The Essay

The Essay

            The thought of me winning a writing competition was laughable, but the thought of me reading it out loud, at another school was terrifying. I was thirteen at the time, and attended V.L. Ruben Middle School. It was a small school at the edge of a small rural town. The school was a bright red brick building with two sides joined by hallways, and had four columns lining the front of the school.  At the end of one hallway was my six grade teacher’s after school enrichment program class, which would help students with homework and extra credit assignments. 

Some afternoons I would go to Mrs. Abram’s class and pull out my homework and begin to work, but most of the time I would just play with my friends Sandrill, Victoria, Percy, and Iris. Mrs. Abram was a light skin black woman with long black hair and thick glasses. She was a very serious teacher; you would never see her laugh or smile at all. One day Mrs. Abram told us, “For extra credit write an essay on what black history means to you.”Now, I really needed the extra credit because my grades were poor. I could not afford to miss anything extra. If there was an extra credit for leg breaking, I needed to be there. I was a poor reader and speller, with handwriting that looked like a kindergartner.  We work on the essays for two days, which during those I play around every day.   Percy and I would go in the hallway to crack jokes on others. Sandrilla was the smartest of the group and work on her paper every day; so did Iris and Victoria. I never took the essay seriously at all. One day I’d write a paragraph and lose it the next.

So on that Wednesday I spent all my time working on my essay that had to be turned in the next day.  I couldn’t help but to see Iris still hard at work on her paper, and thought to myself, “Why is her paper so long?” Than a sentence popped into my head, “Black History is the time we take to appreciate those who have paved the way for use” and my paper started there.  I pictured Dr. Martin Luther King speaking and I wanted to write it as if he would be reading. When I finished I felt proud of my paper because I actually felt passionate about the subject after I started the paper. Even though my paper was only two paragraphs long, I felt that my paper explained what it meant to me.

That Friday Mrs. Abram came running up to me, smiling from ear to ear, with her long black hair and thick glasses, crowding my face, she said, “You won the essay competition.” My mind and mouth met on the floor. I looked at her like she was on some type of crazy medication, “There must be some mistake” I replied. I didn’t remember anything about an essay competition, nor would I win any type of essay competition. At first I was excited about winning. I couldn’t stop thinking what the prize was, and the attention of all the other teachers congratulating me.

My day went from good to great, but when Mrs. Abram said that the winners would have to read their essays at another school, it went to the worst day, ever. The principal called me in her office and congratulated me and that she’d already called my mother to bring me a change of clothing. I was so nervous after hearing their plans of me representing the school. When three o’clock came I wanted to just walk off campus in the herd of students leaving, but my mom showed up right before with the clothing and she was so proud of me. I changed into my clothing said my prayers and got into my teacher’s car. We headed into the city, the school where the reading where to be held was named, Black Burn Middle School.  On the way to the school all I could think was why did I win? Did they switch paper and didn’t know it? When we pulled up it was a massive building, it was a two story building with dark color bricking. It kind of creeped me out, and this Scooby Doo feeling over me. It looked like a haunted castle or school for that matter.  When we entered the school, there was a long hallway lined with blue lockers. With every step my foot grew heavier. When we turned into the auditorium, it looked to be the size of a stadium.   There were three sections of seats with at least one hundred seats a row down and across. The stage looked to be the same size as our school’s gym floor.  When we arrived, the judges had just start calling students up, and the order was by placement of grade and place ranking. It seemed as if I was only seated for a moment when I had to head to the stage.

My nervous system went into overdrive. There were about a hundred kids there already, but most people were leaving after their kids read their essays. Once I was on the stage, I knew that there was no backing out, besides how was I going to get home?  When I started to read, my vision became blurred and my mouth dried. I stumbled through the first line as if it was a forgein language. I focused my eyes on Mrs. Abram sitting in the third row, and wonder if she could read it for me. I even tried picturing her naked, but nothing happened.  Then a voice of common sense came rushing into my head, and said “I wrote it, therefore I can read it.” I took my time starting up once more, and the first paragraph was finished. By the second paragraph, my nervousness had faded and it was almost over. I finished my short essay with a proud feeling in my chest and took a bow.  I had not only won a competition for writing, but I also overcame a fear of reading aloud in public. I received fifty dollars and a blue 1^st place ribbon.

 I left with my mother; she was so proud of me. She gave me a big hug and we went out for pizza. I still to this day look back to see how far I’ve come as a student and a man. I can say that this event in my life made me a stronger person and made me believe in myself.

      

Don't Call Me, I'll Text You

I have no idea when texting took off, but there's no stopping it now! I remember when I was young and wanted a friend to call, but now no one calls. Everyone is text now. It's now ''the in way'' to communication. There's song about texting, commercials, special symbols for texting. It what’s happening with the younger crowds. The old days of calling people up and waiting for them to answer are over with. Many people are still getting use to texting. My mom never texts, but she's able to pull up text. The funny thing about that is she will call you after you text her, so it defeats the purpose. I know technology is moving fast and I’m ready but people are missing out on the little things in life, like hearing your love one's voice.

Some people are proud of how fast they can text, but my texting is very limited. I never text people unless I am texted first, because it so impersonal. I want you to feel my emotions by hearing them over the phone. Text message just doesn't do that. All caps to me just mean all caps; I don't see you yelling or hear it. The same is with anybody else who doesn't know that. There's a whole different language when it comes to texting, it like you need a translator. Most words abbreviation are just three to four letters. The texting will be down to one letter soon. Many of the older people don't understand it, and wants there kids to call them. I am not aganist texting I just think that most people would love to hear a voice when there phone rings.

There is much you can tell from hearing someone's voice. It could be a life or death situation where you need to hear there voice to tell you what is wrong. Most people would respond to this in a text or won't answer back at all. There is going to came a time in life where you will miss a family member voice, but you texted him or her.  My mom still listen to my grandmothers answering machine, just to here her voice. My aunt voice is on the answering machine and she passed as well. When need to whole things thats dear to use, but text is just letters. Text messaging will always be here but enjoy your love one's memories, and that means voice and thoughts of them. I will never live a moment through a text message, but I will call you to say, hi.

Who Am I Mcm "real tv"

Reality TV has killed television for me, but said to say I do watch it. I turn on my TV and always end up on some reality junk tv. It's mostly my wife fault, because she a junky for Teen Mom, Hair Battle Spectacular, Basketball Wives, Hoader's, and Bad Girls Club. Somehow I end up seating there and watching all of these shows. I sit there the whole show wondering do they know how dumb the things they idol are. The gold diggers and the drunken fights are so dumb. Sometime I do like the competition shows, but the other shows are crazy. I myself like Chopped and House Hunters.

 It’s more so a love hate relationship with reality shows. In the year of Favor Flava I was hooked to this show, but I really stop watching for my enjoyment after that. I do watch it just to spend time with my wife. The love hate relationship I see is that you hate to watch, but it like what’s going to happen next. I a train wreck once a week that leads to the next week. I'm never a diehard must see fan of tv anyway. Back in the day when real tv would come I was a must see type of fan.

The effects of reality on our youth is terrifying, its as if people really think this is real life. Little do they know if the people stop acting crazy and ratings drop its over for the show. This forces the people on the show to go all out everytime to remain relevant. Then young people see this and don't realize its a rating game. So they act the way the see the charaters who has this Wild E Coyote and RoadRunner experince every week.
I seen a woman get kicked off a reality show because she didn't keep up the dreama.

It more of a guilty pleasure, only because you hate it but you love type of relationship. You have to see the fools act a fool. Good thing i'm able to know the difference between real and fake.

Who Am I MCM

      

My fast food experience as a child was mostly Pizza Hut, McDonalds and K.F.C. I really never ate pizza a lot. We only ate pizza on special occasion, like birthdays and parties. My memories of McDonalds as a child are very vague. We would always eat McDonalds on field trips, Boy Scout meetings and when my mom had to work late. Kentucky Fried Chicken was almost a weekly thing, because we would always go grocery shopping on Saturday. When we left the store we would stop and get a bucket chicken with the sides. Beats the heck out of me why we shopped and then go buy fast food.

 Most of the time when we ate out it would be enough for the whole family. I remember no matter what everybody would have a sandwich or whatever else we ate. After we would unload the grocery the food would be plated and passed out from young too old to the point as if it had become routine. I guess it was only convenient do the fact that it was six of us. My Grandma was the one who decided where we ate. I don’t remember having a choice in what we use to eat. We never really ate fast food any other time but on Saturday. The only time I remember getting treats was when it would get really hot. We would stop and get snow cones and ice cream.

Birthdays were the only time we would really have pizza. Anytime I would get pizza was a special occasion no matter what, when, or how. It seems kind of belittling now that I can buy pizza everyday if I chose too. Most people would see this as being poor or something but I see it as enjoying the little stuff. At the time I was so happy to eat out because I was such a picky eater. As I grew I had my ups and downs with fast food but now that I’m old and all the food tampering I’m more cautious. I really try my best to eat healthy. My grandmother cooked everyday of the week so we never ate out massively.