Personal Narrative-Masking

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.

At age of eight I moved away from a country leaving everything my mother grandmother language everything going up I was very close to my grandmother both my mom side and my fathers my father mom was the one who raised me since I was nine months she offered to raise me because me and my brother are very close we are 9 1/2 months apart or cold my grandmother "BIBI"similar to Nana in English, she took very good care of me love her so much she was basically my mother I slept in the same bed as her she even had my own parts to cook my food in them nobody else could used when I turned six starting first grade parents moved far from her house and they took me away from her every weekend she would ask for me and call for me I only got to see her like

Concealer is one thing which is very important to me. Today I’m sharing my views on L.A. Girl Pro Conceal. IMG_5437Read more to find out about my thoughts on this concealer.

Snowflakes were slowly falling down in dancing moves, and beeping of cars and noise of the city were in the air. All dull-grey roads were covered with thin snow layer; the city appeared in white shades and shiny when the sun rays got out of dense clouds. After gazing

As far back as I can remember I’ve been a self-serving fuck up. My main goals in life was to party, and get as high as I could before I came down, and had to face the harsh reality that came along with being clean for more than five minutes.

We arrived on the weekend and the ground surrounding our new home was clear, just dirt, not a single flake of snow to offset the brown expanse that stretched the distance from the small driveway to the cabin, and back into the woods. Winter was three weeks away and snow had not yet fallen. The disappointment at the absence of snow was clear on

The whole town was regarding me as some sort of hussie. Most of the people around me believed the fact that my husband was long passed and yet, they condemned me. They must not have understood what I had endured. I had overcome so many trials and tribulations, yet they persecuted me for a slip of judgement. That prison cell offered nothing but respite from the judging gaze that the others had taken to giving me. My daughter and I were waiting until the rest of our punishment was given to us. I worried about my safety, but moreso my dear baby’s. I didn’t know what they would do to her and I hoped it was nothing too severe. My escort to punishment arrived as I got my bearings back. I had finally gotten to feel the sunlight on my skin after however long I had been in that cell.

When I was younger, my uncles to joke about the fact that I was americanized; that I didn’t know how life really was back in the motherland. I would just laugh and tell them to leave me alone. Then, I saw what they meant when we went to Africa in 2009.

Sadly, once the Christmas tree had been put away and the New Year's Eve confetti had been swept up, I could find no excuse not to tackle my most pressing post-holiday need - losing some weight. Most adults put on at least a little weight over the holidays, and crowded fitness center parking lots every January attest to the fact that a good many want to then shed that weight, at least until New Year's resolutions are forgotten. I decided to see if I could combine my weight-loss goals with my interest in technology. I found a free app for my Android phone called Lose it!, and suddenly the dreary chore of losing weight became a bit more interesting. Lose it! is available for both Android phones and the iPhone. The app works well on my Droid

I was twelve when my sister went “mad”. The hidden family suspicions confirmed as I sat watching her write across her bedroom walls in colored sharpies. She would ramble one thing or another, as if to explain the meaning of each equation or symbol. She was a mathematician, and a brilliant one at that. Her autistic tendencies rubbed off on me growing up and together we studied the people around us in bewilderment. More socially apt as I was, I became the psychologist, she the mathematician. Together we dreamed of all the great things we would do.

In writing this, I ask you to bear with me as I attempt to condense a major part of the past five years of my life into 650 words or less.

More people would understand if I was in a wheelchair. Everything would be clear if I had a terminal illness or something wrong on the outside. The problem is that my wounds aren't discernible to most people. My scars aren't tangible. Instead of receiving sympathy from those I first let in, I was told to get over it. I was told that I wasn’t depressed because I have a loving family. I was told I wasn’t sad because I’m well off, because I do well in school, because I’m a guy. Despite that, I learned to find strength in my brokenness so I could make myself whole again.

Over the last six weeks, I have enjoyed making progress on all of the goals that I have set myself. Most significantly, I have corrected the shape of my fourth finger through changes in my left-hand position and noticed dramatic difference in the ease and quality of playing. I found the changes I had to make difficult, and I committed considerable time to implementing slow and mindful practice. The most effective strategy in approaching this goal was practicing various finger patterns slowly and repetitively, noticing the look and feel of the correct technique. Over time I became more accustomed to the technique, and learnt to reproduce it in lesser time and with more consistency. I can confidently say that my technique is now improved after setting and striving for this goal.

The summer of 2008 I spent most of my time with my three friends Josh, Jalen, and Carson. We would bike, wrestle, explore the woods on the fourwheeler and much more to keep ourselves occupied. However, on one chilly day our playfulness created something so bad I could not own up to it.

The other week I made some plans with friends for the weekend. The only problem was that I was scheduled to work on that day. This wasn’t a big deal, as I could simply text my coworkers and ask one of them to take my shift. As I received one excuse after another, I became more desperate until finally someone replied with an “Ugggghhhhh”. This told me that although they didn’t want to take my shift, they probably could seeing as they didn’t give me any reason that they were busy. So how did I convince them? I suddenly changed my approach. Here is the actual, word-for-word text that I sent them. “By the way you're a great person and I'm glad I get to work with you and we're best friends.” Why did I say that? Did I just happen to remember how much I enjoy that person and feel the need to tell them? No. I was trying to get something that I wanted, which was them covering my shift. Now, I may have exaggerated in this example, but this is a very real behavior that we all have used.