Sunday night. The proposed due date for this blog during this week of madness.
Sunday has sort of a paradoxical connotation tied to it for me. It goes back to, for lack of a better (read: trite) euphemism, my extremely crappy childhood.
Let me explain.
I was, like many of you, a child of divorce. I lived with my mother, saw my father on weekends (when he remembered he had a daughter waiting for him to pick her up) and dealt with all of the guilt, sadness, and overall wistfulness of being the kid caught between parents that hated each other. It was, as I mentioned, extremely crappy. And Sundays were the worst because that was the day that my father would drop me back off at home, and I knew it could be the last time I ever saw him. I would make my way into the house where my mother would be waiting, and if I looked even the least bit sad, she would launch into attack mode. “Oh what’s the matter—had so much fun with your dad that coming home to your boring old mother is too depressing? Well sorry I have to work two jobs to support us since that fun-loving s.o.b. doesn’t bother to pay child support….”
And on it would go until her energy was spent, and I was completely demoralized. My saving grace was, ironically, the fact that my father didn’t see me every weekend, so the times when I was forgotten actually saved part of my soul. Paradox extraordinaire, oui?
This childhood memory, glum though it may be, completely shaped the person I am today. For better or worse. What did I learn? Well, for one, I learned that being yourself and feeling what you feel has consequences. It seems like a crazy lesson, right? But it is one that I draw on to this day. I spent so much time trying to hide who I was and how I felt as a kid, that I eventually lost sight of who that actually was.
When I was little, the price seemed way too high, what with listening to my mother rant and rave and tell me how ungrateful I was, so I really felt that masking my true emotions was worth it. And into my teen years, I sort of just grew accustomed to doing that. It wasn’t until I was living on my own that the impact of that mindset became clear to me: I was alone. Nobody knew me. Oh sure, people knew who I was-my name was out there. But nobody actually KNEW me. And it was really scary, and really lonely.
I wish I could say that once I had this epiphany, my life magically transformed and I became a mature, well-adjusted, productive member of society. But, since I would never lie to you guys, I can’t say that because that’s not what happened. It took time. A lot of time, with a lot of very painful repercussions resulting from my journey of enlightenment. But, now, here I am. A bit worse for the wear, but soul utterly intact and identity firmly entrenched in each decision I make. Was it worth it? Absofreakinglutely. (WHAT IS THE NAME OF THIS LIT TERM???)
So, now it’s your turn.
What childhood memory thus far has shaped who you are? Do you want this memory to be the blueprint for which you design your “true Self?” If the answer is no, think about how you can change your perspective on it. What can you learn? If the answer is yes, talk about how you can impact the world and those in it who are most important to you. What lesson would you want to impart that has its root in this memory? I know this is hard; take your time. Nothing worth having is ever easy. And this answer is worth having. Trust me.
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ReplyDeleteI saw this blog and was happy that maybe I could post this before Bryan, but then I realized that I didn’t wanna do this blog. But, here it is.
ReplyDeleteA lot of people always say that I act like I don’t care, I push people away, I have trust issues, I don’t talk about my feelings, I don’t have feelings, blah blah blah.
I’ve known that the reason I do this has to be rooted from somewhere in my childhood because you can see some of the same aspects in my siblings. I think I know why mine are the most extreme. I think I went through the worst break up, the most about of distrust. My parents screwed me over. They lied a lot, they made me lie for them, they lied to each other.
But, I was their favorite little girl growing up. I got away with everything and my sisters hated my guts, but I had everything. I was the star child. (I still am the child of god) Anyways, I grew up. I realized they were scums. I realized that my life was filled with lies and disappointment and not love. That if my parents really loved me as much as they said they did as much as they acted like they did, they would never put their kids through so much stress and sadness.
I guess I am probably the only kid to want this. I want them to divorce. I know a lot of kids who beg for their parents to be together, but anything would beat them always fighting or always letting their anger out on their kids. I hate that. I hate listening to them tell me over and over that they were going to get a divorce. I hate hearing them cry as if they were actually going to leave each other. I hate them knocking on each of our doors crying and hoping for us to fight for them to stay. I never did. Even before when I wanted them to stay with each other, I never fought. I thought that fighting for my parent to my parent has to be lowest blow to my pride. Your parents should want to be your parent. You should never have to beg for your dad to want to be your dad whether or not he ever acted like it. Maybe that’s why I never fought too. My dad was always the one leaving and maybe I knew it wouldn’t make a damn of a difference if I never saw him ever again. I don’t know. But every “divorce session” we had no matter how much I didn’t want to, I cried. Before because I hoped they were lying. But now because I know my brother is up there as confused and sad as I used to be and there wasn’t one thing I could say to help. (I don’t cry jk)
So as much as I loved being their favorite kid, I grew up and realized I didn’t have them. I have shaped myself to not trust people, to not let people in, and to always act like I didn’t have feelings so nobody could hurt them. You can’t hurt something you don’t have. I have tried so hard to train myself that I don’t care. Because acting like I didn’t care was so much easier than getting hurt or lied too.
I posted and then deleted because I wanted to add this: I guess I have always wanted to be funny, a lil dramatic (apparently) I don’t know. I focus on other people and myself but never anything deeper than that. I don’t talk about about my feelings. Again, as if I don’t have them. Kee told me that. Told me that he’s waiting for that one day I slip up and I actually tell him how I feel. He’s so ugly. Anywho, I wanted to say that whoever reads this--your feelings matter. I always act like I’m okay so people never worry so people never think that something is wrong. I will always worry about other people so much more than myself because I love them, but I also because I always want to be the one that is okay.
A lot of good things have come from this, I’m not as stressed as people around me. I have a damn good of a story. I have never felt betrayed or hurt after this.
But, I have stopped myself from living. I need to learn that pain, stress, and heartbreak are things I’m strong enough to overcome to get beautiful things. I don’t know. I don’t like this blog.
I have deleted it and ctrl z’ed way too many times. It’s done. I wasn’t going to post this first, but I’m not going to change it and HAHA Bryan. I guess having a little lammie really does have you slacking.
DeleteI would like to congratulate Taylor Van for not only being the first to post, but for also taking up three responses to say one response-worth of material. HAHA, Taylor, I guess having no life makes it worthwhile for you to post your blog response before some other person with no life and enjoy every minute of it! You are just jealous of my “lammie” because if I make a pun on her last name, I get a cute little farm animal, while if I make a pun on your last name, I get the vehicle child predators use to offer children candy.
ReplyDeleteIn order to answer this question, it would be helpful to have a working definition of “childhood memory” and “childhood” in general. Generally, from a psychological point of view, the end of childhood may correspond with the loss of ignorance. However, could someone have a “childhood memory” if he or she is twenty, but relapses into the state of pure wonder and ignorant joy that accompanies childhood, even if it is but for a short time? Conversely, could Sigmund Freud’s psychological approach of psychoanalysis cite an event that occurred at, say, age two as a subconscious “childhood memory” that shapes who a person is, even if the “memory” is not remembered? I guess what I am pondering is, “What is a memory, or, more specifically, what is a childhood memory?” I am not sure, but I am thinking that this blog question addresses the chronological definition of childhood, which ends at around a certain period of time, and the memory which can be remembered, so I will answer accordingly.
I try not to think about my childhood, whatever that may be. To explain why, I could use the film “Inside Out”, which Oakcrest students “kinda” saw (along with the shadow puppet show on the ceiling and Mr. Forney’s inability to work technology). In the film, inside Riley’s head, Joy and Bingbong, Riley’s imaginary friend symbolizing her childhood, get trapped in the subconscious (or, in Joy’s case, preconscious) of Riley’s mind. To get Joy back into Riley’s thoughts, Bingbong, Riley’s childhood, sacrifices himself, causing Riley to grow up and be happy again. If Bingbong had not sacrificed himself, Joy would have remained hidden from Riley because the wagon was not strong and childhood was weighing it down; it was weighing Riley down because she could not stop herself from imagining its loss: the joy that was no longer felt due to the cruel, one-directional nature of the arrow of time and fate. Riley controlled her own fate and pointed the arrow in a direction she could control, which was not backwards, but in the best forward trajectory possible, and (spoiler alert) it was worth it by the end of the film. Thus, I do not live in the past, or at least try not to, as it could only weigh me down: if my past was good, my present is bad in comparison; if my past was bad, my present becomes bad by my thinking about it. Memories suck.
However, I must pick a childhood memory if I wish to answer this blog before someone else answers it before me, so I will. Because I am Bryan, and because I have my own brand of a depressing nature, I will pick a dumb memory that has a hint of sadness, which reveals itself alone when I think back about the memory. It was like first grade or kindergarten. I ate lunch back then! Wow, that is weird! Anyway, I was eating animal crackers. They were frosted. The person who sat next to me did not like frosted animal crackers. He was mean. I have not eaten lunch in school since then. I do not know why I cared so much about what the rude kid had to say, but I guess I did for some reason, because I do not even remember the kid’s name or what he looked like, but he has shaped my life, for the worse, I think, even though the actual event and creator of the memory lasted less then three sentences.
I do want this memory to be the blueprint for my “true self” because it was I who lived through the memory. I still do not eat lunch, so I guess I still am that person. However, I do not like blueprints very much, and I have an internal locus of control (I believe that I cause my own future, which is not controlled by “fate” (when I normally use “fate”, I mean “my future actions, whatever I decide they may be”, but in this case I did not), a deity, or someone else). A blueprint is fate, the kind that says, “You have no control over what happens in the future! You are a slave to God, Karma, and the Easter Bunny!” Therefore, I disagree with the wording of the question. I do not believe in blueprints, but I do think that my memory rightly describes, and should describe, my “true self” because it will always be a part of who I am. Even though I do not like the memory, if I were to answer the question differently, I would not be able to describe my “true self” (or I would at least be hiding something important about it) because I describe my “true self” as who I am, not who I want to be because I do not want to be anything. There are no blueprints, and if there are any, they are temporary blueprints for tomorrow, containing information such as, “Go to the bathroom” and “Do homework”, and nothing life-changing. The future is, for lack of a better word, “shaky”. It is temporary, not because the present is always eating away at the future, devouring it, becoming it, but because the entire future itself can become inexistent at any point in the present and because any idea in the present, which is completely chaotic when compared to the past, can completely alter the future. Thus, it seems to me idiotic to think too much about the future in the present, as the present should influence the future, not vice versa.
DeleteI can not change anything about the memory, including my perspective on it. I do not wish to change my perspective on it because I do not want my past to eat away at my present any more than my present is eating away at my future. I want to live in the biggest moment possible. This is what I can learn from my memory, along with the fact that life is cruel, that no one cares about anyone, at least not in the long run, and that the more one thinks about the past, no matter how cruel or pleasant it may be, the more these two truths become self evident.
Most of you already know this but incase you were unaware, I am italian. My mother, the lovely francesca, was not born in america, and when my dad went to italy on vacation he met my mom and brought her to america. This caused her to end up leaving all of her family back at home and not really having much contact with them because of the time differences and their poor use of technology. Therefore, we have to constantly make visits, just about every year for a couple months or so. So every since I was younger I have gone to italy just about every year, 13 times in total, not including the time my mom thought it was a good idea to travel across the country while I was still cooking in her belly. 16 years alive and 13 italy visits have definitely shaped who I am today. Because of these experiences I am technically fluent in italian because I can read, write, and speak the language even though my accent can sometimes make me sound like a potato. I am also very familiar with the culture and I’ve literally been out of the united states 13 times, most people can’t say that and I’m pretty thankful for that. (Even though I’ve never been to disney). Without these experiences I would not be the same person I am today because I would only know english and wouldn't be passing italian 3.
ReplyDeleteI would love for my memories of going to italy to be the blueprint to design my “true self” because after all, my whole family is italian and if I said no I would probably have a wooden spoon smacked against the back of my head. Having these experiences have taught me more than I could ever even realize. I can speak 2 languages, 3 if you consider Sicilian Dialect, I can talk about people with my mother when I am standing next to them while they have no clue what I am talking about, and I can even soon bring my friends to italy and be their little tour guide or something!!! So eventually once all of my friends find the $1,700 for the plane ticket, and then the extra, atleast, $4,000 for spending since the inflation will cause you to have much less money in euros, then I will be able to bring them on a really cool trip and will be able to show them around. If I never had these memories in italy and had a FOB mom then I would not be able to have this experience. These travels from ever since I started to bake in the womb have truly shaped who I am today and have taught me so much that I will be able to share with others.
I hope everyone can realize that knowing another language, other than your home language of course, can really get you pretty far and cause you to experience a plethora of new events that you otherwise would not have only knowing one. So I encourage everyone to go to your local walmart and buy Rosetta Stone or something and learn some new words in a new language. Although, Rosetta seems to skip over all the foul language so if you choose to learn italian I could help you out with that.
A big memory that has shaped who I am was a raking incident. My friend Graham, my brother Jayson and myself were raking leaves when we were younger. We raked them into a huge pile and jumped around in the finished pile. But we were far from satisfied, there just were not enough leave to satisfy us, so we took our rakes and hit the tree branches so more leaves would fall. We were so innocent, however when I went to hit the tree my rake missed and I hit my brother in the head. He started to bleed and I felt really bad, I never wanted this to happen, and If you have ever bleed from your head you know that it looks so much worse than it really is. He really just got a small scratch, but it did bleed for a long time, and my parents were very mad because at the mature age of about 8, I was the oldest and should have known better. But even though nothing really bad happened, this memory stuck with me.
ReplyDeleteSometimes having this as a way to design myself holds me back, but I believe it is very important to me and I need it. Ever since that incident happened, I have thought through ideas before I go through with them. I figure out every single thing that can go wrong in a situation, how I can prevent them, and then decide if I'm going to do whatever it is that I am thinking about. This helps me from doing stupid things and keeping people I care about from doing stupid things. And most of the time it does exactly that, and I am very thankful for it. But on some occasions it hinders me from doing things that I think are more dangerous than they really are. I cannot really say that I live on the edge, actually this keeps me far from any edge at all. I wish there was a way to tell when I am being too cautious but if that is the only drawback of having good judgement, its fine by me.
I have been very blessed with the life and childhood I have been given. I have two loving parents and two amazing siblings and great friends. There is no room for me to complain because I also go to an awesome school with awesome teachers and awesome students. But the one thing I am most grateful for is my Grandparent’s house in Avalon. Staying there every summer ever since I was born, I believe, shaped who I am today because of the things I experienced there. I met a lot of new people, tried a lot of new things, and made a lot of memories. When I look back on my childhood, that is the first thing I think of, because of the positive impact it had and still has on my life.
ReplyDeleteMy Grandfather, or I like to call him, Pop- Pop, is a very hard-working, determined, and dedicated man who I aspire to be one day. My Pop- Pop worked hard and saved his money in order to buy the house in Avalon for my Mom and her siblings to enjoy when they were children. Now, my Pop- Pop has the chance to see his eleven grandchildren enjoy his beach house as well. Without my Pop- Pop’s hard work, I would not have been able to experience the things I did, meaning my personality and the person I am today could have been slightly different.
I would not mind if this childhood experience is the blueprint for who I consider my “true self” because I like the person I am. Therefore, I would not want anything to change from my childhood because it shaped me into a person I like. However, I always believe there is room for improvement in everyone and everything, just like I said above I aspire to be like my Pop- Pop when I am older. I would like to continue my efforts in improving my work ethic, determination, and dedication, especially towards the people I love, because they are the ones who deserve it the most.
The childhood memories I made in Avalon and still make today causes me to count my blessings everyday. These experiences make you realize what you have in life and to never take anything or anyone for granted. Some people are not as lucky as I am, and I am so thankful for what I have.
I had to think back to actual memories of my childhood because I never really think about them. None in particular I should say. But If I were to pick a general memory that shaped me, street hockey wins.
ReplyDeleteI highly recommend signing all your kids up to play street hockey at a young age. Playing street hockey has impacted my life to the fullest in every aspect I could think of. First of all I was fat and ugly and sucked at sports with little to no friends. My first year of hockey I was so horrible I don’t know why I came back the year after. I probably started to actually run during the game once or twice. And that's only if my body could handle it. My second year, 4th grade, was when I sprouted in the hannah montana lovin girl I am today. I earned every ounce of confidence I could when I was assigned captain. It taught me for every other sport that I’ve played in my life so far to genuinely care and love it. I loved being different and being one of the only girls that could hang with the guys. Even in that little year I was finding who I was and I was so happy about it. Without hockey, I would not be the athlete I am, and sports are my entire life. I learned how to be aggressive and basic athletic things like field awareness and probably how to run. I still run hunched over like I have a stick in my hand. I made friends who are probably the weirdest, craziest, out of nowhere people you could think of and they're all different ages. I don’t even know why but I love them all sooooo much. They're mostly all boys, like 98% of them are. I met my first boyfriend, Maverick Liberty <3. I would do anything to play again and it really hurts that I can’t. They were my family away from home and I seriously would go to war for any of them. Besides one of them. He stalks me and has a crush on me but still. I can’t even put into words how much hockey means to me. Everytime I go to the courts I think about all the fun times I had. There was never a negative experience. Most importantly, I got to spend every second I could with my little sister, Lexi Marker. She goes to CC and she's a freshman but this girl is my everything. She was a mini me and I couldn't be anymore thankful I have her always. She is by far one of the strongest people I know and I’ll never forget the day I knew we would be sisters forever and the exact words she said to me.I was in 5th grade getting off the bus and I remember running into her arms and she was in 3rd. The next week after that I held her in my arms. In a cemetery, in a church, 2am at the neighborhood park crying our eyes out. I can’t even put into words how hard those weeks were. I slowly became the older sister that she went to for things she couldn’t go to her dad for. I love her endlessly. Just please appreciate all the times you get with someone. I really hope every single one of you enrolls your kids into street hockey starting at the age of 2 months because it's only a positive experience and it opens you up so much more opportunity than you think. This isn't really what the blog is asking for but it kinda relates and it's the first thing I thought about.
Well first off, "absofreakinglutely" is a neologism that may also qualify as a portmanteau. Anyway, on the topic of life-shaping childhood memories, there is a specific one that comes to mind. Growing up as a child with a not-so-aesthetically- pleasing left eye was rough. My drifting, droopy left eye was a source of embarrassment until thankfully, my girl Dr. Kammi B. Gunton corrected it in 2010. But before Dr. Gunton came to the rescue, I was very self-conscious. Being called "crooked eye" on the bus stuck with me for a long time (which happens to be a synecdoche by the way because obviously I am more than a crooked eye, I am a whole human being). Due to the belittling names and ignorant questions such as "what's wrong with your eye?" I became really insecure. Middle school is already an awkward transformation and the dysfunctional left eye didn't help my situation. Although my side-bangs could cover my eye, they couldn't cover how completely uncomfortable I was at this point in my life. I let the negativity of those judgmental people get under my skin. It's a shame I didn't realize that those idiots were (and probably still are) shallow people who weren't worth listening to for a second. On the bright side, my childhood insecurities made me stronger. Today, if someone were to say something rude about my eye, I would come back at them with a snarky remark or I would completely disregard their existence. Shoutout to my eye because it helped me develop a better self-concept and gave me a sense of empathy for those who have it worse than I did. I'm very lucky to have a good surgeon who helped make me a more confident person. I am glad to have learned so much from a flaw. This temporary, childhood struggle of insecurity helped me blossom into the chick I am today. This point in my life stimulated much personal growth and for that, I am thankful. I know that I will always carry this strength with me through life in order to restrain me from caring about what others think. I can't say I completely don't look for the approval of others but my childhood has shown me to care less and less. I've learned that I'm the only one that I need to impress. My childhood definitely helps me draw the blueprint for the rest of my life because I have a better understanding of myself. I know who to listen to and who to tune out. This important lesson has also come in handy when consoling others. My eye has given me a better understanding of what it's like to be judged solely for an imperfection. I can now help others realize that people who point out your flaws should not be in your presence in the first place. Eliminate those people who bring you down and surround yourself with people who lift you up. Plus, my childhood of insecurity keeps me cognizant of what I say about others. I try not to come at other people's appearances because I know that really affected me before. Overall, my childhood has taught me to toughen up. Being the sensitive person I am, this was hard at first. I feel as though now I am equipped to brush off negative comments and help others do the same. Hopefully I will follow this blueprint for the rest of my life.
ReplyDeleteAs a child I can still remember doing gymnastics when I was younger and going to every practice without a stress in the world. But as I got older and got into the competition level of gymnastics I learned so much and it shaped me to who I am today. Going into my very first gymnastics competition when I was only 6 years old showed me the feelings of excitement, disappointment, and the feeling of being nervous. Before the competition I can still remember how I was extremely nervous becuase I never competed before but I was also ecstatic becuase I was going to perform the sport I love with the best teammates a six year old could ask for. I don't really remember clearly how the competition went but I do remember that I ended up in about 5th place all around and I was extremely disappointed. My love for the sport was so strong at the age that I didn't that you have to start somewhere and then progress and get better. After the meet was over I remmeber going to give my mom and dad a huge hug becuase i just completed my first competition ever. Even though I was happy to see my family and happy to celebrate, my mom could tell I was upset about something and that's when I told her that I was upset that I didn't win. And that's when she told me something that shaped who I am today. She looked into my eyes and said " It's not always about winning, it's about knowing you gave it your all and you did all you can. And if the results don't pan out how you want it then at least you can say you tried your best". Now that wasn't exactly how she said but that's how I remember it till this day. What I learned after the meet as a six year old still sticks with me today as a seventeen year old and I apply to my academics, sports , and life.
ReplyDeleteI think that this memory does shape my true self becuase now I truly understand that you can't always be upset that you didn't come out with the grand prize, and you have to accept the fact that you gave it your absolute all and sometimes your absolute all isn't enough. I think if more people knew this people wouldn't be as hard on themselves as they are now. I know so many of my friends who get upset when they don't end up with straight A's or that first place trophy. But I always ask them if they tried there absolute best and the answer usually is no. So I would want to tell people that before you start complaining about not winning the "Gold" ask yourself if you actually gave it your all. And if you did then you just have to be happy and accept the fact that there was somebody or something better. There's always going to be people better then you and you have to accept that but that doesn't mean you stop trying. Those people should motivate to become better then them becuase anything is possible. So as a seventeen year old girl I would like to thank my mom and dad for teaching this powerful message. If it wasn't for me joining gymnastics I don't know if I would have learned this so I thank the sport of gymnastics as well for shaping me into who I am today.
So far I have had many memories that shaped my existence. The memory that came to mind when reading the questions was when I threw an 8 ball at my sister. I don't remember what she did exactly to make me angry, I just remember throwing the 8 ball at her while playing a game of pool. Luckily, the ball missed and hit the wall, because pool balls are heavy and could do some damage if thrown full force. I feel as if after this incident, I tried not to get that angry again. I knew I didn’t want to be the kind of guy that can't control his emotions which I think is why I rarely show that I'm angry. I wouldn't mind this memory being a blueprint of myself, because since that day I have shown more self control. From this experience, I learned to be more tolerant with people, which is a skill that I'm glad I learned. Some of the guys on the crew team are idiots. After being with the same coach for three years, they haven't learned "don't speak unless spoken to." Their constant comments, such as, "oh, 400 squat jumps isn't too bad" (which is meant to be sarcastic) is what gets our entire team more jumps. I need to be very tolerant with specific people on the team, so I'm lucky that I learned this skill early on.
ReplyDeleteDue to this event, I am also a better listener. People can tell me what they think without me getting angry at them. On the other hand, both of my parents tell me that it's not good to hold in your emotions, specifically anger. They believe that the anger will bottle up inside and I'll eventually flip out at someone. For example, for years, my dad rarely expressed emotions such as anger. He just let it build up inside, which led to stress and depression. On occasion he tells me that he wishes he could hate people, and I feel like I'll be in the same boat as he is one day. He tells me not to hold in anger because he experienced it firsthand. If I didn’t learn how to be so tolerant with people, I would wish that this event never happened. Throwing the 8 ball at Amber years ago had its good effects and its bad ones, but it definitely shaped who I am today.
As most people know, I tend to be a very animated individual. My mood is clearly displayed through the way I act and the way I carry myself in conversation. It, like many of my “talents”, is a curse. Like a double edged sword, it enables me to immediately connect to people on an emotional and physical level but at the same time it also leaves me vulnerable. Vulnerable to each and every demon in the form of pain that this gauntlet called life holds.
ReplyDeleteBelieve it or not, I dread the act of sharing my past. The myriad of bones that make up the plethora of skeletons in my walk-in closet weighs down on me more than the sky does for Atlas. (Yes, it’s more than just a regular closet.) I like to feel safe. I like to feel like I’m in control of my life. I like to manipulate what each person knows about me. Maybe that just complicates my life even more. I don’t know and I honestly don’t care. (Occasionally, I reveal a part of myself to quench my innate thirst to be understood.)
Before I go any further, I’d like to apologize to people that might be reading this and didn’t read my OP because it already answered this question and recent events have made that OP mean more to me so I just can’t reproduce it again on this blog. Sorry.
Nonetheless, I will answer the questions.
It truly is one of the most influential events in my life, but I can’t—like all of my other childhood memories, consider it as the “blueprint for which I design my ‘true self’.” I will, however, admit that it has shaped some of the larger aspects of my life like: what I find important in life and what I believe to be important to me. Answers may vary. And there are several answers to both. For those of you who are reading this and either never heard my OP or forgot about it, two of the things I value most in life are music and quality time with other people. Life is just so short¬—so fragile, that it would be stupid to let it go to waste. Moreover, it is through music that I have pushed through some of the worst events in my life and it is through music that I have been welcomed to some of the best.
I want people to find what it is that is important to them. What it is that their memories have taught or should teach them. I want people to find the small things that make them happy and make others around them happy. I also don’t want people to be like me. How I rely on other people’s happiness to have my own. I’m not saying that it’s everything to me, which it isn’t. But I feel as though life would be a whole lot easier if I didn’t have that part of me. I want people to find their happiness as soon as possible. Hopefully not at the age of 6 like I did or through the same circumstances. But I can easily say that it puts life into perspective and it gives you a reason to get out of bed every morning. Unless you’re like me and you need seven alarms at five minute intervals to wake you up.
Much like my teenage years, my childhood was very uneventful. It was engulfed with the monotonous routine of school, homework, and play, repeat. To complete the first part of my routine I had to take the bus to school. Every year since kindergarden I sat with the same girl therefore we got pretty close. In fact we were inseparable by third grade, we had to be considering there was 180 days in a year and we talked every morning and afternoon.
ReplyDeleteDuring one of these morning conversations between my bus buddy and I the topic of children’s names came up. What we would name our future kids after we were settled down with the perfect husbands (hahah) and perfect house. I was beyond excited to tell her the name I thought of a few days beforehand when I was calling my dog into my room. “Kahmere! Isn’t that the cutest name?” After a moment she said, “Isn’t that kinda ya know like gh-” She paused to look me up and down, “Well nevermind I forgot, I guess it’s an okay name” I remember the momentary silence that we held before we were let off the bus. Instantly, I knew what she forgot, she forgot that I was black. We were only kids so obviously it was something she heard, that a certain name means a certain type of person. And that this certain type of person was not a good one. In her and many other people eyes a “black” or “ghetto” name is not a good a name because they’re for black people. Which is why the name I liked was okay for me but if another person, a white person, would’ve said it the sentence would have been completed. I hold no grudges over this memory, we were babies, I still fuck with her to this day.
My bus buddy made me a little more self aware. However, I don’t think this was for the better. From that point on I didn’t want to be the stereotypical black girl that everyone pictures in their head, not that I ever was I had an uppity mom. My music taste grew away from Hip Hop and R&B to the point where I was into country. I genuinely did like that music, I still do now, I just listen to everything under the sun including songs that aren’t even in english. But when I was younger I just didn’t want that stereotype hanging over my head. This is not anything close to being my blueprint to my true self but one of stepping stones on learning to not give a single fuck. Once I grew out of this weird stage I didn’t care. People could stereotype me if they wanted to, it showed what kind of person they were not me.
This question is probably the hardest one out of all the blogs we have had. When I read this question, so many childhood memories came to mind but the one that stood out the most was cheerleading. I remember everything about cheer from the day I started until now. Signing up for cheer was the best thing that has every happened to me. I remember going to tryouts and learning the moves. It took me forever to pick the motions, learn up to jump, and learn choreography. Honestly at the rate I was going, I never thought that I would make the team. I had nothing they were looking for, no tight motions, no spirit, and my jumps were horrible but I guess they saw potential in me. I remember the practices and how I was still struggling to learn all the moves and motions and I wanted to give up but why try something if you gonna give up anyway. I went to practice every single day and was never late. I worked but butt off and before I knew it I was improving. I actually started to enjoy cheer and felt like I could do it but there was one thing missing. I didn't have friends. When I was little I was shy and could never be on my own. Never did anything without my sister and I guess that's the reason my mom signed me up. To learn how to do things on my own and to be my own independent person because my sister and I weren't on the same team. I knew it would take me a while to open up and meet new people and it did. I think it only happened because I was on a team with people and there's was no way I wouldn't be able to talk to them. As practices and games went on I became Better at everything; talking more, being more spirited, having better motions and jumps. When these things started happening I knew this was something I wanted to do for a long time. As years went on and I became older, everything just got better and better. My coaches started being harder on me and pushing me to do things I never imagined I could do and just encouraging me to never give up when I don't get something the first time. If it weren't for them and my family, I wouldn't be where I am now in cheer or any sport. My love for cheer has grown stronger and stronger each year and I can't see myself doing any thing else. This has shaped me into who I am because I am no longer the the person I used to be. I'm now my own independent person. I do want this to be the blueprint of my true self because it's taught me how to do things by myself, that practice makes perfect, and to never give up. I wanted to give up so many times in cheer but I realized that me giving up would make the years I've spent doing this mean nothing and I didn't spend my whole life doing cheer to get nothing in return. The way I can impact the world and those who are important to me and also teach a lesson is by telling them that if you don't see potential in yourself, there's always someone who will. I never saw the potential of me being a cheerleader because I don't look like a typical one but one of the judges saw something in me that led me to where I am today.
ReplyDeleteLike I wrote in the last blog post’s question about making memories, I really don’t remember much of my childhood. The only things I really do remember are key parts that I really believe were important to shaping me into the person I am today. The two most prominent memories that I have that actually made me feel some type of way. The first one happened when I was probably eleven years old. It was when I actually witnessed my brother being bullied. At that time, I went to my friend’s house and she lived in the back of the neighborhood so I could just ride my bike over to her house. Once I got there I realized that I left something at home so I called my brother, who was thirteen at the time, and asked if he could bring it over. Being the good brother he was, he agreed. But after waiting a while my brother still hadn’t arrived. I told my friend that I was going to go see where he was and so I took off on my bike. When I got to the middle of the neighborhood I saw my brother sitting on his bike, with a bag around his shoulders, surrounded by a group of boys that were maybe his age. It seemed as if they were bullying him but being the scared little girl I was I just watched. That is until it looked like they pushed my brother off of his bike. I rushed in as fast as I could and tried to help my brother and tried to get the boy to back off but nothing really seemed to help. They began to tease me then too. Eventually, they got bored and all I remember next was standing outside of the kitchen bathroom watching my brother clean up his wounds from falling while repeating that he was fine and that what happened didn’t bother him. But I knew that he wasn’t fine as he was just a kid like me. He acted as if he could be strong no matter what happened and I guess since that day I did too. Ever since that day whenever something went wrong, I pretended as I was all right. If I physically got hurt, I laughed it off. If I mentally got hurt, I brushed it off. Even now I never really want to show people if I’m pain because, honestly, it makes me nervous; nervous in a way that I can’t really explain. And no, I absolutely do not want this memory to be the “blueprint” for my “true self.” I want to be able to open up to people in public about how I truly feel and not feel nervous about doing so. I don’t want to keep everything inside because I truthfully am not a strong person.
ReplyDeleteSo if I don’t want this to be who I am, what can I learn from it? Simple. I can learn that there are times when you have to be strong and there are times where you don’t. For instance, another memory that I have drilled into my mind is when my great-grandfather died. My mom’s parents died when she was a baby so her grandparents raised her, so when my great-grandfather passed away when I was in seventh grade it hit her hard. I have never seen my mom cry before that day. And it made me realize that my mom isn’t the superhero that I’d always thought she was. She had her weaknesses just like everyone else and she wasn’t invincible. So basically, what I can take away from these pretty saddening memories is that I have come to understand when I have to be strong and when I can let it all out. But, of course, I have yet to learn how to do so.
I am not sure I am able to come up with a specific memory that shaped me to be the person I am today. However, I am able to tell you in general what did. It was definitely the people I grew up around which includes my best friend, classmates, and most importantly my family. My surroundings definitely play a part so to start off, I basically lived in Mays Landing my whole life. I come from a family of four (mom, dad, and two sisters). Until this day I can’t complain about my life, I have a very loving family who supports me through everything, a wonderful friend, and the school I go to isn’t half bad. I have things a lot of people wish they did and although I suck at showing it I am extremely grateful.
ReplyDeleteI am described as somebody that doesn’t let little irrelevant things get to them, I am very honest or you can say blunt because whatever I feel I need to say I will say it, I am also very quiet, but at the same time can be the livest person you met. One thing about me is I act certain ways depending on who I’m around. My parents always just told me I have multiple personalities lol. I have a reason on why I act these ways though. First off my best friend has a huge sense of humor, always did. When we are together we act the silliest and are always laughing, she gets me the most and I am pretty sure I am myself around her. The reason I said “pretty sure” is because I still don’t know what my personality actually is, or what type of person I am. It just feels right when I am with her. She is the person who helped me learn how to “have fun” and also why I love to laugh. The thing is, the way I act around her I can’t act like that toward anyone else. Actually, I do SOMETIMES when I’m around my family, but that’s it.
I went to school with the same students since we are about 5-6 but for some reason I still tend to be quiet around them I don’t know why. Sometimes I feel like it’s best for me to stay quiet because it would be less ways for people to judge me, but then again why should I care? I don’t even get myself because literally one minute I could be the shyest/quietest person in the room and the next I can be the loudest/most annoying one with no f**** given. Anyway, to my family... I always watched how they interacted with one another as well as “outsiders.” All together they made me realize/taught me what love actually is, how to care for others, and not to play many people close which is probably the reason why I only have one friend lol. I guess you can say they shaped me the most and I am not disappointed at all of the person I came to be. I am definitely different but that’s a good thing. I admit this was tough blog, I’m not sure if I even answered it correctly, so when you ask what lesson would I like to impact I am not completely sure on that...
Before I get into anything too serious, "absofreakinglutely" utilizes the lit term neologism.
ReplyDeleteSo when I was younger I used to have a best friend named Mckengzie. And it pains me that I cannot remember her last name because it is the only thing preventing me from looking her up on any and all social media outputs. The funniest thing about us is the story of how we met. I think it was the first grade or maybe even kindergarten. We weren’t even in the same class. We simply were in line when we past each other in the hallway, wearing the same shoes with the same pink flowers on the toes. From that day on, we both knew it was the start of something special. Hahah call me cheesy but I swear that’s how it happened. When we realized our houses were minutes apart, nothing stopped our afternoon rituals of watching full house or putting on silly talent shows. Somehow my fear of dogs did not interfere with our friendship (she had a big dog.)
You’re probably wondering how this marvelous gift of friendship shaped me as an individual. Well it has something to do with her moving to Tennessee. When she moved it was like a part of me was lost. I guess you could call it the “wild” side of me. The me who sang as loud as my voice allowed and spoke as frequently as possible. But don’t get me wrong I was still just as shy as I am now when I wasn’t with her. So to answer your question, now she is not who made me this quiet person.
However when she left, the part of me that held on to things too tightly went with her. I never allowed myself to grow attached to another person because I had realized how easy it was to lose a person. Now, there are people in this world I probably could not live without and that’s probably I have known them for a very long time. Longer than I have known the 60 some lang kids. That’s a scary thought. That means in a year or so I am going to have to say “goodbye” to these people and I am not sure I can handle it. I put “goodbye” in quotations because I hope the people that I’ve known for more than 12 years will still keep in touch, even if I am the one calling.
This is the memory that is the “blueprint” for my “true self” but I am not too sure I want it to be. I guess one day I’ll learn to allow people in and grow attached but for now I am content with my life. I don’t want to meet new people, as harsh as that sounds, because it only means ill need to learn how to say goodbye and I don’t know how to do that. How do you share days, weeks, months, years even, with the same people and countless moments just to never see them again. Having said all that, even if I were to erase that memory, there would so many more times in my life where I would come to learn this lesson. And even though it has kept me distant from the most amazing people, I think I am better for it. Especially in times like these, where the movement of people is so frequent.
For this blog, I really had to think back on my memories from childhood. So, what memories has shaped me into who I am today? I would have to go back to fourth grade. That was the year I won first place in the science fair. I remember the happiness on my parents’ faces as I walked up to the stage to receive my award. We went out to eat that night and everyone in my family was happy that night. That was when I realized that I had the power to make my parents happy. From then on, I tried my best in school and received a lot of awards. Everytime I got an award, the smile on my parent’s faces would shine. Even though sometimes it was only a certificate with my name on it, my parents would buy frames and hang it up in my room. It provided happiness for them, and I was willing to give it to them. I think this will become a good blueprint for my “true self’ because it drives me forward to always try my best. I know that my achievements may become inspiration for someone else or maybe those achievements will provide happiness for my parents. From this experience I learned that just little things can make people happy. It does not have to be a big deal. Something little like cleaning your room, can make someone happy. I always have the philosophy that happy people= peaceful world. I believe the society we live in today, there is too much violence and hate. If we all just do that little thing and make people happy, we would have a peaceful world. But that is the dream world. In reality, it is almost impossible to be nice to everyone because there people who are just so goddamn annoying. We also cannot always be nice because then, some people might take advantage of that and it might hurt us in the end. So, even though my blueprint has taught me a good lesson, it can also bring along pain which is what we all want to avoid.
ReplyDeleteThe name of that lit term is neologism. But anyways all my childhood memories have shaped out the person I am today. It is because I have the benefit of having a good childhood that lets me be happy with life; because of all my blessings. But if I had to choose one memory, it would be my mom and her oxygen. Seeing her struggle to do most things killed me inside, I constantly wished I could donate her one of my lungs. I hated having the one person I love the most go through pain or struggle to even walk to the bleachers for my soccer games. It stunk. But seeing her still do everything, go to every single one of my games, no matter how far the walk to the fields, inspired me. And then finally when she was given a new life, which made me the happiest man earth. It made me appreciate life and gave me the realization that every life is fragile and that anything can happen to you. Anything in a positive and negative way. Life is short and being every step of the way with my mom made me realize that I should enjoy life because I never know when mine will end.
ReplyDeleteThis memory is and will be the blueprint of who I am. Simply because I will always remember these experiences. I cannot ever forget them, as they shaped out who I am today. And from who I am today I try to share my knowledge to others. For instance, with Sierra I am constantly telling her to enjoy life and to live it to the fullest. Nobody wants to regret not doing something when they’re older. Live life to the fullest because it’s short.
I want my knowledge (I don’t know if I can call it wisdom because I’m only 17) to live forever because anybody's life can end on the blink of an eye (not sure if that’s an idiom because at first I put “in the blink of an eye”). I do not want anybody on the brink of death looking back on their life wishing they could have done this or that. I want them to be happy with the life they have lived, and cry tears of joy. There will be ups and downs in life but I want them to be more ups than downs. Everyone must realize how life truly is, only that way will they have lived their life to the fullest.
Not gonna lie, I had a pretty interesting childhood. I remember laughing a lot, and having a “crayon war” with my brother (and getting a really nasty wedgie whenever I beat him), and impersonating dolphins whenever I went swimming. But I also remember being scared, and crying my eyes out whenever I got yelled at, and sleeping away my discomfort (hence why I love taking naps!). But whether I like it or not, the good and the bad, I’m the person I am today because of these things.
ReplyDeleteI remember way back in the old days, life seemed so much simpler. Of course, I was four, so I all I could think about were rainbows and sunshine. But that’s beside the point. I played from dawn to dusk. My diet consisted of chocolate and capri-sun. I giggled and grinned and twirled around every hour of the day like a madman. Life was good and I was having a blast. Until I realized the truth and I started looking at the world in a new light.
I was four when it happened. For a while now, I would waddle my little self next door to play with my lovely neighbors, the Philips. And this day was no exception. Afterall, they were practically my best friends at the time. It was around springtime and Mrs. Philips was showing me and her son, Carl, how to plant flowers. I can’t even explain how excited I was. For one, I never planted a single thing in my life before. And two, I was going to touch dirt for the first time! So, for the next hour or two (I don’t really remember the length of time), we planted flowers in their front yard. We laughed, made jokes, ate some ice cream-- it was great. By the end of it, my neighbors were kind enough to let me keep one of their flowers! It was pink and boy-oh-boy was I hyped. They gave me a pot and everything. I named it Jasmine Jr. I was so happy, I ran home to show my parents. I opened the door front door and bolted towards their room. But what I saw were not my parents. Sure, they looked the same physically, but theirs eyes, and the volume of their voices was something I had never seen before. Right before my eyes, were my parents, fighting and yelling and screaming at each other. I was confused, and slightly scared. That was when my brother noticed me and quickly scooped me into his arms and carried me to his room, away from their bickering. I remember I was trying to pry myself out of his arms to run back to them, to try to make them feel better. But he wouldn’t let me. He then, in the most basic terms, explained to me that they’ve been fighting for a while now. In my four year old mind, it didn’t really click. This was my first time seeing someone I cared about unhappy, and I didn’t even know.
I guess this could be my “blueprint”. Ever since that day, I vowed to always make sure that everyone, not matter who they are, were happy. No pain, no worries, no stress-- just pure happiness. Of course, it doesn’t really help that I’m quiet. But sometimes, that’s all a person really needs: a shoulder to lean on, someone to listen to their problems. And if they really need me to be, I could be loud! Whatever it is, I just hope and try to make that person feel better. Because even though everything may look fine on the outside, something deeper may be going on the inside that you just don’t know.
P.S. My parents are fine now! They’re still together! No more fights!
P.P.S But Jasmine Jr is long dead. :(
As a child, camping was a large part of my life and still is to this day. In the spring, we would go to a campground called "Evergreen Woods" in Pomona. My family started going here before I was even born. We would stay there from the time we came in until after Halloween. We would spend the weekends there during the school year and spend the entire summer there without going back to my house. It was my home. I knew every inch of that place like the back of my hand. The feeling this place gives me is unexplainable. I will try to paint a picture for you. My entire family including aunts, uncles, close family friends, and my Nana and Poppop placed our campers in spots right next to each other. It was almost like a suburb of the "Dunns". Every Saturday I would wake up with Kayla Rosen to the smell of a pork roll, egg, and cheese bagels that my Poppop made for us. My cousins, Carly, Lexie, and Melanie would meet with Kayla and I to eat our breakfast. We would listen to the VH1 Top 20 Countdown for music while we ate. After this, we would get dressed and begin to explore. We would go to the Rec Hall at 10 A.M. to play candy bar bingo. It didn't matter if you lost. You still got a candy bar. We would visit the beach, where a beautiful lake stood. Unfortunately, this lake was filled with leeches and snapping turtles so we couldn't swim in it. We would visit tent city, where all the weekend "tenters" would stay. We would visit the campground park that was falling apart in every way. It was filled with bee nests and the wood on the red firetruck was breaking, but we didn't care. We then begged our parents to take us to the pool because we were not old enough to go alone. We anxiously waited until we turned 16 so we could go alone. But, we didn't make it to that age while we were there. We spent hours playing Marco Polo or... Ketchup Mustard, as we called it. But the best thing of all was the golf cart rides. We sat on the back and sang "Baby Bumble Bee" and "All Star" by Smash Mouth,but with a twist. It had something to do with macaroni... "Somebody once told me the world was macaroni so I took a big bite of it. It tasted kind of funky so I thew it at a monkey and the monkey started cursing at me"... Our family drove us around the entire park. It was the best. I am becoming very sad writing this, but you can assume I will get over it. Dance competitions where we would choose a song and make the best dance we could. The campfires. We burned our names into a tree, where it still stands today. This campground went downhill and was taken over by the bank. "The bank". These words still haunt me. They have an awful connotation that just makes me think about how my childhood was taken from me by "the bank". We stayed there until we were dragged out. I remember the day that my cousins and I, still young, broke into the Rec Hall, which had been closed down for months. We didn't do this to do anything wrong. We just wanted to sit and think about all the times we had there. Things were thrown everywhere. I assumed by teenagers. It was heartbreaking for me. I have photos of us all on our last day. Crying. Why wouldn't we? This place was all we knew. I resented our new campground. I absolutely hated it. It was nothing like Evergreen. This blog post turned into a rant and I hope you don't mind. I needed it. I want this memory to be a blueprint for myself. One day, I will grow up and have kids and I will give them the campground that I knew. I will take them all the time, just like my mother did. The lesson this memory leaves for me is that it's okay to move on, but there's nothing wrong with remembering. I will miss this place forever. I still visit it every once in a while. (Continuted)
ReplyDeleteI can't completely move on yet. I would miss it too much. It's still running, under new management, but the pool was removed and the playground was torn down and the Rec Hall was bulldozed. This memory has shaped me as a person tremendously. It brings back good memories and bad. Don't get me confused, not everything that happened there was good. For example, when Jimmy (Mr. Dunn) didn't realize I was hanging off the golf cart and drove a good 50 feet, with my helpless body dragging behind... Anyway, I experienced loss at a very young age. It helped me grow and I love Evergreen more than anyone could ever understand.
DeleteI remember plenty of details from my childhood, but when tasked with writing about them they seem to evacuate my brain entirely. It was difficult to remember something about my past that affected me, even subtly. After searching my brain like it was Google, I remembered this memory: When I was a little girl, I lived in Buena (on Weymouth-Malaga Rd). I can still vividly picture looking out of the window at the front of the house and waving goodbye to my Dad as he drove away to work every day. Not only did I wave goodbye, but I would also say stuff in a sing-song voice while waving from inside. This is a rough translation from Russian, “Bye Daddy! There’s no snow on the road...and you also have to go to work…”.
ReplyDeleteSo, now might be a good time to mention that I was around three years old when this memory took place. And even at three, I showed some mature characteristics. I had a morning routine and I cared about my Dad’s well-being. I can relate these qualities to who I am today. I like being organized and having routines. In fact, I said goodbye to my parents every day before they left for work until my school bus beat their alarm clocks. Point is: I like consistency and familiarity. Another learned trait I’ve carried with me through my childhood into my young-adult life is my caring for other people, especially my family. This is not uncommon, though it does relate to my memory.
I think that a person’s “True Self” changes constantly. Whether it’s learning new things, or meeting inspiring people, or visiting awesome places, my perspective on life grows and grows. It has many angles, both obtuse and acute. It’s got windows, doors, mirrors, kaleidoscopes even! So, I don’t have a “True Self” but I do appreciate the memory. I like reflecting on my cute little toddler self. If my “True Self” was defined, I wouldn’t want such a small and insignificant memory to be the design of my future. But then you ask: how could I change my perspective on the memory? Well, I was three. I can appreciate the silliness of it more. The improper grammar and the fact that I spoke random gibberish from behind a window while waving at my Daddy (who definitely couldn’t have been looking at me because he was operating a vehicle). Yeah, okay. My perspective has been changed. I can learn to appreciate even the smallest and most insignificant of memories. Appreciating the little things is a lesson worth learning.
I’m very grateful for my amazing life. Not everyone can say the same thing about theirs. I have had unforgettable memories, both good and bad. But I can’t say that there is just only one memory that has shaped all of who I am. All my memories did just that.
ReplyDeleteI remember my childhood very clearly, but for some odd reason when I came across these questions, it was a little blurry. So, I pulled out my handy-dandy photo albums to refresh those memories. I could go on and on about so many of my childhood memories but I find a categorized few to be worthy for this topic.
Sports. I play 3 sports...well this year, I only played 2 (soccer and crew). I also play basketball but I didn’t play this year for reasons I’ll just keep to myself. My decision on whether or not I should play for the school next year is still pending (I don’t know why people gas me up and tell me I’m good at this sport, I don’t really think I am but I definitely miss it). I love all my sports so much and I don’t ever want to stop playing them. Both, soccer and basketball, taught me the same lessons because they have similar concepts; put the ball in the net. But it’s not just that. I learned how to be more confident in myself and my performance. A lot of times, I catch myself doubting myself and it seriously affects the way I play. I fear that I can’t do things, when I really can. Nerves are normal but fearing to do things in the game isn’t. Here’s where I also learned to take brave risks. I also learned how to be a leader. I was team captain for a couple of my soccer teams in my years of playing this sport.
Of course, in all sports, we learn teamwork. It’s essential in order to reach your goal, the dub (W)!!! But the the sport that needs teamwork the most is crew. Doing crew is probably one of the best decisions I’ve made. I was actually going to do lacrosse but I wanted to try something TOTALLY different. I’ve been doing this sport since freshman year and I’m planning to do it in college, hopefully with a scholarship. Ever since I did crew, I learned how to connect with the girls on my boat, which later in life will help me connect with other people. I also learned how to be there for each other because it’s a necessity for this sport. This sport is NOT easy as some people say (people who haven’t experienced this sport). This sport takes dedication and a lot of hard work that will be painful. But you won’t go through it alone, that’s for sure.
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DeleteHere’s a quick story of the most memorable race I’ve ever had: Nationals. We were racing 4 other boats in the 1st round. We started off really well and we were set in 3rd place, pretty far from the other 2 boats that were behind us. (qualifying for 2nd round of Nationals if we kept that place), BUT towards the end of the course, something nail-biting had happened; Kelly Duffy (who was sitting behind me) caught a dangerous crab (not the sea creature; it is when your oar gets stuck in the water while your rowing and the boat is moving very fast so it’s hard to get it out). This crab nearly knocked Kelly out and could have injured her by the oar whacking her in the head from how fast the oar swung back towards her. She couldn’t get it out, so we all had to stopped rowing for me to quickly help her out. Everyone was panicking and Kelly was balling her eyes out while trying to get her oar out. It took quite a long time to get it out. I yelled for everyone to stay calm. The boats behind us were catching up to us. We had to move so we could make it to the next round of Nationals. I started to lose my faith but then when I saw Kelly finally get it out, I knew we could make it. But Kelly’s seat was out of the tracks. The rest of the team franticly started to row hard so that the other boats wouldn’t catch up. Kelly got her seat on and we both quickly started rowing the last 250 meters. Our boat and another boat were fighting for 3rd place. Our coxswain, Karlee, was yelling her lungs out for us to keep going. While everyone is emotional, we pulled so incredibly hard that it amazingly got us in 3rd place after stopping for a pretty long time. I’ve never felt so much relief and happy before. As expected, I could NOT breathe and my legs were on fire and my hands were aching. But it was so worth it because we made it to 2nd round!!! (we were the only Oakcrest boat to make it to the second round:D but didn't make it to semifinals) I turned around to Kelly and gave her the biggest hug and I cried happy tears with her. We all were so happy. This will forever be a memorable day for me and one of the best. I’ve never been apart of a team that put incredible teamwork like this. It truly felt amazing. (P.S it was all on GoPro video lol)
DeleteWhen I first saw “childhood” I immediately think of like when I was 5, and then I think like I had a okay childhood, nothing dramatic. And then I think, well one time in fifth grade, I was talking with a guy friend about how to play this game we made up together, and he was all “well I just think you should follow my rules because Im a boy, and your a girl so you should do what I say” And my fifth grade self got really really freaking mad, I went off. Screaming things like “JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE A BOY DOESN'T MEAN YOURE BETTER THAN ME”. And I guess thats when feminist Emily was born. As I grew older, I learned about alot of things. I learned about the over sexualization of the female body, I learned about rape culture, I learned about the huge problems females face in other countries, how girls grow up to hate their bodies due to the appraisal of other bodies through tv, social media, magazines.. everywhere, I leanred so much more too . Ive had more incidents where I was told men are superior to women. It just makes me so furious. I honestly feel bad for the girls who tell me feminism is stupid. Because like its stupid that you can finally vote right? Like I totally get how stupid it is to actually be known as something more than a decorative sex object! LOL! It is soooo stupid we should just get back to being cooking and clean up girls :( no education, no life outside of your home, its all so stupid I know I know stupid feminism :( Anyway… I think this has shaped me to know my self worth, to educate other females about their own worth, and to be there for all women of all race. Do we all remember that time whats his face tweeted “ If a girl dresses like a slut she should be treated as such” Or some dumb ass shit talking about how “girls complain about men touching them when they wear “provocative” clothing” and how they should expect to be touched by guys when they leave the house in shorts. Like number fucking one, a girl can wear whatever THE FUCK SHE WANTS and you STILL have no fucking right to sexually harass her. Shit, SHE COULD BE STANDING NAKED IN FRONT OF YOU, and yet you STILL have NO RIGHT TO LAY A FINGER ON HER.ooo i am so heated right now. Ladies and gents, find yourself a man or woman who actually respects your body, and everybody elses. But please don’t get it twisted, feminism is so much deeper, so much more, than just about girls and their bodies. Educate yourself :) you won't regret it. Heres a little something something I love slam poetry and heres some about feminism that I freaking love so ok here you go whoever reads this I hope you enjoy :) Somehow I always end up ranting in my blog posts lol...
ReplyDelete“Somewhere in America” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OadZpUJv8Eg this one is really good
“Skinny” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0T6m9t4jiAo
“Rape Joke” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4m3AJamQYM
I've had many great childhood memories but one that has shaped me the most is our routine family dinners. I always felt grateful to be able to sit down every night with my family and eat a home cooked meal. It was usually ready at the same time every night and if we happened to be out and about than we had to be home by the time dinner was served and not a minute later or else there would be serious consequences. Growing up I never understood the seriousness of being home for dinner on town but now I understand that it's a sign of respect towards family. Along with the family dinners we would have during the week, there was also a bigger dinner at my mom moms house every Sunday night and more of the family would be invited. These dinners focused on two things. We were lucky to be able to have food on the table each night and we were lucky to get to spend a nice dinner as a family together each night. We would talk about our day at school and the adults would talk about their days at work. I remember getting so excited when we would go to my mom moms for dinner because it was nice getting to see extended family every week. It helped to make Sunday's suck a little less because I would always get the gloomy feeling that ones along with a Sunday because I knew the next day was the start of a whole week at school. The weekend was never over until we went over to her house. When the weather was nice we would play games in the backyard after dinner or watch tv inside together. Now that we're all older and my brother's in college and my grandparents live in Florida for 6 months out of the year, family dinners aren't as routine. How could they be since half the family isn't even around? I miss getting excited for Sunday dinners and the dinner table at home doesn't feel as complete during the week. But once everyone comes home for the summer and during Christmas we have plenty of family dinners that make up for the many we lost. I value family and special time that I get to spend with them. Family dinners have always been something special, but even more now since they come around less often.
ReplyDeleteI had a happy childhood. I had a house that comfortably sheltered a family of 5, a big backyard with a pool, neighborhood kids to play with. I had a best friend with whom I would spend every second of everyday. I had my own room filled with barbies and polly pockets and the color pink. But I also had a bipolar mom.
ReplyDeleteGrowing up, it was difficult to make sense of my mom’s crazy mood swings; I didn’t understand why she would be happy and loving one second but angry and emotional the next. When she was happy, she’d coddle me and hug me and tell me how much she loved me. She’d say that I was the best daughter in the world, that she was lucky to have me. She’d be full of life and energy, suggesting that we do some fun activity such as swimming or bike riding or shopping. She’d rearrange the whole house, pulling the sofa away from one wall and situating it against another, unplugging the television only to move it a few feet to the right, and swearing that the new arrangement made all the difference. She’d act silly and goofy and would even join in my polly pocket make-believe scenarios. She’d read me bedtime stories, 4 of them in a row if I begged her enough, and would tuck me into my sheets before kissing me goodnight on the forehead. These were the best times; the times when I swore I had the best mom in the world, when I was sure I wanted to be just like her when I grew up.
But then there were the bad times, when the hugs turned into sharp looks and I was no longer the best daughter in the world, but the most selfish and ungrateful. I never listened to her, I always talked back, I didn’t appreciate all the things she’d given me--a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food to eat. I was just like my father, she’d say: stubborn and sarcastic and overall unpleasant to be around. She’d get enraged over the smallest offense, whether it be a messy room or a mismatched outfit (How dare I go to school like that? Did I want everyone to think I have a horrible mother who can’t dress me properly?) However aggressive she was towards me, my mom would be five times worse towards my little sisters, who often earned groundings and bedtimes without dinner. To be fair, they weren’t always the most angelic kids and they did deserve most of the punishments given to them. However, no one ever deserved to be the victim of my mom’s one-sided screaming matches that would literally shake the house and cause me to hide upstairs in my room for hours. I had learned to avoid these encounters with my years experience of living under the same roof as my mother; my little sisters, on the other hand, hadn’t quite honed the key skill of compliance.
The absolute worst times, though, were when my mom would suddenly break down in tears for no apparent reason. Something had triggered her, something had set her off into an emotional down spiral that only she could pull herself out of. I remember being the frequent provoker of these crying episodes (for reasons still unknown to me), when my mother would look me in the eye, tears rolling down her face, and ask me in the tiniest, most helpless voice why I didn’t love her. I’d never answer her question because I’d never know what to say. I would be overcome with an enormous sense of guilt; my mother was convinced that I didn’t love her and I, somehow, had made her feel that way.
Living with different versions of my mom has definitely shaped me into the person I am today. I realized a long time ago that I don’t want to be anything like her, so I’ve subconsciously morphed my personality into the complete opposite of hers: I don’t show emotion (I’m not a robot, I just don’t reveal any intense feelings), I don’t get mad easily, I never yell or raise my voice. I’m not proud of the fact that 90% of my personality is the result of what happened to me in the past--It makes me upset to think about the person I could’ve become if I grew up in a different, maybe a more stable, environment. Nevertheless, I’m glad I figured out why I am who I am. I can’t change myself, but becoming more aware of how I act will definitely help me understand other people’s actions and reactions towards me in the future.
DeleteWell here we go, I personally do not like looking into the memories of my childhood because they remind me of how long I have been the person you see today. Since it is essential to this blog I must do it, so once again here we go. I have spent the last couple days thinking of this blog and how the only way I can truly answer it is through recovering one of my childhood memories, so I have just thought about my childhood. What aspect of me was formed in the early years of my life? My childhood isn’t a large amount of small memories but rather a one giant memory, which is possibly the reason why this blog is difficult for me to do. The one thing I do remember about my childhood is just the fact that I cannot trust anyone, people will constantly lie to you in order to give you a sense of security. I discovered this at the age of three or four, I can understand why people would try to do this to children in order to protect them from the real world. Figuring this fact out at an early age just set me up for a childhood of false hope. It seemed as if every time I was told something it would always turn out to be a lie, which has lead me to become an adolescent who has a very low amount of trust to give anyone. As I said I do not have a single memory that is responsible for this but rather a combination of learned experiences over about seven years.
ReplyDeleteThere is no sense of me speaking in hypotheticals on who I could be because that won’t change who I am. For the sake of this blog I will try to develop my “true self” even though I am who I am. My “true self” is one that has difficulty trusting people and because of that I am a person who is very cautious. That caution has lead me to having a difficulty developing relationships with other people. The difficulty building relationships lead me to who I am today. So, yes I would like this to be part of the blueprint for my idea self because I have had many great experiences that have resulted from my lack of trust in people.
My dad was the breadwinner of our family. He worked a full-time job, so my mom was the one to stay home with my brother and me. We didn’t have as much time as we would have liked with my dad. But he made sure that the time we did have together would be the best it could be. At bedtime he would tickle my brother till he giggled so loud he was howling. My mom would say something like “Diego, por favor, es hora para dormir. El niño ya estaba calmada. “ but she loved seeing the two of them together with the biggest smiles on their faces. I know I did.
ReplyDeleteMy dad worked hard and he was tired but he always made time for us. He knew that life is not about how much you have, but what you do with your time. I take this to heart. I do not spend much time at home during the school week, but it’s better that way. I might be tired and running around like a chicken without a head every show week, but I love doing what I do. I love acting, singing, dancing with my wonderful friends. Performing with such great people is what makes school fun for me. And then I come home to my mom and my Bean, the people I love most. There’s nothing like our movie nights with us fighting over who has to get the snacks. As a minor, I am obligated to spend a huge chunk of my days in classes, so I’m not rich with time so to speak. But I know how to spend my leftover time to get the most value out of my minute.
In the future, I know I will pass this on to my kids. I can only imagine how much quicker the world will seem to move as technology advances more and more. I hope they do not get caught up racing against the clock, but just firmly decide what is worth their time.
Jesus, Bunje. I didn’t think I could go any deeper than I already have, but you’ve outdid yourself- again. I applaud you. Now, my childhood is something I am proud of. I did what every white little girl did; played in the beach sand, ate the sand, dropped everything and ran towards that damn ice cream truck, had pool parties with my family, went to the boardwalk, ate ice cream at the custard stand because God knows the ice cream we had at home wasn’t good enough, went to “bring your child to work day”. You get the point. But, nevertheless, my childhood had something a lot of kids didn’t have. An alcoholic grandmother. I called her Granny. She has impacted my life and made me into the person I am today. I always think about why she didn’t quit for me, or what I could’ve done to make her quit. I sometimes blame myself because I feel like I could’ve done more and could’ve made myself more important to her. My granny will always pop into my mind when I hear the words: drunk, party, shots, and smoke. Like most of you know, I don’t drink, smoke, or party. Now, you know why. I don’t do it because my Granny passed away from that. She isn’t here to experience what I’m doing, I can’t run to her when I need help, I can’t say “oh, I’m going to Granny’s house”, I can’t relate to why they’re posts about going to grandma's house when you’re hungry. That’s why I don’t do those things. That’s why my heart sinks when I hear my loved ones say, “I’m going to drink”.” I care a lot for the people I love, but something else happens when I hear a loved one say those 4 words.I think of my Granny and I automatically get upset. You could say I get more protective. I want to be here for my grandkids, I want them to come to me when they’re hungry. I get angry and upset when I watch the people I love drink and smoke, because they don’t need to. They don’t need alcohol to make their lives better. They’re just destroying the people who care about them. My Granny made me realize that I don’t need those toxic things to make my life worthwhile. I’m okay with not drinking or smoking. It doesn’t bother me that while others are out partying and having fun, I’m inside having my own fun. Probably reading a book. But, that’s me. It’s who I am. That’s why I want to thank my Granny for making me who I am today. I want to thank her for making me realize that not everyone lives in the party and making me care more for my loved ones who do drink from time to time. At the end of the day, I know that I did my best trying to make her quit, I tried showing her that alcohol is not the answer. I couldn’t. And I’m slowly wrapping my mind around it. So, thank you, Granny. I know you loved me and I want to let you know, I love you more.
ReplyDeleteJesus, Bunje. I didn’t think I could go any deeper than I already have, but you’ve outdid yourself- again. I applaud you. Now, my childhood is something I am proud of. I did what every white little girl did; played in the beach sand, ate the sand, dropped everything and ran towards that damn ice cream truck, had pool parties with my family, went to the boardwalk, ate ice cream at the custard stand because God knows the ice cream we had at home wasn’t good enough, went to “bring your child to work day”. You get the point. But, nevertheless, my childhood had something a lot of kids didn’t have. An alcoholic grandmother. I called her Granny. She has impacted my life and made me into the person I am today. I always think about why she didn’t quit for me, or what I could’ve done to make her quit. I sometimes blame myself because I feel like I could’ve done more and could’ve made myself more important to her. My granny will always pop into my mind when I hear the words: drunk, party, shots, and smoke. Like most of you know, I don’t drink, smoke, or party. Now, you know why. I don’t do it because my Granny passed away from that. She isn’t here to experience what I’m doing, I can’t run to her when I need help, I can’t say “oh, I’m going to Granny’s house”, I can’t relate to why they’re posts about going to grandma's house when you’re hungry. That’s why I don’t do those things. That’s why my heart sinks when I hear my loved ones say, “I’m going to drink”.” I care a lot for the people I love, but something else happens when I hear a loved one say those 4 words.I think of my Granny and I automatically get upset. You could say I get more protective. I want to be here for my grandkids, I want them to come to me when they’re hungry. I get angry and upset when I watch the people I love drink and smoke, because they don’t need to. They don’t need alcohol to make their lives better. They’re just destroying the people who care about them. My Granny made me realize that I don’t need those toxic things to make my life worthwhile. I’m okay with not drinking or smoking. It doesn’t bother me that while others are out partying and having fun, I’m inside having my own fun. Probably reading a book. But, that’s me. It’s who I am. That’s why I want to thank my Granny for making me who I am today. I want to thank her for making me realize that not everyone lives in the party and making me care more for my loved ones who do drink from time to time. At the end of the day, I know that I did my best trying to make her quit, I tried showing her that alcohol is not the answer. I couldn’t. And I’m slowly wrapping my mind around it. So, thank you, Granny. I know you loved me and I want to let you know, I love you more.
ReplyDeleteThis was a weird blog for me, it for some reason made me feel incredibly nervous and I don’t know why. I don’t fear any of my childhood memories or how they've affected me but for some reason my answer makes me feel very unsettled.
ReplyDeleteBut, as you say, "onward and upward." My childhood was pretty normal, I had my older brothers to pick on me and my parents to fight with me and also each other. I was obsessed with movies and the early 90's (nothings changed there). So, I suppose the only thing that was different about me than other little kids was that I didn’t want to be a kid. I didn’t want to be bossed around or have people wait on me because I wanted to be very independent. Because of my want to be different and grown up I developed severe anxiety. Which leads to my answer for this blog. The childhood memory that I am using to shape the person I am today was when I learned I had anxiety.
I was fairly young when I found this out, I was about 10 years old. Id wake up for school and cry and start sweating and freaking out because I had to go to school, the place I knew no one liked me at. I would have several anxiety attacks every week and I had no way of controlling them. I was so obsessed with being my own person that I never allowed anyone to help me and I never related to any of the people I went to school with so school was just as bad for me then as it is now. I was the youngest adult roaming the halls of Hess. Id spend my lunch periods and recess time talking with my teachers about the finer things such as: Tom Hanks movies, Motown records, and why it'd be better for everyone if MTV only played music still. I was weird and everyone knew it. And because of that going out anywhere was extremely difficult for me, I was always so scared that when ever I left my house people were going to be waiting outside for me to walk out so they could call me names. I am content with the fact that this is the memory I believe to shape who I am because I wouldn’t be as strong or independent as am I today if I didn’t learn at a young age that although living with anxiety is hard its doable. I learned that everyone is dealing with their own secret demons and that sparked my want to help everyone. I was a weird kid, yes. But, I thank young weird Jennie for being so strong and so different because if I wasn’t like that then id have an even harder time being like that now. I've been bullied and pushed around and I've overcome it every time. I always think back to those times when im having a bad day and tell myself that if I could prevail then I can prevail now because im ten times tougher than I was then.
Although I constantly pray that I didn’t have anxiety I am thankful for it. It has held me back from a lot of things but it has also helped push me to be a better me. The lesson that I take from the start of my long battle with anxiety is that, things will always get better if you allow them to. You have to fight your own demons and push yourself to greater heights everyday. I am more than my anxiety and I couldn’t always say that before but, I can now and im proud of that even if no one else is.
For the pieces of my childhood that I can remember, I've hated nearly every second. However, since I was such a dumb child, my early years, as I remember them, were great. There was this cool rug where each square was a different sun/moon. Christl and I used to act out the "Lilo and Stitch" scene where Lilo is running away from Nani and she ends up in the dryer. The hated years include where I didn't know why my mom and dad never got married or why my mom had ever been married, why I had a dad who probably didn't know the definition of the word, or why, as the last child, all of this weight fell on my shoulders; why was I the reason that my mom had two jobs? If I was never born, would my family be financially stable, together and happy? If I could go back and change some of the things I felt and still feel, I would; everyone would be happier. I hated my childhood. I was angry and the people around me were always unhappy. Things kept getting and are still being taken away from me; I thought I was entitled to these things but I guess that's only for people with 2-4 parents and not one and a half.
ReplyDeleteIn middle school, my purpose and value were questionable. I don't think it was because someone else had questioned it, but because I did. My life slowly crumbled and I drifted. I couldn't talk to my mom; she would've just taken me to church (that's exactly what she did). I couldn't talk to Christl; it was uncomfortable. And I surely couldn't talk to my friends; I don't know why, but I felt like they wouldn't have understood. Slowly, I was found out about and the poorly trained staff at Davies passed me around until they didn't know what to do with me. But Mrs. Holdren somehow got through. I don't exactly remember what she said to me when I came back from the nurse, but it was something about worth and how much I had. Over time, I went from the girl who was never allowed to not be okay because no one had time to the girl who didn't need to be allowed; I didn't need permission because from that point forward, I refused to seek out a permanent solution for a temporary problem.
I don't want that memory to be what I build from. Maybe the last part, but not the first part. I learned that inside imperfections shouldn't be compared to my tainted perceptions. I don't want my kids to hide things from me because they think I won't help them or understand or get them help. I don't want people to look at me like a window; see through. And if you hit it hard enough, it'll shatter. I learned that you aren't always alone and that someone will help you. I learned that hating yourself is such a hard thing to stop doing, but it's possible to love yourself. I learned so much from being put through such a battle with myself. My battle scars remind me everyday.
One lesson I will take with me everywhere I go is this: do not seek out a permanent solution for a temporary problem. This is one of the most important lessons any living being could learn, not the damn cube root of 43. I will carry this around in my heart. Through the darkness that follows me, I will shine the light of hope and joy into everyone I encounter.
ReplyDeleteWell, similar to you I have been the subject of parents strongly against each other. I am growing to respect my father more as the days go by but he sure does not make it easy. In my younger years as a child I adored him no matter what he did to me and I was always quick to forgive him because I was taught from my mother that you forgive if you ever want forgiveness. Along with that I unconsciously forgave him, not realizing that the forgiveness was truly for me and not for me. I can say that as child I did everything in my power to make my dad appreciate and be proud of me but I would always get the same bland look form him as if nothing was good enough. Along with that, the one thing that tipped me over the edge was the first time my father lied to my face, and broke his promise almost five minutes after he made it. If that wasn’t bad enough, not only did he break his promise but he had that audacity to do it while I was in his presence. He had no concern for how I felt or how much that moment would affect our relationship and although I tried to let it roll off my back, it secretly hurt me more than words can explain.
That moment, although it hurt, benefitted me even though I thought it wouldn’t. Before that day, I was your typical innocent child and I always s believed what people said regardless of how ridiculous because I thought that since I was honest, others would be too. That obviously wasn’t the case and with time I began to pick up on things that didn’t make much sense or realize when someone was trying to take advantage of me. It surprised me at first because I lost friends that took my kindness for granted. Looking back on that experience, I believe that in that moment my eyes were slightly opened to how cruel the world can really be. That lie, that promise that was broken allowed me to prevent future heartache and deception because I recognized the tells of my friends or that deceiving smile that my father gave me, looking believable with all the wrong intentions behind it.
Do I think that the experience shaped my true person, yes? In a way that experience allowed me to grow as an individual and become a smarter Julian. That experience was start of my teenage maturity because not only did prevent some deception but I was taught the value of forgiveness. Something I didn’t realize was that although forgiveness seems like it is for the individual that hurt you, it is truly for you. Forgiveness can be harder in some cases but in every case forgiveness is a release of all that hurt and it is when you forgive that person that you truly start to recover. I believe there is a reason for everything that happens is life, especially the bad because there is always something to be learned from bad experiences. If you do not forgive then you don’t allow yourself to learn and become a stronger, smarter individual.
That experience shaped me more than I even realize, and looking back is only a pleasant reminder of how far I’ve come as an individual. Father, although I cannot understand the reasons behind your actions, I thank you because you are building my character for the better and are unconsciously molding me to be a stronger Julian.
I'm not sure if I'm the only one, but looking back on my childhood I remember the little things more than the big things. I always hear people talk about this one time, or multiple, where something happened or someone said something to then or they encountered a specific event where it had a huge impact on their lives and they can remember where they were, who was there, and what was said and/ or heard whenever that happened. I personally can't recollect those times, for me it's more of little memories that impacted my life very little. But for this question, one things surprisingly came to mind.
ReplyDeleteThis isn't the best memory I have of my family, but it's a damn good reason I have the family values I do now. When I was younger, my father was a drunk, a really bad drunk from when my mom got pregnant with me until I was about 4. Mom worked nights so she had to sleep during the day while dad went to work (sober) and my sister who is 10 years older than me (during this time she was 10-14). Mom would get us up and ready for school in the morning and go to sleep as soon as everyone was off to school and work. By the time my sister got home from high school, mom would be on her way to AC to the casino to work nights. Then, my sister would get me off the bus around 3:30. Dad would come home around 6 after getting off work and stopping by the liquor store. He'd get home and start drinking. My sister would keep me in my room or in her room with her. She would make me dinner while dad drank and yelled and eventually pass out someone around the house. I would eat dinner with my sister on her bed. Granted, my dad never physically abused or harmed any of us, but he hurt us emotionally I can tell you that much. I didn't understand completely, but I knew what was going on as best as a 4 years old could understand. My sister was my second mom/ dad and I can't thank her enough for that. When my sister couldn't be around while mom worked, my pop-pop would always be there. I spent a lot of time with my pop-pop because of this situation and continued to be with him even after this situation had resolved. So, one day mom packed all of our bags except dads. She took us to Pop-pop's house and we stayed there for over a week. When we left, mom told dad “you get your shit together and stop drinking and get your family back, or you continue to drink and you lose us.” That night, dad emptied the bottles in the drain and pleaded for his family back. Til’ this day, about 12 years later, my dad hasn't touched an ounce of alcohol and has been sober ever since. He did it for his family. His bad habit got out of control but when it was alcohol or his family he chose us.
This childhood memory has shaped my life for the better. It taught me that you have to sacrifice for the people you love, and the people you love always come first. My dad knew that we were his entire world, despite the alcohol trying to tell him otherwise, he loved us enough to put us first. Ever since then, we've had such a tight family bond, not only our immediate family but my entire family as well. My dad has taught me family values all throughout my life from his transformed perspective. If this childhood memory could be the blueprint for how I design my true self, I would mind. In fact, I think I could benefit a lot from it. From the lesson that came out of it, of course, not the being a drunk part. I could use this memory and lesson to talk to people who might be battling the same battle by dad went through. If they know someone conquered and came out of the same bad situation they're in, it could motivate them to do the same and maybe I could save a family.
When I think of my childhood memories, a couple pop up simultaneously. I used to live in Hammonton and one time my family and I went to the park. There were swings and then about 100 feet in front of the swings was a lake. Now, everyone has at least done this once in their life: get themselves swinging so high and fast, and then jump off and try to land on their feet. Well, that’s what my dad decided he would do. My dad is heavy set and when he jumped off the swings he flew in the air and then belly flapped onto the ground. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen and I still crack up about it to this day. I remember my god sisters hitting me with jeans, don’t ask why they were because I would not be able to answer. I remember walking on the edge of my Aunt’s pool one beautiful summer day and busting my ass. It was a ground pool and there was a little space between the edge of the pool and the fence. Me being Angela, decided to “walk” on that little space around the pool. I was almost done walking the circumference of the pool when I ended up slipping from the edge and I fell through the tiny space and landed on concrete. I ended up getting cuts all over my back and legs. Lol stupid me for thinking I could walk that. Most of my childhood memories I remember is when someone got hurt or it was me. I’m really the clumsiest person out there, I trip on air and my own feet.
ReplyDeleteAnywaysssssss, memories I remember where I wasn’t busting my ass is when I was at family get togethers. My Titi Maria on my dad’s side always cooks on Saturdays and all the family comes and eats. Saturdays were always what I looked forward to because one: I love my Titi Maria’s food. Phew some rice and beans, fried chicken, pork, potato salad, shish kabobs, shrimp, mmmm sooo good. And two: I love being surrounded by my family. Family is really really important to me, and I think spending time with family is crucial. I think if it wasn’t for all these family gatherings I wouldn’t be who I am today.
Family gatherings have helped design the blueprint to creating my “true self”. My true self is still a working progress but until I reach my full self; I’m someone who puts family first over everything, who cares for others, and who nurtures to everything and anybody. I mentioned in my last OP how important family is to me, and it comes from this. A lot of my friends get mad that I won’t hangout with them because I’m going to a cookout. Or they’ll get mad how I go to all of my brothers games. But honestly I don’t care because again, family comes first. Being so family oriented can impact many people. For one: it impacts my brother. It helps set a good example for him to see what it’s like to support and care for other people. It can make people want to become closer with their loved ones, and again care for other people than themselves. Also being surrounded with people who you love and who love you back is one of the best feelings in the world.
The lesson: Create/mend relations with people and care for people other than yourself.
Growing up, I constantly heard my parents say to me “Donna you can’t have a boyfriend until you’re done school. A boyfriend will only distract you.” I’m not sure when they started saying this to me but whenever they say it, I always think about my cousin Trinh.
ReplyDeleteBefore I moved to Mays Landing, I used to live in Atlantic City with my mom, dad, Henry, my uncle, and two older cousins. My cousins are a lot older than me, I think like 10 years older. My one older cousin Trinh, was like a big sister to me. We would spend time like painting our toenails, going out to eat, she even took me to help her pick out her prom dress.
One day when I was five I was sitting at the coffee table drawing while my dad was laying on the couch sleeping. Then there was a knock on the door and when my dad opened the door, there was a person asking for someone. I couldn’t really hear because I was too busy drawing. The person came inside the house and I looked up to see that it was two policemen. Now in my five year old mine, I thought they came for me. I got so scared. I tried thinking about what I did that could possibly lead to two policemen showing up to our house. Then my dad said “No there is no other girl just my daughter” and pointed at me. I didn’t really understand because when my dad pointed at me I thought he ratted me out. The police eventually left and I realized I wasn’t in trouble but I didn’t understand why they came. Later on in the day, Trinh came home and my uncle screamed at her. That’s when my little brain made the connection. The police came for Trinh. After my uncle yelled at her, I went to go see how she was. What I remember from our talk was her saying how she wanted to run away. The next morning she was gone.
My cousin eventually came back home but she was not the same. She got herself into a lot of trouble. She would do stupid things that would make my uncle and my parents upset. I saw her less at home and when she was, she was either getting yelled at or locked in her room. My uncle thought maybe moving would change her so he moved to Mays Landing. Eventually my family moved there too. For a while I thought the old Trinh was coming back. She would take me out and we would just spend more time together. But then for some reason it all stopped. I saw her less and less. When she was 18 I found out she got pregnant. She didn’t get to go to college because she had to take care of her baby.
She’s a single mom now with three kids. She works as a receptionist at one of the casinos. The rare times that I see her we talk a little. She doesn’t regret having her kids. Her kids are her life. But she wishes she could have gone to college so that it’d be easier for her and her kids. She regrets a lot of things and she wished could go back in time and fix them.
Whenever my parents tell me “Donna you can’t have a boyfriend until you’re done school”, they are telling me “Donna don’t be like Trinh”. When they tell me that “Boys will distract you from school”, they are telling me “Don’t be like Trinh”. The moment that the police showed up for my cousin was also the moment that my parents began molding me to be the complete opposite of Trinh. I was mad at her for doing these stupid things. In my mind, I was trying to not be what my cousin had become. And in a way, I was subconsciously doing it. I saw how my cousin had changed and how she was constantly getting in trouble. I constantly feel like there is an expectation for me to do well. I constantly feel like I have to do well to make up for what my cousin couldn’t do. I work hard for my future so that I don’t regret things like my cousin.
DeleteI’m not sure if I want this memory to be my blueprint for my true self. This memory created me to be hard worker and to not regret anything I do. But it is also the reason why I feel stressed by the expectations of my parents. I have a boyfriend but I keep it a secret from my parents. I don’t know when I’ll tell them but I know they’ll be disappointed in me when they find out. They always talk about how disappointed they are by her decisions and the talk always ends with them saying “Don’t be like Trinh.” I don’t want to be the opposite of someone.
So many memories I just don't know which one to choose. I guess I'll pick the one that made the blueprint of who I am today. Back in the day when I was a chubby short little meatball in the 5th grade I didn't have many friends. I would go to school, do my work and be an observer of the things going on around me. Around this time my parents would argue a lot an speak about getting a divorce which later happened in the past couple months. The only friends I really had we're my brother and sister, I just shut everyone out of my life even my parents. I would ignore my mom and dad because they decided to go their separate ways. As time passed I eventually got used to their separation and going back and forth from house to house. During my 5th grade year there was one student I noticed being the observer I was. He was always so happy and positive. No matter what anyone said to him good or bad his attitude stayed the same. This kid lost his mom and dad in a car accident a week before school started. Everyone would asked him questions and be nice. Instead of being sad and acting gloomy he was very energetic and excited on the daily. I remember asking him "how's things going after the loss of your parents". I just wanted to check-up on him to see if he was okay even though it does sound like the wrong thing to ask a kid who just lost their parents. He said "I'm good and healthy that's all that matters". He later said "life goes on and I must stay positive because that's what my parents would want me to do". Ever since that day I try my best to make each day a positive one. I always know there's someone out there not as fortunate as I am so I must stay positive. This kid really opened my eyes and formed the mindset I have today.
ReplyDeleteIt’s safe to say that I am one of the lucky ones. Lucky for growing up with a good childhood, not all my other issues. There, I did not receive much luck. But my childhood, it was good. I have a great family who I am very grateful for. Both my parents are still together, even though they basically attack each other every day. Somehow they manage to still be together which is something you do not really witness in this generation. My parents provided me with a roof over my head, food, money, love, everything you really need for a great childhood honestly. You would think with all that a child would remain happy her whole childhood and high school years. You would think that is enough. I remember this day very distinctively. I do not know if middle school counts as my childhood, but this experience changed my entire life from that day, and that point on. 7th grade. I was only in 7th grade. I sat in my room staring at my ugly, green walls that I just loved at that age, and stared blankly. It was like I was in some other world. I felt blank, alone, sad. That day shaped my life and decided how I would end up. That was the day I noticed something was different. I did not laugh like usual. Every night, like the day I described, I blankly stared at the wall feeling empty and broken. How can a 7th grader feel that way? I never understood. But it proves depression can purely be a chemical imbalance in the brain that attacks at any age. For years, I felt this way and did not know why. I had such a good life, so lucky. I spent almost more than half of my childhood suffering from my demons and hiding them from everyone I knew. This day, this long occurrence, will forever be a blueprint that designed my true self. There is no way in hell I would be the same person if I didn’t have to battle depression. It shaped my mindset, attitude, and overall character. I am stronger now, smarter, and more mature. The lesson this awful memory granted me with is that it always gets better. I will tell the world, I will tell anyone that because it is the most true saying I’ve ever heard and I will always stand by it. The darkness shaped me. Yes, it was horrifying, dreadful, all the bad words you can think of. But without it the person I am today would not exist.
ReplyDeleteI think one of the most important childhood memories for me was being surrounded by all sorts of music. This has of course some different scenarios throughout my younger years. The first one I can remember as maybe being 3 or 4 years old, and in my room sleeping. I distinctly recall having a big blue Bose stereo in my bedroom that played Beethoven and Mozart as I slept. This is actually a memory that was pretty scary for me as a kid, seeing that I never used that CD player ever again! It skipped and I was always scared of it from that point on, but the real thing that I look at, is that I always had music playing. Especially when I was sleeping!
ReplyDeleteAnother memory of music in my life was our (as in me and my sister) car rides with mom. I specifically remember my mother’s 2003 Subaru Outback (which was a station wagon, lord help us) and Beyonce/ Mariah Carey/ every hip hop and pop song in the 1990’s-2000’s. Ring the Alarm, Survivor (when Bey was still in Destiny’s Child), Upgrade U, and Irreplaceable were all of my faves. I strongly believe that the age of 6 is where I learned to riff from Beyonce. I legitimately used to try and imitate her voice, along with every note she sang (especially the riffs). All hail queen B ;) Rihanna was also an artist that was played on repeat! Pon de Replay, That La, La, La, If It’s Lovin’ That You Want, and Music of the Sun were the most frequently played :)
The third memory that comes to mind are my endless renditions of Twinkle, Twinkle; which were of course sang on my “stage” (aka the fireplace in my playroom) when I was about 3 years old. I remember experimenting with the different styles of singing: belting, opera, “Shakira”, my “fergie voice”, “Britney Spears”, etc. Now some of these songs came out in like 2006, and I’m well aware because these concerts would happen like every week! I just stood there and had fun singing while my mom cooked or cleaned throughout the house. This is where I associated singing with having fun :)
Now at this point, I am playing some of the songs that I have already mentioned! I will try to finish telling you about my musical memories :) I think this is my last memory; I was about 7 years old when my dad introduced me to Guitar Hero! I have played all of them, and especially Rock Band. It was my dad and I’s ritual to play this game after school. But then my mom and dad divorced so I played it by myself, and when he came up for visits I would show him my progress. Pretty soon we bonded on the rock songs that I learned fro Guitar Hero, and it will always be a mutual love for us. This is also how I know a lot of popular 70’s-90’s era rock songs :p
Music is a part of me; it always has, and always will be. I share my voice and music with others because it is a way to convey emotion. When people hear me sing, I want them to feel and hear the passion I have for music. The lesson I can take away from this would definitely that music has and will continue to be something I can always turn to. :)
“Absofreakinglutely” is a portmanteau. Absofreakinglutely = Absolutely + Freaking
ReplyDeleteMy childhood was not a special one. As a fatter of mact, I was as normal as one could get back then in India. I spent all of my childhood in India with my grandparents. My father came to the US when I was 3 and my mother came to the US when I was about 4. I was raised by my loving grandparents who loved me more than anything else. My grandfather would take me out to wherever I wanted to go to. My grandmother would cook me whatever I wanted and would play with me as well. They got me everything I asked for. They always told me to thank God for giving me such a wonderful life full of happiness because there were people who would kill to be in my shoes (literally and figuratively).
The city I lived in India was a giant combination of affluent families and poor families. It was a giant pot of hell and heaven. On one side, there was a family living in a big house with all facilities one could ask for, and on the other side was a family living on the streets trying to accumulate money by begging and sweeping streets for others. On one side, there was a boy with nice school shirt, pants, and expensive school bag filled with books in good condition, and on the other side was a boy with tattered clothes on dirty skin and with nothing related to school. On one side, there was a boy who smiled and waved as he went off to school, and on the other side was a boy with a doleful look on his face who assisted his parents in sweeping the streets and begging for food.
Even though my family was not so rich, I at least lived in decent condition with food in my mouth, clothes on my body, shelter above my head, and education in my hands. As a small child, I was heartbroken. I wanted to help them so desperately, but I knew that if my family gave lot of our stuff away, they will keep coming back and the demand will continue forever because those resources are not going to last long. My family that rather than giving money away to them, we would give them the food that was not eaten and touched. Therefore, the destitute family always knocked on the door at noon which was when the food was cooked so they were able to eat freshly cooked food.
Then I asked myself, “Do I want to do well in life and be like the affluent family so I can help out others one day or do I want to give up and possibly end up on streets like the beggars?” The answer was obvious. This memory became the blueprint for my future self. I still look up to it whenever I feel like giving up on education and hard work. This memory of mine taught me that in order to do well in life for myself and for others around me, I have work hard and be like that affluent family (not necessarily be super rich but be in a good enough condition that will not prevent me from helping others). This memory has pushed me very hard to excel in life and make a good impact on the society.
When I think about my childhood, I vaguely remember my memories. Thanks to my mom, I remember one thing that shapes me. The fight at a Wat Lao Buddhist temple is what shapes who I am today. Before that, I was around 6 or 7 years old and I know how to throw some punches. I was a nice, dumb child that learn how to fight from TV. The incident took place on a sunny day and the temple was full of Laotians. It was Laos new year, a celebration where Laotians reflects on their past years and bless family, friends,and relatives for a bright, new year with water and ceremonies. My parents always attend the event, but we usually attend it in Virginia. We attend the event in a Philadelphia temple this time because we passed the Virginia’s date for the event. Back to the story, my parents and I meet up with my aunt, uncle, their friends and their son, Justin, who was my age. Once we meet up with them, my parents and I separated. With them hanging out with my aunt, uncle, and their friends; and with Justin and I by ourselves. Since the temple’s area is small, my parents trust Justin and I to hang around in that area. So Justin and I went out to the vendor area and bought ourselves some water guns. We start shooting each other and then other kids join in. Justin sprays the teenagers and they were pissed off. He thought they were in on our water fight. They hold Justin down and start beating him like how Rocky was punching the meat for his montage. Now the situation is a 6 on 1. I notice Justin in trouble and started to spraying those teenagers eyes. Justin was free and then he join me spraying them. Now it is 2 vs 6. We manage to hurt their eyes, but their height and size were able to overcome us. I break free from them and I just start punching those teenagers, mainly targeting their face. Recalling I was around 6 or 7, and I believe at the time, that action speaks louder than words. My punches weren’t super effective and one of the teenagers grab my hands while another one use my back as a punching bag. After a couple of punches, an adult came in and started yelling at the teens. Justin and I were free but felt very weak. Soon my mom came in, grabbed my hand, and storms off to her group. My mom told her group including Justin's mom about what happened to me in Laos language. I only remember the words, “Our”, “Sons”, and “fight”. Then she proceeds to show them my back. My mom began to lecture me, but I still feel weak and tired of listening. Justin’s mom did the same thing to Justin too. My mom then ban me from setting foot on that temple ever again.
ReplyDeleteSo how does this shape me up? Well for starters, I would never fight again. The monks eventually found out, but let Justin and I unpunished because of our age. Look back at it, I feel that I almost soiled or made my family name look bad right there. Even though those teenagers started the fight, Justin and I still proceed to use violence and stoop to their level. Then again, we were only little kids. Another thing is that I will stick up for my friend. If my friend is in trouble, I will be right there by their side no matter what. Friends are apart of my life. If I see anyone lay a finger on them, I ain't afraid to fight at the time.
Every question that Bunje asks us always seems to require a lot of thinking. Usually more than I think it I will when it comes to crunch time and, as usual, this question got me thinking. “What memory shaped who you are.” So think back to all these sad, embarrassing, lonely times in my life that could “shape” me into who I am. But I started to wonder why I only searched for the negative moments in my life. Are the lows really the only thing that “shaped” my life? Can positive things “shape” my life? Since negative things scar, dent, and break you does that only qualify as “shaping” because it changes your form? Then I thought, “If we are shaped are we born shapeless?” Then I thought about a parable in the Bible about the Potter which is a beautiful story by the way. But really that’s all besides the point. I only wanted to draw you into a portion of my infinite thoughts when answering a Bunje Q which are especially wild in my feverish haze. Back to question one a, “memory that has shaped me.” I don’t have one memory that I can pinpoint but there sure are a few. As a kid I was always pretty chubby and always sort of weird(Heck I’m still a kid, still chubby, and I’m still weird. But for the sake of the story…) So as you can imagine I was a lovely target for other kids to pick on. And if they weren’t picking on me all my young skinny friends were comparing weight and of course I hated that topic. I would try my hardest to avoid sharing my digits but the conversation always seemed to come to a screaming halt when I didn’t answer. So, as an embarrassed and hurt young girl would do, I lied. Of course they were skeptical of my lies but as long as they didn’t mock me to my face I could deal. Then I moved to public school. Ohhhhh what a joy of a change was. The great thing was the huge amount of kids. My whole grade in private school was 20-30 kids but public school was 20 times more that amount which meant more of a variety of kids. Weight was no longer an issue! However, now I had to figure out a way to fit in and make friends. So I thought changing myself would do the trick. You’re probably thinking that I’m going to share a sad bullying story but nope. The worst part about changing myself was the part where it actually worked. I made a lot of friends that year and we were all really funny(Shout out to Mrs. Sullivan’s fifth grade class of 2009-2010) but I did so many things that were out of character to make those relationships. The summer into middle school I was so confused with who I was and why I talked since every time I talked I felt like it was just another embarrassing moment to add to the movie list. So I became super aware of my words. Middle school is where I found out what friends I wanted the hard way. I thought I had great friends and that turned out not to be true. But at the end of the day I had such a blabber mouth I probably deserved some of the talk. Freshman year of High School was yet another strange year for Elena’s self discovery. Once again I felt the need to alter myself to make people like me and it once again worked (Ironically once I stopped the act they all stopped being my friends.) So the spring of freshman year I was more confused than EVER. Who was I? Why did I say all the things I said? What will I become of myself now? God saved me that year. And I can honestly say it been the highest and quickest uphill climb from there. What I learned through all these memories is this, everyone is fighting their own physical, mental, and self-scaring battle that may not be visible to the eye. I vowed to NEVER say anything that could intentionally hurt someone else because who am I to say I know what they are going through? Even those who hurt me I push myself to pray for them because I know they’ve felt a kind of pain I don’t understand. I only answered one question but I already wrote too much and you probably didn’t get to the end of this so… yea.
ReplyDeleteneologism :))))!
ReplyDeleteMy parent's separated when I was 7 then had a divorce when I was 8. This was definitely something that changed me forever. From that point the idea of marriage being everything, was crushed. I figured marriage, building a family, always saying "I love you" and saying "for better or worse" that those people really meant those things. I was horribly mistaken. Apparently you do all of those things and still "fall out of love" . That is the scariest thing I could have ever witnessed at 7 years old. I looked around at big school events and plays where two happy parents say smiling and waving to their children and me searching the crowd double to see if they were near each other or separated amongst the happy parents. The first years were hellacious, I quickly realized that those things did not confirm love forever between two people. Getting married did not mean you would always love that person. Building a family did not mean you will always be a full family. Saying "I love you" does not mean that they will always love you. Saying "for better or worse" does not mean they will stick around for worse. The only thing that all those things actually mean is that they will be there for the time being but anything can change at any moment. "Love" can fade away? The confusion of what love is and if it is real is what changed me. I can no longer believe that love and marriage is infinite for everyone, because clearly it is not. With that being said and along with my first OP I find it hard to believe in "real love". Of course there is no doubt in my mind I love my family and friends and the beach however with all of those things comes time when I am not fully "in love" with those things. Love is confusing. I am fully okay with this memory of love being the imprint for which I design my "true self" because it means I will be cautious around "love". I will take my time and it will be hard to let my guard down but in the end hopefully it will help me find "true love". The biggest lesson that I have learned is to take the word "love" seriously, do not just throw it around because then it means nothing. However even though my parents might have fallen out of love they got my siblings and I out of it along with a better understanding of love. Do not get me wrong I am so happy that they did get a divorce because now I watch them with their significant other and I can tell they do love them. Personally I am happy they got a divorce because for me it shows that even though love failed for them once it I'll not fail forever.
P.S. so sorry I'm late I fell asleep at 9 and forgot to post before I did:((((
It's not a specific memory, but more like an occurrence. Me moving to the United States, to a new culture, the fact which is also a memory, helps me to find my “true self.” Since this is a different environment than what I am used to since childhood, and since people here have different morals and lives, I can't easily fit myself into this place without having to fake things (which is okay, I guess). So this is a challenge for me. I am different here and not many people can empathize with others (meaning that not many people can understand where I come from, which is again, alright) and I think that is good in a sense that it helps me to better understand and discover who I am. Since I am “odd” and dissimilar from others around me I can take advantage of that and think to myself, “So if I'm not like them, then what am I like? Who am I?” and I like that. I like it because it makes me thoroughly think and makes me dig deep into myself to find that gem you, Ms. Bunje, mentioned during one of our classes. Actually, I've been doing this (discovering who I am and what I'm like) since I moved here, or at least that's what I remember. And that's funny because that's around the time when I started to hit puberty and when I began my transition into the teenage years.
ReplyDeleteJust to add on to this before I go on, I recently have discovered that I'm a realist. Not an optimist nor a pessimist, but a realist. “Discover” isn't the correct word. More so that I realized I am a realist and I did that thanks to others’ feedback of me. I am told that apparently don't “sugar-coat” things. I am always straightforward and don't bend the things I want to say or express but do it as best as I can. I already knew that I was a straightforward guy, but I never realized there was such a pattern until recently when I just thought about it and proved it.
I really enjoy this process of self-discovery because, not only does it help the individual to learn things about himself, but when he learns those things and how he managed he can apply it to other people and help THEM discover themselves. And I want to do that. I want to help others with discovering themselves and through that helping them to understand others and the world and be able to deal with all the crappiness that's out there. I want to help people, especially the ones close to me, with discovering their paths and purpose because through that I may be able to discover mine, if I haven't discovered it yet.
It's insane how one small thing, such as simply moving to a different country, can lead to such immense things. How one thing can influence the birth of something greater. Maybe this is why life is so worth living… idk
That lit term is Portmanteau.
ReplyDeleteSo far, a lot of childhood memories have shaped who I am. I’m not sure what age most people consider “childhood” to last until, but I believe it ends somewhere in the middle of 9th grade at which point most kids decide to try the whole “growing up” thing all on their own. Some might argue that it ends even earlier than that, because kids today chase adulthood faster and more eagerly than the generation before them (it will always be this way). However, reality peeks through the most during high school; there is no harsher way to be exposed to such difficult aspects of reality. Either way, I’m not sure when or if childhood really has a set start and end date, but for the sake of this, I’ll say childhood ends freshman year. Even though drugs clouded a lot of my memories from before my freshman year, I’d say all of the memories I do have from up until that point have all equally shaped me in unique ways. I won’t go into all of them. Instead I’ll answer more literally. My eating disorder and all the memories tucked away with it, that only exist because of it, shaped who I am. Literally. My dad and mom arguing shaped who I am. The time the police came and took me to the police station to question me about my mother’s alleged “drug habits” shaped who I am. Doing drugs for the first time at the creek behind my house shaped who I am. Literally. That shitty counselor I had, the four times my parents and the courts forced me to go, shaped who I am. There are lots of little moments that contained the same thing and, thus, neatly fit in their own more generalized categories. Usually dull, grey, sunday morning type categories.
However, there are good memories too. There’s always bright contrast on a dark path. Always, somewhere.
The smell of my mom’s perfume during the plays we did through our church. I was eight. They were already divorced, but it wasn’t so bad yet because I was still so young and they were still so angry at each other that my custody had not yet become their main concern. Everything seemed okay, for once. I remember smelling it and feeling comfortable. But I felt alone too. I guess I had a feeling something was about to change. I guess I knew that that was the last time I’d even notice such a small detail. For a while anyway. I love that moment, and I think back to it every time we argue. And it reminds me that tomorrow could very-well be the dark that surrounds this brightly painted moment forever, that tomorrow invalidates arguing today.
I could books about every moment that passes. I try to see the absolute value of each one and I usually can. Makes it hard to pick out the few that shaped me most.
DeleteI don’t want any of my memories to shape my future. None from what I’m calling my childhood anyway/ I was a different person before this past summer. Things happened to me that tore me from my childhood and threw me ten years ahead of where I should be, of where most other 17 year olds are. I want to have a future distatched from my past because it is quite dark there. The light at the end of the tunnel, a brighter future, that’s all I want. Sure, I’ll use memories as insight. But I’ll never allow my past, my childhood, to shape me. I want to be better than that. I know I am.
I want to impact the world. I don’t know what I want to do for people, but I want to do something. I want them to feel...better. I want to help people understand the beauty of a single moment, even a seemingly empty one, and discover it for themselves all the while. That’s really it, because once you can do that you can get through anything. You can always stand back up when a butterfly fascinates you as much as a new car. You’ll always be able to make it one more day if you can teach yourself to find joy and amazement in the smell of the air, in the color of the clouds every night, in the unconditional love in an animal’s eyes, in the taste of food and the texture of things, of people you love. If you can open your eyes to the world’s delicacy and discover that the world is no less fragile than you, then you can make it through any sea and over any mountain. That’s what every moment in my childhood has taught me. Otherwise, dandelions wouldn’t comfort me and waves wouldn’t heal me and the air wouldn’t calm me down. I just want other people, everyone in the world really, to get that those little things sometimes amount to the only things. And clinging onto a mere breeze, or a flower bending in the wind, or the taste of homemade cookies or fresh fruit in the summertime, may prompt a smile to sprawl across your face. Those little things can save.
ReplyDeleteFor the childhood memory that has shaped me so far, well I’m not exactly sure how to pinpoint one sole memory that has shaped me. Rather I feel as if I just need to explain my childhood in its entirety. My memory of my childhood isn’t something I am too fond of. At a very young age my parents were together happyish. Well they were never really happy but they faked it well. I was probably in the second grade when they were done faking the happiness. That is when yelling and fighting was okay. By fourth grade my dad was completely moved out of my house for good not just when he would spend a couple nights at his mom's and then come back but for good. So I guess this time is when some of my “favorite” childhood memories start to come in. Around this time my mom went off the hanger. This is the time that my older brother got really into theater. He started doing lights and sets in EHT at his middle school and then went on to do it in his high school and now college. I never really understood it until now. Theater sure as hell keeps you out of the house and always busy. With that being said it was just me and my little brother home a lot, yeah we could go to my dads but I didn’t always want to be sneaking around between his mom's and his girlfriend's house. It wasn’t fun all the time and I hated hearing him bash my mom, I don’t like her but still I am the only one who has the right to do that. So most nights of mine were spent helping my little brother out with homework, watching movies and playing across the street at my neighbors. Eventually I got so fed up with everything I ran away to my friends house. Now mind you she only lived down the street and her mom called my mom when I got there and told her I was there but my mom was okay with it and since we were on the same bus and went to the same school I just ended up staying with her for a couple of months. Eventually I returned home me and my mom resented each other like it was a special kind of hatred. The only speaking we did was yelling and arguing. I had no respect for her as a parent. I was parenting my brother and that was not the job of a child. Over time though our relationship got a little better. We became civil that is where we are now. We get along, I tell her what she needs to know and leave it at that. She thinks she knows me but she doesn't and she never will. I do not need a parent now when I am just one year away from being eighteen. We can laugh and get along and watch tv shows together and talk on the occasion, she’s more of like that kid you sit next to in class and talk to simply because you have to and it is the nice thing to do it gives them some comfort you talk to them even though you don’t necessarily want to. My dad and I have a similar type relationship like me and my mom the only difference is I can not be mean to him. I am kind to him even when he is rude to me he thinks he knows me but he as well doesn't. I mean let's be honest how well can you really know someone that you only see two days a week, we can all fake a personality if we want too.
DeleteSo for childhood memory that has shaped me, it’s my whole stinking childhood. It is the memory of learning how to sneak around, how to lie, how to keep my emotions bottled up, how to look happy, how to take care of another person and how to take care of myself. I hate these memories but I believe I have built myself off of them. Who I am now though sucks. Through all of this happening in a way I lost myself and all self esteem I may have had at one point of my life. I really am in way part the reason for my parents divorce and since the divorce made my mom go off the hanger I am who to blame for that as well. Currently I find myself writing this from a computer in a room where I never thought I would ever have to be. As mush as I would not have wanted this to be the blueprint for my true self it has become just that. It has landed me where I am now and although I am not proud of who it has made me it has indeed me made. I am working on changing my perspective on everything and looking at my childhood as just experience for the future, as a head start on life, and as a learning experience but that positive outlook on it will take time for now I’m still a little bitter. I still need to learn that the past is in the past and that I can’t take my past out on others as well as the fact that I can’t take the actions and decisions of others out on myself, once I can learn that well my life should be pretty dandy.
I hope I answered the question in some way shape or form.