Personal Narrative: A Color Coordinated Mess

Now, fast forward to a few days earlier. We’re in India, but zoom into my bijou shop in Khurja.

I was born and raised in the small but growing city of Perris, CA. This isn’t the best city out there but it tends to grow on you, and you begin to truly love it for what it is. The people, however, not so much. The community can vary from which part of the city you’re in. That’s because there’s diversity here in Perris. I’m a product of this diversity, being half Mexican and half African American. My parents fell in love after high school and later on began a family. I am the youngest of five. I have two older brothers, an older sister, and an older cousin who lives with us. The order is boy, girl, boy, boy, girl with my cousin being included in there too. We all live in the same house with my parents and are quite close with each other. They all seem to have raised me growing up due to the fact that my parents were busy trying to provide for us. This was a challenge by itself, resulting in lots of house moving and my father being unemployed for six years after losing his job. I never complained about moving because I knew that my parents were doing their absolute best and were working with all that they had and then some. This unquestionably made me adaptable to new environments and gave me a

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

Invalid, different, clingy, a disappointment, and a burden; all words I had used to describe Doodle. He was just about the craziest brother a boy ever had. He was born when I was only six years old, and I had thought of him as a disappointment. Everybody, except my Aunt Nicey, had thought that he was going to die. Nobody had faith in his survival. As a baby, he would just lie on the rubber sheet in the center of his bed, and he was never “all there.” Although many doubted his survival, he lived. As time went by, he would grow, gain intelligence, and conquer obstacles. He finally began to move once he was two, and then eventually crawling, even if he did crawl backwards like the Doodlebug he was.

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

As I am riding in my husbands 2008 chevy cobalt I realize, this is exactly how I envisioned the perfect day. A soft gentle breeze wafting the sweet scent of jasmine over me, the sun radiating against my skin. The sky is clear as cleaned crystal and bubblegum blue. I settle back on the warm leather seat of the car and embrace the feeling. I am totally immersed.

When I think about my red house, a free and easy feeling rushes over. Worries consisted of macaroni being too hot, swinging too high, and Dora, my first dog, pooping in my room. With bookshelves filled with stuffed animals and countless Pooh Bear toys, I was always content. The playground in my backyard provided days of fun, and nights in my mom and dad’s bed gave me peaceful and comforting sleep, preparing me for the next day of work. The kitchen was where I liked to claim I “worked”. Although I didn’t do a lot of the actual cooking, I liked to be there while my mom was. A love for cooking and baking developed at a young age, around the same time I realized I wanted to be just like my mom. The song “Best Day” by Taylor Swift perfectly describes

When I get ready for baseball, I do it slowly so I won't overlook or forget anything . First, I find my navy blue jersey with a big bright red "A" on the chest area. Then, I put my sliding shorts that's padded all inside on so it won't hurt when I slide. I grab my long white baseball pants that look like sweatpants, put them on to protect my legs, and zip them up. It's a different type of material that feels soft . Next, I put my rose red belt on and tuck my shirt in. After that, I place my navy blue cap on top of my head, grab my white Oakley's with a reddish orangish lens and set it on the bill of my hat. I go find my lucky gold chains, put them around my neck and slap my wrist bands on. I make sure I've packed all my equipment, for example

I'm going insane, I can tell. I blink and I see flashes of things that never happened, faces of people that I've never met, and colors. Always colors. Maybe it's the dehydration. They only give me enough water to stay alive, nothing more. As for food, I'm steadily losing weight. I'm all skin and bones, and colors.

Being biracial is such a unique experience and has a lot to do with the person I am today. Growing up, I did not completely realize how it would shape me as a person. Now that I am older and looking back on past experiences, I know exactly how it has impacted me. There were many times where I felt uncomfortable and confused, because I was different. That has all changed now that I recognize that the differences are what make people beautiful.

AC/DC’s “Back in Black” blared over the weight room’s speakers as I first sized up a dull iron bar. Staring straight ahead at the blank white wall, time slowed down. I racked my brain trying to recall what I had seen the lifters around me do. Phil, our weight room coach, commanded me, “Get over the bar.” I inched closer to the weight, toes beneath the bar, and attempted to lift it first off the ground, and then up on top of my shoulders.

All I did was accidently leave the back door open. Back and forth, and back and forth. Yelling. After what felt like an hour she remembered we are above Floral Smiles, our flower shop that makes me feel sick, and she yells at me again for yelling.

Anastasia Beverly Hills Contour Palette been on my must-buy list for so long, however, finding this was pretty difficult because the medium kit was always out of stock. Finally, I managed to buy it and I am glad I did because it is one of my favorite items in my makeup collection. I think this palette is worth the investment. Each shade is very pigmented and applies smooth. I use the palette for contouring, powdering, and sometimes highlighting. I only use 3 shades in the kit, banana for setting my under eyes, sand as a highlighter and I use havanna to contour. I love Banana as its yellow undertones mask virtually any redness under my eyes. The formula is very powdery and tends to make a mess on the palette so I advise knocking off your brush

To be addled, as defined by the Oxford Dictionary, is the inability to think clearly, or to simply be confused. Uncomfortably standing in the corner of a despondent hospital room, crisp air blowing down my neck, the monotonous sound of doctors’ mumbles gradually faded into a pool of somber. My hands anxiously tapped against the smooth, egg-colored wall. I was only five years old, a dependent, whiny child, completely unaware of the situation; for I was addled. For some reason, I felt like I had been submerged in the color blue, as everything from floor to ceiling in that miserable room had been of that shade.

Coming home from a repetitive, colorless, and lifeless day at school, the one thing that would bring me expressive release was my little blue notebook. My exotic colored pens would hit the paper and I could have sat there filling those college-ruled lines for hours. I would write whatever came to mind: the monotonous routine at school, the girl who sprained her ankle at practice, or my dreams of becoming an Olympic-level figure skater. Images of my future-self as a skater twirled from my mind, around the room, and right onto the page. For my introverted young mind, the notebook was a place where I could vent, dream, and unveil secrets that I would have never been inclined to share. My twelve year old mind was not yet tired from the labors