Rough Draft Autobiography

I find it slightly unfitting to write an autobiography at the young age of 18. Personally, I feel as if my perspective is not the same as many people my age. This is the word of someone who was born in the wrong generation; the story of someone who feels so different from other young adults. Someone born years too late, with still so much to learn can be conflicting.

The lake glistened before me as my mom and I pulled into Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp just outside Twin Lakes Michigan. I had been accepted into the International Youth Symphony Orchestra program where after spending a week at the camp the entire orchestra would be heading off on a six week European Tour to share our musical talents and American culture with another part of the world. I knew traveling to a different continent would give me further insight as to who I was a person, but did not imagine the people I would meet would impact me as much as they did.

that she had a male, Igor Gentsaryuk, in custody for DUI near the 3700 block of

It was a beautiful day in early winter 2012, my Family had had a big dinner at my uncle's house, the plan was to go a Blazers game after we had all gotten done eating. I had moved to Tigard oregon with my Mom in summer of 2012 from Connecticut, about six months before all of this had happened. We had no idea where anything was, the only thing we had someone what of idea was my uncle's house and the grocery store, but beyond that we were basically lost all the time. At this time we didn't have a car yet, so relied mostly on my uncle taking us places.

“Every time you dream at night, the dream has holes in it. You have to do something to fix those holes and make the dream become a reality,” my father often told me. Although I was very young when my dad passed away, he provided tremendous inspiration and encouragement to pursue my passions that continue to influence my life and my future endeavors. As a child, one of my favorite pastimes was acting; I would routinely act in videos with my friend while my dad filmed us. Later, I assumed responsibility for filming while my friend would act. I instantly fell in love with videography. I was enthralled with how videography could capture my point of view of the world, which prompted me to try photography. Once I began photography, I knew I wanted

I told mess-up, my son was trying to set up my reader for my disability for the course and I accidentally started the Ch. 1 - Investigation An Answer Form. It said no Time Limit does that mean I can go back. I am so sorry, I promise not to be a pain. I am just trying to get everything set up and got to know the website.

The perception of one’s role and how they fit into a particular community can very important, so it makes sense that feelings of exclusion can be particularly devastating, especially at a young age. Shelby Martinez, who has been my closest friend since high school, has shared her adolescent experiences with these feelings of exclusion, with me on numerous occasions. On many of those instances, she reflected on how much time she spent by herself in her bedroom with headphones on, just listening to music. It was clear that music played a big role for her growing up, so I decided to do my musical ethnography on her. Shelby spent her adolescence in Yuba City, which is a relatively small Northern Californian town that embraces country life, with big focus on agriculture, hunting, and country music. However, Shelby was didn’t hold this same affinity for a rural

Journal Entry 3: Six years ago, my oldest daughter was in severe pain, when I got off work I took her to the emergency room to see what was going on. After twelve hours the nice male nurse came in with a really concerned look on his face and gave me some breakfast vouchers to get her and I something to eat, I immediately knew something was not right. He sat me down and told me she had a large tumor growing in-between her hip bone, I broke down, because as soon as you here tumor, you think cancer. I drove straight to her doctor and to he what he suggested, he told me no one in Lumberton would take her so he gave me an appointment with Chapel hill with a doctor named DR. Esters. My husband and I were completely devastated, I had to call all our family and

My first memories of writing were an experience that I will never forget. They have been drilled into my head due to the repetitiveness of my tasks. Which in this case, is a good thing.

My mother screaming when she realised she could no longer touch me. My father screaming when he realised what I’d done to my mother. My parents screaming when they’d lock me in my room.

My thoughts are just consisting of light, a mixture of yellow and white but so pure and I don’t see no evil whatsoever; not consisting of any bad thing which I am grateful about. I see myself, and only me in a land and something is puffing me up and by that I see such tiny stars or crystals coming right at me putting forth unlimited joy and grace into me which will enable me to be happy and giggly no matter how crazy and maddening a situation will be.

My earliest memories of being read to were when I was five years of age and my

I was not the kind of kid who his mother would read stories at bedtime. I was being taught on how to read and write on my first year at elementary school, this is where my earliest memories laid. My first time writing was as practice for calligraphy, and my earliest memory of reading is at first grade. There was a book for first graders to learn how words sound; it was a blue book I remember. Another thing that comes to my memory when remembering those times is how me and the other children would compete on who was reading better and the funny thing is not even one of us knew how to, it was something completely unknown to us. These few memories I have are mostly positive as it was fun to learn new things with my new friends those being

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I remember myself sitting near a little block with letters and my mother teaching me the name of each of them. She starts to sing me a song to help me to memorize the alphabet. It is so funny singing the ABC song. At that instant, the door opens, and my father enters the room. That is the first thing carved in my memory, and each time when I think about it, I conclude that we are the best family in the world.