Creative Writing: My Own Idea of God

I leaned my head against the car window watching the leaves blowing around, just trying to distract myself from a slight feeling of emptiness inside of me. This feeling seemed all too familiar to me. My family and I had all of our possessions packed into boxes yet again. We were moving to a new state. At this point, up rooting our lives and starting over almost seemed more like a hobby than anything more significant. However, I have just now come to realize that what seemed like constant inconveniences in the past, have actually taught me how to be the best me with influences all around the country. Living in three different states and five homes may have been a challenge, but it provided me with memories that I wouldn’t trade for anything because those moments created the person I am today.

It had finally arrived. Moving day. I was finally leaving my home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania after five short years and a sort of gloom lingered in the air. Although many teenagers would be excited to reunite with their family, friends, and childhood home, I, however, was frightened of the future. I woke up that morning and just laid there and listened to the sound of the rain pittering against the roof and windows, pattering against the surrounding forest in which I shared many memories. After what felt like centuries of just listening and reflecting, I got up and looked out the window. I looked at my neighbor's house across the field of grass which separated our houses and at the kids who had become like my siblings. I looked at the ice

Homelessness is portrayed as circumstances of people or family units without steady, uninterrupted, proper lodging, or the quick prospect, means and capacity of getting it. It is the aftereffect of universal or public obstructions, an absence of reasonable and suitable lodging, the individual/family unit 's money related, mental, cognitive, behavioral or physical difficulties, and/or bigotry and segregation. A majority of individuals don 't decide to be dispossessed, and the occurrence is usually negative, unsavory, upsetting and troubling

Every homeless person has their own story for why they don’t have a home or income whether it is they immigrated to a new country, a disability, or they lost their job. Whatever the situation is, they all have their unique story. We shouldn’t be quick to judge or assume it was their decision. Sometimes we aren’t able to control a situation and for some people they are forced to

As a child, our home was a place anyone was welcomed in, thus as the saying goes, “Mi casa es su casa.” While my parents were married, we lived in a one story blue colored house with 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, 3 living rooms, 1 dining room, an attic, garage, porch, pool and backyard. Upon entry into the house from the front door you stared into a long hallway. Immediately to the left was 1 of 3 living rooms, where we occasionally ate Dominos thin crust pizza in the late hours of the day and watched TV and movies as a family. We had a 7-piece oak entertainment center with a built in aquarium, where we kept Ceaser our

Homelessness occurs for a variety of reasons. In most cases, it is a result of a tragic event. For instance, its a

The pencil liberates my stresses and sorrows. Bare and unimpeded, my mind is able to isolate itself from anything that was happening in my life. At my art table, which is merely an escape from reality, my curiosity is able to wander. Within this room, five blank canvas's look in on me as I become a mold of my imagination. A step inside my world develops into a sea of color and exploration. The vibrancy of the walls resonates throughout. Over the years, my room has served as my oasis. It’s my escape from monotonous and mundane routines. It’s my exploration of another side of me. I observe such works of art almost as much as I create. Taking notice of my classmates’ innovations and inspired by their creativity, my paintbrush begins to alleviate stress. I strive to produce pieces others will appreciate, but often find myself to be the true admirer. My pride, in this world, is driven simply by my own curiosity to express myself. I credit this side of me as the “passion” that supplements my insane drive for success. This passion has sparked critical thinking in me as well as how I see failure. Life is a blank canvas and you can truly draw whatever you want, and if you fail, you start over and don’t make that same mistake again! Hard work takes ideas quite far, but true success is derived from ingenuity and the generation of

Being in the home was like a separate world, one between life and death. When I reached the outside world again everything seemed so fresh. There were bright yellow-green leaves that hung with an arrogant vivacity, cars that sped by with such fervor, wind blowing with verve and energy, lively children playing with a vivacious lust for life, and the vitality that exudes from the air into your lungs. I wanted to bring this energy into

There are two, very distinct realities between someone who is homeless without anyone by their side and someone who lives in a secure home with a job and a family; The secure family could not even begin to image what life would be like without each other and their house, while the person who has been without a home for a long period of time may not even remember what it was like to be secure. In each situation, there lies two different realities that may not be fathomed until they are being

I lived in my own little bubble. It was perfect and clear. I did have some abnormal things go on inside. Fires, a strange step-dad, even some near-death experiences, but it seemed that nothing could pop that bubble. I had a great family, friends, and home. If only you could have seen my bubble, it was indestructible, until it wasn’t. Maybe it was the timing or how she said it, but I never took the words “we’re moving” seriously. Actually, it wasn’t until the day that I was to leave that it started to sink in. The sun glared across the brick wall in the

The unfamiliar way of life was so exhilarating. The museums and galleries, the burgeoning art mecca in Brooklyn, everything was just a subway ride away. I was eager to begin anew with my husband who was helping me recover my health. I embraced life without the burden of my family’s traditional values. This journey brought me great friendships, experiences working at a major art gallery in Chelsea and managing an artist’s studio. I eventually opened my own gallery in upstate New York where I collaborated with artists and curators to bring exhibitions featuring local artists and contemporary art focused on current issues. I also managed a public art festival for a local arts organization to cultivate and facilitate community engagement. Along the way, I discovered who I am and continued to develop my own

There many reasons a person could’ve became homeless, but many of the people who do become a homeless come from the same reason. Many become a homeless from running away, job loss, or criminal background

Before, this house, I participated in helping others; because I simply enjoyed it. It felt good to help, but working at Virginia’s house, taught me that I cannot do this for my own pleasure, but because it is the right thing to do. If I do not, they will continue to live in a home that is not safe, warm, nor dry. The effect of experiencing this created a profound impact, in such a way that it changed who I am, and how I live my life. I will never forget Virginia Banks, nor the horrid conditions of her home. Why did she and her home cause such a profound impact upon what I thought I knew about myself. The dangerous condition of the home was not the only factor that lead me to learn something new about myself. Virginia lacked the ability to financially, physically, and mentally better her own life. She did not even truly understand that her home could catch on fire and kill her in the middle of the night. I realized that if I did not help her, she would continue to live in a dangerous

The poem explores how the home is fundamental to one’s identity and that a person’s notion of home is intact within one’s thoughts even if the scenery or destination changes. The use of the metaphorical language in the line ‘my home which can only stay inside my blood’ highlights that home never leaves one’s identity and is a spiritual entity or quality which is transportable and shelter’s safely in one’s mind. This insightful and intriguing perspective positions the audience to rethink their views on the concept of home and what it entails. This notion is further reinforced in the following example. The use of the evocative imagery in the line ‘ My home which does not fit with any geography’ clearly illuminates that home is inextricably linked to one’s identity as the two are inseparable.

The result of being homeless can result in loss of your possessions, privacy along with your security just to name a few. You have to reestablish your entire life and adjust to the vulnerability of trauma such as physical and sexual assault,