Personal Essay Draft

I trekked through the forest, my heart racing. It had been raining for about three days straight, but now the sun was out, the trees were webbed with dew, creating a green and yellow canopy against the sky above. Little puddles of mud, and grooves of Nike shoes had made their territory in the trail, I avoided them and layed down my own little bootmarks. The creek was glimmering yet hiding below the steep hill that held out the ridge Poncho and I were treading. Across the river the same miniscule selection of Cobbs Creek park conservation along the polluted river vein.

I hear a little voice, a faint weight, my father's words, in my heart: do not go through this trail ever. But as usual, I never listen. Either my own arrogance, I'm a brat, or I just don't give a crap. The path is long, but not too long. Extensive enough to not be able to see the end halfway through. So you never know what's waiting for you there.

Referring to Poncho as subject, not ownership as always, a fairly sized, lean ivory blonde German Shepherd. Dead on arrival usually by every idiot who ever had a wolf hybrid or dog fear. Peacefully paws on in front of me. At this time in my life, I was pretty clueless has to how much of my love enveloped him. We always had this gentle, innocent, brother sister orb of trust and cooperation between us, that people never understood. Ignorant folk will think that he his a savage wolf that will eat their babies and tear their legs apart. Not that wolves are savage creatures at all, it’s just the mere look in their eyes when they see Poncho and I walking by on the parkway, you can definetly tell what they are thinking. German Shepherds are territorial, yet friendly and have a family guardian mentality. In the case of Poncho Buddy Jones, he has a weird fascination for tiny children, and basically anything who’s height is at eye level or smaller than him. I can’t count all the times I was absolutely embarassed and frightened when he would go darting after another dog, or even a little child. I notice he would never ever hurt them, he’d dart and then sniff and treat them gently. It took me a long time to learn to just let him socialize with other dogs, and mammals, because I know I cannot control him. But in this episode, luckily, we weren’t on the parkway, we were in the trails, partly a reason I chose to go this way. Luckily?

We had reached the turning point of the trails, the turning point being the halfway. The halfway, where you can’t look and see all the way forward, and you can’t look and see all the way back. It’s kinda steamy, I look across the other side of the creek, and my heart jolts. I hear a creak, and crepid disturbance in the branches.

SNAP!!

Poncho is unaware sniffing at some mud imprints. I am on full alert. If this was a cartoon my hair would probably be standing up in the air. If I had a tail it would be erect on my back. If I was a cat my claws would be engaging in the soil for dear life, and my back arched and frisked in some middle eastern pose to calibrate the flexibility.

And between the leaves hidden, behind the bushes, almost painted, a white tail cocked on grey hind legs and hips. I flashback. I remember another time where this must have happened before. I know what it is. But I am not sure. I am still scared. My heart is still pulsing,and my shaken instincts telling me to go back, as if to leave the building at the peak of a terremoto.

A few more appear, unfortunately I can only see their backs. The grey hind legs and the white whisping standing tails. I turn around with, yanking gentled yet briskly on poncho’s leash, and we rush back out of the trails and into the park.

I sit here now, and muse over a previous time when this happened. It was about midday, it was past snow, and I was going through the trails from the community center. It was my first time doing this. But I remember seeing the same running hind legs, and I remember running for my life. Petrified, thinking they were wolves.

But they were dear, and merely that. Not wolves, and not dangerous. Harmonious creatures I’d say. And at that day, going back home through the park, I realized I had merely nothing but a shadow of fear created in me, to be fearful of.

September 14,2011

Essay

“I do not have a band- aid for that size of a cut.”

That is what my second grade teacher told me. I was a curious seven year old, especially that day. We were reading a book, but I do not remember the name, and I kept rubbing my pinkie finger on one page of the book. I knew I was going to get a paper cut, but I for some reason I wanted to see it happen. My prediction was right and I ended up with a paper cut. I slowly turned my head, looked at my teacher, got up from my chair and slowly walked to her desk. I remember the wooden floors squeaking since the building was at least  one hundred years old.

“Can I have a band-aid?”

“Why?”

“ I have a paper cut.”

“ I do not have a band-aid for that size of a cut.”

That was our conversation. Since I was only seven, I did not really know what to do but believe it so I did. It was not until I saw her favoritism that she had for one of her students. It took me a while to figure out that she really did like one of her students more than she liked the rest of us. Her name was Megan, I think. She barely hurt herself, and did not have a scare or a bruise or anything at all to show for it. It was the same day I got my paper cut. Even though she was barely hurt it did not stop my teacher from giving her a band-aid, a band-aid that was supposed to be mine. Since then, eight years ago, I learned that the world was unfair. It is not about how hard you work but the established relationship you have made with that person.

I experienced that a lot in my life so far, and I know that I am going to experience a lot more. Most of it happened in my schools. The only time I did not mind it was when I was in the fifth grade, and that was because I was the favorite student. Now I am not going to lie, it felt kind of good. I am lying it felt very good. I am not sure when I became her favorite but it felt like I could do whatever I wanted, well almost whatever I wanted. I do not know how I became her favorite and I never questioned it until now. I was not a teacher’s pet, I was more on the quiet side, minded my own business, and did not start any trouble with anyone unless they started with me first. That is probably why she liked me. Whatever the reason was, I got good grades, but that was only because I deserved them.

I also realized the favoritism outside of school, and in personal lives like friendship and relationship wise. Everyone has a best friend, and if you are a little more social than others you may have a handful. Even if you have a handful of friends that you can call your best friend, you will always have that gets a little bit more favoritism. Even if you only give them a little bit more detail about something that happened to you or you hang out with them more, they are still your favorite best friend. This same thing applies to relationships. Long lasting relationships last long for a reason, and everyone has one relationship that was better than the others.

Favoritism can be both good and bad. Of course if it benefits you than it can be a good thing but also is unfair, and when it does not, than that is a whole different story. Sometimes it is not that big of a deal and there is no point in talking about it, and other times, it can affect your whole life.

Sept. 22, 2011

Silver

“Are you guys twins?” A lady would ask,

“Yes ma’am, we’re fraternal” I’d respond.
“Awww, what are y’all names?”
“Dwayne and, Octavius” we’d answer together.

“How old are you?” She’d individually as one of us.
“15.” I’d reply with a monotone voice.
She’d then continue with an ignorant follow up question like “ … and how old are you?” directed toward my twin.

People have a lot of misconceptions about what it’s like to be twins. A clear example of the conversation above. Twins are generally the same age unless for some miraculous reason one is born before 11:59pm on December 31^st, but with my brother and I that isn’t the case. Assumptions have been made that my brother & I dress alike, act alike, even look alike, do the same things, like the same things, but the honest truth is that we are completely different.

I was always told that I had the exact traits and attributes of my father. I took his looks, personality, and that we were walking reflections of each other. Of course my brother was also a reflecting image of my mother. My mother and brother were just alike, she favors him. Even though we we’re twins we were treated a little differently. As I got older it became more of a problem but I always kept it to myself.
         Since first grade my brother and I were always separated from each other. In 1^st grade my mother detained him & had him repeat. It wasn’t a problem since we were still in the same school and we lived in the same house until I went to high school. Small things like getting home late, starting new sports, or problems at school is what separated us from each other. Each year we’d both run track, but last year I took it upon myself and decided I wouldn’t do any sports but more or so focus on my schoolwork, and my job. The examples of us being completely opposite start to fall in as he started 2 new sports and I stopped sports. By age 8 we hated dressing alike each other. That’s when we began dressing differently.

I’ve always been the tough one, the less sensitive one, I never went to my mom for help, hated asking for help, always tried to do things myself. My brother was a completely pole apart; he was the mamas boy, which wasn’t a problem because I favored my dad. The problem I had was that she favored him as a child and I felt that we should have been treated equally, but that’s beside the point. Although him being the technically older brother (by two and a half hours) I’ve always been told I act older. His goofy, and young adolescent ways are what became the explanation for as to why I had to act older. Some people even ask us do we fight and argue. The fighting had been frequently lately but the arguing is pretty consistent since we’re different and will always have our disagreements but it’ll never change my love for him.

I bet if I didn’t take the time out of my day to write and explain how all twins aren’t the same, and how my brother and I are complete opposites, the misconceptions of twins would still spread among other citizens that thought the same. Everyone is there own person regardless of how related you are, or how much differently you look, you’ll never find two twins completely the same.

“ Why do you always do this when I need something?”

“ You know what, you can keep it all ”

I always wondered what goes through the mind of a mother. I don’t always ask for stuff unless I need them and that day was the day I needed my money back. When you want to go to a place you always wanted to go you would want to do anything, for you just to go. And that was what I did that day. I don’t usually overreact like this but for some reason my mind just went off. 

            It was a nice day out on my birthday, July 3^rd 1996. I had a small birthday party at my house. Most of the time it’s just my family and my mom’s friend. So, today was the same as always. I got birthday money that was about 300 dollars. It was all given to my mom because it was mostly her friends giving me money. Like always my mother decided to keep the money and let me spend it little by little. Most of the time when I get that much money it would be gone in one day. The reason I didn’t whine about it is because I know if I get that money I would spend it on dumb things. So, I let her keep it for me.

            A couple weeks later, my cousins were going Dorney Park. I always wanted to go there because I never went there ever in my life. The only place I usually go is Six Flags. So I went home all happy and asked my mom for my money for that one day. Then the next word I heard was a no. I wondered why she said no and then she explained to me how I spend too much money. I tried to tell her that this was a once a summer event but she didn’t seem to understand me. 

            We continued to argue about this situation for about an hour. Until I just sat there and kept my mouth shut. I knew there wasn’t a point fighting a battle I know I can’t win. I know it may seem I was overreacted but if you were in my shoes at that time you would probably be doing the same. Most of the time when I argue with my mom I would stop after 10 minutes but this time I had a feeling telling me that I shouldn’t and I should just keep going on. I knew there was no point of this but I really wanted to go. Soon my mom called my sister to tell her what happened. She talked to me and gave me a lecture, but at this point I didn’t care. I then again gave it another try and asked my mom for my money back, the same thing happened. Except this time I’m walking through that front door out to somewhere I didn’t even know. But there was one place I always go to, to get away from my problems and that was my cousin house. My mom knew I would end up there, but just in case she called my grandma to make sure. And knowing my family gossip is a big thing they do. The smallest things can happen and family members across the world would find out in an hour. I stayed at my cousin house for a week. Then I went back home. I always go home in the morning because no one is awake yet. It makes me feel less awkward. Then when I reached my destination I realize I don’t have any keys. I rang the door bell about twice no one responded. I planned on sitting in front of the house for about and hour but I was still tired. So, here I go back to my cousin house. It is funny how when I walked all the way backs to my cousins house my aunt called me to tell me she opened the door for me. Off I go again back home. I walked in the house I felt kind of weird but I didn’t care. Then I went to get check on my mother like I always do. She talked to me about us arguing. But she decided to give me back my money anyways because she felt bad.

             What I have learned from this is you cant always get what you want, you have to take your time and show that you want it to get the things you want. I know this was just me being a spoiled brat but just from this little argument I learned a lot.

Old people are curious about many things, the newest songs, the newest dances, and most importantly, the newest technology. My grandmother and I sat and had numerous conversations about what’s in the new or as she calls it, “the hippies.” I love hearing her trying to pronounce the names of things because of her down south country “bumpkin” accent she has.

 She has a very good sense of humor, so teaching her how to use some things often turn into a comedy show. They always leave me clinching my stomach. Even thought I don’t mind teaching her, sometimes a teenager and an elder aren’t always the best combinations. Sometimes it even turns into a fight, not physical but verbal.  There is a lesson in teaching her, not only for her but also for the both of us. She always has to know about things every time I see her. Even if she already knows about a certain thing, she always wants to relearn it.

 When I see her I always greet her saying “good morning”, “afternoon” ect. She is a very traditional person, so seeing her is always the same thing, greeting, hug/kiss, and then the learning. For her its very important so if I don’t teach her that moment, she will call me at night asking questions.

  She got a new phone and was completely confused, when ever she would look at it she would make sort of a confused angry face, and then I would call her cute and her cheeks would rise to touch the bottom of her eyes, insuring me that she is happy. Her phone was one that flip up to reveal a number pad from 1-9 plus the “#” and the “*” keys (you know the standard). The up down arrows and the OK buttons, were always the ones that would confuse her. I sat down and taught her. First showing her, her phone, and then a more complicated phone. I know she likes challenges so I set her to a test. Turning them on. She was happy about turning her own phone on because she knew how already.

In the middle of our lesson she’d say

“1970 is so much better, we would go to the movies instead of killing our brains with this nonsense.”

That meant she was angry, so I said “Bigmom why don’t we take a break and come back to it tomorrow?”

Well of course she would say something denying that she was ready to stop like, “are you sure your done” and “only if you want to” So after I would convince her that we should stop, she would give up and say “ok”.

 After that I was satisfied and it would be over, then we would lie down and watch a movie. Relaxing for a while, then secretly, she would pick up the phone or whatever it was we were working on and do it on her own, which made her less frustrated. I am very observant of her because she is such a pumpkin faced love bug, and very sweet (when she wants to be). She’s like a dream grand mom, and she would go out of her way to make you happy. But that is beside the point. In the end, it shouldn’t matter who or what it is, you should stay determined. Being there when someone needs you and just being patient it always a big must.

  New Beginnings after a tragic ending

“Tick Tock Tick Tock” my body froze, motionless I can hear the hands on the clock ticking so softly but roaring loudly in my ear. My head turned slowly towards the clock “2:00pm”.

“Key what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Oh uh nothing” that was weird.  I was walking with friend home from school since we got out early. It took us a while to get to her house but once we got there we were exhausted. After we got something to eat we sat on her porch and laughed for hours and hours, that’s when it all began. Instantly I realized I had 14 missed calls I quickly called my cousin.

“Hey wassup,” silence.

“Hello” I repeated caught of guard by the silence.

“Key, where you at? We been calling you, you need to get home now!”

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

“We’re coming to get you. Your brother died in a car accident.”

I didn’t know what to say my vision blurred, palms began to sweat. Crash, my phone fell from my grip and for once in my life I couldn’t speak.

         “Dang Kev you always cheating in something!”

         “Dang lil sis you always losing in something!” my brother laughed hysterically mocking my anger. I stared cold-heartedly at him I didn’t find a damn thing funny. I was 7 years old and he was 12 at the time. We just got done playing Street fighter 4 times and I lost each round. The thought of losing to my brother made me cringe and him rubbing it in only made it worst.

“Its not funny!”

“Your right it’s not funny key” I smiled

“Its Sad!”

“Housed!!” my cousin yelled cracking up on the floor. My smile faded quickly,

Thump, thump, thump, I stormed up the steps flushed with embarrassment.

“Aw key you know I love you and don’t worry sis ima teach you how to strategize that way when you older you can take on anybody well except me of course.”

“Chill cuz now you know aint no girl playing video games it’s a man thing that aint no girl ready for.”

I proceeded to my room as I glanced at my cousin one more time and smirked we’ll see bout that.

         Everything around me grew black and cold. None of this was making any sense how could my brother die, I just saw him yesterday? I stared at the sky reminiscing about old times we had. I could feel a storm coming and before I knew it my vision began to blur as the liquid formed into my eyes and then it rain. Tears began to drop from my eyes flooding my cheeks with streams of sorrow. Each teardrop represented the time I’d have to spend without my brother until the tears stopped symbolizing that my pain and time would be gone and I’d see him again. Just then my cousin drove up the block and signaled me to get in the car I glanced at my friend who understood it was time for me to go. I hopped in the car and drove home with my cousin silently except for the small talk about how my whole family was inside my house. Staring out the foggy window spotting families sitting on porches and little kids playing I suddenly realized my life would never be the same. We parked the car down the street from my home and began walking up the block. I signaled him to go ahead of me because I was in no rush to go home. I walked slowly to my house as people stared at me to see my reaction. I began walking up my steps as I stood frozen on my porch breathing slowing reaching for the doorknob I slowly turned it open entering my home knowing that it was time to face my reality.

Through my brother’s death I realized that the world is REAL.  Life is short my brother died at 19 and for the times I have on earth have I’m going live it to the fullest and do things I’ve never done before, be spontaneous and adventurous but most importantly have fun!  Life never goes the way you may plan it to but you have to deal with the cards you’re dealt with. I learned to never hold grudges for a tomorrow that may never come and to tell the people that matter the most to me that I love them because it maybe the last chance I get. I realized that you only get one shot at life and every minute counts no matter who you are. That person who thinks they’re above everybody (your not), or that shy boy or girl who always feels misplaced and or unwanted (your not), jus let go of all insecurities and negatives and have fun besides like Drake said, “Everybody dies but not everybody lives” 

It was a great day for cookout I spent the whole day with my family .It was fun even the ride home was a funnier then the usual. When I got home I  sat down and watched television, then I happened to noticed that no one had let my dog Misty in from the backyard. So I went to the backyard to let her out, but this seemed to be only a failed attempt because she was not  sitting outside the door from hearing the rattle of the door. I began to look around the backyard for her but she was nowhere to be found .Then, I noticed in the left corner of the gate there was a huge  opening big enough for more then a dog to go under. So my family and I quickly assumed that someone had broken to are backyard and either set my dog free to roam in the cruel world or try to take her for themselves. This seemed to be one of the  worst days of my life  because I could be losing a long time friend that I have known since I was just 4 years old.

Shortly, after we began our long search for the family dog we came to believe that our seem futile. A month had gone by there has been no citing of her around the neighborhood and we haven’t received any calls from anyone who have seen our flyers. Perhaps its because we only had a picture of Misty at 3 years old when she was now 7. After about a month of searching my parents found that there was no point invest any more money or time to continue the search. So we began “the waiting game” it seem like I have been waiting by the phone  each day for years  and yet its only been a couple weeks.

After about 2 months of Misty had been lost we finally got a call from a man saying he had found our dog on a corner,  and had taken her to his house around 40^th and market where she had been staying for a couple of days. Until he noticed that she had a collar with her name and our phone number incase she gotten lost. So I told him we would be there to pick her up as soon as my mother gets  home from  work. Later that day when my mom returned home I told the great news and her mans address. We left out right then and there so I could be reunited with my dog and I thanked the man  for his kindness and for helping us find our dog. Ultimately it all ended great, and I had a totally different perspective on the world and nice society might  actually be.

I was frozen in shock. No one I knew personally had ever died before. I always heard about it on the news, but it had never been anyone I knew. I was devastated, I had never really thought about people dying. It scared me. After a few days my initial shock disappeared, replaced by a deep feeling of how fragile life is. For the first time I thought about every time that someone had died and everyone around them who had been affected by it. I began to think with a sense of purpose and sympathy.

The day my neighbor died I matured, the day my neighbor died a lot of things started to change in my head. Things can happen so unexpectedly that you don’t know how to handle it. We were in the middle of a game of chess (he was winning, but I had a better set up for later). You have to be prepared for as much as possible even though you have to live your life to he fullest.

When people die, their life on this planet ends. They no longer exist in this world and the only thing left behind is their memories and their legacy. What you do with your life is vital because I believe that you don’t get a second chance.

I never thought so deeply about a subject before. This must be what they call, a “revelation” because I have never felt like I felt right then. I started to look at the world differently and thought back a lot on the best and how horrible an unexpected death is.

One of the first things that crossed my mind is the day of 9/11/01. So many people were killed during this event. None of them had a say and the majority of them probably never got to live out a full and happy life. It is terrible to think of a life as wasted but dying unexpected makes me think exactly that. Especially when it is someone who hasn’t reached adulthood yet. You have to have a purpose in life, something to strive for, to hope for, to dream for. Without it your life is truly meaningless. If you have never had anything like that then your life goal should be to find one and find it quick. Even if you die before you achieve it. That won’t mean that your life was wasted but that it was a constant struggle for that sense of ultimate achievement.

I know exactly what I want to do with my life and I have been striving for that goal since about 7^th grade. I have always loved to take apart and build things. I want to be an engineer and possibly even run my own company. I want to have a name people know for a having a vast intellectual capacity. I would like to invent things that help the world and not just weapons to “protect it” That is what I want out of my life. That is my personal goal.

I have a great amount of sympathy for everyone who has wasted there life or has had it stripped from them unwillingly before their time. It is a crime even if it is an accident.

A life is important, not only what you do but also what you leave behind. What will you leave behind for the next generation? People mostly learn from those who are older and more experienced. What you leave behind for someone else is what the next generations will be like. You should leave behind a positive message so that you can continue to make the world a better place even after you die. Sort of like Martin Luther King, he is the leader of the non-discrimination in the world (my opinion). He did what he believed was right, and even though he died prematurely, his legacy will live on until all racial barriers are gone. That is a life well spent.

In conclusion, I know that I have said a lot. I know that there will be someone who will read this paper and not get my message. I know that for the people who do, it will hopefully change you. I hope that you will make your life worth something more than just getting through to the next day. You have to have a life of meaning. You have to have a purpose in life, something to strive for, to hope for, to dream for. Without it your life is truly meaningless.

9/14/11

Unbearable Pain

What do they mean, when they ask

“How old are you?” 

“What grade are you in?”

“How tall are you?”

The first time I got asked these horrible questions was my first day of 6^th grade. It began when I walked into my homeroom class; there was a nice breeze of cool air, and a strong vanilla scent coming towards me as I entered. I felt enthusiastic and happy to be there. I Sat down at the closest seat I saw and I started to have a conversation with some of my friends. After a few minutes of being in class my teacher called my name to ask me something.

My teacher ms. Barks said, “I think you got the wrong class? 3^rd grade is down stairs with Ms. James”.

I responded with a confused look on my face and I said, “No, I’m in your class,” then I showed her my paper. She looked at it then immediately she got a shocked look on her face. It was an amazed look that a person would have when they win the lottery. She apologized to me with that same look on her face.

She said “I’m sorry for doubting you, you just look younger they others kids your age”. “Its cool” I said but I was still wondering how I looked younger then everybody else. I pounded for a little bite wondering how I was different from other boys in my class. But I couldn’t think of anything.

The next day I came to school I notice a new girl in the class. I found her very pretty so I thought I should introduce myself to her. I began to walk up to her when I notice that she was taller than me. I worried about for a little bite. I started thinking to my self “do I want a girl that taller then me”. Never the less I still went up to her and started talking. I started off by having a normal conversation with her, I said hello and introduce myself. Then I asked her for her number.

She replied back to me by saying, “ how old are you? Are you even in this grade?”

 I said I’m 11 years old and I’m in 6^th grade. She then embarrasses me by saying “your to short and you don’t look 11”. I began to tear up when I said, “I’m not short”. She said, “ You look like a midget. How tall are you anyway?” I screamed at the top of my lungs and poured down tears of anger. I ran out the classroom at my top speed, I went straight to the bathroom. Since my eyes were so blurry I accidently ran into the females bathroom. I didn’t notice it at first.

But then I heard a little girl scream, “there’s a boy in here”.

I turned around then someone else said, “he’s a midget”. I was heart broken. I felt as if someone shot me five times with a shotgun at my heart. This is the unbearable pain I felt. I just drop to the ground and laid there until the teacher came for me.

The next day of school came. I didn’t want to go, I begged my mom not to send me to school but it didn’t work she still made me go. So I figured since I had to go I should make the best of it. So I tried on things to make myself look taller. I put on some very thick pair of socks and some boots with the highest soul. I also put on a hat. I walked out the house looking kind of dumb because it was still summer it the temperature was 88º, but I didn’t care because I looked taller. I got to the school and walked in the class thinking I’m the “big man on campus.” I looked for the same girl that called me short yesterday; I wanted to see if see still felt the same way.

After I found her I walk to her and said “Hi.”

She said “hey”.

So I then asked “can I get your number now that I’m taller.”

She laughed and said “you don’t look taller at all; you still look like a seven-year-old midget.”

I cried for a little bit. But then I stopped because I realized that crying is not going to make anything better because people are always going to judge you by your physical appearance and I cant do anything to stop them.