I walk into my bright, and decorative bedroom after a long, and tiring day of school. Turning on the lights, I steer towards my dresser set to retrieve my previously sharpened pencil and partially filled notebook. I find myself sitting on my fuschia papasan chair. With my notebook in my hand, I slowly open it to reveal a fresh clean sheet of paper. With peace and inspiration filling my mind, body, and soul, I begin to fill its pages with tried attempts of poetry and eventful situations of my day. A smile forms onto my lips as I stare at it. Writing about myself and experiences was all I knew.
Writing, it seems, is an essential part of life in our culture. It is prevalent throughout every stage of our lives. First appearing when we learn the skill in primary school, the responsibilities attached to some form of writing will not cease to continue through our high school years, our college years, and inevitably into our lives as working full functioning adults. Writing essays, research papers, emails, reports and reviews, writing even persists for most past retirement, only to ever end at the grave, and the final signing of ones will. While writing is nearly guaranteed to be an essential part in all of our lives, this does not mean that all writing performed by everyone is the same. Ones choice of profession has a major impact on the content of their future writing, both in the field and while earning the necessary degrees for entry into those fields.
The idea of writing has always fascinated me. Being able to understand another person’s thoughts, through words on a piece of paper, is a curious concept. From twenty-six letters in an alphabet, feelings can be expressed, emotions can be evoked, and fantasies can be told. That is what I have always loved about writing. From an early age, I thrived in the euphoric feeling I got when I could translate the stories in my head into a tangible thing. I can even remember my debut as a writer way back when I was in kindergarten.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how lucky I am to be a writer. Ideas and phrases have always fluttered around my head and I had never really questioned it; a good friend of mine said something recently that made me. We were sat in a small booth at a local diner sipping on coffee as I casually explained the premise of a short story I had just written. She looked up from her cup, puzzled, and simply asked, “How did you come up with that?” I had no idea how to explain to her that sometimes things just come to me and then I write them down. It was in that moment I realized not everyone had the mind of a writer.
This profound writing portfolio is proof of how much my writing has improved over the year. The writing pieces that this portfolio consists of were either written out of love or out of force. The ones written out of love are all my poems and my Fahrenheit 451 essay, the other writing pieces were written for the benefit of a great grade. Although my fondness for the majority the writing pieces in the portfolio is as tiny as an ant, they are still special to me because they took plenty of work. I hope that you readers will be able to notice the effort I put in my writing. I am not a great writer, but I can guarantee that you will at least like one of my writing pieces.
Hunched under a mango tree trying to find shade from the scorching sun as sweat drips from my scalp to my toes, sizzling as it hits the ground. Temperatures increase day by day in the summer I pray for rain to fall, looking at the stray animals on the roads in craving for water. I gaze off into the distance of barren acres of land, touching the dry, cracked soil and seeing lifeless crops perish due to the boiling heat that I was responsible for. As a boy living in the (countryside) rural areas of India in a middle-class household, everyone in the village was taught at a young age to start working. Even though I was the third child out of my four siblings it didn’t prevent my parents from making me work out in the fields. It was tough having to do manual labor like field tasks to feeding and taking care of the animals every day. As the rooster's crow, I wake up immediately and lay out my school uniform and shower, I brush my hair slicked back, put on my shoes and run off to school with my friends. I quit going to school until the 10th grade because back in the day my parents wouldn't care that much about education like today. It was more about harvesting corn in the summer to plant seeds in the winter. When I was around 20 years old my two older siblings got married and my family decided it was my turn. However, my father tried to encourage me to do something in life first and not sit at home and drink or smoke so he opened a pharmacy, that didn't work out so long due to my
“There will always be a reason why you meet people. Either to change your life or theirs.” I believe that everyone comes into your life for a reason. It’s just our job to decide if it is a blessing or to teach us a lesson. My parents got divorced when I was only three years old and I was an only child, so when my dad and stepmom told me I was going to be an older sister at age eleven I wasn’t super excited. To be completely honest I was kind of upset and scared. I had always lived with my mom and only visited my dad every other weekend, so I figured I wouldn’t have to see her that much anyways which made it a little better. Having been an only child my whole life I had no idea what it would be like, especially since she would be so much younger than me.
Life for me has always been making mistakes and learning from them. I’ve always been open to different experiences in life but I do have some boundaries. I know that everyone’s life in this world is different than every other person. I have been really close to my mom my whole life. I talk to her for hours and share my feeling, and tell her how my day goes. Whenever I had a problem, I knew that my mom would fix it for me, and once I tell her about it everything is going to be okay. I perpetually respect my parents and want to appreciate them for they do for me. I am really lucky that I have parents. Now as I became a teenager, I continuously thought that I would never change, my life would never change, I will always stay the same.
from then on my path was set. I had made my decision, I would run. Throughout my childhood I was always the short one. I could not say I was not athletic, but you would not see my making plays and scoring goals. I was always hesitant, worried for all of their safeties, worried for my own safety. Needles to say football was not my sport, but we will come back to that. I played almost every sport I could think of, I played Basketball, I played Baseball, I played Soccer, I played football, and almost every track event that they let me in. sadly, I wasn’t very good at any of them.
Death is never easy. It is difficult for the families that have to face it and even more so for the person going through it. I have been a hospice volunteer for about a year now, and as one, I visit patients that are near their lives’ end and try to ease them and their family into a smooth and peaceful transition. Originally I did it with the thought of simply getting community service hours to fulfill medical school requirements, simply visiting the patients once a week for an hour. But every time I leave, I am left with the feeling that I could’ve done more. Therefore, I started to go more often and stayed longer with the patients each week, from once a week to three time a week, and from one hour to almost 3 hours each time. And each time I visit, I like to think that I have made their life just a little bit better. Throughout this year of serving, my patients have taught me a great deal. One of the things they have taught me is lifetime.
I have always preferred to show up early to events. This trend seemingly began as I was born prematurely at 32 weeks, a tribulation that nearly took both me and my mother's life. Unlike most newborns, I spent the first few hours of life in a neonatal intensive care unit as doctors rushed to mend my collapsed lung. Although I was not as big as expected and I came partially broken, my three siblings sat in the hospital waiting room with my father, eager to get their small, stubby fingers around their early gift of a little brother. I came into this world similar to an unripened fruit, but fortunately I sprouted in an exceptional community with the most valuable mentors.
My life is sort of like a book, it should not be judged by its cover. Most of my peers perceive that everything in my life is sailing smoothly but boy were they wrong. While faking my well being was not in my best interest, I did it anyways. But because I lived up to the joyful girl I made myself to be people did not get to know who I truly am. Certainly life has been a struggle but slowly I am tearing down the walls I have built to protect myself because it is what I deserve.
My life has always been normal. My usual week goes like this. On Sunday I get up bright and early and go to church. My whole family gets up at the same time then eats breakfast and talks about our plans for the week.
In life we are given lessons such as to “Never give up” or “Be yourself,” A life lesson that I will neer forget is we are not going to get eveything we want in life. We are not always going to get the job, our crush, or the spot on a varsity team. Yes, it’s going to hurt because we want it so bad, that we give it our all, but at the it wasn’t meant to be. Everything happens for a reason and maybe not getting that one thing in life, brings you something so much more bigger in life.