space out to grasp onto thoughts of realization. Days passed by as if they were battling with the wind. I cannot embrace every memory‚ because some just happen too rapid that remembering them is ineffectual. Curiosity starts building within me due to my wonders on memories everyone knows I went through except myself. When I was twelve I opened a family album for the first time. As I flipped each page I did it in such slow motion that it was as if by flipping the pages too fast it would trigger the
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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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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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Well‚ in my case‚ band has been the one thing I would look forward doing since I first witnessed my sister pick up her own flute and play her first tune. Band‚ in middle school‚ was a hobby that I truly treasured because it wasn’t your typical core class. This class‚ notably‚ enhanced the need to utilize my analytical skills‚ engage my mind‚ and run free with my covert musical self. After graduating middle school‚ starting marching band over the summer before my freshman year was my cloud of bewilderment
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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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I’ve been using technology ever since I was in elementary. And as I grew older it became a bigger and bigger part of my life. When I reached middle school‚ technology was part of my daily life‚ using it for homework‚ entertainment‚ and research. During this time‚ I’ve become and avid gamer‚ I own all consoles and a game collection big enough to bankrupt a small country. Though‚ this became a problem. Because I like games so much‚ I always wanted to get new ones. And games these days are
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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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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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I grew up in Freedom‚ North Dakota as Marissa Frank. It was a dull November day‚ when my life would change forever. I was in the middle of a test in science class when a large man came into the classroom. He whispered something to the teacher and then asked me to go into he hallway with him. He told me that I would need to bring all my stuff with me down to the police station and that they had a few questions to ask me. I sat in an office for about twenty minutes waiting for someone to come in
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pull hard at each other‚ battling one another for the complete claim of me. However‚ I remain stuck in between the two‚ not knowing which culture has conquered me. September 6th‚ 2006 was the day my brother‚ and I left our mother and home in Ghana to come to America. After a long 12 hour flight‚ I met my father for the first time. It was an unforgettable moment. He was taller than I imagined and had a brilliant smile. His eyes sparkled with delight as he helped us carry our bags. He asked us a plethora
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