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Simple essay on experience in new york city
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Simple essay on experience in new york city
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It was bright day in the summer of 2008 in the Hamptons. My great aunt has invited us all over to stay in her house. We all are just waking up, meeting each other downstairs one by one. Not knowing anything on what the day has to offer. My whole family was talking about on what they were going to do for the day. So we all made a decision and decided that we are going to just go to the pool and maybe go into town later on. Afterward, we all went upstairs to get ready. My aunt Danielle goes and takes her shirt off the hanger and lays it out on her bed. She then went and took a shower and do her hair. When my aunt got out of the shower she went to put on her clothes on. Although, she had realized the shirt had gone missing. She looks around the
The big day was finally here! I woke up around four in the morning to get my hair and makeup done. I had stayed in Fort Worth at my aunt’s house, since the lady doing my hair lived closed to her. So already it starts to go bad. The lady called in saying she couldn’t make it because her car broke down, so of course I start freaking out. I needed my hair and makeup done a.s.a.p. so I could be on my way home to Jacksboro. My aunt started to call some people she knew and I waited impatiently starting to do my own make up. Finally, after what seemed like forever another lady
I wonder if I should I start calling Las Vegas, Nevada home now. I’ve traveled back and forth from California to Las Vegas since I was a child. I can remember at the age of thirteen my family and I would take family weekend trips very often. By the age of seventeen I was forced to move to Vegas for 6 months right before my senior year of high school started. Since it was my last year of high school my parents decided to let me go back to California for the last three months and graduate with my friends. Since I wasn’t eighteen yet, I forced to go back to Las Vegas right the day after graduation.
I wake up to the sun shining through the window and the faint laughter from my family downstairs. It's the first day of our annual trip to Rhode Island. I lie in bed for a few moments and think about one thing. Rhode Island. I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else than here. I glance at the clock and it is only eight in the morning, but everybody is already up, enjoying breakfast, and getting ready to head to the beach. It's not supposed to rain until later in the day, so hopefully we can enjoy our day at the beach before it rains. I eventually make my way out of bed and tiptoe across the frigid wood floors and join my family downstairs. Everybody is up except my brother, Thomas.
...as I began to walk in the water every imperfection on my body burned as the salt cleansed my skin. Knee high in the Dead Sea and my body even then began to feel weightless- the water carried me. 3 feet deep and no matter how much I tried to touch the bottom, I couldn’t. No one was splashing because if the salt got in your eyes it would be an unbearable burning feeling. For the first time all senior year I felt like I wasn’t in control. I let the water carry me. There wasn’t fear, I didn’t worry about getting carried out to far, nothing lived in the water so no matter how far I went, nothing could pull me under. For the first time all year I wasn’t worried about graduation, finals, or even college. It took me dipping my toes into something big and scary to finally feel relaxed and at peace with myself.
Growing up, I was not so much of an angelic girl. Around the age of nine, I moved from Brooklyn, New York to Philadelphia. Moving to a new place is never really a smooth transition, but it didn’t take long for me to get to know many people in my school and in my neighborhood. My life in Philly was wonderful; I was living the life. At least that was what I thought. The problem was, I did not choose my friends wisely. It got as horrid as becoming affiliated with a gang called “N.I.C. (Niggas in Charge)/ B.I.C. (Bitches in Charge).” Although the ages throughout the group varied, the majority of us were little kids, who thought we were grown. I went from sweet to bitter and that was when my life deteriorated.
The gleaming sun caressed my squinting face as I glanced up at the magnificent blue sky decorated with white, fluffy clouds that resembled white cotton candy. I was outside exploring the vast backyard. It was only my first morning in the United States. My stepfather, my siblings, and I had just arrived from the Philippines to our new home in Rhode Island seven hours ago from the T. F. Green Airport at around midnight. Last night, was my first time seeing my mother after a year has gone. I was finally able to live with my parents! Since I was two years old, my grandparents had raised my siblings and I. When my biological father had divorced my mother, my mother and stepfather later sought work in the Middle East to support our private education.
America, Almost every single person on earth has a dream of living in a country full of freedom, liberty, and opportunity. The United States has been providing these benefits ever since it was founded a few hundred years ago. So when I found out that my family would be coming to America, I had already started planning my future of growing up here. Just like any other person, I was feeling enthusiastic and a little nervous of leaving my native country and coming to America to start a better life. I was completely lost in my thoughts of happiness, that I became unaware of all the difficulties that my family and I would face once we step into our new lives. Among these difficulties were the change of language, change of system, and the variety of different cultures.
At the age of seven, my life changed forever. I was no longer living in my native country; I was now a fragment of the millions of immigrants who come to the United States in search of the American Dream. At the time, my father had recently lost his job and my mother was unemployed, which caused incredible financial stress for my family. My father decided to risk his life crossing the Rio Grande River for our family to have a better life and greater rewards.
To whomever, it may concern, I would like to introduce myself, I’m Kelly Agurto, a college student who’s currently attending at Essex County College who’s finishing this Fall Semester 2015 and had started in the fall of 2012. I am the youngest child from my mother’s side of the family of both parents. Since both my parents been separated ever since I was six years old. I was fortunate enough to have gotten an opportunity to play soccer both my Freshman and Sophomore year at Essex County College. Soccer has become a medicine, to be able to cope and gained the confidence; also the power to be my own self again. It all started when I was given a chance to play soccer ever since my Junior year in West Orange High School, as a Midfielder. And I’m
October 20, 2007, the day that I’m going to say goodbye to my hometown. I was born and raised in Philippines by my grandparents for sixteen years. It is heart-breaking to think that I will not see them anymore like how I used to. I was 16 years old, and it will be my first time to travel with my big brother in the airplane. Our trip from Philippines to Virginia is approximately about 18-20 hours. It is not a direct flight, so we have to change plane three times, and it is a long trip for us. I was crying the whole time when we were in the airplane. As soon as we reach our last destination which is the Washington D.C., we have no way of communicating with my mom and auntie because we have no cellphones. I was hesitant to
Just before sunrise, on Oct. 12, 2003, the residents of Argyle Road in Brooklyn were woken by gunfire.
My brother and I were at the Bronx Public Library with a few of my brother’s friends. The library was located right in the heart of the town, overlooking The Coachman’s Inn, which happened to be my mother’s workplace. The dirty, graffitied, cream bricks of the library gave off a sketchy vibe. The librarians were the meanest people you could meet. They were always yelling at us for making too much noise, even when we weren't making a sound. I was wearing my white polo shirt and my navy blue skirt; my brother wearing his light blue polo shirt and his creme khaki pants.
Moving weekend. These two words have defined my life several times since my pilgrimage to Colorado. My first few years here were chaotic, unknown, and completely spontaneous. For someone who likes control, a concrete plan at least two weeks in advance, and a generous helping of consistent routine, my first days, weeks, years, where I was but a nomadic, semi-"homeless" wanderer were met with the most challenging and illuminating moments I have yet encountered.
In my wallet, I store dire personal items such as my lisence and some pictures. Among other things, I have my money, like everybody else, and certificates for stores. This summer, I went to the Keys with my family. I drove down there with my wallet and took it everywhere with me, like I would any other time. Well, when someone doesn't have pockets, then it is hard to keep their wallet right next to them at all times. I was carrying my wallet out from the hotel, along with my keys, and set both on top of the car. When I figured out that I needed the keys in order to get in the car and turn it on, I took them off the top of the roof, leaving my wallet behind. I sat in the car, car door open, waiting for my dad to make it to the car so we could all go to a diving area. Once he made it to the car, without thinking, I closed the door and started the car. I had been driving about half a mile before I realized that my wallet was no longer on my body. Immediately, I pulled the car over, and the next hour or so was spent looking for my wallet. All I could think about was what I would lose if I didn't find my wallet. The week before was my birthday, and I was given $60 to Best Buy and $50 to Auto Zone. Aside from that I had $3 in cash. While walking up and down the road that my wallet flew off on, my sister found my two Best Buy cards.
It was unexpected, heart-breaking, and frustrating. My parents’ divorce hit me like a brick wall. Every aspect of my life changed within the following years of their divorce. At the time, I felt like my world was ending, however, the separation took me places I could have never imagined; from South Dakota, to the Nation 's Capitol, to the beautiful land of Germany.