My Experiences In My Life

Some point in my young life there were many time I wanted to be older then I already am. I can remember as far back as when I was 13 years old I had many moments when I wish I was already an adult had my own car and house no one to abide to. As I grew up I noticed, I wanted tom be older faster I was tired of annoying teachers telling me they know where my life was heading, I wanted to prove them wrong faster than they could grade my test. I wanted to have my own house and car if it was possible I would drive to middle school. The older, I got I wanted to finish school and start life but I didn’t really know how to do it. All we ever talked about in school was school stuff but no one really told me you need to do this and do that to be successful in life.

I’ve grown up in Louisiana all my life; born and raised in the River Parishes where the seafood and industrialized oil was abundant. I never remembered how I came accustomed to the southern lifestyle or how I managed to learn how to fish or skin a rabbit, for it just came naturally. I assume it was because I had lived here all my life that growing up by the culture, in turn, enhanced my southern styled skills. The puzzle pieced itself together, when my friend Adriana came to visit from Minnesota. We were pen pals at the time, but coincidentally, she had close relatives in St. John the Baptist Parish. One summer evening on her visit, we had a seafood boil which consisted of crabs, shrimp, crawfish, corn, sausage, and turkey neck. Now me being the lil’ ole’ Louisiana girl, I happily peeled my seafood with ease and dug in. However, I had noticed that Adriana did not touch her seafood. Her Auntie Kim had peeled all of her seafood for her. I was curious as to why Adriana did not know how to peel seafood; It was an easy task! Nothing to watch out for but the sharp claws and doubling checking for any shellings. Peeling seafood was like the ABCs for me, so why not for Adriana? I was 10 at the time, but now with age, it has come to me that not all Northerners who have yet to visit the south, do not know how to peel these weird crustaceans or to scrupulously eat clean a turkey neck to the bone! They couldn't fathom the thought of eating something that previously lived in the wild mud

In April of 2012, I was ten years old and living in a loving, happy household in Southern Maryland. My family consisted of my mother, and my two older sisters, Rachel and Lauren. I was of course like every other typical ten year old; I loved to watch Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, hanging out with my friends, and to spend time with my family. I did not think much about boys the way my sisters usually did, but I knew that one day that I was to marry a boy because that is what seemed to be the only option growing up.

Out of all of my adventurous youthful years one event sticks out to me even to this day. Even though now it seems not particularly interesting or more important than anything else it still somehow persists within my memory. The event of which I am referring to happened around when I was 7, or maybe I was 6. My parents and I were going on a trip down to bennett springs state park, near Lebanon Missouri, to camp for a weekend.

Throughout my life, I have made many changes, taken on many challenges, and accomplished many goals. Before now, I have not spent much time or energy examining my motivations, attempting to determine how or why things turned out well, or did not. However, currently I find it necessary to do just that, as I am beginning a new chapter in my life: college. As I move through my first year of college, at the age of fifty-six, I feel I do not have the time to guess at what will lead me toward the best possible outcomes. I need to be clear on what works and what does not. I can think of two important experiences I have had in my adult life, one motivated by intrinsic values, and one by extrinsic factors. An examination of both may give me better understanding of how I can make the most of my education.

Early morning glaze slips through the drapes, reflecting off the crystal collection that's rooted on my windowsill. The specular reflection of light urges me to open my eyes, drawn to the washed out rainbows projecting onto the pristine white walls. I sit up. With feet lightly resting on the carpeted floor I begin to feel energy rolling through my veins, waking up my toes, my calves, into my stomach, up through my chest, reaching the span of my arms and deep into my mind. Taking in the first breath of day through a long winded stretch, I begin making my way towards the other side of the room. I stare blankly into what seems like the ocean, deep and belonging to more than one place. The mirror is telling me that my eyes are like bark, dark, earthy and brown. My hair curls like the spiraling spine of the native koru and my winter woolies melt into the lovable curves that are my body. Aging gracefully, some would say, but that isn’t what I would say. I would say I am a misplaced key, one that is desperately desirable yet so easily discarded.

I grew up in a small town called Buttonwillow, which had four streets and was so tiny that everybody knew each other and possibly knew about each other. I wouldn't describe it as a town full of crime but it did have many "bad" people. I didn't live on the great side of town so I heard cops almost every other night, but it was normal for me growing up and I didn't think much of it because I knew I was okay. My family only consisted of my three older sisters, my mom, and I, until later my mom met my step-father and so then came three more children. I was the middle child so I was the outcast.

My parents once told me that there are moments that can shape you, like getting your first pair of ballet shoes or lacrosse stick. But what they unwittingly neglected to mention, were the emotionally gripping experiences that can affect a person during their lifetime.

“It’s Monday night, still haven’t come up with anything yet?” my daughter asks me as she comes into my bedroom. She finds me at my desk staring at my computer in a daze yet again. She knows I have been here for quite a while again today. The shreds of loose leaf paper on the floor that the dog has had a field day with are a dead giveaway. “Drink enough coke, mama?” she says laughing under her breath as she walks out of the room. I look over to see the three diet Dr. Pepper cans lined up in a row on my desk next to a plate that still has bits of the homemade fudge cake on it. “It’s true.” I think to myself. “Here it is last minute!”

I grew up in a small community and grew accustomed to the people I knew. But I’ve also moved around and had to cope with the challenges of new introductions.

During the years I was in college I did not attend organized religion unless I was home or visiting my grandparents. I did continue to talk to God and pray however. I was exposed to people of many different cultures and religions and was fascinated by their differences. This was a part of life that I did not have many opinions of my own and I think I just went along with which ever friend I was with at the time or whatever was popular. I attended Florida State University, which even then was big, and there was no shortage of cultural events, lectures and camaraderie among the students. The experience I had at this school was an awesome eye opener and did help me to begin to begin to consider what I wanted to be as a unique individual and the direction I desired my life to proceed from here. I met my husband and after I graduated we were married.

My past few years of education were, I think, the best couple of years of my school experience of my life. Teachers and friends affected how I acted, learned and studied in school.

Stomp,stomp,stomp!That's all that the 12 year old boy David Henry heard day after day. That’s because he was shipped with his Dad to the military. Then one day on the ship that the Army likes to call the submaripper. It was called the submaripper because the ship was 40 acres in total and could sink a ship by just ramming into it. Another 12 year old boy came to David who was quietly waiting for any excitement below deck. He said his name was Tanner and like David his mom was shipped to the military.

Until I was eight-years-old, I had a relatively typical family: a mom, dad, two younger sisters, one younger brother, and two dogs. I was goal-oriented and determined even as a young girl; I had my life figured out for the next ten years. I had a strong sense of who I was, but one June day, I began the arduous process of redefining my plans and sense of self.

Volunteering is an important part of my life, so Tulane’s emphasis on community engagement is one reason we’re a good fit. I actually had the opportunity to travel to New Orleans in the summer of 2016 through the Rustic Pathways organization to help rebuild the city from Hurricane Katrina. Even though I technically spent two weeks aiding others, the experience helped me more than I ever imagined it would. Not only did I immerse myself in the vibrant culture of New Orleans, but I learned firsthand about other lifestyles by meeting new people from all around the globe. We celebrated Bastille Day with Romane from Paris, and comforted her and Thomas when the Nice attack shook their nation. As we mudded the walls of ‘our house’ in the Lower 9th Ward, I shared stories about celebrity sightings with Emma from Rochester, and learned from Aidan that the stereotype of rain in Seattle is true. I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to meet people who would become some of my closest friends while helping those that have been displaced. I was moved by the sense of connectedness that has emerged in New Orleans since the natural disaster. We worked with the Saint Bernard’s Project to bring families back home after ten years. The organization holds welcome home parties for the families once their house is finished, and our group attended the festivities for an older couple that had been living with their adult children since the disaster. Enjoying cake and conversing with the