The smell of spring flowers, the dust that has been blown by the wind from the kids playing with chalk on the sidewalk. The beautiful flowers and leaves on the trees are all starting to come in. I would sit outside and watch them play, sometimes I would play along. When the street lights came on I would run in the house to the smell of dinner being made by my older sister. My mother would always say to me that I needed to be in the house helping my sister with the cooking. There’s a thing about cooking my native food, it takes a lot of time and effort. We had a big dining room table that we would all sit at to eat and enjoy each other’s company.
It was always best to eat before you got in the tub because if you know anything about African foods they are strong in smells that most people are not used to. I enjoyed those times watching my father laugh so much that he couldn’t eat. He would always tell us stories from his childhood, constantly giving us encouraging words about how important education is. I would sit there and take it all in. He would ask me to go on his evenings walks with him after I did the dishes. I loved our walks because that was when we would catch up on what went on in our day in details. I got a lot of life lessons on our walks. My father was a very lively person, he was one of those people that knew a lot about a lot. He was always willing to lend a hand. He loved his family with all he had. Super Man had nothing on him. He worked hard came home in time help with homework. He loves The Sampson’s show and even though it is a bit inappropriate, it was our thing. I looked forward to the intro scene every week because it was always something different. He was such a great example of a man. He was the kind of father that you could go to and talk to about any and everything. The only thing my father was strict about was education. We are from West Africa, Liberia. A better education was one of the reasons we had to relocate. For as far as I can remember he was always in school. He would always tell me the story about his mother not being educated. My grandmother, his mother valued education more than anything else. Maybe it was because she was forced to sell as a little girl and never got the opportunity to go to school. She didn’t speak a word of English but she could read your report card. In Liberia when you got your report card all the good grades were in blue or black ink and all the bad ones were in red ink. Now that I think about it, it was probably because of the huge percentage of uneducated people. Well, my father said when he would bring his report card home, all my grandmother would look for were any red marks. If there were any she would yell at him saying “why do you have chicken blood on your paper?” I knew the importance of then as well as now. The only difference is now I know how valuable education truly is. Over the years other the somehow we drifted apart. Maybe it was the coming of age or the fact that I wasn’t all he had hoped I’d turn out to be. The wedge to grow between us and it just got bigger and bigger over the years. My father had another straight rule and that was NO BOYS!! I started noticing boys and they started noticing me too. My father didn’t like that which made us grow even further apart. He felt boys were a distraction for me, I just liked that they liked me. Every time a boy would call for me he would voice his opinion on the matter. I felt like he didn’t understand. In fact, we both started to not understand each other. Things got so bad during my high school years that I got kicked out of the house after coming home past 9 pm one night. I was 18 and he was sick of my crap. Since I didn’t want to abide by his rules and felt I was grown. I didn't have anywhere else to go but I was so angry with him for not trusting my judgment that I stormed out with just a book bag full of clothes. I was working and I was going to proof to him I didn’t need him. I made a few calls and was able to find a place for the night. A few months later my mother was able to track me and she asked me to go back home. I was having the time of my life without a care in the world. I did not want to go home, but I couldn’t say no to my mom. I missed the freedom of not having to come home at a certain time. I started looking for ways to get kicked out again. This time it was worst I had gotten a taste of freedom and I wanted more. I finally managed to get kicked out. At this point I had a boyfriend so to me it was the perfect opportunity to spend more time with him. I happily left home this time. I had a job, a boyfriend, and a spot to sleep every night. What could go wrong? Well, a whole lot. For one I was still in high school and two there’s no place like home. Trouble always same to have found me. I got tired of doing whatever I wanted to do and decided to go back home. It was fall and all the leaves had fallen off the trees. They all looked like skeletons. The night skies fell quickly. As I hurried through the falling leaves I noticed something I hadn’t noticed in a long time. Traces of chalk left from the summer before, expect they were almost gone. There wasn’t any laughter I could almost feel the cold of winter slapping me in the face. I hurriedly rang the doorbell, my little brother opened the door. He gives me a double look as if he notice something new about me. Where’s everyone? He pointed to where felt like at the time the room of no return. I walked in and greeted everyone individually. When I got to my father I couldn’t help but notice that his face hair and skin was starting to show signs of aging. There were a couple of specks of gray hair that I never noticed were there before. My eyes followed a few lines of wrinkles that led me to his lips. Lips that looked like they had not smiled in years. For the first time, I noticed something unfamiliar. I noticed the sadness in his eyes. This time around things were different, I saw his point better. Experience had thought me that all along he truly had my best interest at heart. He just wasn’t very good at communicating that. We all went around sharing our feelings. When it was my time to share I took my time and first apologized for all the headaches I cost over the years. I explained that I would like to come back home and stay with my family. They wanted to know what had changed my mind. I noticed how my home had changed, there were things in places that weren’t there before. My brother was in the kitchen making himself a plate. He got taller and I missed it. He had always been shorter than me. He had finally caught up. I was too busy being selfish and I missed it all. There I was sitting in a very familiar spot except nothing was the same. I had changed and so had they. I wasn’t such a little kid anymore and there was no turning back now. I made my bed and I had to lay in it. The innocence of my childhood was gone. My body was preparing me for the brand new chapter that I had no idea about. The smell of the food in the microwave started to make me nauseous. I turned to the window that was cracked a little to help me from not throwing up. The some food that used to make me salivate was now causing an opposite reaction. As I looked out the window I couldn’t help but notice a little bush that hadn’t lost all its flowers yet. There was a little flower that stuck out to me. It was the only one that had not lost all of its colors yet. It looked totally out of place but it was right where it belonged.
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I believe that we are all a wrong turn or a mistake away from ending up in a Psych Facility or Jail. Being educated don’t just move you up the economy ladder but it also helps you view life differently. As humans, we are all capable of anything at any time.
I know what you are thinking, “not me, I don’t put myself in the position to make bad decisions.” Well, let me ask you this. Do you have road rage? Have you ever been in love and had your heart broken? Gotten a parking ticket? I hate to break it to you, but if you answer yes to any of these questions then sadly my friend you too are capable. The sad trough is that not only drugs and/or alcohol can cloud your judgment. Emotion can also greatly cloud one's judgment. Have you ever done something in anger that you would not have done otherwise? What if there was a cop nearby in that exact moment? When your heart is broken you are so venerable that you might feel worthless. You might even feel like harming the other person or worst harming yourself. Both of which can give you an orange jumpsuit or a nightgown with the back open. Working in the hospital I see a lot of different people from all walks of life. Sometimes I have the pleasure of with some of the most brilliant minds. Working on the psych floor has thought me a lot. I know that it don’t take much to have a nervous breakdown. You could go through your whole life without an episode and then one day something happens that triggers it and your entire life changes. I just want you to not be too quick to judge someone with mental health issues or that has a record because all it takes is an extremely dramatic life changing experience for you to have a breakdown that may spiral into other things mentally and/or physically. Ernest Hemingway I think she will keep her baby, she didn’t sound like a pushover. I feel like the decision had been made. The last paragraph stated that he took the bags to the other side of the station. It said he looked at the other people that were waiting reasonably for the train. Also him asking her if she feels better. They are going to keep the child. He felt that it was within reason for them to get rid of the child. So when he looked at the other people waiting for the train he felt it was reasonable for them but not for him. “Do you feel better?” It just to me that he had lost the debate. Kind of like you feel better now we are doing things your way. Her answer also says a lot. “I’m fine, there’s nothing wrong with me.” It sounds like a person that knows what they want. What I took from her response was that she is fine and there was nothing wrong with her so she didn’t need to see a doctor. Him looking at the people at the station seem like he was almost wanting to switch places with a few of them. This was a really good read, it was really fun dissecting each sentence. I now read differently. Ai now look for repeated words a phrases. I’m more critical now when I read and even watching a movie/show. A nontraditional college student means a baby in your lap while you type up a paper that’s probably due that night. There’s always something else pulling you in the opposite direction of your school work. In college there’s no my kid spill hot soup on my laptop Prof. He/she is not the one paying for you to have a seat in their class. Something always seems to find a way to get in the way. There’s the two kids sick at the same time, or last minute project that your kid for to tell you about.
All these things pulling you in all these different directions can easily derail you off track. These are all the more reason why you should stay the course. You should fight harder because your “WHY” is greater. The odds are all stacked up against you. Your story will be that more worth the telling. Nothing worth having is going to come easy. The race is not to the swift, but he that endures to the end. There will be nights that dinner might not get cooked. There may be days that make you question your creator about a number of arms and hands you have. You may need to go at a slower past than others but the important thing to remember is always quality over quantity. See being a nontraditional college student may be one of the hardest thing you will have to do but well worth every second of it. You will have such a great testimony. You will be an inspiration to your children. Education is such a valuable thing to have. It changes your views on life. Besides boosting your income it boosts your inner circle. You get to meet people of like mindset. You are the author of your story compose well my friend. In this blog post I am going to compare Chef's Table to my English Composition Course. Here are three questions I'm going to answer to help you see the similarities.
Question #1: How does this episode fit into the narrative mode? This episode fits in to our English Composition Course because of the way it was organized. It was a narrative and also story telling. He seem to have a growth mindset because of the fact that he is all looking for ideas and new experiences. The theme seem to have a longing feeling. Questions #2: How does Mallman's story connect to the hiraeth story you are writing in this class? Consider his discussions about home and childhood. Mallman's story connects to the hiraeth story I'm writing because he has a longing for a pass he can't go back to. His Hiraeth seem to be freedom. I wanted to say food at first be after I watched it again I heard and saw something new. His father didn't understand him his wanted to live a free life that his father didn't agree with. I think the fact that he live such a free life has something to do with his father unacceptence of his lifestyle in his begaining years. Question #3: What major ideas/themes from this episode connect to ideas/themes from our composition course? Consider Mallmann's argument about composing a good dish, examining his life environments, and being productive. He talked about a point where he thought he was at the top of his game and someone told him his food was bad. At firist he thought the person didn't know what they were talking about. After some time he realized the person was right. instead of adding his own twist to what he had learned he was just copying. In wrighting we have to say what the expert said and add our thoughts to it. there were also compositions through out the show. There was lot of SHOW AND TELL. they would tell you about somewhere and give a visual. |
Rosetta Irving I will use this blog to become a better writer. Archives
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