Do I work best under pressure? You could say so after spending 4 hours trying to find what am I going to talk about on my 3rd attempt writing this paper the day before its due. Sorry Mr. Meehan, I’m working on how I utilize my time. That’s how I’m learning college and life work. One of my favorite clichés to analyze is “I’m not getting any younger.” because when you think about that quote, it sucks. I’ll never relive yesterday or those minutes I spent deleting a weak thesis statement. I was born and raised in a small town Valley Stream located in Long Island. I have been living in New York for the past 18 years of my life. Most of my friends I have known since pre-k and junior high school. We were well known around town, we were the “popular” kids. Everybody loved the way we dressed, we got into everybody party, nobody had problems with us. Life was interesting, most of the time we had planned on the weekends. If not, my house was the hang out spot if nothing was happening. When my friends came home from school, we would all meet at my house and catch up. Or when they get off of work at midnight they would stop by and we would chill and grab some food. My Mom knew all my friends, she liked them they were respectful. She didn’t have a problem with me hanging around any of them because we never caused trouble. One evening, she texted me a picture of a house saying, “I like this house.” I replied, “Why?” She said, “I think we’re going to move.” I brushed the idea off until
As I look back on all of the papers that I wrote during high school, I remember all of the stress that I endured. I remember struggling with writing
After being dropped off from dance late at night, I was expecting to walk into a silent house where everyone was asleep. Instead, I walked into my living room to find the rest of my family sitting on the couch with the television off, which was strange for my family. It was clear they were waiting for me to get home, so I sat down too. My mom and dad exchanged a look and a sigh then turned back towards my brother and me. They babbled absently for a few minutes, then, my mom quickly spit out the words, as if ripping off a Band-Aid, "We are moving back to Arizona." There was a brief moment of stunned silence before I burst into tears. I could not imagine why my parents would decide to separate me from my best friends six months before we were supposed to
People may go through hard times but at the end if you are true friends it doesn’t really matter. Just as Roberta and Twyla at the end of the story somewhat seemed like they had made up and came back the their childhood roots. Lately in my life I have came back to the ones I had strayed from. Early last year I had, had a group of friends I would hang with every weekend. But over the summer a new group had arisen and I had thrown them out. Yet that has came back to bite me due to complications between my usual friends. As I have learned it would have been much smarter to stay on good terms with everyone.
I moved to Connecticut in the September of 2008 because my Dad had a job transfer. This was around the time that I started the second grade. I was introduced to so many people and they were all so nice to me. Six years later, I made countless friends and started to feel like Connecticut was where I wanted to stay forever. But in December of 2014, my Dad got a phone call from a company in South Jersey and they wanted him to work for them. At first, he worked 3 days in Camden, and the rest of the week in Connecticut. That was difficult though because we did not get to see him as often as we wanted to. My parents then sat my brother and I down and asked us if we wanted to move to South Jersey. I did not know what to think. After six years, I loved living in Connecticut and I wanted to stay there. They told us that it would be a lot easier to move down to Jersey instead of my dad traveling every week. My brother and I both agreed that this is what we are going to have to do. I can still remember that day though. It seemed liked the world was going to a scorching end. At least my world was. I started to tell my friends that
I made new friends and went to the Magis Program every Saturday. I saw some friends ,but it was different now. I'm not in their lives anymore and they are not really in my life either. Pretty soon after, me and my friends stopped talking because we went to different school and life was different. I didn’t like it. I wanted to know what was happening in my old school and how everyone was doing. I was pretty sad and missed everyone. So school went by ,and me and my friends still saw each other ,but we weren’t as close as we were. So life went on 8th grade came and my decision came back. 8th grade year was fun I had made a lot of friends and a lot bonds with them. Some of the friends I made were going to go to St. Ignatius or St. Edwards or other private high schools. It was also my time to decide to which high school to go to. It was a hard decision so I delayed it. My friends from Magis also started talking to me again. They thought that I was still going to St. Ignatius. I was deciding whether to go Westlake High School or to go to Ignatius. I delayed the my decision until summer. So during 8th grade the whole 8th grade went to Washington D.C and I then realized that I didn’t to go to thru the same feeling again. So I told my old friends that Im sry one the last day of the Magis program before the summer camp
Our neighbors were mostly, families that consisted of both parents, single moms, and the children per household ranged from two kids to twelve kids per family. The neighborhood residents consisted of blue-collar working people. What makes me proud of my hometown is that the people who lived there took care of their homes, your neighbors were like family, and if you needed something everyone helped each other out. When it came to the kids, someone was always watching out for them. I know some very special people from my neighborhood, who I am still good friends with them today. My first husband grew up in the same the neighborhood and we dated while I was in High school and once I graduated we got married. We lived on our own for a couple of years; then we moved back home to save for our first house. We were expecting our first child, Amy and we decided to purchase a home in Burbank so we will be close to our parents. My mom’s health was starting to decline. I was staying home with Amy and Mike was now the sole provider for our family. Shortly after Amy’s, birth my mom was diagnosed with stage four, Breast Cancer. She had full blown chemo and radiation treatments. She fought the battle, but she passed away a
At DePauw, I want to study english literature in hopes of one day working as an editor at a book publishing company. One might think that this means that reading and writing are naturally easy for me, but in truth I often struggle to get my thoughts gathered and cohesively written on paper. That is why I want to pursue work as an editor rather than a writer. I’m much better at tweaking and critiquing another’s work than producing my own. Much to my displeasure, I also find that I write some of my best work under the pressure of a time crunch. I realize I need to work to get out of that habit this year.
Growing up in this city of Chicago was very nice. I lived on the Westside of Chicago, Hamlin and Augusta. Our community was not a community it was block. The block is the street that I lived one. My sisters and I was able to go to the park until the sunset. We would walk almost a mile just to have fun. We was able to walk everywhere, candy store, school, parties, and mall. All the houses on the blocks where kept up so nice. Every house had a flower bed. There were no boarded up houses. The grass was cut so well, and the brushes were trimmed nicely. You could smell the food that the neighbors were cooking. All the children on the block were able to play with each other. The neighbor would feed the other neighbors children. The trust for the people on Hamlin was very strong because everyone knew each other for years. The early 2000’s is a year that I will never forget. In 1973 my mom was born in Chicago. She lived in the same house that I lived in on Hamlin. As I was talking to my mother she was telling me that her life living in Chicago was lovely. Her dad
My story begins when my mom and I moved from Crafton, near Pittsburgh, to my grandparents’ house in Schwenksville at the beginning of first grade. In Crafton, there were not a lot children in my neighborhood; therefore, my wonderful mother and heart rending loneliness were my only friends. Fortunately, in my grandparent’s huge neighborhood, there were three amazing girls that became my best friends. However, those girls were not enough to combat my loneliness. At times these girls were mean to me, but my caring mother was there to lift my spirits. My mother was understanding and always knew what to say when I was lonely. As the story continues my life will hit an unexpected turn when I accepted a last minute invitation from a friend to attend
As we were hauling boxes out to the moving van, my mom was sitting in the dining room on the only chair that was left inside, looking very focused and determined to find information to ease our worries and encourage us to be more excited to move. Signs of frustration were starting to show on her face when the school website wasn’t giving her the information she had wanted, however she didn’t turn off the phone yet. With fake enthusiasm she told me to come over to her, attempting to tell me how great the new school and California was going to be. “You are going to meet great new friends and I know, in a couple of months, you will be thankful for this adventure because you will be happy there, we have a neighborhood pool and a community center,
They have the confidence to confront the challenge and try to solve it, or cope with it in a positive
As an author, I have developed and created many written work systems and styles. Already, my written work styles and abilities were coarse and grungy. My first paper was disgracefully punctuated, had a powerless body structure, and intertwined sentences. Over this semester, my written work aptitudes have enhanced significantly. I have figured out how to sort out and develop a paper formally. This has fortified my capacities as an essayist, which reflects in my written work.
I have waited all of my life to see you after i had moved, but you were not who I thought you would be like. You were nice, caring, and awesome to talk to in the years past, but when I moved all of that has changed. We started talking less and less, until the day I told you that my dad and I were coming down to visit you guys. I tried to talk to you when I was there but you just kept on blowing me off for other people that you knew never liked me and you were never friends with them until I moved. I knew that you always wanted to be one of the cool kids and be popular cause thats how you are. What i didn't know was that you would completely forget we were friends and pretended like I never existed, Why would you do that, we used to be friends,
What they didn’t know was that in three years of friendship, she hadn’t invited me over once. I was always the one to do the inviting, the planning. Anna had a best friend before me, but after almost 7 years of friendship, Anna was “dumped.” I guess inside I was always wondering if Anna really liked me, or if I was just a simple replacement. By seventh grade, things with Anna were very rocky. I had heard from mutual friends that she had been talking about me behind my back. After a while, it seemed the only nice words spoken were when we were face to face. She was too domineering. She always made me feel stupid. In her mind, she was better and I was worse and that was that. One evening at the beginning of our eighth grade year, the tremor hit. Anna spent the night and the whole evening we watched T.V. or read. We didn’t talk once. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Anna,” I said, “This is so stupid. We don’t talk, we hardly ever do things together anymore, this friendship has been worn out for a long time.” “I’m sorry you feel that way,” was her only reply. Five minutes later, Anna had left my home and my life. My whole world seems to be more on track now that she’s
I have always been able to perform to the best of my abilities under pressure, but this was a new kind of pressure. This pressure did not compare to the pressure that I have felt on the tennis court of the state tournament as my opponent said “match point.” Or the time I spoke to the entire high school promoting my table tennis club. This was the pressure of someone's life in my hands, the pressure that will make or break a man. The next few moments determined the life or death of a man that I have known my entire life, my uncle.