My Personal Life On My Life

My heart trickled down to one beat per minute. I slowly realized the different types of people surrounding me on a day to day basis. I asked myself the following question: “Alex, why have you molded yourself into a new person?” Realizing the pace and discomfort my life was going towards, I sought to answer the question. I had lost a genuine friendship built over several years. This loss had affected me very deeply to the point I did not recognize the myself in the mirror anymore. Entering freshmen year, I was unable to enjoy the social interaction which took place around me. Trusting new people became nearly impossible. I punished those who had my best interest at heart, because I assumed they would betray me like my previous friendship. I had also assumed that every new friendship I built had an immediate expiration date. This means I chose to purposefully distance myself in order to not get hurt. The Alex Curry people became acquainted to was a falsified character of my true self. My pain developed my character into a overly trusting person to a person who could not even trust their family anymore.

When I heard the engines starting, my eyelids collapsed and took slow breaths to not hyperventilate . I was nine. I inhaled sharply, and my hands gripped my mom’s arm tight as fear of death washes over me. I don't want to die. God don't let me die. Next thing I knew, we were high up in the sky. I looked out the window, wispy clouds dancing in the air. July 2, 2009 was when I boarded the flight to the U.S. As the plane skidded to a halt on the runway, I knew my life would be different.

It was early morning; I had slept very little.  My stomach was torn between hungry and sick.  The fact that my nerves were on edge did not help the situation.

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.

I never knew the idea of a broke college student was real until I became one. After the money relatives gave me after high school graduation ran out, there was not much left in my pocketbook right as school was starting. What became the most difficult part is that I wanted to spend money on so many objects and activities, but could not bring myself to spend money unless it was a dire need. I would never go to my family if I did need the money either. With three other siblings in my single-mother household, I could not bring myself to ask my mother for money I knew she could not give. We are all struggling. This led me to go to the drawing board to become a frugal shopper and to save money in college.

Talking about myself has always been a difficult task for me; however, I have learned it is crucial when trying to connect with people. It seems like there is always something that people can connect over, and if we do not share information about ourselves we will never have the opportunity to make these vital connections. With this being said, there are still times when I draw a blank trying to drum up a fun fact about myself. I hope to give you a better understanding of who I am, where I come from, and why I am here.

In my life probably bad things happen more often than good; but I always try to make the best out of every situation. The events that happened to me do not match up with my personality but they had somehow change the way I act or think. With my short time living in this world that can be cruel and break anyone I learned that life is what you make out of it. I don’t worry about my future too much because everything that you had planned out can be ruined in a split second. I just go one step out at time, even though my parents get mad at me, but I’m still going to try to achieve my same goal.

Why write about myself? Most people tend to write about themselves for therapy, but not me. I believe that people's stories can motivate others, help others, and become a support system for some people. It was an enlightening journey for me that perhaps you might find interesting, so

Growing up I aspired to be everything my parents wanted me to be, successful, intelligent, and stable. They were big examples in my life of what hard work can achieve. My dad would put work above anything else, and wanted me to learn the same work ethic. However, work and making money was not everything to me. Everyone was trying to direct my destiny, but deep down I know my own personal legend and how I am supposed to fulfill it. Similar to Santiago, I sometimes battle with my own conscience whether to trust someone or even myself.

My mother perpetually advises me by stating “সর্বদা আপনার সেরা করা,” which translates from Bengali to English as “always do your best.” Taking heed of my mother’s advice has led me to always try to be the best possible version of myself, in school and outside of it. Knowing myself, junior year was going to be arduous as is; I would be studying profusely for my SATs and ACTs, going nights with minimal sleep as I would be taking nine total classes, eight of which were Advanced Placement classes, and further pursuing ways to aid others through my will to volunteer. None of this was going to be facilitated by the added stress of finding out my father had just been diagnosed with having an “enlarged prostate,” meaning less and less time would

In multiple instances it is effortless to categorize someone based on only one aspect of their life or a limited knowledge of who they are. However, this often provides an unclear view of what causes them to act the way they do. To avoid this, when I describe myself I look at many aspects of my life including roles or positions I may hold, those I associate myself with, challenges I have faced, as well as aspects of my personality.

Imagine your story becoming the forerunner of someone else’s. Someone you have never met, yet because of one story, he or she found the strength and courage to become a person far greater than ever imagined. A story of unimaginable adventures, lessons, and hardships, this is the story I, Thu Dang, will create for myself and others.

When I was five years old, I remember that my grandmother would always tell me to pick up after myself. I was not heavily involved in any chores at this age, but I was required to clean up the play area when I was done playing with my toys. My room had three clear plastic containers, where I would store all of my toys. Since, the storage containers were big, cleaning up and putting all my toys away was a breeze. At the age of nine, I remember that my responsibilities were much greater. At this age, I was responsible for having all my homework done before my father came home from work. I was also responsible for cleaning my entire room. This meant that I would have to fix my bed, sweep the floors, take my dirty clothes back to the laundry room, and keep my dresser looking clean. At the age of thirteen, my responsibilities only grew greater. At this age, I was responsible for mowing the lawn and keeping my front year looking clean. I also remember that my father would give me six to seven dollars for washing and vacuuming his car. Although my responsibilities grew greater, I enjoyed it.

The wind was slicing through my hair as my sweat was dripping off my metallic purple frames. I placed each foot on each of the pedals and took off. My whole world was filled with the rattling sounds coming from the dreaded training wheels. Everything would always come to a stop whenever I would hit each bump. “I need to get these thing off!” I thought constantly. The training wheels were such a nuisance because they gave me a wobble that kept me off balance, and they provided no extra speed. There was nothing graceful about my riding.

Since I was little I’ve had a passion for cooking and baking. I loved to cook, from soup to stir fry and from brownies to cakes. When I cook, I feel like I can do anything, and it brings me joy when I see the people I care for enjoy it as much as I do. Cooking has brought me closer to the people in my life and has brought me closer to my heritage. One day I wanted to challenge myself and my cooking skills to see how far I could get and what I could achieve. When thinking about the next type of food I wanted to cook, I started to enjoy a different type of animation. I started watching a lot of Hayao Miyazaki as well as Bob Kuwahara and Makoto Shinkai. With this in mind, I wanted to know everything about authentic Japanese dishes. I wanted to recreate and relate my food to a new hobby and a new interest in my life. When researching different Japanese dishes I found it a tad difficult to find authentic dishes. It wasn’t until I researched a whole lot more about Japan’s culinary culture that I found out why.