raised in dublin‚ georgia. my parents are donald and marquita timmons and they are fourty-two years old. i have two siblings named jaydon timmons and marandon timmons they are fourteen and seven years old. i am a basketball player here at brewton-parker college. this year i was ineligible due to my high school grades‚ but i am looking forward to making a major impact next season. basketball has always been my passion and i started playing ever since i could walk‚ my father wanted me to be a basketball
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thirteen years old‚ my mind was on frogs—dead frogs‚ to be specific. The only criteria that a frog had to meet in order to even slightly seize my interest was that it had to be dead. Several summer days were filled with me scouring the inside my pool’s filter‚ desperately searching for unfortunate souls that had met a watery end. Any specimens found would be placed under the knife of my beginner’s-level dissection kit. I took this fascination as a sign that a career in pathology was in my future. However
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My Life Was Ruined “No!!” I look out window from my balcony and I see my bunny they’re lying on the floor full of ants and spiders. I fall to the ground crying so hard. While I’m crying I remember all the memories we had together that bunny was my everything. I loved it so much I even named it after the squirrel from spongebob because that was my favorite cartoon. My aunts and grandpas where in our house having dinner as soon as they heard my scream they came running towards me I was about to run
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pull you down under the ground. My parents are very close to me. They have enough knowledge and awareness from people around us. My father advised me every school year that I needed to keep enough distance from others. My father said to me‚ “Abdulelah‚ never go out with bad friends. They can affect you in a small matter of time. I know you’re smart. You will know the right thing from the wrong thing.” I knew that my father trusted me because what he had taught me. My mother told me‚ ”Abdul‚ focus on
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As I sit at my computer reading a predetermined list of phrases and words that include things such as “Northwest is best” to simply‚ “squirrels‚” I think about how each word or phrase has meant something to me at one point or another‚ throughout my life. After much thought‚ there are three finalists that resonate with me the most; “grit‚” “vocation‚” and “persistence.” These three words could easily sum up my life in the shortest way possible. The word “grit” brings to mind the idea of a person
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didn’t have any classes with any of my friends. I figured if I had at least one or two classes with my friends it would be another awesome year like ninth grade was when I had almost all of my classes with at least one of my friends. Like before I talked about how I was bummed for the first few months of school because I didn’t have any classes with my friends. I realized that I was perfectly fine the way it was in tenth grade because I was still able hang out with my friends during the sophomore lunch
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thinking about how it affected my life. “Sure it bothered me‚ but I didn’t need him‚” is a quick summary I tell my friends. My father left Illinois not too long after I was born. My mother was still here‚ falling a tad bit short of the “responsible” example. Overall‚ I’ve done superb without him. However‚ thinking about all the times I wish he’d been here‚ I realize it made a big impact on my outlook and opinions. March of 2014 changed my life. I had spoken to my father once‚ a few weeks before
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fathers. For me this statement rings true as my parents passed their guilt and shame about their ancestry on to me. I grew up in Los Angeles‚ the daughter of a biracial father and a German mother‚ and attended a coed private school from pre-K to 6th grade. During the summers my brothers and I went to Germany. Although I felt strong ties to my German heritage my mom never spoke about what it was like to grow up under fascism in Nazi Germany. Similarly‚ my father did not speak about his family and
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This town I found myself in right now was unique. For some reason‚ it felt different from all the rest. Sure‚ it was breathtaking‚ but that was not what was bringing on this feeling. I tried to observe my surroundings carefully for this loose thread. The red cobblestone was lowly lit in the warm glow of the Christmas lights that hung everywhere. Explosions of red and green and blue and yellow filtered everything in sight like 3D glasses. Tinsel and garland wound around the support columns of
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didn’t know heartbreak until June 28‚ when my dad told me that he had stage 4 cancer. I didn’t know fear until August 13‚ when I found out that he would have to undergo radiation to combat a tumor in his brain. I didn’t know weariness until August 24‚ when everyone at school talked about how great their summer had been‚ and I had to lie and say that mine had been fine. I didn’t know how deep my love for my dad ran until June 29‚ when I wiped away my tears‚ stood a little straighter‚ and vowed
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