My Name Is

person. Everything, even my name, Andreana, holds a meaning. Sure, people know some things about me, although there are none that know me truly. I have struggled and thrived, gained hobbies and lost interest. Never has my life been at a standstill. Andreana. The name given to me at birth, the one to stay with me until my death. My father, Andre, gave me this name to somehow incorporate himself into me. He pretty much combined his name and Ana, resulting with what is now my name. Not everyone is able

“Hi my name is Sam, i’m 18 and came here with my 9 year old little brother James. Everyone says he’s so adorably cute but they don’t know that we are immigrants. I finally got him into school, the last thing I need is to mess that up for him. He needs a better future than our parents or I got and I am destined to make sure that he gets it. It’s hard to pay for James to go to school in the mornings, we get by though. I work 16 hours in the factory and James works sewing up pillows with Clair 's mom

Ares Duong US History DC April 28, 2017 Tyson, Timothy B. Blood Done Sign My Name. New York: Broadway Books, 2004. Timothy B. Tyson, born 1959, had a unique childhood as the son of a Methodist minister who supported the civil rights movement. He accepted his parents’ liberal attitude, and struggled to reconcile it with the society around him – that of white supremacy and black oppression. Later, he attended the University of North Carolina at Greensboro and Emory University for

Silent Speech in Audre Lorde’s Zami: A New Spelling of My Name Even though, she was born on February 18 1934 as Audrey Geraldine Lorde, her name instantaneously changed to Audre Lorde; “I did not like the tail of the Y hanging down below the line in Audrey” (Lorde 24). She was only 4 years old when she made this decision, already marking her head-strong character, which Audre Lorde possessed throughout her turbulent life. Not only was Audre Lorde a fervent civil rights activist, but also a devout

All The Lights I clench my fist tightly. Twenty-one blinking faces stare me down. I look down at my paper, feeling tears rising from wherever tears come from to the corners of my eyes. I blink them back. “Dormant breathing, constant searching, I am alert…..” I stumble over the last words in my poem, the class courteously claps, and I shuffle to my seat in one sweeping motion. We had been assigned to write a poem on our perception of current events in the world. Writing the poem was fairly easy

are you looking for?” I respond “why are you whispering sir?” The man than laughs and responds “To respect the institution that is a library.” He then says “My name is Mark, can I help you find what you are looking for or recommend you something to your taste?” I reply back “I am only here to get out of the rain and research a document for my autobiography.” Mark smirks a little and answers well have I got the book to keep your mind elsewhere.” Mark then hands me this large green book that says in

wooden stairs creaking beneath my feet, and smashing open the door. But realizing there is nothing there. The only thing there is Piper, who is barking to her heart 's content. I was probably just imagining things I said to myself. I should probably get you some breakfast Piper. I sit down at my table with paper at my side going on her steak. I noticed we are running out of food. I sigh. looks like we 're going to go hunting again. I look at Piper and say stay. I love my

Nadia stretched lazily and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She threw her comforter off her bare legs and slowly climbed out of bed. She picked up her old clock, and as she read the time, she jumped in alarm and quickly headed to the shower. After a quick 7-minute shower, Nadia threw on the clothes she had prepared last night particularly for the first day of school. She was wearing her new maroon high tops, a white shirt with a beige cardigan, skinny jeans, and her charm bracelet she got over the

horizontally against my mother’s white pathfinder, being questioned by a rough-looking, southern, angry policeman. My friends and I were told that we had committed a federal offense, and that the chances of being taken to a holding cell were very high. A lump sat in my throat and I tried not to cry. I knew that everything that happened that night was my own fault. This was one of the scariest nights of my life so far, the night that an innocent attempt at making plans to see my friends had turned into

am Ryba, and I am considered a villain, a bad guy, an antagonist. In reality, I am misunderstood. This is my side of the story. To start off with, the name Ryba is really ironic because it literally means fish, and I am one third of an angler fish. Hence why I have an angler’s rod and light connecting from the spine. It reaches a foot above my head before it curves downward diagonally near my forehead where the bright light hangs. I also am part cobra and lovebird. The cobra part comes out through