Descriptive Essay About My Name

The struggle to find one's identity is a universal theme that is especially prevalent in Chaim Potok's novel, My Name Is Asher Lev. As an Orthodox Jew, Asher's gift for art is looked upon very unfavorably. Despite the disapproval of his community and father and the pain his art causes those around him, he pursues his passion and must find a way to reconcile the conflict between his religious identity and his individual identity.

After his parents unwillingly gave Gogol a legal-yet-pet-name, schools, doctors, and facilities in America would all refer to him as such. In America, his pet-name was not his pet-name; rather, it was his actual name, and this began with his first school principal. After changing his name at an older age, Nikhil tried to remove all connections with his original name. He never mentioned it to those he met after changing his name. He disliked when his mother called him Gogol during social events and when Moushimi blurted his name-changing story. Names are something special to society. Like colors on a painter's palette, classes in a computer program, and definitions in a dictionary, our names are used so we as people can easily be referenced, conversed with, and legally maneuver. I don't believe names define who we are, but I do believe we have the ability to give our name a reputation. I do not have a pet name, and I've been called Kwasi my entire life. Only three people in my life call me “Kwas”, and should anyone else do it beside those three, I get rather irritated. I love my name in its entirety; there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. My parents have no concrete method of choosing names. However, my siblings and myself had the opportunity to have similar names: Kwamesha, Kwame, and

I used to really hate my name. I hated that it had to start with an "O;" I always thought it made the oddest sound in the alphabet. All the kids in elementary school would call me Olive and laugh. Even my second grade teacher would always comment "your initials make a funny sound when you put them together. It sounds like I'm meditating." I've learned to love my name over time. As I got older, people started calling me by my full name. There's still some people who think it's funny to write "Olive" instead of Olivia on birthday cards, but at the same time I'm not very close with any of them.

“What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”A quote by William Shakespeare that emphasises the unimportance of an object name to the traits of that object.I agree that a name does't necessarily define an object.Except in one case,My Name.

My mother name is Angenita she works a CNA after high school for about couple of years. Also, she worked as a cashier at South of the Board and she worked now as housekeeping at a motel. She influences me in good ways and bad ways with all her jobs. First, in a good way is because she was a CNA and I want be nurse just like her but to be a registered nurse. Then, a bad way is that she didn’t stay at that job that long but she wish she go back and stayed a nurse I want keep my nursing job and not get a new one. Finally, she influences me in all her job by helping people and I have always want to help people with any situation.

When we are born, we are automatically sorted in the family we were born into and there is nothing we can do to change that. No matter how hard we try. Rich will always be rich and poor will always be poor. A “good” name can hide anything and can make certain things go away. Say you want to go out and make a name for yourself and you want to shed your family name or prove that you can make it on your own that you don’t need your family coat tails to ride on. Nope you will never be able to escape your identity; and it is that identity that will follow you from birth to even after your death while your decomposing in your mausoleum, a decorated tombstone, an urn or a shoebox. You can never escape your identity

One thing every individual has in common is that we all have a name. Whether you are a doctor, an apprentice, a teacher or even an athlete, your name defines who you are. Think about your name for a moment. Do you believe you lived up to the one you have been given? In my opinion, I am proud of the name I have created for myself over the last eighteen years.

As we were walking, my daughter age five, pointed out to a backpack that caught her oval shaped eyes. It was the only one that is standing out as it colors were bright. Pink in color with blue dots all over and in front pocket was a princess she loves. She asked if i can buy it since school is starting. “Mom, pretty please, you will regret it you don’t”. I laughed as we walked down the aisle to grab the bag she so desired. It was as if yesterday i was purchasing my own nursing bag when i was pregnant with her. I felt nervous somehow but less panic-stricken than that time of her birth.

Some people’s names today are, frankly, astounding. For starters, men’s and women’s names are losing their masculinity and femininity respectively. “Hi. My name’s John. How’ ya doin’?” “Oh, Hello. My name’s Jozzme.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.” “Jozzme.” “That’s what I thought you said.” Names sound increasingly like people named their kid by looking at the ingredients on the side of a cereal box. “Heyyyy. This is my friend, Reyzin.” “Umm, nice to eat y — I mean — meet you.” Excuse the levity (figured this book could use a little), but seriously, I’m not exaggerating. It’s frankly sad. Fact is, not only do names have meaning, but in many circumstances, the meaning of those names also ends up corresponding to what will become the person’s personality or in some cases, destiny. A brief survey of biblical names and their meaning will demonstrate this. Adam: Man; Abraham: Father of Many; Moses: Deliverer; Saul: Asked for; David: Beloved; Samuel: God has Heard; Solomon: Peace; Jacob: Supplanter; Jesus: God Saves.

The film reminds me of The Girl Who Leapt Through Time. It's also a teenage, slice of life, romance with supernatural/sci-fi elements. In Your Name, a teenage boy and girl begin mysteriously swapping bodies at random. They end up using this power to help each other, leaving messages on each other's bodies Memento style to communicate. The girl has confidence issues but the guy finds it easy to be confident in her body. The boy can't talk to girls (well one girl) but the girl finds this easy in his body. It's an interesting idea that gets dropped 30 minutes in for a weirdly disconnected plot.

My first cats name was Justin Bieber. He was cream colored and fluffy and he had a sister named May-May. They were both pretty nice cats, I don’t remember them doing much. Then, my neighbor threatened to kill them if they kept sitting on his lawn chairs so that was the end of Justin and May-May. A majority of my childhood was pretty disappointing but not that disappointing.The household I grew up in was very secretive, for example my mom told me that my cats had just “left” rather than telling me that she gave them up to the ASPCA. I know she was trying to do what was best but, things like this always happen in the environment I grew up in.

“Caio, Caio, Caio” Everyone says as I enter through the old crumbling door into the main room. The tomato and basil smells from the kitchen make their way to my nose. “Come va?” “Sembri proprio tuo padre!” Everyone is screaming to tell me something and then my grandmother screams “Okay, that’s enough!” Silence swept the room. Everyone was gathered around like they were ready for a ceremony. With red cheeks and sweat running down his face, my grandfather introduced everyone. Every person coming up and kissing me on each cheek. The small stuffy room smelled like pasta and only had one window for enough light to shine through to see the mustiness in the room. It was an only house with crosses up in every room. All of the family is Catholic and it showed immensely through their personalities. Everyone broke up and spread throughout the creaky old house.

A life changing event for me was when I moved to Blue Ridge for the second time. All my life I have constantly moved around. I was born in St. Petersburg, Florida, where I started Pre-k. I had three siblings, Sean, Alyssa, and Derrick. Then we moved to Jasper, Georgia, so I started kindergarten in Jasper Elementary School. We stayed with some of Mom and Dad's friends until we found a place. Around this time my parents got divorced. So it was us and dad. Mom still visited often. Soon after that dad got with someone else, named Heather. Heather had two kids, Erika and Michelle. They found a place together and we stayed there. Then my mom took us to Florida for a year. Dad thought she was just gonna keep us for the weekend, but she stole us for a year. When we were in Florida Dad and Heather had a child, her name Was Rielley. She was born on my birthday, so we share a birthday. When we finally got back to living with dad we ended up staying with her at mom’s three bedroom trailer. There was fourteen people living in that tiny trailer. I spent my remainder of first grade in Hill City Elementary School. By the time the school year ended we were moving back to Jasper. I was back in J.E.S for second grade. Next, we moved to Blue Ridge. We had nowhere to stay, so we were staying at the homeless shelter. My third grade year I went to Blue Ridge Elementary School. I tried my best to not let people at school know I lived at the shelter, but the kids who rode my bus figured it out. We

Growing up, I was the third grandchild, the second to live in the Hampton area, and the only girl. My oldest cousin, Drew, was the center of my grandma's attention until I was born, of course. I was the pesky and irritating little cousin, always following him around and wanting to do exactly what he was doing. From balling during his favorite tv shows to trampling over the toy farms he built, you could count on me to accomplish it. I definitely knew at a young age that he didn't particularly like me.

When I was sixteen years old, I realized I was similar to my brother, Jason. I always thought that one of us, or maybe both of us, had been adopted. We look nothing like the rest of our family and nothing like each other. He is tall and I am short; he has dark skin and I have white skin; he has brown hair and brown eyes and I have blonde hair and blue eyes. From these differences, we are really quite similar. We both share a unique similar bond that helps trick people in thinking we are one in the same. On a typical Friday afternoon, my mom thought Jason said “hello” when he walked in the front door but in reality, it was me.