always use more ideas.

Kanye once said: “Nothing in life is promised except death.” To me this is very inspirational. What this quote means to me is that if you have a purpose in life you need to give it 100% because failure is not the worst thing in the world. The worst thing in the world is dying without having anything in your life to show your success. That is why it is important for you to work at the things you love, and never give up. The only thing that you can know is that you will die. You do not know how anything will pan out. So in this time you are given you have to take advantage of it and really live it to the fullest. This is why I always feel like I need to hurry up and make my dreams come true. I constantly am anxious that I am running out of time.

It’s hot. I’m sweating, sneezing, and coughing, a side effect of allergies. I get up, walking to the bathroom. Strangely, I begin to think of my father. My father does gigs around the country with several bands, and he usually gets home around 12:00-3:00 am on Sundays. He has the most beautiful voice when he sings, containing enough power to make crowds start to sing along, or bring them to tears. Music is power, at least that’s what I feel when I listen to a good musician. Still in the bathroom, I wish he was here so we could sing together. Around the time I leave the bathroom, my mother wakes up. She’s dressed in one of my father’s shirts. She waddles around, with her usual bewildered face she has on right after she wakes up. “What time is it?” She asks me. “12:42”, I sady. “Where’s Al?” She says to herself. She continues to pace downstairs, waiting for that jingle of keys and sing songy voice we know all too well to come bustling through the door.Time passes, an hour, 2 hours, 3 hours. No keys. No humming. Silence. I wonder if silence can be a form of music, and if it is, what it’s supposed to make you feel. In those passing hours, the silence was deafening. It was silent in the normally raucous home save the sounds of my mother calling my father and only hearing a quiet, but persistent beep of his dial tone. The silence seeped into all of my pores and cracks like a wintry chill I couldn’t keep out. Finally, a break in the monotony. The knock on the door is like a sharp shock to my nerves, snapping me awake, blowing away the silence like the leaves off a dying tree. I wonder if my dad lost his keys, why he was coming home so late. It wasn’t him, it was a police officer. I heard my mother and him discussing whatever they were talking about in low voices, almost as if they were trying to shield me from the information they were discussing. My mother called me downstairs a few minutes later. She sat me down again. That silence was coming back, stronger than ever.”Al was in a car accident” “Is he ok? He’s still here right?” She shakes her head. The silence is so loud I can hear it, pounding down onto every square inch of my body as if in a thunderstorm. To me, silence is scary. Silence is the calm before the storm.  I will never hear his song again. Sure, music never dies, but the vessels they use to produce it do. Silence always has the final word in any song, poem, sound. In this instance, it felt like time slowed down. When I finally reacted, I sang my song of despair, a wailing, joyless cry. Thinking back on that time from this aspect, I saw something completely different from what I had in that moment. At the funeral, people commented on the traits that my father allowed them to see, never anything more. However, everyone had a story of him singing. To me, I always thought of him as a father before everything else, and music was just one of the many memories that fit together in my head to make the jigsaw puzzle that was my father. Music is powerful. My father was powerful because his body was imbued with the power to produce it. I feel like now, his purpose here was not only to provide for the people he loved, but to share all aspects of his musically sound soul with all who would listen. When he achieved his purpose, he was taken away. He died coming back from a gig. That can’t be coincidence, there must’ve been a reason. I believe everyone came into this world with a set purpose or end goal, no matter how long they were alive. Be it twenty seconds or 100 years, everyone has a purpose. I believe when you die, you’ve achieved it. My fathers was to spread the power of music to as many people as possible. Just like his life, music begins and ends in silence. Silence is music. Silence is the music of the dead.

Days By the Water

Kobe Nabried

Water Stream

[The goal of this paper was to polish and publish a collection of my summer journal entries. In this essay I’m confident that I successfully expressed the way that I felt in a vivid and relatable manner. An aspect of this essay that could be improved is the vocabulary that was used. The essay becomes somewhat monotonous at certain points. ]

The water was clear and calm, as it always was. The few usual patrons mingled with each other underneath of the awning that sat across the pool from the lifeguard station. The shaded area where they sat would soon be compromised by the setting sun. The midday guard had just departed as 6 O’cock rolled around, signaling the end of her shift. The opening guard took it upon himself to become relieved of his responsibilities and left an hour before he was scheduled to. That was the regular routine between the two of them. The midday often did her job as it was to be done. He had apparently become jaded half way through the summer and decided that once another guard had arrived he was not obligated to complete his job.

That was business as usual at this place though. I rarely minded if either of them had left early. It was a slow pool anyway; everyday was basically the same. The midday guards departure marked the beginning of the two hours that I would spend guarding alone until closing time,y favorite two hours of every day. I could finally relax and retreat into my mind to sort my thoughts.

As the last two regular patrons start back to their apartments, I put my earbuds in and let the music bring life and color to the dull world that I live in while on guard. “Don’t want to be an American Idiot!” are the first lyrics that I hear as Green Day’s explosive energy and high speed tempo make their way into my thoughts. The music was rarely on the forefront of my mind though. It had always served as a background for the things that went on in my mind, a soundtrack of sorts.

I sat, thinking and humming along to the next track on the album. “I’m the son of rage and love.” I said to myself. It was as if I needed to be reminded of who I was, and this album always did the job. With all the time I spent alone here at that place, you would think that I’d know that by now, but there are just too many days when the thoughts fail to form inside of my mind, days when everything seems just out of my mental reach. It’s been like this for so long that I have given up on trying to snap myself out of it.

I stood to gather the water testing materials. Guards are often required to test the chlorine and Ph levels of the pools that we are stationed at. It had become a mindless task, like taking a shower, or brushing my teeth. As I dipped my left hand into the cool water I began to question whether or not this job was actually worth it. Yes, it may have been the easiest job that I’ve ever done, but it felt like a waste of time. Eight dollars and twenty five cents an hour never felt so pointless. I reminded myself that I’m just there to make money. That’s what I tell myself every time I question my . But now it just seems like the money isn’t worth it. Forty hours a week, plus overtime. No, it wasn’t worth it. I should be off somewhere with my friends, enjoying the beautiful season of summer, but no, I had become a slave to money. As time slowly crept past 7pm, the thoughts of everything I would rather be doing found their way into my mind: sleeping, enjoying friends, running, my guitar. I could have spent the summer playing guitar, feeling elated the way I did when I played my way through my first chord progression. I vowed to myself that I would not let next summer be as much of a waste as this one had been. After next summer, I want to have fun memories and good times to nostalgically look back on. I think back to the times of excitement and joy. Two feelings that I wish that I had right now.

In this piece, my goal was to portray the beauty behind living an imperfect life. Everyone has times where they feel like life gets hard. What separates people is how they react to these set-backs. My main character, Lewis, writes in his journal about his everyday struggles in an attempt to turn them into fuel which ignites him to keep pushing forward in life.

                                                            Reflection on December 31st, 1999

       Current date: January 12th, 2000                                                                        Journal #1        

As I sat in the backyard, I couldn’t fathom what I was reading. My eyes were glued to the hero-like photo of me in the daily newspaper. “Wow” was the only complete english word I could form my lips to say. Was my hard work and dedication beginning to catapult my family and I directly into a life of endless luxury?I felt that the universe was finally speaking back to me with this news article. Those expressive journalist inked the newspaper beside my picture with phrases like “athletically gifted” and “tenacious on both sides of the ball” . In response to this, I felt that I needed to concentrate on living a more focused and positive lifestyle! I decided to start a journal to record my eating habits and things that were constantly on my mind. This happens to be my first entry. My ambitious goal included drinking all water and staying on a strict diet! No candy, chips, soda, or life-shortening fast food!  After an hour of giving the newspaper undisrupted attention, I  laid back on my mattress and plastered my eyes on the walls. The walls were filled with photos of Allen Iverson and Yao Ming. Soon my picture would be up on millions of kids walls too.

                                                                                    To new beginnings...

                                                                                Update on my current life

                                    June 25th, 2000

                                                                                     Journal #2

It’s been awhile since I’ve written… I haven’t been being discipline lately. Just this past week, I’ve indulged in two cheesesteaks, four sodas, three cakes and three bag of chips… I haven’t been feeling too good mentally as of lately. Consistency is something I’m having a hard time becoming associated with. It’s almost like a butterfly. It always seems so easy to catch but as soon as I reach out to touch it, it flutters away slowly giving me enough time to reminisce on the opportunities it would’ve presented for me. The far-fetched “no candy, chips, or soda” mentality lasted two days. On top of that, my brother got shot. I told him to stay out of the streets! It’s a trap! The streets are a black hole. It’ll suck you in if you get too close to it!  I know he takes our dad not being in our life hard and feels as if he has to take desperate measures to provide but damn! He can’t use that as an excuse. I hope this is enough for him to leave this relationship he has formed…It’s a disease that I could see was starting to affect his thought process. As for me, I have to focus on my craft more! I’m slacking terribly. Devastatingly enough, I am only averaging 15 points when I was averaging 23 during last season. College scouts have stopped showing interest in attending my games. Oh yeah, and that melanin goddess, Keisha! Lord have mercy she is beautiful. But I know she’s only here for the ride and a chance to get a piece of the pie. But this pie I had in mind was strictly for my mom and brother to eat. It’s time to get focused! As of right now, I’m going to go sit in the ICU room with my brother. It’s so quiet in there but the air is thick because it’s filled with thoughts of my brother possibly not making it...

                                                                   Be more than exceptional, Lewis.

                                                                   The copying of my father’s letter

   August 13th, 2000

                                                                                                      Journal #3

Hey kid. I don’t really know how to start this letter. I know we’ve never met but I don’t want that to stop us from bonding and building now. I’ve seen you in newspapers lately. I’m really proud of you. I know you’re probably wondering why I have never been in you or your brothers life. I… I… I had other things to focus on. My life was a broken jigsaw puzzle that I didn’t want to piece together. I wasn’t fit to be a father. I didn’t want to risk not being able to provide for you guys. I thought it’d be better for me to just leave instead of adding two more jigsaw pieces to my life that wouldn’t fit in. I know now that that was a parsimonious decision. That’s why I’m writing you now. I hope to hear from you soon kid. I love you…

                                                                 Your dad.

                     Response to my dad’s letter

      August 27th, 2000

                                                                                                         Journal #4

You have some nerve. You write me asking if we could BUILD a relationship between us?! I guess you read about the sneaker deal I signed with Under Armour and that I committed to the University of Kentucky too. Now all of a sudden, you want to be a dad. You’re pathetic. Catch me on T.V.  putting on for my mom and brother.

                                     Enjoy your life.

                                                                                                              Reflection on Life

                                                                                 September 4th, 2000

                                                                                                   Journal #5

My growth has been tremendous. I’ve been meditating, eating well and helping my mom out with the bills. My brother broke off his relationship with the streets. Now he’s my manager.  Life is going great. I leave for college tomorrow morning. I’m so excited! Over the past 9 months, life has taught me that no matter how hard punches are thrown at you, you always bounce back with a stronger game plan to lessen the impact of those blows. This is the cycle of life. Laurie Notaro, an American writer, once said “If you really believe in what you're doing, work hard, take nothing personally and if something blocks one route, find another. Never give up.” Once I realized that my problems were actually greater than just a road block, I started to connect them to my success today.This is the simple formula for flourishing in life. Despite my brother having history with drug dealing, us growing up in poverty, my dad not being in my life and me struggling with consistency, I still push forward in life to better my families future.

In this essay my goals were to put in words the relationship I have with my mom. I think I did well in putting my memories down and reflecting on each of them. I would like to improve the way I express myself.

The flowers that had no scent, and yet they amused me every morning. Their petals were not perfect, all different sizes and most covered with holes from bug bites. They were taller then me, then up to my waist, and that was a way I remember growing taller. To other people they weren't really pretty, but to me they were special. Every day I would look at them when I came to visit my grandparents. Every time I played in the yard, I would glance at the flowers every once in awhile. There was no special reason, it was more like they were magnets to my eyes. One day when I came the flowers were all gone. When I asked my grandma about them she said: “Oh those, I had no time to take care of them so they all died. Plus it’s not like anyone liked them anyway. ” And it was true, not even I could say that I particularly liked them. They were there and I was comfortable with that. They blocked the sunlight from getting in my eyes when I sat on the front steps. They made fun looking shadows in the moonlight.

I looked at the dirt that was piled where they used to be, and accepted them as a good childhood memory. It’s funny how we remember small things like that, but will never be able to remember all the important things. Not because we don’t want to, but our minds play tricks with our memory. I remember my first day of school, but not my last day of kindergarten. I remember the first time I went to a dance class, but not my first competition. But not all the things I remember from that time were good.

It was the night before Christmas and my mom was making a special dinner. I was in my room, I was 9 at the time, on the phone with a family friend. Then, out of nowhere I heard a loud bang sound. I tell the friend that I have to go and run out of my room. I walk through the living room and see a giant burn on the open door of the kitchen. When I walked in I say my mum on the floor crying with completely burnt hands. They were completely black and to relieve her of the pain she put them in a pot of cold milk, as told to by my grandma over the phone. They then went to the hospital and left me at the house to eat. I couldn’t sleep later, my mom’s pained expression circling my mind. My mom had to get most of the skin that got burned removed and wore a cast for a few months.

It hurt me seeing my mom's pain through my childhood, but that night, I matured a little more then I realized at the time. I realized that I began to feel her pain. The look she gave me, trying to assure me that she will be fine, I could see through that act. Her eyes, as blue as the sky, my favorite color, the color I always wanted mine to be. I think we had those moments because I was her only child at the time, these looks were passed back and forth before. She got surgery on her left ear when I was 7, hit by  a motorcycle when I was ten and 5 miscarriages through a few years. These made me even more mature for my age. That is probably the reason I took care of her and she took care of me. We always told each other everything, so we understood each other better than anyone else.   

I remember that when I found out I had dyslexia and dysgraphia, she was one of the only people who didn’t judge me, even tough learning disabilities are very rare in Serbia, and most times looked down on. When I was little I had bad asthma, for almost 2 years I was constantly sick. I would go to the doctors and lay in bed most of the time. She worked every weekday, from morning to night and still found time to take care of me. I even remember her buying me little presents, to help me stop my bad habits of biting my nails. Every week I went without biting them, I would get a cute bag with a present inside.

The purpose of this paper is to tell the world my story about one of the things I love most. There is also a deeper message though. My message to this world is that if you put all your effort into something, it will happen because in a career, you only get out as much as you put in. I believe that in this piece, I did well with making my stories relevant and connecting them with my main message. That was my main goal, to give my message to the world through my stories. I want people to feel motivated to do something after reading this. If I could improve it any way, I would try and make the reader feel emotionally connected with my piece.

  Stuck In The System

Success is something that is earned, it not given, nor is it something that you can take. Since I could remember, I’ve wondered what I would become in the future. It scared me to think about myself having no success, no money, no life. The people of this forsaken planet are stuck in a system put in effect by all major governments. People are supposed to work their lives away but they don’t. Instead, in this generation, they would rather spend their time judging others, judging the ones who decide to work hard and not live in this system...judging the ones who are different and not afraid to be themselves. I call these people with no fear “creatives”.

For half of my life, I was the kid who was consumed by fear. “Gay.” That’s what people used to call me for having a passion for the thing I love most, fashion. I was so badly eaten alive by this fear and shyness that I let people around me stop me from being myself. There were so many hateful comments and phrases that people used to tell just because of what I loved. All the comments started to catch up to me, they began to mess with my mind. To this day I still cannot believe that I let the comments of other people stop me from being connected with one of things I love most in this world. “You’re gay as f*ck for that” they said as my fear was holding me back from replying. I’m not gay and I felt like I had to prove that to them. That day I decided that I would “stop loving fashion”. Instead I would do all the wrong things. I decided that I would dress like the drug dealers because that’s what “my friends” were doing...that is what all the promiscuous young females (who honestly were just hood rats) loved. I would start getting into trouble because that’s what “my friends” were doing and we can’t forget that the females loved the bad boys. When I look back at this, I realize how stupid and immature I was for letting them control my mind with their opinions. Today in society people are bound by a curse called acceptance and it is something I despise more than anything. Everyone is scared to be themselves because they are scared of others will think and I actually used to be one of those people. After five minutes of sitting at the lunch table thinking about what just happened and I turned towards all the kids who called me gay for loving fashion and the industry. I remember this perfectly... “I have nothing against gay people but I’m not gay so don’t call me that. And I love fashion and there’s nothing that you can do about it. Just because I walk in with expensive clothing designed by people whose names you can’t pronounce does not mean you can call me gay. I am my own person and no one is going to change that so why don’t you go somewhere and follow the path that Tone followed and you’ll end up a broke piece of sh*t like him, living with your grandma and selling ‘bud’ on the corner.” Their facial expressions were priceless, and they were as speechless as the teacher standing right behind me who later called my mother telling her that I was cursing at other students.

That day was so very rewarding for me. In the years that came I started letting go of all the fear that was locked inside me. I became a person who was not afraid to be themselves and once that happened I was able to focus on the thing I love most. I put 100% of my time into perfecting my craft and networking in order to begin my career. Finally, everything in my life began to go down a good path after I met Justin Carson. Justin is a creative director for the well known pop culture channel, BET! With him mentoring me I was able to meet famous stylists in the industry and I was able to network with the directors of Philadelphia and New York Fashion Week. I thought about how big this was and how I ran with all the opportunities I received. Philadelphia Fashion Week was one of the more memorable experiences. I could not remember what time I left the house. This was all new to me, I was a shy sixteen year old boy from Northeast Philadelphia. Always working on my grades, that was the top priority for me at the time. But Fashion Week was different, that was my time. I remember getting into my Lyft at 3:30 in the morning. I stood waiting for him for a while but when he was near I knew it was him because he was the only person driving on the road at that time. “Yo man, what’s up?” he said in his Indian accent. “Yo D, I’m cool man how about you?” I replied. D had serviced me throughout Fashion Week, we were practically best friends. “Same place?” he asked. I replied with an excited “Yeah man!” “Kanye West right?” he asked. I laughed and replied with a simple “Yes.”  Kanye West is my role model...he is one of the main reasons why I was inspired to just be myself and put one hundred percent of my time on what I loved. As we made our way to the city, I thought to myself…about my past and how far I advanced throughout my life. Then I could do nothing but smirk when I thought about myself, a boy who turned sixteen less than four months ago is working with the directors of Fashion Week and less than a two months ago was working with a creative director of BET. I thought about how precious of a thing life is and all the opportunities that people get and don’t take. I love those type of people, they make my life easier. At that moment I knew how dedicated I was to the fashion industry. I was going to take all these opportunities and run with them until I am making $10,000+ a month, until I am living a carefree life with a job that I love doing so much that I don’t even consider it a job, but more of a lifestyle. I understood at that moment that my life was going to change and there was no one in the world who could crush my ambition. I became a new person, I became the rockstar that I imagined I would become all of my life and best part of all, I knew that I was an ambitious creative that was no longer ‘stuck in the system’. I was free.

Intro:  Is it possible to hate the feeling of love? Why can’t we just be with the people that makes us happy? My goal with this paper was to just go all out and not be afraid to write what I feel. I feel that I did well with description, and focusing on a larger issues for many people in the world. I feel that added to my scenes.

A Bad Memory.

In hopes of gaining more knowledge you try to understand a variety of things and why they matter to you especially. You try to understand why there are memories you put an effort in forgetting and decisions you wish you could erase. You dab at making sense of things that have always been complicated in your eyes. I can’t come to acknowledge the fact that I have put myself in such a position, a position of self-destruction. As I pace back and forth in this large, cold room, I feel goosebumps crawling up my spine as I was disgusted by the actions I have taking to solving my problems. I plan on leaving this world for the better. What other choice is there?

At a young age, we are always reminded that soon we shall meet our prince charming, so we should safeguard ourselves. However, once the time has come they make it impossible for you to keep your happiness. Now I feel beads of sweat on my forehead, and the shaking of my hands I can no longer control. Had I known I would be in such pain, I would have tried harder to control my love.

I have falling in love with a man. I never understood the saying “love hurts” because I found those words foolish. How can love hurt, when love is supposed to make you content? I have come to realize that the saying indeed is true and it’s me who is foolish. I had all my hope up, I would dream of the day him and I would live happily ever after. However, my family has snatched away our happily ever after. They have refused the man that I love because of where he is from. I tried to explain that love doesn’t have an age, a race or a gender. Nonetheless, once the heart is filled with ignorance, it will always be difficult to see two sides.

In this same room he came with respect, to ask for my hand in marriage. That was were I went wrong. We should have ran away together, like I suggested. He wanted to get my fathers blessings. We had planed to see how this day would turn about, and I have giving up on making the ignorant understand that I am just a young girl who is in love with a man. A humbled and honored man who has a different culture than I do. This is a day I would try so hard to forget but I won’t be able to.

Father- “You’re a man of a different background than Aissatou.”

Lover- “I love Aissatou so I will learn what she knows.”

Father- “Culture and tradition is something you grow up around not something you learn from just a simple explanation.”

Lover- “I will love her till the end, and live the way she wants us to live, with your culture.”

While these words are being exchanged, neither my father nor my lover is backing down I found something to focus on. I had to free myself of this debate. Something that reminds me it’s not the end of the world though I am heartbroken. I stare at the shahada frame. I stare at it not comprehending what it was for a few minutes. I observe it’s gold edges and gold writing. The writing is in English and Arabic. The Arabic letters are bigger and they are on top. The English letters are medium sized and they are on the bottom. The rest of the image is the color burgundy. There is also a gold line surrounding the words. Everything about the image is shiny and polished. The Arabic words have vowels on top or under the letter, which are smaller than the letters. I feel my eyes blur with tears, but I will not shed any. No one deserves to see me in such a vulnerable state. Than I am shocked at the words I hear next.

Lover- Why can’t you just let your daughter be happy? Your so stuck on culture and what people think of you, that you don’t even think or care about how she feels.

Father- Can’t she think about her family? She is being ungrateful and she only thinks about herself.

Me- Dad?

Father- Leave my house now! The audacity to come into my home and disrespecting my cultural beliefs.

Lover- Please sir, try to understand.  

Father- There is nothing to understand, please leave.

My lover stares at me and I look away because the longer he looks at me the more I think of leaving with him. I look away and stare back at the shahada frame, the only thing that is keeping me sane. He leaves and my dad walks to his room. I am still lost in this frame as I realize how heavy it looks to me today. As if it’s also feeling my sorrow. The gold edges have small silver crystals around it. The English and Arabic words have glitter inside of them. The English words are translating what the Arabic words mean. I stand up and touch the frame. The meaning now stands out the me. I learned that I can’t be with the man I have falling in love with.

Around the table happy birthday was sung as my little sister sat in front of her Minnie Mouse shaped cake. Once the song was over, she looked around as if asking if she could finally blow out the three lit candles on top of her cake. With everyone’s encouragement, she blew out the candles with all her might in one gust of wind. Deciding she wanted to get her own piece of cake, she excitedly grabbed a fistful to put on her plate, not without a bite of it beforehand. Ripping through each present, she would happily shout the toy she got. With each one she opened, her eyes grew bigger and bigger. 

The excited gleam seen in kid’s eyes is always contagious. Without realizing it, you get excited along with them. It is like they cast a spell over you, letting you join in on their emotions. Kids draw you in with the excitement and let you get caught up in their unimaginable world. Though adults soon find themselves back in the place they have stayed for awhile now, the world of competition. It seems as though they are all in on this secret. They have a secret way of being able to see the world in a light that adults can never imagine. The world is just a giant playground waiting for them to discover something new and be amazed by the things it can do.

As we get older we start to lose these superpowers. Every once in awhile, will get a little spurt of it back and can share our joy. For the most part, though, we don’t get as excited as when we were little kids, catching fireflies or staring up at the moon in wonderment. This is what separates adults from kids. We get consumed into the land of work and thinking that money will bring back the superpowers we lost. Kids make it look so simple, so easy to be happy. The older we get the more complicated the equation that equals happiness becomes. We interpret with our new set of eyes, the set that knows everything that is going on around us. We try to convince ourselves that we know more than those little kids poking around the garden, but are we really the ones that know more?

They retain the imagination, the wonderment to look at the world in a light of their own, not affected by outside influences. The older ones, we form our decisions around others and we only make inferences based on what other people have said. Even our thinking can be affected by what other people say. We get caught in the trap in a world of trying to up one another. Our thinking completely changes from our childhood, everything to us changes and everything seems less interesting. When we could be seeing what else the world has to offer us, people get stuck on what we already know. Adults see one thing and say same old same old whereas little kids look with amazement and try to figure as much as they can from it. 

When I was little I went to the aquarium. The school of different fish and different colors made me not want to leave. I watched as they swam inside the giant tank, my little hands pressed up against it. From tank to tank I ran ahead, with my parents trailing behind. “Woah, that is so cool!”, I ran over to the shark tank. It was shaped as a tunnel, with the fish and water surrounding you. I looked up the entire walk through the tunnel. The hippo area was next for me. From above I saw the tip of their heads poking out. Running to the bottom of the tall tank, I saw more hippos underneath swimming around. All I wanted to do was get even closer, to break down that simple glass that was the only thing separating me from these magical creatures. When kids see something new, they latch onto it, see what else it can do or see what else they can get from it. They take on all this information then move on to the next fascinating thing. 

Though it is quite often that kids lose their sense of imagination or way of looking at the world, there are some cases where they are able to keep it all the way to adulthood. There are adults out there that keep this frame of mind but others call them childish. That person keeps their head down and tries to fit everyone else’s ideal understanding in order to not be teased with things such as they are not prepared for the real world. Maybe it is the other way around, maybe the real world isn’t prepared for them. A person who is able to think in a different mind frame may be what this world needs to solve the problems we face. When thinking in another way, they come to solutions that no one could ever imagine. These type of people shouldn’t be shamed but brought more into the light because they are the ones who lead our world innovation.

My goals for this paper were to show how having a special connection with someone you look up to is important. Having someone to show you the ropes is a very important thing in the development of a young person. Sharing a connection or passion with a parent or someone you look up to is an important thing that every child should have. One thing I did well for this essay was connecting scenes from my childhood to my idea. One thing I would have liked to improve was my development of a larger issue. I did a good job talking about my issue and I connected it to my scenes but I could have gone more in depth.

Advanced Essay

When you hear the word “legacy”, you may think of something that is left behind, or when someone does the same thing that a former family member has done. Legacy doesn’t have to be either of those things. It can be a type of mentality or outlook or even a passion or love for something that is passed on from someone to someone else.  Sharing a common experience with somebody makes you closer – you learn about that person and what makes them tick – and you gain an appreciation for the things they value and how it relates to you.

My dad is Canadian and hockey is a very large part of his life.  Most kids in America grew up having a catch in the front yard with their dad.  As a kid I played many sports but hockey was my main focus. Those moments where I could have been playing catch, I was on the ice with my dad.  My older brother and I both played hockey and my dad coached our teams.  We were on the ice together all the time.

When I was very young my dad bought a poster displaying a picture of a famous goal from a famous hockey game between Canada and Russia during the 1972 Summit Series. This was an 8 game series between Canada’s best professional team and the best Russian players.  The game took place at the height of the Cold War and it was such a big deal in Canada that grade school children were allowed to watch the games from Russia in school during the day. Everyone crowded into the gymnasium and the watched black and white TV’s perched on tall TV stands.

My Dad also bought a DVD about the series that was made by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) - and my brother and I watched it with him.  As the documentary moved onto the final game of the series I started to pay more attention. The way the narrator spoke over the slow motion shots gave me goosebumps and made me lean forward closer to the TV. My heart rate went up and I started breathing faster but I wasn’t moving at all. The emotion from the players and the fans was so greatly illustrated in the film that it was almost as if you were there.  As the game got close to the final moment where Henderson scored the game winning goal the narrator stopped and it played the voice of the commentator, Foster Hewitt, from the game.  As the final goal was scored it felt as if an extreme amount of pressure was released through my body.  I realized how fast my heart was racing when it started to slow down.  Sharing this moment with my family wasn’t very important to me back then, but now I realized how interesting the moment was. My dad watched this same game live forty years ago and he shared that moment and experience with my brother and I when we were almost the same age.  

As I grew older I stopped playing competitive hockey because of concussions.  The same thing happened to my brother.   Since both of us still liked to play,   we would rent the ice on Fridays during the winter at Simons Recreation Center and play pick-up with 15-20 people including my dad.  The games were always fun, and I was always one of the better players, since I played so much as a kid.   I really enjoyed playing and sharing the experience with my dad and brother.  Every kid in the world needs someone to look up to and learn from.  When children grow up and don’t have good parental guidance they may end up doing bad things and may make bad decisions. Having someone to show you the ropes is a very important thing.  Sharing a passion for something with your parent is a special thing only some kids have in life.  

My Dad takes a team from Philadelphia to play pond hockey in a tournament in Canada every year.  I have been going with him since I was 10 years old.  My brother goes to university in Canada now, so it is a chance for us to get together and have fun.  There is usually 3 feet of snow – and it was 28 below zero last year.  At the tournament my brother and I skate and play pond hockey with people from all over North America.  It is an absolute blast.  We play, we talk about it. We play, we talk about it some more.  You realize that it is not playing the games so much as sharing the experience together that makes it great.

Time Flies…

(This story was first gonna be first about me coming back from tour but then it switches. I guess you have to have emotion to read this.)

The lost for life was on top of the world while we were in the van on the way to the airport all of us were just talking you know chatting it up like normal teens, but the ride had gotten more intense because someone was scared of highways so we ended up blasting classical music to calm him down I don’t remember his name but if I did I wouldn’t mention it because it would be embarrassing for him but he’s in this school though that’s why I can’t mention names. Anyway back to the story and I don’t really feel like starting over the whole thing so I’m just going to go from here the beez in the trap song was playing on my ipod so I joined into the music without friends because you know the vibe was cooling like that,  so I took advantage of it and I went pretty far in the moment towards the eyes that was staring down at me for the farthest of time. I couldn’t get to myself in time to be the top of the mountain of my mind.

We were in the airport the guy with the stick that went “woom woom” and his name tag said security. I’m guessing that’s what it was yeah security, so we’re all walking through the crowd trying to get some snacks before our flight. I was with my friend Jake and I remember  the feeling he had for Japanese food in airports he loved it and so did I! SO we waited in line that was all way the down the line because we weren’t the only ones who wanted the food everyone on that floor was in that line and it went on forever. So finally we’re both up there ready to order and I asked for 3 platters 1 for then,the plane and the plane to england. I ordered this pepper chicken which was worth the wait at the time, but the time being I really had to use the bathroom so I had asked my friend to wait at the door but then I forgot he had to wait for the food so I ran towards the bathroom and the time I got there I heard something vibrate in my pocket and it was my phone and I saw the lights flashing through my pocket so I figured out that I needed to do something right? So I dialed my grand moms number once I had got back into the states and she picked up wondering how I was doing and I was doing fine because I knew she was okay. and I was also happy because it was the first time in awhile that I had Starbucks.When we got back on the bus I told my friend to move over and he just sat there for about  3 minutes.

Well instead of changing the times how about I switch it up to rhymes for a little bit of time because it’s the time of feeling and the feeling of time towards racks of going on onto the century of head giving feeling and emotions being spread in the air.

Intro:

No one should have to change who they are or what they look like just so other people can enjoy it. My goal for this essay was to tell people that they should always love who they are and what they look like no matter what anyone says. I feel like I did really well with sharing out my thoughts throughout this essay. I fell like I could have done a better job on elaborating more on my bigger idea.

Tick tock, tick tock the clock keeps singing. My heart is pounding through my chest as I am anxiously waiting for my best friend to come over.

I never really understood the reason why girls always try to impress boys by putting on makeup and getting all dressed up for just one night.  I get that it is fun but girls should go to these dances dressed how they want and how they feel comfortable. Ding dong. I threw my iPad on my bed and ran downstairs as fast as I could. Julia comes in and we both run up to my room.. We only had two hours  to get started. I set the straightener and the curling wand by my window sill, then ran downstairs out of breathe to get my older sister, Antonia .  She followed me upstairs. Bang! The hot steamy blue straightener fell on the floor as my sister and I entered the room. Julia had tripped over the wire. Luckily, the straightener did not fall on her foot. Antonia told julia to sit on the bar stool  in front of our window so the sun's rays fall on her face. She has a natural glow. I tell her all the time she doesn’t need makeup; she's naturally beautiful. However, she never listens to me, so I try to keep my mouth shut most of the time.

I don’t understand why girls and guys try to change themselves into something they are not and try to create this whole different person to just try and fit into today’s society. No one should have to change who they are or what they look like just so other people can enjoy it. Why does any of this matter in society? We should accept people as they are. Why do people have to be pretty or handsome to fit in with the popular kids. People say “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover” but then they go and judge it anyway.

As Antonia started Julia’s makeup I set a alarm on my phone so it would let us  know when a half hour went by, since we only had two hours to get Julia ready. I got Julia’s black short sparkly dress out and hung it on the white ladder to my bunk bed. As my sister kept doing her makeup, I split her hair into sections and started to straighten her long, beautiful blonde hair. As I continued straightening her hair I noticed she started shaking. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I am scared, what if he don’t like how I look?” Julia asked nervously. I stopped doing her hair and put the straightener down on the window sill. Antonia finished her makeup and I told her to look in the mirror.

“Do you like how you look?” I asked. She looked in the mirror and a smirk appeared on her face.

“Yeah.” she said.

“That’s all that matters.” I said.

This is what gets me mad. People should never doubt themselves on what they look like; even if they say they don’t like the way they look. Everyone should love themselves no matter what and who ever told them they aren’t worth living.. Julia is very insecure about the way she looks, which is why I try and get her not to think that because no one should  think like that.  

As time went by, my sister curled Julia’s hair. I got Julia’s heels from downstairs. When I walked back upstairs, Antonia was done her hair and it was time for her to get dressed. Julia pulled her dress over her head and asked me to zip it. I gave Julia her heels.  After she put them on I told her to look in the mirror. She was so excited with the way she looked that she started dancing around my room. I told her to stop because I knew how clumsy she was and I didn’t want her getting hurt before her dance. However, she didn’t listen to me and fell  down and twisted her left foot. Antonia and I ran over to her and lifted her up on the bed. She kept saying her ankle was hurting her. She tried to stand on it but it hurt to much for her to weight on it. I called my dad up to my room to see what was wrong with her. He walked in the door and said “What happened, what was that big bang?” I told him what happened and he looked at her ankle. He told Julia it was sprained so my dad carried her out of my room to take her to the hospital and Julia never got to go to her dance.

I took a glimpse of my painting before leaving my room to follow my dad which it reminded me the reason why I painted it in the first place, people are beautiful in many different ways on the inside and out. Accept who you are first so everyone else can. You have to accept their interest no matter how weird or dumb they may seem. Accepting someone for who they truly are takes some time because they may seem so different to you or you may have nothing in common with them but you learn to accept them anyway.

With this paper I wanted people to see something that goes on constantly in my life. To provide an in depth look to me. I succeeded in making my story a serious but funny piece while focusing on a common practice in human behavior. I wish I could have improved on expanding my pre game rituals and introducing game time rituals.

Superstitious behavior is a common practice; it is practiced by people who are desperate.  People make sacrifices hoping for a specific outcome. Superstitions can be practiced in infinite number of forms from sitting in a lucky chair to snapping your fingers every five seconds. Many U.S citizens claim to not participate in superstitious behavior.  Nevertheless, some people, like me, take it to the extreme and do ridiculous things hoping to control the outcome of events beyond our control.  We are caught in an endless web of superstitious behavior.

Superstition behavior is tough to stop once engaged in; it is addictive. Although I am conscious of my superstitious behavior, I can not stop.  For example, before a baseball game, I can’t step on the foul line. It may bring bad luck. Before a game, I can’t watch a TV all day.  Another pre-game superstition is I can not tie my shoes. These superstitions interfere with my daily life. None-the-less, there is no way, shape or form my pre-game baseball superstitions are as intense or entrenched as my Sunday Steelers football game superstitions.

On Steeler football Sundays, I wake up, tired, from whatever I did the previous night, excited and frightened. I am frightened that the Steelers may lose. I am excited for another Steeler win. You don’t want to be near me when the Steelers lose. So, in order to not contribute to  a loss, I go through some pretty odd practices to help them win. When I execute my pre-game and during game rituals, the Steelers often do better.

I begin by checking the time, reaching with my hand across my bed to see how much time I have to prepare. Next, I sit on my phone for roughly ten minutes, always checking my Bleacher Report Team Stream app. I like to see the games’ inactive players. I usually get disappointed.  Today, for example,  I was infuriated by the Steelers choosing to not play Sammie Coates, our third round selection. Then, I roll out of bed, take a shower and put my music on shuffle. In the shower, I brush my teeth but don’t wash my hair Sundays. Obviously, slightly greased and ruffled hair is needed for total focus on the game.

After showering, I proceed to get dressed, but never, EVER in Steelers gear on Sundays. This one is critical. The Steelers seem to play worse when I put on their clothing, so my Steeler shirts, hoodie and hats stay in my drawers or hang on a shelf. Next, I exercise a bit, just so I don’t fall behind because on Sundays I eat fairly poorly. Then, I have a conversation with Luke, my twin brother, strictly concerning football.  Breakfast awaits and if breakfast is botched I can become a little crazy.

Breakfast starts with a bowl of any cereal but most likely plain cheerios. One thing that is crucial here is my lucky Steelers bowl. Until the ending of the game, all food must be consumed on my Steelers decade old plate or bowl. I eat my cereal, and cook two eggs on an English muffin. I add one squirt of ketchup and savor a one heck of a breakfast until about 10:30 A.M. Mid morning is time for NFL Gameday Morning.  While the talking head commentators are previewing the Sunday football rosters, I am researching stats and predictions for the game.  This is one of the few time during the week when I enjoy facts and figures - math - and delve into computation.

Madden football comes next. Playing the actual opponent whom the Steelers will play later in the day is a tradition. I set it to realistic 15 minute quarters to ensure I remain channel the game. Playing is for enjoyment but also to get ready for the game. I win, obviously; Madden isn’t something I play often but I am a stud. It is less than two hours of virtual game time but I run plays via my controller and through my head. To think I am predicting the game is a frightening feeling so I drink the traditional sport drink, gatorade, and prepare for the afternoon pigskin match-up.

Although the morning has been full and I faithfully follow my pre-game routine, waiting until 1:00 pm is arduous. To fill time and get into our football mindset, my brothers and I watch FOX NFL Sunday. We loved the days when Frank Caliendo would make amazing impressions of athletes or celebrities. Rob Riggle is fine too but we enjoy the commentary and make our own predictions for the weeks biggest games and also an upset and a wild card. During the FOX commercials we tune into James Brown’s CBS football preview with Bill Cowher, Dan Marino and others. It’s a bit less entertaining but the predictions are the best.

You see,  my superstitions completely dictates my schedule; they consumes my day and I continue to follow my pre game rituals with a passion and a reverence for the Steelers. Superstitious behavior, in my eyes, is had involved in today’s victory. We, the Steelers and I,  won 43-18.  The game was a blowout and I’m beyond thrilled that I feel like I helped! Superstitious behavior is followed because we want something, or we’re desperate. I am desperate for the win like millions of others who practice superstitious behavior because it’s a lifestyle. For U.S. football fans, my superstitious behaviors and routines will never vanish.  When the Steelers win, I’m on a high.  Their win is not just for stats or fame; they are for the high of feeling part of something successful. These are my pre-game superstitious behaviors; there are also during game rituals.

Superstition is built on one thing -  cause and effect. What I do before and during a game will affect what will play out during the game. It’s a battle with my mind and out of desperation. We are willing to sacrifice and do many things to support our team. Nevertheless, superstition is an odd.  Why does whether or not I wash my hair, wear certain clothes, watch particular sports programs or check stats matter?  Who am I fooling?  Unfortunately, I will not change because I am afraid if I don’t follow the superstitious routines I may think I contribute to a Steelers loss.  Once a person participates in superstitious behavior, they are caught in its trap.  I am locked in a web of Sunday superstition.

Zaeem Wallace-Parker                                                                   

9/18/15

English 3

My goal for this paper was to find a deep meaning in my image and connect it to a real world problem going on today. I feel like I found a very great topic to touch on and give my reasoning on something that is not very criticized at all. I would improve the repetition because it's some topics and facts that have brought up and then later in the paper speak on that topic again.

Advanced Essay #1 Griffin Gallagher

It was hot out and we had been on the water for hours, with no results. My little sister was getting impatient, just like any four year old would. Finally one of the lines took, and a fish was on. It was small so we let my sister reel it in. When the fish was finally landed my sister’s eyes light up with excitement. Many things make people happy. Happiness is an emotion that we experience very often, because we like the feeling so we try to make ourselves feel like that all the time. Just because something makes one person happy does not mean that the same thing will make a different person happy. For example, John Doe goes on a roller coaster, and he enjoys it, he has fun. On the same day at the same amusement park Jane Doe goes on the same roller coaster and it makes her feel fearful, or scared. There are certain things in the world that cause different people to feel Different emotions.

We walked onto the wooden pier that had been here for years. The loud sounds of metal gears grinding and clanking was only outshined by the high pitched shrieks of people on the rides that seemed terrifying. It was my first time ever going on a roller coaster, I was terrified. But all my friends were excited, they loved going on rides. They had been on every ride, and rode the scariest ones twice. I on the other hand never rode any rides. I prefered to sit back and watch the flashing lights of one of the game stands. Many years later on the same pier I was the first person in line for “the great white.” If you have never been to wildwood, the great white is a wooden roller coaster. It is large and it moves quite fast, faster than the average car drives on the streets. This ride is my favorite out of all rides down the shore. This shows another face of how we experience events. When I was younger I was scared of all the big rides, but when I got older the fears disappeared and excitement took their place. This type of event causes a rush of adrenaline which when we are younger triggers fear, but when we can control this adrenaline, it can be used as a form of happiness. This shows me that over time people change, possibly even into a whole nother person. What we like at one time in our life may become a view of disgust later on in life. But the same can also happen, something that we hate we can grow and learn to love. A few examples of this is me, when I was younger I loved pickled beets, now i can't stand the look of them. This also works in reverse, when I was younger I hated kale, now I eat kale salads at least three times a week because I love kale.

When we change, the changes are seamless. We do not realize our emotions change they just do. there is nothing we can do about it. If we try to hide our emotions, we bottle them up and this is not healthy, because we become an unstable time bomb of emotion. When that bomb goes off things tend to be quite ugly. Emotions are meant to change and mold who we are as we grow up.

My essay is about the meaning of family and how it is viewed nowadays. My goals was to show to my audience another way to interpret the word, family, through my own experiences. In many ways, I feel like I did well on pulling examples from my life and pasting it into my writing because I did have a hard time doing that from the start. Something that I would like to improve on is, my grammar. I wish I had the reminder and time to go to someone to help me specifically on my grammar.

The weather was beautiful on that day where my friends invited me out to clear my feelings. I’ve been listening to J Cole’s mixtape for a long time now. They all knew what happened, that’s why they invited me out. J Cole’s music just calms me down at times when I want to be by myself, but also don’t want to be lonely. No human beings like to be lonely in this world. It’s a scary emotion.

“Hey, what’s up Jun-Jie,” I heard. “Still living,” I replied. There they go, my cousins and my friends. They’ve been in my life for a long time now, always been there, always there when I needed them, they’re just always there. They heard about the breakup that happened between me and this girl. They just wanted to make sure I’m okay, but at times, I just want to be alone. I just want to go home and sleep because when you’re asleep, you can’t feel anything, but the sensation of feeling nothing. No harm, no sadness, no depression, no suicidal thoughts, no nothing, and you have the blanket acting like a shield to protect you. What more can you ask for?

I regret what I did that day, but I felt like it was what’s best for me. There are people I go to to vent, but I know for a fact that that time was the wrong time. After greeting them and walking them to a restaurant, I plugged in my headphones, with J Cole playing, and left the restaurant to catch the train home.

As we grow older, we learn the importance of family and how it affect us day by day. They say you are able to obtain a lot more as you grow older; you become more understanding about things and start to have your own interpretation. Family is a big word to have just one meaning, and often, that meaning are referencing to your parents and siblings. We grow hearing other opinions about things whether we agree with it or not. Let me show you another way family can be interpreted.

I know for sure that I’m not the only one in this world that don’t like being lonely, and thankfully, I have really close friends that cares for me and no matter how loud my yelling is or how annoying my rants can be, they are always there to listen to me. Because of this closeness I have with my friends, I feel like that’s probably why I’m so hesitant to meet new people. I never like meeting new people. If I have a program meeting to go to, I’m not nervous because of all the strangers that going to be there, I’m nervous about meeting them. One of my fears in this world is the fear of losing somebody. So I always thought to myself, the less friends I have, the less I will have to lose. At time, that state of mind can be really wrong. As a matter of fact, most of the time, it is really wrong, but at times, I don’t realize I’m making new friends, but I am,

A lot of my friends really like going to parties, but they all don’t like going alone. There was one time where my friend asked me to go to a birthday party with him. I told him I have no idea who any of his friends are, so I would be feeling left out. We went on for days arguing about me not going to that party.

I ended up going to that party because he fooled me into thinking that his friend is really rich, so J.Cole might be invited to that party. As dumb as I am believing that, I went to his friend’s party that night. I’m not going to lie, that party was pretty fun and loud.

When I first stepped inside, I noticed the blasting music coming out of the speakers. I usually don’t like loud music playing, but I noticed that J.Cole was playing from the computer, so I was fine with that. There was so many people at the party. Some of them actually tried to convince me to drink or smoke, but I knew better than that.

We finished the night off with a cookout in the yard. We had burgers, steak, ribs, chicken, etc. Before you know it, my friend’s mom was here to pick us up. I went home, took a shower, and went to bed. It’s been a long and unpredictable day.

As fun as that day was, there were a lot of behind the scenes. It is true that I am not a party person, but the main reason why I did not wanted to go that day was because I know I might need to meet new people. The day didn’t turn out that bad, and I made a lot of friends. That was also the day where I realize that meeting new people might be okay for me now. I’m still hesitant to meet new people, but I don’t feel strongly about it anymore.

As much as I talked about how important family is, I also mentioned J. Cole a lot. J. Cole have been my role model for a really long time. At times, when I don’t have my love ones around, I listen to his music because helps me relax and clear my mind. He is an important person in my life. As much as I want to know him in real life, I still feel like he acts like my friend who is always there for me.

My goal with this paper was to juts honestly get it done and stick tone topic. I think I did well with shrinking my words and connecting everything to one theme. I would like to improve going into a depth with such limited words.

“I just feel so numb.”

I lay in my bed, body clenched from mixtures of emotions. Anger, Sadness, Frustration. Why is this happening. I was happy! I was finally happy for once. Truly happy. I swallow my anger and tried to calm down.

I text back.

Me: Ok

A bubble pops up. She begins to type.

Her: How do you feel?

I pause. How do I feel? She is someone I was always able to fully express myself with. An “idk” isn't an answer with her. I start typing. For once, I’m not going to hold back my feelings.

Me: Life is all about the seconds, not the minutes, not the hours, not the days, not the years. It's about just 1 second. One second is all it takes for your life to change. It takes 5 seconds to read a winning lottery ticket and match it to the winning numbers. It takes 3 seconds for a break up to begin. It took one second for me to snap into a reality with you. Then it took another for me to snap out of that reality into one that's realistic.

The bubble pops back up. She responds.

Her: Oh

When I’m overloaded with more than two emotions, in the end I speak everything that's on my mind. I continued to speak more fully in that conversation. I just kept texting paragraph after paragraph of just every word that entered my mind. Eventually she stopped answering and waited until I was done. For once I felt at peace with myself. She was surprised to finally know how I completely felt.

Not everyone knows how I feel all the time. Usually people get a half story of my emotions during a certain time. One of my biggest weakness that makes me cower into a corner and become completely quiet of how I feel is my father. No matter what the conversation, I’m always hesitate and stumble on every word I say. With him, I have to battle my mind who just wants to let everything out but could cost me a lot of trouble, whether its clever comebacks or outburst from anger. So 99%, I keep everything to myself in fear that one of those two scenarios happen.

“I don't know."

All the the terrible events that could take place in the future fill my mind. I can feel all the stress and anxiety, the blood boiling. Why is he asking me this? What is he trying to accomplish?

His stern voice begins to rumble in my ears with his reply.

"What do you mean you don't know?! How bout next time you ask me for something instead of thinking about I'm just gonna say 'I don't know.' How you like them apples?"

His frustration was like a slap in face when his question threw me in the corner and ambushed me.

I wanted to respond with "I like apples." It's enough that if he doesn't see it as getting smart with him, he can see it as me being "stupid and simple minded" like he always seen me as. I just stand there in silence with my confused face. I sink my head into my coat. The lights just seem too bright, they feel like a thousand infernos against my face. I think about this situation with my clouded head of his random question.

Every once in awhile, everyone has a battle with themselves. Whether it's pushing yourself to go the extra mile in a work out, that extra step to achieve a higher grade on a project, or fighting your subconscious on what to say in a current situation. These battles may be common for some people and for others it may just occur few times in their life. For me however, I usually have a battle like this everyday. There are times where I don't speak a word and just listen and other times, everything in my mind is spoken. The variable that helps me decide this, is usually based on the person, place, and subject. With certain people, when I speak out my mind of certain subject they begin to see me as a different person. Others see something wrong if I’m quiet. I have to constantly fight myself by knowing when to speak and when not to. I can win most of the fights but I’ll never win the battle against my subconscious mind.