Living away from your country can be a really interesting and unforgettable experience‚ but at the same time it has very important influence on one’s life. The purpose of this essay is to discuss what is to live in another country and being called an immigrant. The main idea of being an immigrant‚ and also a very common one‚ is that once you start a regular life away from home‚ you miss everything. This fact doesn’t mean that you are unhappy but that you are aware of being on your own. Missing your
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My first memory involving religion of any kind is when my grandmother was my temporary Sunday school teacher. This memory had absolutely nothing to do with reading the bible or praying or doing anything of that sort. I have no idea why I remember it either. The memory is of about four other kids and me sitting around the Sunday school table while my grandma sang a song about our ancestry and how it didn’t start with monkeys. The song went like this “I’m no kin to the monkey‚ the monkey’s no kin to
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begin my underwater pullout. As the race continues I push myself harder and harder as I begin to fatigue until I finish. Looking up at the clock I think to myself‚ I need to go faster‚ I can go faster‚ I will go faster. I hop out of the water and take my spot in line behind my teammates‚ preparing for the second of six 100 yard breaststroke sprints from the blocks. From each team‚ BGSC to PAA to LOSC I have forged friendships and emotional bonds with my teammates found almost nowhere else in my life;
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up in a rural community‚ there was little diversity where i was from. From racist slurs to actually yelling at a minority‚ i could tell there was a problem at the age of 6. When my mom and I moved after my parents divorce‚ we lived in a primarily black community. Over the next six years of my life‚ I did not only expand my knowledge‚ but I learned how to accept and embrace others whom were different than myself. When I was
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To begin with‚ when I was a little girl I lived in South Central Los Angeles‚ California with my two parents whom the names are Arturo Ferreiro and Cynthia Contreras. We all lived in one small pink house with my grandmother named Yolanda Contreras. My parents worked so hard to move from the ghetto. My mother once said to my grandmother “ I don’t want my daughter to distinguish the negativity.” There were so many crimes around our area and honestly‚ it was dense to walk around the neighborhood without
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glacier treks and overnighters at least. As a hobby or extracurricular activity‚ it’s probably my biggest passion. So much that I found that writing of them is like having the opportunity to do each one over again. Once upon a time I set forth a book project‚ a story telling‚ you might say‚ of all my treks including the ascent of five mountains. However‚ I lacked the confidence of presenting a way to share my stories of me being the key subject. Eventually the project lost steam and fell to the wayside
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do know the profound impact sports have had on my adult life. I was struggling to reconnect with who I was when I was younger. Many ways were suggested on how I should go about this‚ but my favorite suggestion came from my family. They showed me many pictures and videos of me playing sports‚ horsing around with team mates‚ and holding trophies or awards. In every shred of those digital memories‚ there was an unmistakable happiness in my eyes‚ and in my smile. This immediately drew me in. From that
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Once upon a time I lived a semi normal life. The last day I lived that life was Thanksgiving of 2002. The people that made up my semi normal life was Papa‚ Nannie‚ Mom‚ Aunt Jodi‚ and me. As you may of concluded it was Thanksgiving‚ but this one wasn’t like the rest. We were going to Chicago to my Aunt Jackie and Uncle John’s house to have Thanksgiving dinner. The thing is we would of had dinner at Nannie and Papa’s‚ but a little less than a year before Papa was diagnosed with lung cancer. Lung
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Running Head: MY LIFE My life revealed Octavia Jones Psychology 202 Wendy Conaway 08/10/2012 Outline I. Where am I from? a. Born in Lynchburg‚ VA b. Raised in Staunton‚ VA II. What things do you remember about your child hood? a. Always baby sitting while my mom was at work b. Learning how to cook c. Never having a childhood d. Moving a lot e. Never having friends over f. Growing
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from my mother’s grasp‚ I charged. With arms flailing and chubby legs fluttering beneath me‚ I was the ferocious two year old rampaging through Costco on a Saturday morning. My mother’s eyes widened in horror as I jettisoned my churro; the cinnamonsugar rocket gracefully sliced its way through the air while I continued my spree. I sprinted through the aisles‚ looking up in awe at the massive bulk products that towered over me. Overcome with wonder‚ I wanted to touch and taste‚ to stick my head
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