Untitled free essay sample

Most students, actually – most people – go through an awkward phase in their lives. Whether it lasts through high school or stops after 6th grade, we all go through those years that we look back on and say in horror, what was I thinking? It was a time period where you wore the most unflattering clothing, or had an unhealthy obsession with a TV show, or had uncontrollable hair. We rarely admit these things to ourselves, because it is human nature to move forward and pretend the unpleasant things never happened. Maybe I am too young to reflect back on my life after all I’ve only lived for 16 years. Although if you really think about it, that’s quite a long time. Long enough to learn three languages, travel , try new things, lose a grandfather, make friends, lose friends, scuba dive, read books, write books, paint. Long enough to laugh about the way I looked in 8th grade, with my frizzy hair and tiny stature. We will write a custom essay sample on Untitled or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page Long enough to understand that the future isn’t some far away thing anymore, it is happening right now. This time next year I will be graduating from high school, that’s a distant concept that still has not reached me. I’m sitting here eating frosted animal cookies with sprinkles on them, and I’m starting to doubt my maturity level for college. I still laugh at dumb jokes and I’m amused by YouTube videos about cats. On the other hand, I just successfully resolved an imminent five year old brother’s temper tantrum that could have been the beginning of World War III, and that takes ingenuity. It’s hard for me to let go of the little voice in my head that stops me from revealing a lot about myself. It’s much easier to hide behind sarcastic remarks and snide comments regarding how people write about family tragedies and â€Å"finding yourself†. Why do I need to find myself? I was never lost. Regardless, I’ll let my guard down for a few paragraphs. Speaking fluent Hebrew at home and visiting my family in Israel every year since I was young has given me a different perspective on life. The ‘American way’ of living is only one way of seeing things. Growing up in two societies has given me the ability to see things from different angles, and to make up my own opinion on things, not just assume that this is how things â€Å"should be†. I know enough about myself that I can hate and love myself at the same time. I love my friends and helping them out, I love that they come to me for help for all sorts of things. I have a sheep dog that has dreadlocks and my room has green walls. I like photography, ceramics, and animals. I adore reading and watching movies. I can be a complete â€Å"teenage girl† sometimes and other times I am watching all the Lord of the Rings movies in a row and reading sci-fi novels. I am your average college applicant and a distinctive person at the same time. I’m not scared to leave home, I am probably the most excited I’ve ever been in my life. I won’t ever be ready though, but no one is ever ready, and that’s the point. That is why we pack up our things and say goodbye to our parents for new experiences, people and places. So in a way, I am ready for college right now, I am ready to be unprepared, knocked off my feet and blown away; to be scared and nervous and excited. I do not know what I am going to study, or what direction I want to go in. But I know the things I like, the things I hate, and the things I can achieve. Untitled free essay sample Twenty-three girls. Four cabins. Two weeks. One village. Going to a sleep-away camp for eight years of my life has been a wonderfully fun experience for me, and over the past two years, it has also been very eye-opening. You would think that attending a large, public high school would mean that I have friends from all different walks of life, but that’s not really true. I make friends with people who take the same classes as I do, and who come from families similar to my own and whose ambitions are close to mine. The only diversity I have experienced in my friends from school is racial and religious diversity, and although race and religion are what come to mind when most people think about diversity, those differences are less noticeable to me than the difference between a person who is planning on going to college and a person who is not. We will write a custom essay sample on untitled or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page Making friends at camp is a different story. Spending twenty-four hours a day with girls I don’t know allowed me to make friends without thinking about their probable GPAs, ACT scores, or class schedules. Going to camp has resulted in my best friends being unlike me most ways, which has unexpectedly made our friendships stronger. One of my closest friends is a girl who is in the cosmetology program at her high school. My high school also has a cosmetology program, but I couldn’t tell you one person who is in it. Saying someone takes cosmetology is the equivalent of saying someone is dumb, or not willing to work hard. But the girl I know from camp is in that program, and she’s one of the funniest people I know. She also has a job, which makes her a harder worker than most of my friends (and myself). Another two of my good friends are brothers from Stockbridge, Michigan, a place that we people from Ann Arbor would only think of as home to hunting, drinking, and co nservatism, if we bothered to think of it at all (although that description isn’t altogether incorrect). I remember an incident from the summer of 2011 when the younger brother, who is two years younger than myself, said he felt uncomfortable around gays because he always wondered whether they were thinking about having sex with him. This comment upset me so much that I had to remove myself from the conversation before things got heated. It really hurt because I liked this kid so much, and I had never really been friends with someone who did not share my liberal views. I didn’t know how to handle it. I got past it, though, and we are still friends. I allowed shared political views to not be an important part of our friendship, and let the base of our relationship be our mutual fondness for making fun of each other. I do a lot of things- National Honor Society, Executive Board, field hockey, and more. But camp is much more than just doing something. I put my whole heart into the experience. Although the friends I make at camp are so different from me, I like them even more than the friends I have that are similar. My friends who are like me do not teach me anything. They are smart, yes; funny, yes; kind, yes. But they do not force me to expand my horizons or change my prejudices. That is why I value my camp friends so much. They give me something that most people don’t: food for thought. untitled free essay sample It was the hottest day we’d had yet, temperatures surely breaking 95, and humid, and the whole group was lounging in the shade, wilted from the morning of tennis and plodding through the daily hour of reading. Sitting â€Å"criss-cross applesauce† next to me, six-year-old Mylea was moving her lips in time with mine. I felt my breath catch in my throat. I wanted to stop everything and watch her delicate finger tracing the lines of the page, listen to her raspy little voice pronouncing the words of Nellie Lou’s Hairdo until Nellie Lou’s mother would return to the beauty parlor. I glanced up, eager to share the moment, and caught the eye of one of my volunteers. Looking down at Mylea again, I noticed Sadie, Eric and Victoria, each hunched over a picture book for the first time. In dreaming up RALLY: Racquet and Literacy League for Youth, I had hoped to share two of my passions, tennis and reading, with inner-city children. We will write a custom essay sample on untitled or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page Throughout the year, I had advertised for participants at local elementary schools and recruited volunteers at local high schools. With the help of the United States Tennis Association, I had met with lawyers to file for non-profit status, applied for several grants and raised money for RALLY. I was even able to secure a site for the program with the support of the Hartford Parks and Recreation Department. But on the first day of camp, despite my careful planning, things did not go the way I had hoped they would. Hector and Adrian had tumbled over the net with their racquets brandished like swords, and Hector had staggered to his feet moments later, covering a bloody nose with one hand. Georgie and Eduardo had hurled balls at each other and Melanie had sat down, sobbing for her mom. During reading time, I had raced from sullen child to demanding child, unable to convince even one to open a book. They would rather be watching Nickelodeon at home, Eli told me, than â€Å"learning stupid tennis and reading boring books.† I dragged myself home that first afternoon, tears stinging my eyes, certain that I had failed. But as the initial devastation wore off, I slowly came to the realization that I had better get to work. That evening, I called my volunteers together for a meeting, and with their help, re-designed the entire curriculum. We created a buddy system, where each volunteer paired with a camper to help him or her during reading time. To emphasize praise and progress, we established weekly prize ceremonies, doling out awards for most improved reading, tennis and behavior. Mylea snapped the book shut and asked me, â€Å"Can I take this home? I want to read it to my mom tonight.† Peering up at her eager face, I couldn’t help myself. I jumped to my feet and wrapped her in a hug, lifting her right off the ground. â€Å"It’s all yours,† I said. As I watched Mylea scamper off to the playground and turned to begin my daily loop for cleanup, I felt a ridiculous smile spreading across my face. Somehow, in the midst of the chaos and the schedule changes and the meetings, these children, who had sulked during reading time, untouched books in their laps, had begun to find joy in reading a story. I’ve heard the expression, â€Å"a mind is a terrible thing to waste,† but I witnessed its truth firsthand at RALLY. Disadvantaged children like Mylea do not necessarily lack the desire to learn; often they simply lack the resources to nurture that desire. Solving this issue is an enormous task, but, as I saw at RALLY, there is a lot of transformative power in a little bit of energy and support. I realize that RALLY’s progress didn’t follow the straight road I had anticipated. However, I discovered that with creativity, flexibility and hard work, I can overcome the twists and turns in the road to reach my destination, and help others reach theirs, too. I can’t wait to continue the journey. Untitled free essay sample I grasp the plastic of the fretboard of my ukulele and begin to strum a familiar and comforting melody. I let my mind relax and I get lost in the notes, patterns and rhythm. With my eyes trained to my fingers plucking on the strings, I play the chords from memory. C, A minor, G, F, over and over. The simple song is easy but soothing after a long day at school. I begin to let my mind wander. My obsession with the instrument began with a YouTube video and a Christmas gift. After ten minutes of frustration with my failed attempts at a C chord, I set down the ukulele in the corner of my bedroom, and forgot about it. Six months later, I decided to try again. I spent hours that day learning to play a few basic chords and eventually learning the song Riptide, by Vance Joy. The rest of that week, all I did was play Riptide on an endless loop until I had mastered the song. We will write a custom essay sample on Untitled or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page By the end of the week, I knew I had to find something else to play, so I decided to try Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles. The first time I played through it was a disaster. After spending a few hours failing to learn the song, I again got frustrated and put my ukulele back down in the corner of my room. A few weeks later I realized that I needed to try something in my skill range, not an advanced song. I settled on Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen. By the end of the next day, I had that song down as well. Throughout the summer I jumped from song to song, learning to play anything I could get my hands on. I learned songs of varying styles and difficulty. When school started again, I set my ukulele down for the third time, in favor of my quizzes and essays. But soon enough, as the beginning of the year craziness began to die down, I picked up my ukulele again, and haven’t put it down since. Which leads me to now, playing the first song I learned on the ukulele. The rhythm of the song comes so naturally, that I don’t have to think about it. I just let my fingers guide me through the harmonies, blindly moving over the strings on the fretboard. I’ve set aside time everyday for over a year to practice and learn a new song, and my knowledge of the instrument has grown exponentially. Playing the ukulele has become a safe haven in my life, something I can always count on. I can remember nights where I would be sitting at my desk on the verge of tears over an especially hard algebra equation. As soon as I started to feel my shoulders tense, I would take a break. I found myself practicing a new song I had learned the day before, slowly working out the complicated riffs and picking. I spent close to half an hour plucking through the song until I felt calm enough to go back to my homework, and easily breezed through the rest of it. The last time I had used the ukulele as an escape was when my best friend and I had a fight. That day I played my ukulele for so long that I had a blister on thumb from strumming and my hand was cramping. Throughout my playing though, I thought about the argument between my friend and I, and I was able to understand the issue better, and after a week, the song and the argument had smoothed themselves out. The ukulele is a constant in my life, and something I’m proud to say I’ve done by myself. I don’t know what the next year will bring, but I know I can count on the fact that I’ll still be strumming away on my ukulele. Untitled free essay sample And the race is off. One after another, they take their turn with the egg on the spoon, down to the cone and back, careful not to drop the egg. We have a comfortable lead with three kids left to go. We can win this. It is up to me to encourage my last three to victory. â€Å"Come on guys, take your time, we got this!† The final one crosses the finish line and the team jumps to their feet in excitement. â€Å"WE WON!† There is not a face shy of a satisfied smile. The kids in underprivileged Mound Bayou, Mississippi showed me there is nothing greater than seeing a child succeed. I want to help children to accomplish every task set before them. With my education, I will be more equipped to teach, motivate, lead, and inspire children to fulfill the plan God has set for them. Untitled free essay sample I was raised on the notion that arriving on time is arriving late; so, when Representative Smola asked me to be at the State House at ten, naturally I took the 7:30 train. I saunter up the subway steps, my crimson skirt vivid amongst the commuters adorned in shades of blue and gray. I fidget with the pearls on my necklace, ensuring that the clasp is perfectly hidden at the nape of my neck. Am I overdressed? Interrupting my worries, fresh morning air relieves the sweltering musk of the underground as I emerge from the station. Ive arrived an hour early. My destination- the Massachusetts State House- waits for me just across the street from the Boston Common, a square mile of grass and statues designed to give city dwellers a reprieve from urban life. In the center of the Common lies the epitome of those efforts: Frog Pond. I found myself wandering to the Pond, seeking serenity before the first day of my internship, and then every day after that. We will write a custom essay sample on Untitled or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page Sometimes I read, more often I wrote, but most of the time I simply sat and thought. Although there are a dozen or so benches around the pond, I always chose the same one. It wasnt like that green, chipped-paint, wooden bench was more comfortable than the others or anything; actually, the reason was more a mental preference than a physical one. My bench sits at the far end of the pond, where the morning sun strains to illuminate just half of the seat. (I always sat on the sunny side.) Behind it lies a carousel. Ive seen it on the weekends, lines of children anxiously awaiting their turn to spin around and around and blissfully ignore the consequent dizziness. But on weekdays, its empty, and extraordinarily bleak. So I would sit, habitually, with my back facing it. I much preferred the view that this bench offered me; across the pond and up the hill, I could see the gilded dome of the State House glistening above the trees. And the pond, well its not so much a pond as a three-inch-deep hole in the ground. But between 9 and 10 on weekday mornings, the pond is remarkably peaceful. Its that golden hour unique to New England summers, when gentle light breathes life into the air. Its quiet, but city quiet, a daytime lullaby of birds chirping, distant horns honking, and incessant conversations humming around me. The cement floor of the pond stares back at me rather than my reflection, and the water is more brownish than blue most of the time. But someone wanted to put a pond where a pond wasnt, and they did. I like that. I sit on my bench, resting against its sturdy, familiar back. Given an hour of uninterrupted time, my mind wanders to strange and sometimes metaphorical places. Behind me is the empty carousel that Im now too old to ride. In front of me, up the hill, is the State House, where Im likely the youngest in the building. And here I am, on my chipped, wooden bench, in front of the artificial pond, literally halfway between my past and my future. Here I am, savoring that final hour before my next adventure. When I look at my watch, its 9:50. So I stand, facing the bench, brushing out my crimson skirt, taking one last breath of the balmy air and one last look at the carousel. And in this moment, its emptiness doesnt look so sad. The sun has reached the golden peak at the top of the carousels tent, and its rays make the pale horses sparkle. The scene is beautifully empty, a memory now embedded in my mind. I turn away from Frog Pond, and step onto the winding, stone sidewalk, starting my journey up the hill. Untitled free essay sample Imagine, an abrupt change; being robbed of everything you knew. A life of confusion, curiosity, and the unknown, something so different from the life you had just yesterday. These are the feelings that consumed me when I was told, â€Å"Mariah, your father is going away for a while.† Okay, so he’ll be back in a few days is what the naive child in me thought. But, those thoughts were to be shattered, when we made the distant trip, to a prison. At the time, I had no understanding of what he did or why we were there, I was just angry and wanted to know why the â€Å"good guys†, were taking away my dad. That day, the life I had known, took an abrupt halt. Anger, fear, and hopelessness, for my future, my life, and my family. A feeling as though there was nothing I could do but give up. We will write a custom essay sample on Untitled or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page But, I felt that I couldn’t be angry and fearful because, I had to be strong for my family. I felt as though, my sister, brother, and mother, were holding a heavier burden than I was. My sister, older than I, was more torn apart, my brother, had the only male in his life taken from him, and my mother, her partner and her husband was gone. I had never considered what it had done to me, I just learned to internalize me fears and my emotions, to help someone in greater need. Taking the trials and tribulations of life, and overcoming its obstacles, was what my family needed to accomplish. It would be over the next few years, that our family would learn to do just that. Not to say, that is wasn’t difficult or came without fault because, it certainly did. After our father went to prison, our entire life was re-rooted. We had a new home, new school and new friends. For anyone, this is a difficult change, but we had the extra weight of the burden we carried. Our new life, consisted of one parent, one income, and one entirely different lifestyle. We not only had to adapt to this, but we had to learn to look beyond economic instability and what other people might think. Everyday, I went to school trying to make new friends, but also fearful of what someone might think of me when they found out about my father. But, why would I be ashamed of the person I love so much? It was a difficult question to maneuver and it took me many years to answer. I realized as I grew older, that everyone had something they were ashamed of, but in actuality, it makes each person someone stronger and more interesting. It was one day in eighth grade, that I decided to share the life I had lived for five years. When I shared with the class, the matters of my fat her in prison and the new life I had to live, they were sympathetic, and understanding. For me, it was more than just that, I felt as though they accepted me even for what my father had done, and it took the burden of hiding it from everyone away from me. Now, with the burden of hiding my father’s faults uplifted, I was able to overcome my reserved and shy personality. With the support of my friends and family, I was able to overcome the coming of the â€Å"unbearable† tribulations of my father getting out of prison. It was at this point, that I would have suspected my guilt and difficulties to have ended. But, it was at this point that my life seemed to become even more difficult. After my father got out of prison, he had to come to the realization that my mom had moved on and had a new person in her life. This angered him and caused a culmination of threats, abuse, and court hearings. It became so violent, that my father had several order of protections against him and my mother feared for her life. At this moment, I no longer saw my father as the loving and kind person he had been, but rather as a â€Å"monster†, someone I was afraid to see or be around. He took the enjoyment of being in my life again, away an d he was sent to prison several more times, and no longer was a part of my life. Throughout the entire ordeal, I never asked for sympathy or saw it as an obstruction to my path of life. I look back at it as a learning experience. It has taught me to look for the good in everything and everyone, to never give up, and to always be determined and optimistic about the future. I was taught to take life as it comes to you, overcome its obstacles, and to always persevere and look beyond the bad, the difficult, and at times the unbearable. It has made me who I am; a strong willed, open minded, non- judgmental, confident, responsible, self achieving person, that never allows anything to get in the way of their aspirations. I have learned to savor the good in life, learn from the bad, and aspire to be someone that will make yourself proud.