used to dread Sunday mornings. It was the day that my father would call my grandparents long distance to Korea. My father had a rule that my brother‚ sister‚ and I each had to talk to our grandfather and practice speaking Korean. I remember turning over in my bed to face the wall so that my father couldn’t see that I was awake. Even though I tried my best to feign a deep slumber‚ his stern voice commanded me to wake up and set a good example for my younger siblings. Groaning‚ I would stumble over to
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Miller 08/10/13 “My best” It was the 25th of October at 7:00 pm. I was standing on the football field on my senior night my last ever home football game. 6 weeks earlier in a game vs. Stagg high school while I was playing defense I turned the wrong way and dislocated my left knee cap. My knee cap was actually on the side of my knee. I was immediately rushed to the hospital via ambulance‚ because they did not know how severe my injury was. While I was in the hospital room they put my knee cap back
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inspired every time there is an opportunity for me to create an artwork. My mother said I got this art skill from my father side. I remember I could plunge into drawing or coloring for hours till morning‚ my mother was so concerned that I was not sleeping until I finished my art piece. I have grown up‚ priorities have changed since that time but my patience on doing details over my drawing or painting is still the same. Art is my passion‚ it helps me express myself and feel great in every art work I
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My world. My world is a series of strung memories‚ slow songs‚ copper streetlights dancing over my skin during long car rides‚ first kisses yet to be shared‚ poems yet to be read‚ apologies I was too afraid to make‚ mistakes I don’t know how to undo‚ pulse punching through me every moment I write‚ and the laughs that I have yet to enjoy. My world is not only my world; it is your world‚ her world‚ his world‚ our world. The lines of my world are not defined. I have not found my world‚ but am creating
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My three going on four years at Hillside High has easily been the best years of my life. I have made lifelong friends and relationships I will never forget. The relationships I have made with my teachers‚ classmates‚ teammates‚ administrators‚ and coaches are ones will stay connected to well beyond high school and my collegiate years. The legacy I am leaving behind at my high school is one filled with perseverance‚ integrity‚ and triumph. My academic accomplishments over my high school career have
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learned to hope and dream about what the future holds for us. I know I have‚ and all these past years all I’ve done is think about what I want to be when i grow up‚ who my family is and where I will live. I’ve been filling my head with a fantasy of being a rich girl living in New York. So‚ I subconsciously created a blueprint in my mind of my future‚ and it gives me an immense pleasure to share it with all of you. So here it goes. Ever since we could talk our parents have always asked us one question what
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Well‚ this story is a long one‚ as are most of my stories‚ but here it goes… My vocation story is simple; it began with a thought from God that my life was meant for something more. This thought resounded “priesthood” not only in my head‚ but also in my day-to-day life. Very carefully‚ through the influence of my parents‚ through the desire to attend Holy Mass more regularly throughout the week‚ and through my experiences with the other member of our church especially choir‚ God Holy Spirit (Mahal
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up in a nuclear family. There are four people in my family‚ consists of my father‚ mother‚ my sister and me. My father is 62 years old. He’s working as a insurance agent. My mother is 10 years younger than my father. She used to work as a store manager before she gave birth to me. She quitted her job in order to take care of me and my sister because she believes that the mother daughter bond can grow stronger day by day by spending time with us. My sisters and I are four years apart. She is currently
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Who is my hero or what is my hero‚ is it a super hero like superman‚ batman‚ or spider man out to save the world from danger. No. Is my hero a celebrity with fame‚ glam‚ and fortune. No. My hero is even better than that‚ more special than that‚ more braver than that‚ and more stronger than that. My hero is my mom. Through all odds no matter what destruction life has threw at my mother she never once admitted defeat and she has always presnted her self as a strong black woman. My mother has always
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Essay#1 My Father” Dedication‚ sweat‚ and a will to be on top is what runs through every athletes veins. Motocross isn’t like basketball or any other sports in school where it is consisted of refs at every point of perspective eye-balling every move you make. It is a moto dog fight from the second the gate drops. Every successful athlete has not become what they are by themselves. Behind the scenes there are vast amounts of support. The man that has had my back since day one would be my father
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