Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Narrative essay

My wonderful father
     

     My name is Emily and I go to a school that I am not allowed to say the name, but let's just say it's a school where everyone gets very ecstatic about football games. I am a dreamer, someone who loves to picture perfect moments in her head and make them come to life. A dancer, photographer, film maker and someone who has a passion for anything that involves making music. I decided to interview my father Ivan Martinez, because I love him to death. Also, he is a role model for me. The way he handles things and interacts with people inspires me to be just like him as I grow up and make big decisions.
   
   Ivan Martinez was born on January 12th, 19776 in Guererro, Mexico. He is an only child, but grew up with a cousin that he treated like a younger sister. His life has not been all that cookie cutter easy. At the age of six he had to go to school. He came home and help his grandfather chop down banana trees to sell. His grandmother, sold food at the corner of "El Mercado." El Mercado is a little market in Mexico where everyone goes and buys organic local foods. It is kind of like Fred Meyer, but a more poor being you could say. He would go into the kitchen and help her cut out all the vegetables and fruits and everything she was going to sell the next day. Something that he always hated doing is killing pigs for the pork meat she sold at the market. He stated" Odio matar a los puercos, pero lo tenia que hacer para poder recivir dinero para poder comer el proximo dia." In English this is translated to, " I hate killing pigs but I had to do it in order to get money to be able to have a meal to eat the next day." This was Ivans routine everyday until the age of eighteen when he finally immigrated to the United states.
   
    Family to Ivan is really important. Although he is not my biological father, I have so much respect for him as a person and as a father. His family when he was young was not all that supportive of anything he wanted to do. His grandfather was one of the biggest influences he had in his young life. Until one day, he went into his grandfather's bedroom and he saw that his grandpa was not awake yet. He tried moving him but he was not breathing. Ivan said that was on of the worst days of his life. Since Ivans father was never around, not even as a young kid, his grandfather was his father figure. So when his grandfather died he felt like he lost his dad and a big part of himself.
   
    As a teenager he was what we call today a "player." In one of millions of stories he tells us he told us one story that I still remember till this day.  He said that he loved women in every way. So he thought to himself," why should just one women be loved by me? Why can't I love multiple women at the same time?" So he decided to get a couple girlfriends. By a couple I mean, about seven or eight. He was a very bad player, so he got caught in a matter of three months. He said that one day he was in the commons of where he lived hanging out with one of his many girlfriends that came to visit him from a different city. All of a sudden, he is kissing the girl and his other girlfriend that lived in the same city passed by. She started screaming and throwing a fit in front of everyone, In a matter of days all the girls in the city knew my Ivan was "playing" them so they all decided to have one of those "girl meetings." They all invited him to a place to hangout and when he got there all eight women were standing there waiting for him. They called him out and yelled at him then beat him up.  He luckily got away, but as he was running away they started to throw rocks, shoes, and pretty much anything they could find at him. This story was one of the most memorable stories he has told me yet.
 
  Yes, half of the things he says have mostly humor in it. He is a very joyful happy person, well at least that is what he shows everyone else. Something I learned about him is how he can take a totally unhappy situation and try and make something positive come out of it after a couple of days. Something I have always known about Ivan is his passion for music. Music helped him survive throughout many unhappy moments and situations he encountered. He has been playing the drums since he was five years old. Yes, he is a professional drummer and not just that, he can also play the electric and acoustic guitar and he can play the bass. He loves to compose music on his spare time when he is not dealing with our problems and screams. When he needs to calm down, I have learned that sometimes he locks himself in his room and the next thing I heard is a beautiful melody coming out oh his room. After a couple hours ( after all his stress is gone) he comes out with a stunning smile that is more radiant than the sun. His passion for music has inspired me to continue with my passion for the arts of music.

  It did not take me that long to get personal information out of him, because me and Ivan have a very close father-daughter relationship. I learned many things about his life, family, friends and of course his "player" ways. He has overcome a lot of obstacles and people that have always put him down. Still to this day, he is still standing and working hard to give my brothers, sisters, and myself a better quality life. I admire him for the way he lives life and the way he handles problems and situations that normal people would probably give up or wouldn't want to continue in life.


Monday, October 22, 2012

second paragraph for essay

This is my second paragraph for my narrative essay.

    Ivan Martinez was born on January 12th, 19776 in Guererro, Mexico. He is an only child, but grew up with a cousin that he treated like a younger sister. His life has not been all that cookie cutter easy. At the age of six he had to go to school, come home and help his grandfather chop down banana trees to sell and get money. After he was done helping his grandfather at around seven o'clock at night he had to go help his grandmother out in the kitchen. His grandmother sold food at the corner of "El Mercado." El Mercado is a little market in Mexico where everyone goes and buys organic local foods. It is kind of like a Fred Meyer but a more poor being you could say. He would go into the kitchen and help her cut out all the vegetables and fruits and everything she was going to sell the next day. Something that he always hated doing is killing pigs for the pork meat she sold at the market. He stated" Odio matar a los puercos, pero lo tenia que hacer para poder recivir dinero para poder comer el proximo dia." In English this is translated to, " I hate killing pigs but I had to do it in order to recieve money to be able to have a meal to eat the next day." This was Ivans routine everyday until the age of eighteen when he finally immigrated to the United states.

Questions:

Did it capture your attention?
What could I add or take away to make this paragraph more interesting?
Any other suggestions?
What should I talk about next in my other paragraphs? 

Friday, October 12, 2012

   One of the lowest points of my life.. 


    Have you ever encountered a life or death situation? A time in your life where you didn't know if you were going to live or die? Well I have.. it's a funny story actually. A story where it all began as a joke but almost ended up in a tragedy. 
  It all began at the age of 11; I was watching my favorite show the power puff girls, we all know bubbles is the best. So I'm sitting down on the coach and I realized my vision wasn't okay. I was seeing double; crazy huh? At first when I told my mom she laughed and called me four eyed Emily. It was a joke then at that moment but I guess she realized that it might be something serious. She took me to the doctor and the doctor looked with a microscope behind my brain and realized it was swollen. A brain swollen?!?! What the heck?!?! At that time it seemed impossible because I was only 11 years old. I didn't understand how at that age I could possible have some sort of disease that made my brain swell up. 
  Next thing I know, I'm sitting in the moms care driving to Emmanuel Childrens Hospital. Inside my heart was pounding wanting to jump out of my chest. I went into the emergency entrance and right away they already knew who I was. I kind of felt famous that day, it wasn't the good kind of famous. It was the kind of famous where you just want to run out and hide from everything and everyone so they could leave you alone. 
 Right off the bat they started taking me into examinations. I felt like I was a lab rat being examined from left to right. I've never been the confident kind of person and the situations I was put in at this moment dropped my confidence a big notch down. A pretty young nurse with curls that bounced with every step. She had dark as night black hair, her smile was astonishing with pretty pink glossy lip gloss. She was the nicest nurse I had ever encountered. Until....she pulled out that big needle that looked as thick as a mountains peek. I felt my heart sank deep into the bottom of my stomach when I saw it. All I remember after that is that I thought I had seen that light everyone talks about before dying. But I think it was my exaggeration of how afraid I was of needles. She stuck that thing deep into my vain and that pretty young nurse became the devil in disguise. I hated her. I hated her for putting me through the pain; she wasn't even experianced. She took out what seemed gallons of blood, but was only a couple tubes for testing.
 Three long days which seemed like weeks passed, I was still in the hospital. I had no idea why I was there besides the fact that my brain was swollen. I asked doctors and nurses everytime they came in if they knew what was wrong. Obviously they knew, they just didn't want to worry me. They also thought I wouldn't be able to understand their doctor talk. On a sunny morning three doctors came in and started talking in a language that I called "Doctor language." I couldn't understand anything that was coming out of their mental mouths. I took a piece of paper, pen and started writing all the words I could remember them saying. I was a lucky patient, I had the computer rooms right next to my room. I got out of my uncomfortable bed that felt like sharp rocks and walked my behind to the computer room.
  As I googled searched all the words I came to realize that I had "Thrombosis." Thrombosis is when blood clots form into your blood vessels and blocks blood from going to the places it's supposed to be going. My stomach felt as it was going to coming out of my body, I had never felt so sick in my life. I guess finding out what I had affected me my health even more. In that very moment I wished I wasn't so stubborn and I wish I had never googled searched what was wrong with me. I started growing resentment towards my parents, the doctors and everyone who knew what was wrong with me. Why would they hide something so serious as my condition? Why would they hide a life or death situation from me? At that point I knew they wanted to protect me but something so serious like that shouldn't be hidden from someone. 
  Weeks passed by and I just felt like my body was consuming my own self. I felt as sick as I have never been. My arms felt like brittle noodles, my legs felt like they were going to break into million pieces like glass. My head hurt so much that I wanted to chop the whole thing off. Yeah I know that sounds gross, maybe some exaggeration but at that very moment it didn't matter to me. I just wanted all the pain and misery to go away. 
  I went through about 13 cat scans, 6 back punctures to minimize the fluid going from my brain to my spine, and I could have sworen they took so many pints of blood from my body.Everytime I walked i felt like a mummy on it's two feet. Every night that passed by I thought to myslef why me? What did I do wrong to deserve being in here for so long. I saw my roomates come and go, I was at the hospital for so long that I went through 5 different roomates. I was always left behind. I saw them happy to leave and I, just stayed in that hell hole by myself.
   The doctor came in one rainy morning, he was telling my mom I was going to be taken in to surgery immidiatley. He explained to her that the risk was if i survived through the surgery I might end up in a coma. Or I might not even wake up, I could die. But either way if I didn't have the surgery I would have died anyways. My mom put her faith in god and she quickly told him to take me in as soon as possible and to do everthing he could to save me. Next thing I know, nurses, doctors, specialist started coming in and out of my room. Taking my temperature, helping me out of my bed and they all took me to the ER to start my surgery. All I could remember after that is they put a gask mask with some watermelon flavored and I passed out. 
  After that I remember I stayed in the hospital for 4 more days and I finally got to go home. As I stepped into my house I breathed a breath of fresh air. After two months in that horrible place I learned to appreciate life more and not take anything for granted.  

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Sentence analysis from shame. 

1. I never learned hate at home, or shame.”

The sentence pattern being used is sentence pattern number 4 but incorrectly punctuated because SHAME isn't an independent clause. The sentence focuses on hate and shame; The effect is it makes you take a pause in the middle of the sentence the comma plus shame shows more effect on shame. I think he made that decision to make the sentence flow to the follow sentence; it's also a sentence of foreshadowing where the character will live a a hate or shame situation.

 2. “She’d walk down my street, and my brothers and sisters would yell, ‘Here comes Helene,” and I’d rub my tennis sneakers on the back of my pants and wish my hair wasn’t so nappy and the white folks’ shirt fit me better.”

The sentence pattern being used is pattern number 5. The effect it makes is that since it is a run on sentence it makes you take a pause and catch your breathe in between. He made that sentence that way because it was too long so he had to add the extra pauses.

3. “And she had a daddy, and he had a good job.

The sentence patter is pattern number 4. The effect is that he wanted to make his point clear in this sentence. He made this sentence that way because once again he wanted to get his point across and make you make a pause so you could understand what he was trying to communicate with you.


4. “The idiot’s seat, the troublemaker’s seat.”

The sentence pattern being used for this sentence is number 6 because it's a dependent clause and then an independent clause. The effect is he wanted to make a statement about the seat and then he wanted to say why he thought the seat was the "idiot's seat." I think he chose to do this like this because t made it unclear made you think and then it gave you an idea of why he made that first statement.

Five sentence pattern 1 from SHAME...

1. "You can't really make a meal out of paste."
2. "The teacher thought I was a trouble maker."
3. "The eagle always flew on Friday."
4. "The teacher opened her book and started calling out names alphabetically."
5. "I was about seven years old when I got my first big lesson."

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

The oldest person in my family that I could remember...

  

    The oldest person in my family that I could remember is my grandfather from my biological father's side. His name is Jose and he is currently living in Tijuana, California. He is a short, dark skinned male with hair so white that it almost looked like puffy snow. He wore his pants almost up to half his stomach, which now that I look at it, was very hilarious. He had big round glasses that looked like the bottom of a soda can. You could say he dressed like a typical nerd, but he wasn't all that bright. He sat on the couch all day, since he was too old to work. He sat there like a dead vegetable watching soccer or the news all day. When he wasn't watching TV he was either sleeping or at the kitchen table eating.  I remember him always being serious he really had no sense of humor, he was a bitter old man. I never really got along with him, he never held me tight like a grandpa should. I never really felt loved or cared for by him. I always remember him screaming and getting into stupid little fights with my grandma, which I don't get along with her either. He wasn't really the lovey dovey type of guy, he was more like," You do as I say and we won't have issues, if you disobey me, we will have lots of problems." It was his way or no way.