My Formative Years

There’s four main seasons that occur throughout the year. I’ve always loved the saying “like the seasons we change.” When I hear this saying I like to think of a tree; how it can go from being a little sprout, to small tree with only branches, to being so full of life with colors and leaves everywhere. This tree withstands the scorching hot summers, the brutal cold winters and all of what is in between. This tree stands strong and continues to grow and mature through it all. I would compare myself to this tree as I have grown, and matured as well. Throughout my four years of high school I’ve changed just like the seasons.

Growing up, I was always considered the “ Angel child” in my family. My parents thought of me as a kid who could do no wrong, and always did the right thing. For most of my childhood and early teenage years, that was correct. It was not until I met my new group of friends when starting Middle school and entering High school that this all changed. I was introduced into the typical group of trouble makers; at least that’s what my parents would come to think. At first, it just seemed like a normal group of friends. We would hang out, play video games and sports together; all the typical activities that teenagers would do together. Things stayed like that up until 9th grade, when more people were added to the group. Their ideas of fun often

“Lloyd over here!” The higher pitched voice of Katie yells from a table she is sitting at with several others. Sadly for Katie, she is almost a year older than me and is one of those unlucky few that had to start school a year late because of their unfortunate birthday a week into the school year. And you can tell that fact when you first look at her she is all around more developed than others in our year, and she always got picked on when we were younger about how she was taller and hit puberty earlier than all the other girls. That’s actually how we met, a couple of jackasses decided to throw rocks at her in the playground, and I beat them up for it. I recognize Bara; an almost black but still blue haired, blue eyed, petite girl that’s dating

If I had the opportunity to go back in time, I would redo every year of High School. Three of the biggest problems that I faced were: not studying on time, not doing the homework on time, and always cheating off of my best friend 's paper. I would always be afraid to ask the teacher questions because I didn’t want to seem dumb, so instead I would cheat or go on Google and copy down the answers word for word. What I failed to realize was that I was capable of thinking my own thoughts and that everyone has their own unique way of thinking.

Back in my freshmen year of high school, I cringed at the thought of writing essays. I could not convey my thoughts through my writing efficiently. After sophomore year, I became a bit more confident about my writing. It was not until junior year, however, that my writing drastically improved. IB English 11 enhanced quite a few of my weaknesses and molded me into an analytical thinker. Nevertheless, the process of becoming a capable writer was rigorous.

As a young adult just getting out of high school many people feel like they ultimately have two choices: they can enter the job market with minimal skills and hope that they can progress without secondary education; alternatively, they can follow a very typical path that most people see as a way to the American dream--they can go to college, get a degree, and pray the job market has a place for them. Nearing the end of high school, I was torn between joining the Army and going to college. What eventually ended this debate for me was my extremely supportive parents who gave me an ultimatum: they told me they would pay for my first year of college and if I still wanted to join the military after that, I could.

People undergo numerous changes throughout their lives. From the time we are born, we are learning how to behave in and process the world around us. The influences from my environment, peers and family have shaped who I am and continue to do so.

Going into my first year of college, I knew that I would experience many new things, learn from these experiences, both good and bad, and ultimately grow as a person. The degree to which this has already occurred, however, is stupefying. I surely did not expect to grow and mature as much as I have in the past few months. Even though it is only the first semester of my college career, I feel as if I have lived here for years, time flowing at a dichotomously rapid yet mild pace. Fortunately thus far, my experiences at Allegheny have been almost exclusively positive ones, but nevertheless, I have absorbed all of the information that surrounds me in order to develop as an individual.

I was 12 years old in Iran, during the summer before I would enter my 7th year of grade school. The Iranian government is run by a theocracy. Thus, because they are so religion based, girls passed the age of 9 were compelled to wear the hijab and cover up every other part of their skin exposed to the air. However, this day in Iran was like none other. The one-hundred percent humidity screamed through the atmosphere. The one-hundred and four degree sun blazed down, even making statues melt into a puddle. My rebellious 12 year old self felt the need to walk out of my aunt’s house in a bright blue tank top with jean shorts. I pranced down the streets enjoying the beautiful green parks and crowded bazars. “Hey! Get her! Go! She is going against everything our government stands for! A disgrace! A disgrace!” I heard this husky, aggravated, 50 year old voice call from a distance in the native tongue of the Iranians. Unaware that this cry was directed toward me, I kept cavorting down the street. Moments later I felt a hand brush against my shoulder. As I turned my head to see who it was, the world froze around me and silence consumed the atmosphere. My heart vigorously pounded against my rib cage. “I am calling the police” the man exclaimed in an unfavorable tone. He continued to speak, calling me vulgar names and more. At this very moment I needed a plan, desperately. My mind nearly exploded with ideas of what I was to do.

As the sun begins to set and a tiring darkness fills the house, I realize it is that time of day for me to call my parents. I am in a unique situation where I live with my oldest brother in Washington while my parents live in Arizona. A major portion of my young life had been in Arizona; I was born and raised there and had lived in the same house for the first sixteen years of my life. When I think of Arizona, I think of home. In order for a location to be acknowledged by the term “home”, it must be a place that has a great deal of sentimental value. To this day, although I currently live in a house in Washington and I recognize this house as my permanent residence, I will always consider Arizona to be my home.

For the first 13 years of my life I was the prototypical Christian child. I sat quietly in church listening carefully to everything the pastor said, trying hard to follow the guidelines set by my family and the bible, even if it was hard for me to believe what I was being told. Not even knowing what any of it really meant, I went on following anything and everything my ears caught. Blinded by my own fears of burning in a fiery pit for all eternity, I became very apprehensive about what I really wanted. Those fears caused me to keep feelings in that I desperately wanted to let out. The only problem was I couldn’t let them out because that wouldn’t be the Christian thing to do. I was to be a good Christian boy that followed the bible and not

For the first fifteen years of my life, I never referred to myself as a firm believer in love at first sight. People often tossed around the word love like it was nothing, but I knew that I had never truly been in love before. This all changed about a month before my sixteenth birthday when I fell in love with the windy city. In May of 2015, the band took a four-day trip to Chicago. I was thrilled for the excursion because I had only traveled outside of Kansas a few times. Those vacations were to the beach, which is nothing like the bustling metropolis of Chicago. I had never truly experienced the city life before, so I was beyond ready for this new adventure.

Looking back on the last year of my life, I realize no one has any guarantees. There is no assurance life will be normal, living in an apple pie manner, growing up, marrying, and having children. My father died when I turned 16, leaving me with mom. Not wanting to relinquish the lifestyle she preferred, she remarried within six months to an older man who appeared to love her, taking them on cruises and lavishing her with expensive gifts. She was his doll, a beautiful woman on his arm who made him the envy of their social set. Introduced as a young ingénue, I would follow in my mother’s footsteps.

These last two years have been the most incredible years of my life. My perspective of the world has drastically shifted in a positive direction the day someone stepped into my life. This special individual shaped me into a remarkably better person. She is my best friend, girlfriend, and soul mate, Jacqueline. The relationship I have with this woman is like no other and I am madly in love with her. Jackie is beyond perfect for me and holds every feature I desire in a woman. To name a few significant qualities, she is beautiful, funny, intelligent, loving, and supportive. Many people think I am too young to know what true love is or even claim that twenty-four months is not long enough to know for sure she is the one for me. I tend to

There comes a point in everyone 's life where they know where they want their lives to go. What path they want to take, where they want to be in 5 years, but there are also some people who have absolutely no idea what their doing. I, unfortunately, am one of those people.