|In side my mind | |My autobiography | |1997-Present day 2013 | |Andrea Nunez | INTRODUCTION
Pencil, Paper… all I need is to remember, remember my history how I came to be, my past, and the mistakes that along the way have gathered around to shape me and my first breath, January second in the middle of what’s known to be the beginning of beginnings, and the last of the ends in 1997, early in the morning to be exact. Wait. AVID, eight period, Mrs. Hamlet-“Start to write your intro, and work on your time line, their due today before the bell rings at two, forty five.” she yells, mainly because the guys at the ‘a’ table won’t stop talking. Its two fifteen, I’ve got exactly twenty nine minutes fifty six seconds to write an elaborate paragraph explaining how is it that I’m here, Autobiography or so we call it, it’s a story and from my notes, according to Webster,” the biography of a person narrated by him or herself.” in doubts I hardly think that anyone in this class can care enough to read or listen carefully to this paper, truthfully I don’t think anyone should mind , I mean we all have something going on in their own lives. Seven billion three million one thousand five hundred twenty eight and still counting people, in this planet, wakening up, sleeping, or breathing, being born, living, struggling dinging this very moment, and I’m just one of them. But one of fifty nine plus that are about to write their meaningful life’s for a grade... maybe it won’t be just a grade? Maybe it might be something new, worth my time. Well here I go. Andrea Nunez March 2013 CHAPTER 1
Well it seems obvious that the person I’ve injured the most is my mother, since she’s the one who has suffered the burden of my birth, all my sickness and all my weird doings for the past sixteen years, so it seems fair to start with her story.
My mom moved to the united states on October 24 1993 she came here look for my dad, her boy friend why you may ask, well because he was handsome he talked a lot and she was quiet; they met in Mexico, they went to the same church, assisted at the same dance, and he whistled at her while circling the plaza in Guadalajara, this was a costume in which guys were the ones to choose their partner. Coming in to the United States she worked as a maid in some cleaners. Luxuries weren’t affordable beck in those days. She lasted some month with the same clothing until she started to work and gain money to afford some new items. She lived in the Denver harbor area “la area del burro” or that’s what they called it, she only studied to the third grade because she had to take care of her siblings and of the house, and with a well educated thoughts of wisdom and intelligence she managed to get out of the dead end that could’ve been the final decision in her life, she managed to move out and work for greater people that provided her a better life during her teenage years and early twenties.
One the other hand my Father, has the one person who I’ve been able to talk to and as it seems that has the only one that has the answers to all my troubling conflicts, he hasn’t been around as much as my mother but I still value him the same way I value my mother, because no matter all I’ve gone trough they were the ones that created me and shaped me to who I am today. My dad, he worked with his father in the Williams Brothers construction business, building bridges and highways. He lived in his mother’s house along with his family for a long while. He had lived in the United States for a long time and even though he wasn’t a born resident he was able to activate his resident ship in order to travel from Mexico to the US, come and go as he pleased. He was hard working; he was educated up until the ninth...
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