My Life Experiences

To begin, In Latino Metropolis, Victor Valle and Rodolfo Torres suggest that the Latino population is a vital group to the political economy of Los Angeles. The Los Angeles economy was constructed through the manual labor of largely Latino immigrants, which the city today still heavily depends on (Valle and Torres, 2000, 15-16). In their chapter, Economic Geography of Latino Los Angeles, Valle and Torres argue that Latino immigrants working in the labor workforce in the Southeast Los Angeles area (cities such Vernon, Maywood, Bell, etc.) are often discriminated and often depicted by the media, anti-immigrant leaders, and sympathizers as victims and villains (Valle and Torres, 2000,

For the majority of my life, I had been shy, even though it didn’t seem like it most of the time, I was scared to death when I met new people. I know that it sounds extremely trivial, but I feel that when you first meet someone, you’re ultimately giving them their first impression of yourself and that is a lot of pressure. It seemed almost certain that I would lead a life of being a social wallflower until March 2017, more specifically, March 28th, 2017. This day was and still is important to me because I learned how to be confident, and through my experience, it taught me something that I will hold onto forever. Prior to this day, I was an extremely introverted person and rarely went out of my way to make friends. As a volunteer at day

Passion: it’s what drives the human spirit. It’s a fierce desire of determination that persists strongly through all adversity. It’s the underlying tone in every success story, and the silent background to every screaming headline. It’s more than a moment of impulse, or an insouciant word scribbled on a scrap of paper. Every hope, aspiration, and dream that a heart craves, stems from this blazing fire of passion. Goals are what makes it possible to follow these dreams. I believe that setting goals is essential to keep on the right mental track to chase passions whether it involves a single class, academics, or life in general.

There are many parts of a story that work together to make it worth reading. This could include the theme, plot, structure, characters, setting, or tone. Authors use a number of different literary devices that allow them to expand upon their ideas and make their stories clearer. This could be through a central theme or through symbols that contribute to telling a story. Each practice is used to further describe written literary work.

On the night of April 7, 1997, my seven-year-old body flew from the backseat of a Nissan Sentra and crashed through the front passenger window onto the roadway of Old Town, Staten Island. I woke up on a hospital stretcher in pain and perplexed. My eyes were filled with shattered glass. I had no mobility in either of my arms; my right arm was wrapped in gauze and plaster; and my left arm had an IV in it. Two days later I was informed of the full extent of my injuries. I shouted at my nurse, “But how will I eat, write, shower, and how will I use the bathroom? What about my hair? How will I put on my clothes?

"Take a moment to think of just flexibility, love, and trust," has been my mantra for this whole senior year. It’s something I try to think about when I decide anything important in my life. Rather it’s setting goals for myself, procuring different interests, or choosing in right college, thinking about flexibility, love, and trust is how I try to keep my mind straight for the next couple of years.

There is a point in every teenager’s life where they have to take a moment to sit there and think, if only for a moment, “Oh dear God, I’m an adult.” Some approach this point too early while others will have this epiphany too late. It all depends on what the person has gone through and the experiences they have had growing up. For me, I didn’t realize that I was growing up until I started my first job at a family fun center. Working in that rundown arcade, I hated it, yet it was honestly the beginning of what I would call my growing up phase. My family was the coddling sort, so there weren’t many times where I was allowed to go out and be around people who I didn’t know until I reached the age 16. First taste of freedom, first pay check, and the first feeling of legitimate pride for myself that I had, all of that led to me growing into a young woman as opposed to the little girl I once saw myself as. From then on, I started to develop a sense of responsibility and independence I loved.

I was born in Guatemala City, Guatemala. I like to think that I’ve been blessed to experience so many different cultures, lifestyle, and diversity in Guatemala City amongst its people spending the first 6 years of my life and then moving to Belize. The change from only speaking and hearing Spanish every day to learning English after moving to Belize was a struggle. A struggle that I am so thankful I went through now because that made my transition much easier as I got to further my education to where I am now; a proud graduate and Alumni from the University of North Florida.

I am currently living in San Antonio,Texas, but I was born in Wichita, Kansas. The city Wichita is a much smaller than San Antonio, so life was extremely different than here. The city was calm and quiet, not much really happened so I was allowed to venture out and explore.My elementary school was only walking distance from my home,meaning I could travel to and from school without any problems. While I walked home, my mom would always have something ready to eat the moment we walked in the door. My mother has always been a affectionate woman. She has a friendly heart, but will raise her voice if she needs to. She and my father would always teach us right from wrong and showed us that when someone was mean, kill them with kindness. My father is a hard working man and tries his best to get along with everyone. He exceeds at his work to make sure that we are better off than he was as a child. No matter how exhausted he is after a day's work, he always takes the time to talk to us and make sure we are doing good. He pushes us to always try our best and is always providing support. He always tells me that I am intelligent, but for my sister, he supports her in a different way; she is not as skilled and keeping information. So my parents help her study. My sister is five years younger than me,so we don't always get along. She is loud and annoying, but can also be caring when she has to be.When she was in elementary school, she always came home saying how much she loved it. It

The wind serrated past my body. I hesitated, reminiscing all the memories we treasured years ago. Sitting down on a nearby bench, looking at the emptied bus stop. I ran my fingers through the leathery pages of my small book that my father had given me. How long it has been? Five… six years? The clouds suddenly swirled and closed the sky, the thunder roared. Girls of all ages and appearances rushed through the streets as they had just finished school. I smiled mirthlessly.

n I was 9 years old. I lived with my younger brothers james and my mother mary. We lived in Norwich on a farm. It was a beautiful place with fresh air and lots of crops.I had lived there my whole life until we had to move. One Day I was sitting in the kitchen cleaning the harvested vegetables for lunch and dinner when my mother came in saying we had to move immediately. She said that a rich man bought our land and we could no longer live there or work there. After a day in packing the next day we moved to manchester. My mother had heard there was jobs there and even me and my brother could work for some extra money.

It was the summer of 15. Filled with travel, laughter, and smiles. But, at that time I didn’t pay attention or even cherish those moments. Now, I truly know how much I miss the feeling of being that happy all the time.

It was the first day of kindergarten, my mother took me to the school and as we were walking in she told me, “Don’t worry sweetheart, you are going to make so many friends and mommy will be here to pick you up after the day is over.” We hadn’t even made it into the classroom and I was already crying because I didn’t want to leave my mom. I had never been away from my her for a whole day, how in the world did they expect me to do that when I was only about five years old. She told me it would be alright and then proceeded to go back home. I spent half of the day in the classroom crying, refusing to do anything but eventually gave in because I was hungry. When my mom picked me up from school that day, she asked me how the day was, and by that time I had forgotten about how scared I was to be without her. I was so excited for the next day.

In April of 2012, I was ten years old and living in a loving, happy household in Southern Maryland. My family consisted of my mother, and my two older sisters, Rachel and Lauren. I was of course like every other typical ten year old; I loved to watch Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, hanging out with my friends, and to spend time with my family. I did not think much about boys the way my sisters usually did, but I knew that one day that I was to marry a boy because that is what seemed to be the only option growing up.

Unfortunately, it started Tuesday, May 10th, 2011, usually I go by my parent’s house before work and have coffee and donuts with my mother while we chit-chat about current events about our lives, but, I was running late for work that day.  Afterward, at 10:45 a.m. I started calling my mother’s cell phone but she never answered. At noon, my phone rang and I assumed it was her, but, it was my father. The minute I answered the phone I knew something was wrong. He uttered, “your mother and sister had an accident and the police officer said we must arrive at the hospital right away.” I could feel my gut at that very moment, my life just fell apart. I abandoned work and met up with my father at his house and we rode together, soon after we arrived a Florida Highway Patrol called us inside a small room and asked if we could identify the driver license. Regrettably, it was my mother, I could feel the tears flowing down my cheeks forming streams, my breathing was rapid and the walls were closing. The officer then stood up and gave us his sincere apologies. He indicated that my mother was pronounced dead at arrival and that my sister was inside the trauma part inside the hospital that the doctors were working with her now. I began screaming no and felt my father wrap his arms around my shoulders. Nonetheless, he did his best staying calm and strong for us. Next, we asked if we could visit my sister, but, he said he would ask the doctor and left the room. However, moments went by, I