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My heart was beating so fast I could feel it through my chest. I decided before I did such a horrible, yet right thing, I need to spend time with him and talk to him. Let him know why I’m doing this and how much better off he is. I can’t just come home and kill my dog? We needed to have somewhat of an understanding. I found a spot about a half mile from where I parked where you could see the sunset so perfectly. We walked over, slowly but surely. When he was beside me I could see the limp he had and that he was so tired with every step he took. It killed me inside. Sadly, I could relate. When we got there both of us took a seat on a slanted, flat but sturdy rock to hold the both of us. He laid his head on my lap, it was like my lap was made for his little head. This is exactly where I wanted to be for this, not some cold, fluorescent lighted doctors office that smelled like urine and rubber gloves. The fresh air, the trees whispering and nobody but me and him. Even though me doing this might have made me a criminal in most peoples eyes, but I didn't care because it wasn't like that. My relationship with my dog wasn't abusive in any way what so ever, so me doing this made it a hundred times harder to do, but I was doing what was necessary. I decided with the little time we had to tell him how broken I'll be when he's gone and that he’ll always have a special place in my heart. Also, giving Cheryl nothing to focus on when I would be sent away from her again kills me a little every day. But this wasn't about us, this was about Vicar and that pain he was feeling and how he couldn't even stand on his own paws anymore. We needed to take the selfishness away and put ourselves into his shoes and believe that doing this would ease him from all of his pain immediately. My “Operation Scooby” wasn't too easy this time. How could it be? This is my dog, my friend, my family. Vicar fell asleep as I was talking to him so I slowly moved away from him, walked backwards to get a clear view, but it was hard a shit considering my eyes were drowning in tears. I took a deep breath, cleared my head, and counted back from 3. I pulled the trigger. I hear gun shots as normally as you hear a birds chirping. But this one, this one made me sick to my stomach. I felt as though I was the one getting shot. This was one of the most traumatic experiences in my life and trust me I’ve seen some shit. I walked over to him to see if he was still breathing and let alone, he’s in puppy heaven. Pain gone. In a way, I was jealous, he had a way out. • Blog Post Introduction: The story The Lottery is based on tradition and how it can impact your daily life. The story holds truth to what still happens around the world. The story is about a family living in a small populated village that have to confront a tradition thats been occurring for centuries. Some ask why it still exists and others are all for it. The saddest thing about it is that there is no way around it, because hierarchy always wins. • Literary Analysis: The theme of this particular text would be live every day like it is your last. The text is named “The Lottery” I know personally that I don't think of death when I think lottery, its a metaphor for a way out, because the people who are living in that village everyday think to themselves will it be me next year? They live in fear, the ones who had died already won, its sad but would you rather live in fear or die with peace. Do I agree with how they go about the killing? Absolutely not. Due to the whole black box and black dot connection, it is all on chance, the luck of the draw. Another connection is the black box and the black dot. When you see black, what do you really see? Darkness, or even death. The whole point of the white piece of paper and the black dot is to illiterate the concept of death. • Argumentation: An American tradition today is to stand up, put your hand on heart, take the hat off your head and listen to your National Anthem. There has been a lot of controversy over whether to stand up for the National Anthem or to kneel while the song is performed or played. I personally disagree with kneeling. I respect other opinions but, this is mine. We live in a country that men and women have died for in order for us to even have this “kneeling” controversy. We’re able to bitch about it because we can, and who fought for that? I certainly didn't but I respect the shit out the people who did. Respect is flying out the window faster now then ever before. This country is straying away from tradition and seeing it as something against our people, which is completely false. Like I said before, hierarchy always wins, so with that said, the people who are on national television kneeling on the ground know exactly the type of influence they have on everyday folks like us. I bet half of the people who are kneeling don’t even know why their doing it, and yet they are able to make millions while doing it, that is so wrong in my eyes. There are Veterans homeless and then there are people who don't wanna stand up and they make the big bucks, it is so backwards. The only reason why they do it is because they can, freedom right? That is was pisses me off. I can understand that America hasn’t always been the most accepting when it comes to change, but it is the year 2017, we have change left, right, up and down and that most is good, change is good, tradition is good. The song and the flag don’t hurt you physically and give you bruises, but yet give a representation of almost a celebration into what nation we have become. We are the UNITED States of America. Yes, we all have different opinions but the reason were able to have that is because of that flag. When that song comes on we are united for those few minutes. People really need to stop getting butt hurt about it, because if you really are disgusted with your country that much, you can certainly leave. If not, stand up. • Narration: The period of time when my grandmother was sick, my dads side of the family was right there with us the entire time, even though one person in particular was the absolute devil in my and my family’s eyes. She was my aunt at the time, but only through marriage. This woman tried everything in her power to steal everything my grandmother owned when she passed away, she was manipulative, mean and just down right ugly- inside and out. It’s tradition for the granddaughters to receive the jewelry and split it among each other. In this case, because I was the one who woke up every two hours to check on her, and bathe her, and feed her I felt that I should get first pick. I had nothing against my cousin, I just get a selfish personality when it comes to my nana, I was obsessed with her, I still am. The reason behind all this is because I am all for tradition and especially when it comes to my grandmother, and family, but when I knew for a fact that all my grandmothers valuables, heirlooms and possessions would have been sold for dirty money, I had to put my foot down. Blog Post Introduction:
The story The Yellow Wallpaper is about a husband, a doctor, and a wife, the patient who have moved out of there current home for reconstruction. The home they moved into during that time was very influential on the wife. Her husband john believed that she was very ill, and not just psychically, but mentally. He kept her tucked away in a room with dull, aged, yellow wallpaper. What the wife saw was something more, something deeper that wallpaper. • Literary Analysis: Charlotte Perkins Stetson, January 1892, Took place in New England. The genre of this particular text would be mildly suspenseful, the reasoning behind that is, when I was reading this text I was hoping to visualize what she was seeing when she looked at the wallpaper. And also even question, was she even sick? Or did John lie to keep her locked away. The tone was persistent, she saw what she saw and she wasn't letting anything get in the way from finding truth. There is a lot that was left unsaid in this story because it was told from only her point of view, and her husband John was definitely up to something real creepy and disturbing. The underlying message that you can clearly read in between the lines when she transitioned from john takes care of me to I feel nervous around him. • Argumentation: She was the main focus the entire story, she was the sick one, she was locked away for hours at a time to “get better”. Most of her life has been authored for her already, but by her writing down how she was feeling rather than keeping the feelings jumbled inside she was able to crack a code. The woman behind the wallpaper was her, trying to escape from this dull, sick world. The yellow color wasn't a vibrant alive yellow, but yet the complete opposite. Her escape from he wall could make that sick yellow turn into the sunny beautiful yellow that should be seen. She didn't completely understand that she wasn't sick after all and she even questioned why John had fainted when he saw her actions, but in my perspective it is clear. John has been brainwashing her to believe that she really is ill, when all it is is he’s been keeping a one up on her. That is no way to live, thinking your sick when you’re really not and someone, let alone a physician, telling you you are. She had escaped and John’s nasty gloomy, dar, dull shadow will now and forever be a memory to her. • Narration: Yes absolutely, this can happen on a day to day basis, and can even be second nature for me sometimes. But I’ve learned to know that I am my biggest competitor when it comes to important life decision and that I am the only one putting doubts in my head. When I was about 14 years old I had just moved to a new community and high school. I knew absolutely nobody. It was very intimidating and nerve-wracking at my age. I still remember to this day the end of my first day of high school when my parents picked me up. My mom asked “how was your first day?” I responded with attitude saying “fantastic!” she believed me for a slight second and responded with “really?!” then she looked in the rear view mirror and saw my tears and immediately started to cry with me. I know that my parents are only as happy as their saddest child so I’m guessing the attitude wasn't helping, but I couldn’t help it, I was miserable. I wasn't myself for almost 2 years before I realized that I am where I am and that I needed to move forward with my life and stop lingering in the past. It was time to make friends and memories, not for anyone else but myself. So as hard as the beginning was, the end was something I never though possible. That’s the beauty of not knowing, it makes everything worth while. 1) Writing About What You Don't Know [Categories: Life Choice, Course Reading, Making Connections]: Please copy and paste the following bullet points into your blog post and complete the following:
Sophia Mele
ENG 100 Assignment #1 Final Draft Assignment #1: Hiraeth Narrative Thursday February 4th, 2010 at 2:00, I was shaking uncontrollably and started to have an anxiety attack, the doctor grabbed me a brown paper bag to breathe in and out of, but nothing worked. I just kept looking at her trying to make myself believe that it wasn’t real. All I wanted her to do was open her bright blue eyes and say I love you and hug me one more time. This was the day and time when my world was flipped upside down and my heart was forever torn. Nobody could ask for a more beautiful winter morning, the air was crisp and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. As I awoke on this mysterious morning, my whole body felt anything but ordinary. I ran into my parents room with tears rolling down my face and demanded to stay home from school that day. They questioned why I was crying and I said “ it’s going to happen today, I need to be with her”. They didn't believe me at first and they did not want to take me out of school another day, but nothing they said stuck with me, I had to stay home. You might question who is this “her”, she is my grandmother, my beautiful, full-of-life grandmother, Esther. This is the woman who made my days worth while, especially Mondays and Tuesdays. Mondays would be roast pork with Texas Toast on the side and Tuesdays would be pasta or escarole soup, but both days ended in fudge pops. Which my father never approved of but secretly would eat most of them. Whenever I would open her freezer I would count on a box of fudge pops just waiting there for me and my brother. The funny thing is, she hated the pops, but we loved them. Even though Monday’s and Tuesday’s were for the family, I spent most of my weekdays at my nana’s while my mom and dad were at work, her house was my second home, but she was my first Then as the years went by the pops weren't stocked as usual, and I knew something was wrong. I’ll never forget the time she told me she was sick with kidney failure, we were in her living room and she was rubbing my legs telling me she was selling her house. I was so taken back I didn't know how to react, when I asked why she told me she was sick and that she was moving in with us. I asked how sick and she responded with her head down so I knew this wasn't good, I was excited for her to live with us, but for the wrong reasons. She started out with kidney failure and then to congestive failure which ultimately lead to organ failure. She slept in the room next to me and every night I would hear her painfully moan in her sleep so I would check on her to make sure she was ok. It killed me a little every day to see her in so much pain. The dialysis was helping and we thought we were on the road to recovery but, ended up right back at square one. Sadly, but funny enough we became friends with the paramedics due to the amount of times they came to my house to pick her up. As the months went by and the pain grew bigger my parents decided to place her in hospice and relieve her of her pain. I selfishly did not agree because I wanted her around as much as possible, but in the long run it made the most sense. I didn’t want my nana living the rest of her life watching the amount of fluid she has to drink in order for her to breathe, and coughing up blood on the hour. That’s no way to live she deserved to rest and she deserved to be at peace. That morning, I have no idea what it was but there was something telling me that today was the day that she would pass. My parents thought she had another week or more left in her but with my certainty about this they decided to keep me home from school. My mother and I got everything ready at the house in order to stay at hospice all day. By noon, were on our way. All I recall seeing on the drive there was a giant Walmart to my right and my god it really was such a perfect day outside. As we arrived we both rushed right to her room, up the elevator and through the hallway we went, it was always so quite I felt awkward even coughing. As we walked in, we saw my uncle sitting beside her bed with his head down. I walk to the other side of her bed and held her hand. She was unresponsive at the time but she definitely had an idea of what was going on. I immediately turned on the TV to release the depressing and awkward tension in the room with my uncle and while I was scrolling through and something happened. The introduction of the show Reba started to play and I felt my nana squeeze my hand just the slightest bit, it was her favorite show so I knew to keep it on. After watching an episode or two I decided I was getting bored so of course my first instinct was eat or drink something. I ended up making a cup hot chocolate, there weren't a lot of options in the kitchen it was mostly just coffee, tea, hot chocolate and some stale cookies. As I was walking back to her room I made a quick pit stop to the bathroom to take a good look at myself, breathe, be alone, and gather my thoughts, I was thinking about the times we used to dance and laugh together, the times we used to go to the toy isle of Walgreens and buy silly toys for me, and the never ending boxes of fudge pops and Texas Toast all coming to an end. Did we all think she had at least another 10 years in her? Absolutely! But God had other plans for her, and we all had to understand that. While I was washing my hands I looked up at the mirror and my mother knocked on the door, came in and said “I am going to the bank really fast, I will be right back I promise, I love you”. She kissed me and left. I started walking back to my nana’s room as I was stirring the steam out of the cup with my straw. When my foot stepped over the entrance at the door I stopped saw the doctor sitting across her bed and my uncle across from him, looking down with his eyes closed, and shaking his head, it was 2 o’clock. It was like a truck just landed on my chest and my body went pure cold. I immediately dropped the filled hot cup into the trash and ran over to her and started to cry. This wasn't just an upset cry, this was a rip your heart out, stomach pit, kick you in the face cry. I had so many feelings I didn't know what to do with myself. I was shaking uncontrollably and started to have an anxiety attack, the doctors grabbed me a brown paper bag to breathe in and out of, but nothing worked. I just kept looking at her trying to make myself believe that it wasn’t real. All I wanted her to do was open her bright blue eyes and say I love you and hug me one more time. My uncle was in shock but decided to call my mother while she was gone and tell her the tragic news. I still remember hearing her screaming and the panic in her voice, knowing that she was not with me during this time. I held on to my nana’s hand for dear life and I never wanted to let go. My uncle saw my devastation and hugged me for literally 20 minutes until my mother arrived. When she did, her eyes were as red as mine. I mean, at that moment what else can you do but cry? This day was the worst most memorable days of my life. You can maybe see this as a bad way to remember her, but this is the story of how my home, my soul, was taken away from me; someone I can never return too. People live and die knowing that something in their life has a purpose and a home to return too, but I say not where but who. I miss her smile, I miss her hair, I miss her hugs, everything about that woman was pure gold in my eyes and Ill always wonder why she was taken from me at such a young point in my life, I always ask for her help because I know she's watching me and listening to me and guiding me with everything I do. The connection I had with her was like no other. She made me smile with everything she did, and brought light to my day. Surprisingly, It has been 7 years since her passing and I still feel like that day was yesterday . I feel her presence immensely in certain situations, I know she is watching over me and guiding me always. No one will understand completely how I feel her presence but that’s okay. If I feel her, she's there. Sophia Mele
ENG 100 Assignment #3: Film-Based Argument Due: Final Copy posted to blog by 11:59pm on 5/7 Assignment #3: Film-Based Project Wealth and happiness can mean many things in many different aspects of life, but for Salim and Jamal wealth planned each of their lives so differently, but ironically based off the same thing. Now you might ask, is it the money that gave them their happiness or their choices? Hopefully by the end of this paper, you will see that your choices in life aren't inevitable and change is possible. It has been proven by many studies that money can subconsciously change your thinking pattern even if you are aware of it or not. People are very hot and cold when it comes to the topic of money, ultimately showing their true colors. Many People will either do whatever they can to gain that wealth and power or they'll just simply let live. But the question will always linger in the air; can wealth bring true happiness? In the movie Slum dog Millionaire written by Simon Beaufoy, he visually and purposely proves the oblivion to the value of money, and that it can happen to virtually anyone, upper, middle or lower class and even in other cultures. With such power comes great responsibility, no matter what. If not, terrible things may occur. The stories of Salim and Jamal, though divergent in terms of how they valued and pursued wealth, both illustrate that wealth by itself does not bring a person happiness; rather, the life choices these brothers made had the biggest impact on their well-being. In Salim’s case, money and power were the only things that kept his head high. Without it, his life would be in shambles. Morality and money can be a tricky match and again can ultimately show your true colors. According to an article by Eduardo Porter published by the New York Times Porter says “ Money sows mistrust, it ends friendships. Experiments have found that it encourages us to lie and cheat”. Which makes sense in this aspect due to the fact that Salim kicked Jamal out of his life for the sake of money and power. Sometimes I think that Salim threw Jamal out because Salim knew the bad intentions he had with Latika. I don't think we can blame his brutal actions on the surroundings he grew up in due to the sole factor of Jamal being right by his side the entire time, and they couldn't be more opposite. It is the whole nature vs nurture argument. “Poverty and crime combined together leave people with two choices: either take part in criminal activities or try to find legal but quite limited sources of income – when there are any available at all” (Ward). Poverty can lead to discrimination against the world and the people in it because that’s the world they knew to live in. But then there are others who strive to find the greatness in the world. The two bothers basically lived the same life until the age of about 15 or 16 then both went on their own paths. In every aspect of how Salim acts, is who Salim is, a power hungry, impulsive man that will stomp on anything and everything that comes between him and his evil power. However, when the realization of life comes into play and all else fails around him, Salim attempted to commit suicide. Ironically, he did it in a blood bath full of the money he made proved that he was not happy with the man he became. He wanted a refund for his ticket to life. That money had absolutely no value if he was not there to control it. The blood bath was a metaphor that interprets when he dies, his money dies with him. Money brought Salim the happiness he thought was fit for him, but in the end he realizes all the pain he's brought to the people around him. Therefore, deciding that him not being in this world would be the best solution to all the problems. All that street credit isn't all its hyped up to be now is it? Jamal was the younger of the two brothers and always looked up to his elder after his mother was killed. Come to think it he really had no choice. Salim was always a pain in his butt, but all he knew was Jamal, he was family. When the boys were kids they struggled throughout there childhood to buy things, eat and even sleep. The same aspect of poverty has the same affect on Jamal as is did on Salim, but Jamal took a slightly different path. Jamal only wanted money to do the right things, meaning to fulfill his hunger and find a place to sleep or even buy a one pair of shoes. Fast forwarding to his adult life, the movie shows Jamal being an assistant who serves tea to employees at a call center. From that alone I think we can conclude that money isn't an important necessity in his life. Jamal is a feeler, “Feelers are people who tend to make decisions based on their internal belief system that are more consistent with their values” (Gould). All Jamal wanted in his life was his true love, Latika and to just be happy. The entire reason Jamal requested to be on the show Who Wants to be A Millionaire was solely because it was the most popular show in his country and he knew Latika would be watching.“Money can certainly help you achieve your goals, provide for your future, and make life more enjoyable, but merely having the stuff doesn’t guarantee fulfillment”(Roth). Jamal did not go on this show for the money, he went for love. The other irony, every single question was automatically linked to his life in some way. Without Jamal even being money hungry or craving power he made this money fair and square. Many characters in the movie did not agree and tried to beat the truth out of Jamal because the norm was to be money hungry. Looks like Jamal beat the status quo. Money is a universal thing and there are unlimited amount of ways to have it, its just who you are and your morality that decides if the path will be good or bad. Lets be honest, money is a huge attention grabber in any context you put it in. Jamal lived a life of unpredictable events that ironically got him to win 20 million dollars. Jamal was brought true happiness through his past experiences and ratings on a TV show, not the money. Now the movie does not show the way Jamal spends his fortune, but from the information we gathered on his outlook on life we can foresee that this money would be spent well. Living in an environment of pain, death and poverty can have a huge impact on a persons perspective and worldview, but it is so important for each individual to decide how the rest of his/her life will end up being. There are people in this world who think that they are a product of their environment, these people tend to fall into the evil traps and even make themselves think they are not cut out for more than what they are born with, sound familiar? But ultimately thats not true. Just because your culture was already planned for you, does not mean the rest of your life is. Will these have an impact on some of the choices you make in your life? Yes, but it should not plan your future. It is your life and your life story. Overall,we know that money, wealth, and power are valued immensely all around the globe, but it’s our job to do the right thing with it and not make it who we become, but rather what we want to create. We are the ones who give power to the inanimate piece of paper, nothing else. With that said, I think we established the difference between wealth and happiness. There are some of us that can’t do that and end up with no money and happiness or a ton of money and no happiness, its a rocky rollercoaster. The point I am trying to make is that a piece of paper can’t determine our happiness but what we do with it most certainly can. There is a quote that sticks out to me personally and it can definitely portray well onto this topic. “We are all here for some special reason. Stop being a prisoner of your past. Become the architect of your future” -Robin Sharma. This is only possible if that someone realizes it first. Like I said before, with great power comes great responsibility, and most people refer that to the value of money. Not me, I was talking about the value of your life. Lets recap and see if your thoughts on choices are still similar to how you felt before you read this paper. If so, then maybe a real life example is awaiting in your future. If not, my work here is done. Porter, Eduardo. "How Money Affects Morality." The New York Times. The New York Times, 13 June 2013. Web. 06 May 2017. <https://economix.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/06/13/how-money-affects-morality/?_r=0>. /.latest_citation_text Ward, Maurice. "Poverty and Crime." National Dialogue Network. N.p., 1 Feb. 2015. Web. 06 May 2017. <http://www.nationaldialoguenetwork.org/poverty-and-crime/>. Roth, J.D. "1. It's More Important to Be Happy Than to Be Rich [Book]." Safari. O'Reilly Media, Inc., n.d. Web. 06 May 2017. <https://www.safaribooksonline.com/library/view/your-money-the/9780596809430/ch01.html>. Gould, Rachel Gillett and Skye. "Why This Personality Type Is Happy Making Less Money." Business Insider. Business Insider, 17 Aug. 2015. Web. 06 May 2017. <http://www.businessinsider.com/personality-type-thats-happy-making-less-money-2015-8>. Thursday February 4th, 2010 at 2:00, this was the day and time when my world was flipped upside down and my heart was broken. It was a beautiful winter morning, the air was crisp and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. As I awoke on this memorable morning, my whole body felt anything but ordinary. I ran into my parents room with tears rolling down my face and demanded to stay home from school that day. They questioned why I was crying and I said “ it’s going to happen today, I need to be with her”. They didn't believe me at first and they did not want to take me out of school another day, but nothing they said stuck with me, I had to stay home. You might question who is this “her”, she is my grandmother, my beautiful, full of life grandmother.
This is the woman who made my days worth while, especially Mondays and Tuesdays. Mondays would be roast pork with Texas Toast on the side and Tuesdays would be pasta or escarole soup, but both days ended in fudge pops. Which my father never approved of but secretly would eat most of them. Whenever I would open her freezer I would count on a box of fudge pops just waiting there for me and my brother. The funny thing is, she hated the pops, but we loved them. Even though Monday’s and Tuesday’s were for the family, I spent most of my weekdays at my nana’s while my mom and dad were at work, her house was my second home, but she was my first Then as the years went by the pops weren't stocked as usual, and I knew something was wrong. Ill never forget the time she told me she was sick, we were in her living room and she was rubbing my legs telling me she was selling her house. I was so taken back I didn't know how to react, when I asked why she told me she was sick and that she was moving in with us. I asked how sick and she responded with her head down so I knew this wasn't good, I was excited for her to live with us, but for the wrong reasons. She started out with kidney failure and then to congestive failure which ultimately lead to organ failure. She slept in the room next to me and every night I would hear her painfully moan in her sleep so I would check on her to make sure she was ok. It killed me a little every day to see her in so much pain. The dialysis was helping and we thought we were on the road to recovery but, ended up right back at square one. Sadly, but funny enough we became friends with the paramedics due to the amount of times they came to my house to pick her up. As the months went by and the pain grew bigger my parents decided to place her in hospice and relieve her of her pain. I selfishly did not agree because I wanted her around as much as possible but, in the long run it made the most sense. I didn’t want my nana living the rest of her life watching the amount of fluid she has to drink in order for her to breathe, and coughing up blood on the hour. Thats no way to live, she deserved to rest and she deserved to be at peace. That morning, I have no idea what it was but there was something telling me that today was the day that she would pass. My parents thought she had another week or more left in her but with my certainty about this they decided to keep me home from school. My mother and I got everything ready at the house in order to stay at hospice all day. By noon, were on our way. All I recall seeing on the drive there was a giant Walmart to my right and my god it really was such a perfect day outside. As we arrived we both rushed right to her room, up the elevator and through the hallway we went, it was always so quite I felt awkward even coughing. As we walked in, we saw my uncle sitting beside her bed with his head down. I walk to the other side of her bed and held her hand. She was unresponsive at the time but she definitely had an idea of what was going on. I immediately turned on the TV to release the depressing and awkward tension in the room with my uncle and while I was scrolling through and something happened. The introduction of the show Reba started to play and I felt my nana squeeze my hand just the slightest bit, it was her favorite show so I knew to keep it on. After watching an episode or two I decided I was getting bored so of course my first instinct was eat or drink something. I ended up making a cup hot chocolate, there weren't a lot of options in the kitchen it was mostly just coffee, tea, hot chocolate and some stale cookies. As I was walking back to her room I made a quick pit stop to the bathroom to take a good look at myself, breathe, be alone, and gather my thoughts, I was thinking about the times we used to dance and laugh together, the times we used to go to the toy isle of Walgreens and buy silly toys for me, and the never ending boxes of fudge pops and Texas Toast all coming to an end. Did we all think she had at least another 10 years in her? Absolutely! But God had other plans for her, and we all had to understand that. While I was washing my hands I looked up at the mirror and my mother knocked on the door, came in and said “I am going to the bank really fast, I will be right back I promise, I love you”. She kissed me and left. I started walking back to my nana’s room as I was stirring the steam out of the cup with my straw. When my foot stepped over the entrance at the door I stopped saw the doctor sitting across her bed and my uncle across from him, looking down with his eyes closed, and shaking his head, it was 2 o’clock. It was like a truck just landed on my chest and my body went pure cold. I immediately dropped the filled hot cup into the trash and ran over to her and started to cry. This wasn't just an upset cry, this was a rip your heart out, stomach pit, kick you in the face cry. I had so many feelings I didn't know what to do with myself. I was shaking uncontrollably and started to have an anxiety attack, the doctors grabbed me a brown paper bag to breathe in and out of, but nothing worked. I just kept looking at her trying to make myself believe that it wasn’t real. All I wanted her to do was open her bright blue eyes and say I love you and hug me one more time. My uncle was in shock but decided to call my mother while she was gone and tell her the tragic news. I still remember hearing her screaming and the panic in her voice, knowing that she was not with me during this time. I held on to my nana’s hand for dear life and I never wanted to let go. My uncle saw my devastation and hugged me for literally 20 minutes until my mother arrived. When she did, her eyes were as red as mine. I mean, at that moment what else can you do but cry? This day was the worst most memorable days of my life. You can maybe see this as a bad way to remember her, but this is the story of how my home, my soul, was taken away from me; someone I can never return too. People live and die knowing that something in their life has a purpose and a home to return too, but I say not where but who. I miss her smile, I miss her hair, I miss her hugs, everything about that woman was pure gold in my eyes and Ill always wonder why she was taken from me at such a young point in my life, I always ask for her help because I know she's watching me and listening to me and guiding me with everything I do. The connection I had with her was like no other. She made me smile with everything she did, and brought light to my day. Surprisingly, It has been 7 years since her passing and I still feel like that day was yesterday . I feel her presence immensely in certain situations, I know she is watching over me and guiding me always. Thursday February 4th, 2010 at 2:00, this was the day and time when my world was flipped upside down and my heart was broken. It was a beautiful winter morning, the air was crisp and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. As I awoke on this memorable morning, my whole body felt anything but ordinary. I ran into my parents room with tears rolling down my face and demanded to stay home from school that day. They questioned why I was crying and I said “ it’s going to happen today, I need to be with her”. They didn't believe me at first and they did not want to take me out of school another day, but nothing they said stuck with me, I had to stay home. You might question who is this “her”, she is my grandmother, my beautiful, full of life grandmother.
This is the woman who made my days worth while, especially Mondays and Tuesdays. Mondays would be roast pork with texas toast on the side and Tuesdays would be pasta or escarole soup, but both days ended in fudge pops. Which my father never approved of but secretly would eat most of them. Whenever I would open her freezer I would count on a box of fudge pops just waiting there for me and my brother. The funny thing is, she hated the pops, but we loved them. Even though Monday’s and Tuesday’s were for the family, I spent most of my weekdays at my nana’s while my mom and dad were at work, her house was my second home, but she was my first Then as the years went by the pops weren't stocked as usual, and I knew something was wrong. Ill never forget the time she told me she was sick, we were in her living room and she was rubbing my legs telling me she was selling her house. I was so taken back I didn't know how to react, when I asked why she told me she was sick and that she was moving in with us. I asked how sick and she responded with her head down so I knew this wasn't good, I was excited for her to live with us, but for the wrong reasons. She started out with kidney failure and then to congestive failure which ultimately lead to organ failure. Sadly, but funny enough we were friends with the ambulance people due to the amount of times they came to my house to pick her up. As the years went by and the pain grew bigger my parents decided to place her in hospice and relieve her of her pain. I selfishly did not agree because I wanted her around as much as possible but, in the long run it made the most sense. That morning, I have no idea what it was but there was something telling me that today was the day that she would pass. My parents thought she had another week or more left in her but with my certainty about this they decided to keep me home from school. My mother and I got everything ready at the house in order to stay at hospice all day. By noon, were on our way. All I recall seeing on the drive there was a giant Walmart to my right and my god it really was such a perfect day outside. As we arrived we both rushed right to her room, up the elevator and through the hallway we went, it was always so quite I felt awkward even coughing. As we walked in, we saw my uncle sitting beside her bed with his head down. I walk to the other side of her bed and held her hand. She was unresponsive at the time but she definitely had an idea of what was going on. I immediately turned on the TV to release the depressing and awkward tension in the room with my uncle and while I was scrolling through and something happened. The introduction of the show Reba started to play and I felt my nana squeeze my hand just the slightest bit, it was her favorite show so I knew to keep it on. After watching an episode or two I decided I was getting bored so of course my first instinct was eat or drink something. I ended up making a cup hot chocolate, there weren't a lot of options in the kitchen it was mostly just coffee, tea, hot chocolate and some stale cookies. As I was walking back to her room I made a quick pit stop to the bathroom to take a good look at myself, breathe, be alone, and gather my thoughts, I was thinking about the times we used to dance and laugh together, the times we used to go to the toy isle of Walgreens and buy silly toys for me, and the never ending boxes of fudge pops and Texas Toast all coming to an end. While I was washing my hands I looked up at the mirror and my mother knocked on the door, came in and said “I am going to the bank really fast, I will be right back I promise, I love you”. She kissed me and left. I started walking back to my nana’s room as I was stirring the steam out of the cup with my straw. When my foot stepped over the entrance at the door I stopped saw the doctor sitting across her bed and my uncle across from him, looking down with his eyes closed, and shaking his head, it was 2 o’clock. It was like a truck just landed on my chest and my body went pure cold. I immediately dropped the filled hot cup into the trash and ran over to her and started to cry. This wasn't just an upset cry, this was a rip your heart out, stomach pit, kick you in the face cry. I had so many feelings I didn't know what to do with myself. I was shaking uncontrollably and started to have an anxiety attack, the doctors grabbed me a brown paper bag to breathe in and out of, but nothing worked. I just kept looking at her trying to make myself believe that it wasn’t real. All I wanted her to do was open her bright blue eyes and say I love you and hug me one more time. My uncle was in shock but decided to call my mother while she was gone and tell her the tragic news. I still remember hearing her screaming and the panic in her voice, knowing that she was not with me during this time. I held on to my nana’s hand for dear life and I never wanted to let go. My uncle saw my devastation and hugged me for literally 20 minutes until my mother arrived. This day was the worst most memorable days of my life. You can maybe see this as a bad way to remember her, but this is the story of how my home, my soul, was taken away from me; someone I can never return too. People live and die knowing that something in their life has a purpose and a home to return too, but I say not where but who. The connection I had with her was like no other. She made me smile with everything she did, and brought light to my day. Surprisingly, It has been 7 years since her passing and I still feel like that day was yesterday . I feel her presence immensely in certain situations, I know she is watching over me and guiding me always. In my opinion education is the most important thing in life, right next to life experience. I look at education like a lifestyle, not a priority. When I am in class I want to get the most out of what Im learning, I don't care what it is, science, history, math whatever. I may not be the smartest person, or test material but I do work hard. Although, I do think that education is completely over priced, the most valuable thing in life is the most expensive. Doesn't really add up, right? I never really realized this until this year. It hit me when the loans started to add up and the fact that community college was the best choice for me. Not only for me really, but for everyone.
I believe we should adjust our emphasis on education, and the way we teach. Teaching should be more interactive. Students may have very smart ideas, but lack the confidence to shout an answer. Students all learn differently; and teaching one specific way, no matter what that way is, will never have a full effect. Teachers and students should connect on a personal level. Our youth will be our future, and taking action now will lead to a better one for sure. College is a whole different ball game. And honestly, I genuinely do not believe that someone should know exactly what they want to do straight of college, let alone high school. I may be young, but I speak with people who are graduating with their bachelor’s in business, and they still aren't sure. I hear, “ I’m going to law school”, or “Oh I’m going into the family business”. In my mind, I figure why not just do that straight out of high school. My work experience has given me much more knowledge of the way things work than college ever could have. I’ve learned the value of the dollar. I’ve learned how to do my taxes. I’ve learned how to write a check. These are things that are necessary to live an average life, and skills that aren’t even taught until maybe the college level. Maybe never. Overall, I generally believe education needs to be revamped; and as I stated earlier, needs to be looked at as a lifestyle. Just because you graduated, doesn't mean you have to stop learning. |
Who I am...I am me, and I will only strive to better myself and stand by my morals. I am am old soul with an empathetic heart and a loud mouth. I don't follow a certain path, I live every day with a purpose. I am your average 5'3 Italian with a big heart and even bigger dreams. Archives
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