Personal Narrative: Double Life

I come across a rear projection TV on the side of the road one day, load it up, and take it home. I eagerly spend a good four hours stripping it down and saving as much as I can. I end up with a 48” fresnel lens, two hefty speakers, a couple large capacitors, three glass lenses, and a glass mirror. Left over is a box of electronic waste and the particle board skeleton of a TV. I take the electronics to my local electronics recycling center, and set the wooden frame on the curb. I took 70 lbs. of trash and turned it into 10 lbs. of treasure ripe for projects, 30 lbs. of recyclables that would have gone to a landfill, and 30 lbs. of refuse that I had fun

On November 19th, 2016, My family and I were going to Western Michigan University. We were heading off to watch the football and hockey game, my father told me it would take a few hours. Hours went flying by it felt like we were in a race car, we finally arrived hours later. We went straight to the dining area, it smelled like fresh made pasta and many more thrilling smells. As we made our way through the crowd, we found a table to sit at. Afterwards when we found a seat, we went darting off in many directions to look at all the food stations. Few minutes passed by when we all swarm like bees back to the table. We all seated and started eating, we talked about what we got for food.

It is true in life that everything happens for a reason. It is also true to say that sometimes it is all about being in the right place, at the right time. There was never a more prominent example of this than a traumatic summers evening, only a few years ago.

It was record breaking temperatures on this July 4th day. Red, white, and blue filling up the stands. Fans and umbrellas protecting spectators from the heat of the sun. It was about game time and I was getting ready to take the field for the last home game. Butterflies in my stomach, but I had to tell myself “it’s just another game”. Even though in my heart I knew it was not just another game.

When I was extended seven feet above the ground, I knew we had succeeded. My two bases were in front of me and my backspot was behind me. I heard the familiar counts of my backspot “one, two, three, four”, I bounced and pushed myself up into my bases waiting hands, “five, six, seven, eight”, I straightened as my bases lifted me up to chest level. I locked my knees and stayed tight. I put on a smile and looked ahead. I felt my backspot release her hold on my ankles. I heard her voice once again, “extension, one, two, three, four”, I brought my hands down to my sides and focused on staying tight as I slowly rose, “five, six, seven, eight. I was all the way up. Then a few moments later I heard the counts as they brought me to chest level then back down to the ground. We had done it, we had hit the stunt and did an extension.

After Dallas had convinced everyone else that going to the bar and getting shit-faced was a good idea. She was forced to go as well. Seeing as how she was practically their baby sitters. Darry stayed behind with Johnny and Pony, not wanting them to go. While she was stuck with Dally, Steve, Two-Bit, and Soda. And she as the designated driver. They all looked old enough to be drinking, even though they weren't, so they got to go into the bar.

I’ve been trudging along for what seems like hours. I lost count of my steps sometime after my car broke down. When I look around all I see is an almost tangible grey curtain hiding everything except for a small segment of the highway. As I look forward the dark grey of the asphalt blends into the fog. I have no Idea what time it is when the fog rolled in my phone died. Without a clock, any length of time seems to go on forever, especially when the sun is hiding behind the fog. I just something I don’t understand about my situation, there has been no change in light since the fog rolled in. Same brightness the whole time. It’s almost like it’s not that I can’t tell time is passing. It’s that time isn’t passing, but that’s impossible.

Being able to keep an open mind even in the face of something that is completely new to you is a difficult feat to accomplish for some, including myself. I am a naturally curious person, but also come from a town where there is not much diversity so any sort of deviation from the “norm” has always piqued my interest. One of the most enlightening experiences I have had was as a student in high school when I joined the gay straight alliance club and one of the guests they brought in was transexual. This was the first time I had been exposed to someone who identified in that category and I was interested and unsure of how I would react to meeting this person.

One of the greatest life skills that you can attain is to always double check! I unfortunately had to learn this lesson the hard way. Even though obstacles come up, you can always learn from them. In this certain situation, my brother David and I thought that we did something when in reality we didn't.

I am mixed. Mixed [black/white] people can look mixed, they can look white, they can look black. Although it may make a lot of sense, you cannot always determine a person's race solely off of skin color. When people assume I am fully white it is the same thing as telling me "the entire other portion of your race doesn't exist nor does it matter." I want the other half of me to be recognized. It may not be prominent physically, but that does not make me any less mixed than any other mixed person. There are a lot of slurs and stereotypes directed at people like me: Oreo, the blackest white person/whitest black person (not exclusive to mixed people), mutt, calf, zebra,

The clouds were black, immeasurable, and grotesque. I still believe it was because my best friend was leaving for war. My friend Nicholas was the only person that I could have reliance and certainty with. He was the person that when the stresses of the world got to heavy on my shoulders he would pick the world up of my shoulders and carry the burden of the stresses of reality for me. In the end there are no words to describe the signification he has in my life and there is no comfort that can fix the loss that I feel in my heart because of his absence. So for the time being my heart will be in two places, half with me here in Denver, Colorado and the other half in Kandahar, Afghanistan.

Not long after starting my freshman year of high school, my brother and I decided to go fishing because he had recently got his license and eager to hit the road. My brother decided to take us to a new spot that I was unfamiliar with, but after a couple hours became I became impatient and bored. So I decided to go towards the center of the river to cool myself down from the heat, little did I remember that there was downpour the night before so the currents were intense and powerful.

Take a deep breath, I told myself looking in the visor mirror, just breathe. I looked to my right and droplets of water covered the passenger side window of my fathers Jeep. Two of the droplets had streamed down the window and I admired the beauty of their disarrayed paths. I compared the droplets to the bittersweet chaos that has consumed my life. Their paths had no direct course and jerked left to right slowly and then in a rush as if there were a magnet below them.

Dr. Rosenberg nodded. “Correct,” he told her, “And Halfrida or Harold was intended to be the key, something that Emily Ryan herself was not fully unaware of.”

My career was finally looking up, I was working as a senior accountant with multiple multi-million accounts, full-cycle, I finally finished my Bachelor’s degree. I even purchased my first home and bought a new car! Then, it happened, I found out I was going to be a mom. I was excited, and terrified at the same time, I even took parenting classes! I had no idea how to do the formula thing and diapers? Yeah… ok.