About Ourselves

Fresno City College 1101 E. University Avenue About Ourselves Fresno, CA 93741 A Collection of Essays Written by Fresno City College Students www.fresnocitycollege.edu in Developmental and Preparatory English State Center Community College District Fall 2014 – Spring 2015

About Ourselves A Collection of Essays Written by Fresno City College Students in Developmental and Preparatory English 2014 – 2015 Edited by Marisol Baca, Anna Boyle, and Michael Medrano

We dedicate this issue of About Ourselves to Fresno City College President, Tony Cantú. Acknowledgements

The editors would like to thank the following people for their help and support: Dr. Jennifer Johnson, Dean of Humanities State Center Community College Foundation Friends of the Arts (FOTA) Mary Doyle, Production Ben Lozano and Lindsay Kerner, Graphic Artists Cover artwork: “The Derrgh Kick” by Mone Marie Harrison From the Editors

In this publication, the Fresno City College Developmental English Department proudly pres- ents the best of our students’ writing submitted for Fall 2014 and Spring 2015. The editorial staff published the works with minimal editing. All of the essays were written in response to assign- ments; some are serious, some are funny, and some show the remarkable ability our students have to write about difficult experiences with honesty and grace.

Fresno City College 1101 E. University Avenue Fresno, CA 93741 Table of Contents

Sea to Shining Sea, David Alvarez ...... 1

The Only Road I’ve Ever Known, Joshua Baker ...... 3

Hanging Memories, Andrea Briseno 5

Childhood Fears, Ospicio Cisneros ...... 9

A Leap of Faith, Angelica Garcia ...... 11

Childhood Fears, Monica Hernandez ...... 15

Sad Statue, Jacqueline Lagunas ...... 18

Water Was My Worst Nightmare, Elizabeth Leon-Moreno ...... 20

Bullying Out of Nowhere, Shakira Lorenzo ...... 23

Success, Ashley Macias ...... 25

More Than A Piece of Clothing, Veronica Mendoza 27

A Day I’ll Never Forget, Donald W. Micheletti ...... 30

Moving to the United States, Husna Razzaq ...... 34

Dog Abuse, Vannarie Rom ...... 37

Passion, Shiyue Thompson ...... 39

Technology Today, Patricia Winn 42

Picture of Me, Samantha Yang ...... 44

Sea to Shining Sea David Alvarez

A story told to me often, about how life today was created. How life on earth today is ignorant to life around it. In much kinder words goes somewhat like this. We saw white clouds moving across the waters as if they were moving towards shore. As they moved closer we noticed that they weren’t clouds, yet something not known to us. They obtained the ability to travel on endless amounts of waters, with wooden bird like objects we had never seen before. These wooden birds flew across the water like great eagles soaring across the land. They say they could carry many men for long distances without getting tired. Almost tall enough to touch the blue sky with the tip of its eagle like wings. What kind of man could build such things? When they arrived to shore we observed these men that we presumed lost. Greetings were with a raise of the hand, and an intruding motion as if they were going to grab your stomach. They reeked of odor we had never smelt on any animal before. They spoke with tongues we did not understand. These spoken tongues were as sharp as obsidian, and had no feeling to them. Their blue eyes filled with darkness and unexplainable fear. They moved with little elegance, and also very stiff. These men looked strange all around, maybe because they had no braids. We wanted to know more of these strange humans that arrived unexpectedly. We observed them and their bizarre ways of nature. More less looking at their spirits, how their in tuned with the elements of life around them. They seemed relatively incapable of caring and managing their foods. We kindly began to help them, and showed them our way. As time grew on these outsiders became to know of the precious treasures the land possessed. They grew mighty and forced us off our lands. To consume the precious elements the sacred earth had to offer. Elements so magnificent in wealth, it forced them to dehumanize us as a nation.

Stripping us from what we know as natural and confining us to new laws. They committed grue- some acts of violence to our women and children. Acts so inhumane we don’t speak of them today, because of the image they want to keep as a new nation. The nation we call America today.

1 I have heard stories like these throughout the twenty three years I’ve been walking this earth. This story with many more details not defined stays close to my mind, walking through the cor- ridors of our school. This story is the untold story of my people. The very people that suffered and went through ongoing battles, so we as a diverse nation can sit in a class room today. Many individuals are ignorant to the history of our nation. A nation built on what they want us to think as fairy tales. Because of this rated version of this story, many other original stories my ancestors would have shared have been lost. I feel that as time has changed throughout the years we need to tell these stories on how we were established. I believe by telling these stories more individuals might appreciate education, history, Ms.Bacas class, and life in general. There is a culture right in our backyards that is being lost. And we know nothing about it, other than tee pees and stereo-

typical chants. I feel the time is now, to educate the students about America’s history and stop the false advertisement. I feel that we go all up until college thinking about what we learned in k-12 to be correct. Then coming to learn that all we just learned k-12 was just lies and thus having to relearn everything all over again but backwards. I say this in a good way from a good place, with ambition to teach our young the truths our four fathers have kept secret.

2 The Only Road I’ve Ever Known Joshua Baker

“Here I go again on my own, goin’ down the only road I’ve ever known. Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone…” The lyrics to this song are the first thing that flood my mind as I hear the two words I dread most, “Baker, role up”—it was time for my bus ride to the state penitentiary. And so it begins. The door pops open, and I walk the line to the holding tanks. It’s a long tunnel, and there is a younger man walking with us that catches my attention. I see him walking, head down and afraid. The first thing I think is, “he is screwed.” That day, I saw a boy become a man. I found out the hard way what prison life means and what you have to be in order to survive. The boy embodied none of this. I started my watch on him thinking it was going to be a long day. Hour after hour we wait. They hand out lunches and do a count of inmates, and I see the kid looking at his food. Most of the people around him all have tattoos and are gang members of one kind or another. Next, I see a Bulldog gang member moving toward him, and I know what’s next — the first test of this kid’s long road ahead. The gang member looks down at the boy and says, “Hey kid, you going to eat that?” The kid looks up at him and nods, but that was not the answer the Bulldog was looking for. “I’m fucking talking to you, boy. Are you going to eat that?!” he said again. The kid looks up and pushes the word yes out like a whisper, which is not a good way to look tough. I walk over to them and say “Hey, let the kid be. He doesn’t need your shit.” Most the inmates know me, so he drops the issue for now. I say my first words to the boy, “So how long you got to do?” He tells me he will be serv-

ing five years for a robbery and some dope. For the first offense, that wasn’t bad. I guess it could have been longer. I told the kid I was doing a violation of twelve months flat, so eight more to go. I can see the kid is not trying to talk to me, so I leave it at that. But I know that when we get to Wasco State Prison, the game will get real. Time passes, and the correctional officers come with the box of restraints and start the load- ing of the bus. It’s a three hour ride, no talking, no games. The kid is right in front of me as we board the bus and as we start the trip, I notice the kid is in the same row as me. I whisper to him, “Don’t talk, just ride, or the cops will hurt you--trust me.” He looks sick, just as I did on my first

3 ride. Three hours come and pass, and we get to the gate. It’s a cluster of cops and inmates, and the first thing I see is the same Bulldog talking to a fellow gang member, and looking at the kid. I know what’s next--it’s his first prison test--pass or fail. His life will never be the same again. Now to the part we all hate. Strip out, squat and cough, and feel like a piece of trash. I look over to my right and the kid looks like a nine-year-old boy. He has no tattoos, nothing but bright white skin. We start our placement in the tanks, and I’m hoping he gets placed in mine, but that’s not the case. He gets the short stick and is placed with the Bulldogs. I know it’s just a matter of time now before the sirens go off and the smell of pepper spray fills the air. And just like a gunshot, you hear the noise of muffled punches and the sound of boots running, and the smell of pepper spray. Then as fast as it started, it’s over and the bloody and beaten boy is walked past me. I see an officer I know and ask him what happened. He tells me the Bulldogs jumped him over the lunch he had. I tell the officer to place the boy with me, and he nods. After some time passes, the officer brings the boy back and places him in my tank. I can see in the boy’s face that he is changing, like we all do in the end. After hours and hours,

we get our housing and we start the walk, like ducks. The kid and I are put in the same building, and on the same tier. Months go by like years, and as time slowly passes by, all I can think of is how much the boy has changed. As a matter of fact, he is no longer a boy, he is a man. After numerous fights and trips to the hole, people start to become less like humans and more like beasts. The sad part of the whole experience is that the bad in us is embraced, not the good. It ends just like it started, with a brown paper bag and a name—“so, here I go again on my own, goin’ down the only road I’ve ever known. Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone…”

4 Hanging Memories Andrea Briseno

A quote by Marya Hornbacher reads, “There are women in my closet, hanging on the hangers. a different woman for each suit, each dress, each pair of shoes...” In everybodies closet there seems to be certain pieces of clothing that stand out due the memories we create while wearing them. Three sentimental pieces of clothing that represent important moments in my life rest in my closet. These pieces are my prom dress, Tinkerbell costume and Shania Twain costume. My first piece is my short, sparkly, sequined, sweetheart neckline, baby blue dress I wore to my senior prom, which is set aside to the far left side of my closet inside a zip-up bag to protect it. My mom insists that I sell my dress. I know she has a point when she says that I will never wear it out again, but I just cannot bring myself to give my dress to someone else. I understand that I will never wear it out again but I still like to keep my dress because every once in a while I like to shut my bedroom door, slip on my heavy, jeweled dress, stand in front of the mirror and gaze. I style my hair different ways and obsess at the fact that I should have worn my hair down or have a side braid-- as if it even matters anymore. Moreover, I check to see if it still fits me or if I have gained weight since then. I recall feeling like a beautiful, perfect, Barbie doll in that $700 dollar dress that summer night. I reminisce looking into the bathroom mirror that day and saying in my head, “I really am beautiful. I always want to feel this way.” I felt the allure deep within me. I dressed in my silver, strappy, skinny, low heels. Two pure, white roses were put together with light blue ribbon inter-

twined between them as my corsage, homemade with love by my high school boyfriend’s sweet mother. Small, silver, diamond, tear drop earrings hung gently on my ears. My short, curly, brown hair was pulled back, half up, half down, by two bobby pins, with a few loose curls in the front. This revealed the different hues of blue eyeshadow on my eyelids, which brought out the browness in my eyes. My glossy, light pink lips fitted around my perfect, straight, white smile. This was the

dress I chose to wear to my last dance as a highschooler. Closing my eyes, I transport back to May 26th, 2012. My friends’ families were taking pictures of my best friends and I by the aqua poolside of my- then boyfriend’s back yard. “OMG’s”

5 and girly giggles were heard in the background. Little women gathered in a circle, showing off their freshly done manicures mommy and daddy paid for. It was a rare sighting of high school boys with iron pressed suits on. Some showed off their peach fuzz facial hair, proving they were growing men. A loving spirit floated in the air and whispered that we would always be together and in love with our dates. I never believed when they would say, “You are going to miss high school,” but I believe now. The second piece of tangible memory that I cherish is my Tinkerbell costume. My hair was sprayed and pulled back tightly into a high bun, exposing my naturally big fairy ears. Placed on my head was a light green headband with a rosy pink flower attached to the left side of the headband. My Tinkerbell outfit was a two-toned, light green, halter dress. The top had a sweet-

heart-cut neckline with light pink, see through, ruffles sewn onto the top. Underneath the bust was a thin, golden, shimmery ribbon that zig-zagged all the way down my body to the top of my belly button. At my hips was another thick, light pink ribbon that wrapped all the way around my body, as well as a pink, gentle flower that sat on my left hip. The bottom of my dress was a fluffy tutu. It had different layers of green, the tips cut into fat, pointy triangles. The top layer of the tutu was a shiny, dark green color. I had on matching, two-toned, horizontally striped, green socks and gloves. I wore silver flats for shoes, with a silver bow of the same material on the toes of my shoes, and a green wand, with a circled-cut picture of Tinkerbell on the top. It also had fuzzy feathers surrounding the picture, with strands of long, various colored green ribbon and golden bells attached to the edge of the ribbons. For the finishing touch, small, light green wings, with glittery swirls and leaves imprinted on them. Recently, I wore this costume to a retreat where they help people to discover their inner self by giving participants several intensive exercises that pull people out of their comfort zone, therefore helping them grow. In addition, it helps you see who you used to be before you started listening to Mom, Dad, society, whomever, about who you are, who you should be or who you should become. At the retreat they chose for me to dress up as Tinkerbell, because they noticed that over time I had lost the magic inside of me, and in effect, had turned into someone sheepish, soundless, and cold. When I was little I used to love to dance, sing, and be cheerful. I used to love playing with Bar- bies and dress up. However, at age 7, my dad told me these things were childish, that my 7-year-old 6 self needed to grow up and think about more important things because what I was into was stupid. In a nutshell, my childhood was cut short because I was afraid to be the little girl I wanted to be. Part of the exercise was to stand in front of our group in our costumes. I had to tell my team who I used to be: egocentric, quick tempered, depressing, timid, and insecure. Then, I had to repeat over and over who I was going to be from now on. I vividly remember my teammates all sitting down in front of me in their various costumes. They were told not to stand up until they felt that what I was saying came from my heart. Over and over, until I did not have any saliva in my mouth, I said in Spanish, “Yo soy una lider decidida, enfocada, segura, y amoroso.” Mean- ing, I am a leader who is decided, focused, secure, and loving. As I said this, some stood up in belief, others stayed glued to their chairs. My coach asked my sitting teammates, why they were not standing up. Most of them said, that it was the tone of my voice that said that I was not secure of myself. My coach then said, “Dilo con corazon! Confia en ti!” Say it with heart! Believe in yourself! This triggered a thought in my head. This is not about convincing my group. I should convince myself that I am leaving the old me behind and become this new person I yearn to be. With a high chest, open arms, and heart, I shouted so that my words would fill the room, “Yo soy una lider decidida, enfocada, segura, y amorosa!” I did not care if my teammates stood up or not. My approval was enough. But as I said this with more and more heart, all my teammates stood up and surrounded me with warm hugs. It was a tearful moment feeling their embracing support. In brief, I never thought that wearing this outfit would make the inside of me shine like a bright lighthouse. I felt like twirling and bouncing. I had a smile that could not be ripped off my face. I felt 7 again, before my dad ripped my wings. Lastly, the third piece of clothing was also something that I wore on this retreat. It was a cheap, impersonating costume of the Shania Twain outfit she wore on the video “I feel like a woman.” I

hated this exercise at first. The inside of me growled like a little chihuahua at the coach for making me do this. The coach shouted over the microphone, “Who would like to perform next?” We all jumped up and down, pretending to want to go face our fears and expose our insecurities. I waved my hands, “Me! Me! Me!” “Shania Twain!” he screamed. My pupils turned completely dark, for a second I went blind. My ears went deaf. Hot sweat ran down my face. The fake expression of excitement left my face. I felt like I was about to faint. I had never in my life felt this nervous. 7 So there I was, center stage. I had on a cheap, purple, plastic, cheetah cowboy hat that I had bought at dollar tree, which was covering my wild, corkscrew, curly hair. Raspberry red lipstick that helped me look and feel like a woman. A black tight necklace, which was actually part of some leggings I had in my bag, I cut into a necklace. Also, I had on a large, white, buttoned up, men’s shirts covering a plain, black bandeau, and short, black, spandex booty shorts. This showing off my prickly haired tummy I unknowingly did not shave, which did not exactly make me feel like a woman. In addition, my long knee high, leathery, black boots, thankfully covering up my hairy legs. Despite this, as soon as the music started the inner part of me that had always wanted to come out, burst through me that night. It was liberating! It was just me in that room. I did not even pay attention to the gorgeous, blue eyed boy I had a crush on since the beginning of the pro-

gram. I ignored the wicked voice inside of me that told me that everyone was looking at my flaws, my unshaven, not so perfect body. The malicious voice screamed, “You’re embarrassing yourself! What will others think of you?” I whipped my hair and told that inner voice to kick rocks. I sang into my hand made, paper microphone, “Man, I feel like a woman!” I flung my hat, I stripped off my white shirt, and for a little over 3 minutes I relived the many moments I use to perform at family barbeques, birthday parties, and holiday gatherings as a little girl for my family. I felt like I found myself once again. Then and there I decided I never wanted to go back to the unloving, miserable person I had become. In closing, my prom dress was the dress I chose to exit in in my final year as a high schooler, the first dress I wore as I entered into adulthood. Shania Twain once said, “ I was in a very deep, dark slump, and I needed to find a way to get myself out of it. I had to force myself back into life, back out into experiencing things.” My Shania Twain outfit encouraged me to emerge out of the darkness and into the spotlight. More importantly, to not live life surviving, but to live like I have breath in my lungs, and blood flowing in my heart. My tinkerbell costume aided me in leaving the old me behind, and to blossom freely into the girl that was deep within my heart. A quote by Dean Jackson says, “When she transformed into a butterfly, the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her weirdness. They wanted her to change back into what she had always been. But she had wings.” These are the outfits that rest in my closet, outfits I wore on the highlighting moments of my life, the outfits I hold close to my heart. These outfits were with me as I was shaped into a true woman. 8 Childhood Fears Ospicio Cisneros

Confronting something new can be a terrifying experience. At the same time, it can also benefit one in several ways. I wish I would’ve understood that before I encountered the fear of entering a detention facility called, the Fresno County Juvenile Hall. It is not the best feeling. To begin, the incident occurred when I was thirteen-years old. I was just another typical kid in our neighborhood. For some unknown reason, I seemed to find myself always ending up in compli- cated situations. This particular day I roamed my neighborhood like a mad lion stirring up problems. I guess my reactions came from being bored of doing the same thing over and over every single day. I found myself in the liquor section staring at a couple of bottles of wine. The convenient store was only a few streets down from my home. Something triggered me to grab two bottles of liquor. A few seconds later I realize I am rushing out the exit door with a panicked look on my face. I could hear shouting coming from the cashier as I ran out the door to greet a police officer who seemed to be heading in for lunch. Oh no, is the exact words that flashed through my mind. So then I ended up getting sentenced to a detention center here in my home town. I’m guess- ing it is created specifically for kids who love to get into problems that they could never solve. The first day I slowly walked into a building not knowing what to expect. At that point I was so con- fused that I found myself looking all over the crowded room. There must have been forty-five youths there. I was actually terrified because of the fact that I did not know where I was at. That moment I felt like my mother had just dropped me off in a desert, and was told to find my own way home. My heart was racing at miles per hour. I had no idea why I was there; I questioned every moment of it all. I noticed a group of peers that caused way more trouble than what I’ve ever caused. Next thing I know I am afraid of being bullied. Getting picked on was tough. The disturbing part of my situation was that I had no option of leaving. The only thing I wanted was

just to go back home to my family. I made a commitment to myself that I would do things differ- ently as soon as I got back to my normal life. Nonetheless, trying to adapt to a new environment was very difficult. I missed my old life style a whole lot. So in order to get past my feeling of fear, I decided to keep myself occupied by

9 exercising for about two hours every other day. Running is a great way to relieve one’s body of fear. I also found out that I enjoy reading. I also read every single night right before I went to bed. I was really committed to keeping myself out of harm’s way. The great news was that many people were very understanding. Talking to people about my feelings was a good choice I made. I wasn’t normally open to others about my feelings, but it was a fear reliever. In short, I am glad I stood my ground from letting fear over rule my body. Also I understand that every single decision we make can really affect our tomorrow; either in a positive or negative way. Finally, the good thing is that only we have the power to choose how we will feel. Our great- est advantage is that we decide how our world will be created.

10 A Leap of Faith Angelica Garcia

“Remember,” My mother admonished as she pointed a finger at me, “Love doesn’t pay the bills.” I had just become a legal adult, and it was my eighteenth birthday. I had done well for myself in high school and had just graduated, but I had decided to skip college and go straight into the game of life. I then fell into puppy love and decided to spread my wings. I figured being a grown up wasn’t too hard: get a job, go to work, pay the bills, right? YEAH RIGHT! I moved out, and I had learned the hard way that happiness is not scraping by. I cried almost every day for my mistakes, until one day, sitting in a vat of my own tears, I learned to listen to the whisper of my heart, the one that said it’s ok to wish for something else after a mistake. It was a little whisper of faith that said, “Love yourself; it’s ok to turn back and start over, even if you’re afraid.” Through my experiences, I finally learned what it really meant to take a chance, to take a leap of faith. I moved out against my mother’s good advice. I thought the world was against us, the Boy- friend and me. I have no idea why I thought that way; I suppose the idea was romantic in itself, maybe too many Jude Devereaux romance novels in high school. Two years after my decision to leave home to live with him, I discovered that we had fallen apart. He refused to find a job after losing his old one, and I had become a weepy, homesick mess. I was working in an ethnic restau- rant for a boss whose biggest contentment was to demean me in front of customers over my choice of dress, weight, and bad change. To make matters worse, Gavin DeGraw’s “Had a Bad Day” was at the top of the pop charts, so it felt like every day, I was serenaded to his achingly sad lyrics:

‘You stand in the line just to hit a new low. You’re faking a smile with the coffee to go. You tell me your life has been way off line, You’re falling to pieces every time, And I don’t need any carrying on.’

My dad had had enough, though I thought I hid the gravity of my mistakes well. I forgot that my parents had been watching me do everything from sleep, to eat, to smile since I was born. He could see the bags under my eyes. More importantly, he saw the young-love light fading inside of

11 me, and he pounced on the chance. He begged me to come home. At the time, I had been wearing coke bottle glasses since I was in kindergarten. He couldn’t convince me to come home, but he could bribe me to fly away with him to Mexico for eye surgery. Lasix surgery would correct my vision for the rest of my life! This was no ordinary gift. He explained that we simply had to go that far away because the surgery was much cheaper. He said he would only offer this chance once. “Take it, or leave it,” he stated with finality. “We’ll only be gone two weeks.” Two weeks turned into three weeks, which, eventually, turned into five. In Mexico in those times, not everyone had a phone and English was not as prominent then, so when the boyfriend’s calls came in, no one knew what to tell him. My puppy love and I were simply at a distance, and the distance was growing, and it was what we both needed. I was with my family who taught me to love myself again, and the boyfriend was learning to live without me. I began to feel a weight lifting every day because I didn’t have the load of a love-partner’s expectations on me. It can take time to realize the person you loved once isn’t your other half. I was blessed with a little time to wake up. When I finally came back to America, the boyfriend and I talked and came to the agreement that it was time for a change. There was a glow inside of us because we both knew it was our time to be over. Within the week I was gone. It was time for me to turn back, go back home. At the time, it was frightening because I didn’t know what life had in store for me. That is what I mean about listening to the whisper in your heart, and what it means to make a leap of faith. I had to have faith in myself. My heart whispered to me that I had to learn to love myself. I took the chance and came home and discovered that life had opened up for me in new and beautiful ways. My mother and I had never got along well when I was growing up. She bore me, but we were of the old cliche- different as night and day. She is a well-kept, well dressed woman who enjoys parties and baby showers. She never understood why I always wanted to stay behind at home just reading. She thought it strange that instead of buying pretty fashions, I would sneak her car over to Barnes and Noble to buy books. She theorized that all of this reading must be masking some indecent behavior once she left the house. She insisted I must have a secret boyfriend that came over when she left to socialize. All I could do was try to tell her that the only boy I was interested in was Harry Potter. It was no better with my sister when I was a child. We were born only two 12 years apart so we always attended the same schools, but you would never have known we were cut from the same cloth, unless you were the closest of friends. She was my mother’s spitting image in looks and design. So when I became a legal adult, I couldn’t wait get out of the house and live my life the way the characters in my books had done. I was ready to spread my wings! So much for my fly-so-high plans. Now, here I was, two years later, back home on the eve of my 20th birthday, and my mom and my sister were so happy to see me! They wanted to be best friends! Gone was the suspicious mother, and my sister gave me a makeover and held all of my secrets. I gave my mother a chance, and I discovered that baby showers are beautiful times to cel- ebrate a new mother and a new life. I also discovered that my mom is the honored guest at parties, which gives me a glowing pride in her. Furthermore, though my father had given me the gift of sight, my sister took me over from there. Before, I was the girl with the big glasses, hiding in book. I never looked up between chapters to even breathe when I would read. I couldn’t be bothered with curlers and cosmetics, that was precious reading time. My little sister, though, said more to me with her makeup brushes than she could ever say with words. Not that she didn’t say it with words, too. I come from a sharp-tongued family, and she quickly pointed out that she was at war with the circles under my eyes and the frizz in my hair. Her rough bite quickly turned into constructive criticism when I saw myself after she was done. My little sister can be a fairy godmother when she’s compelled, except her wand is a MAC 263 small angle brush. Now, with her help, my face was open and clear, defined with just a little makeup. I felt confident and balanced enough for new opportunities. I interviewed for a job and landed it. I was hired for no ordinary job. I was hired for an EXTRAORDINARY calling. I was hired

for the Nazareth House, and the day they hired me, my life changed forever, because I was intro- duced to caring for the elderly. For the first time in my life, I was loving what I was learning. The Nazareth House is a retirement home here in Fresno, my wonderful home town. It has been run by Catholic nuns for over 50 years. They even have a convent built inside and the sweetest, quaint- est little chapel too. It was a very spiritual time for me. The nuns of the home explained to me that all that mattered to them was that I be responsible and loving towards my elders. They liked that I was a clean and that I took an interest in my looks. They liked that I was well mannered and well groomed. What they cared about most is that I was an honest person, which is something anyone 13 can be. They said all these things mattered, because if I wanted goodness and loveliness for myself, than I would provide that for my elders. They taught me to be tougher than I look because one moment of discomfort for me while assisting an elder creates weakness and insecurity for them. They taught me that learning to lose someone I love when they die is love. They instilled in me that it isn’t frightening to grow old, that it is God’s highest blessing. They showed me that once people are dying, it is selfish to wish them more life so that they can stay with me, because if my wish came true, they would only be alive and still suffering the ailments of their old age. They taught me to pray with love when people die because Nature can hear us, and we are helping our loved one’s soul pass on. Those are lessons that are now imbedded in my heart and soul. I was young, yes. I made a mistake by leaving home against good advice, but I was lucky that I listened to the whisper inside, the one that said it wasn’t too late and that great things were waiting for me if I embraced my fear and took a chance on myself. In that big leap, I knew my family was waiting to love me. Something in my heart knew that the nuns were waiting to teach me how to love my work and how to recreate that love in my work. They taught me this by telling me that God watches me in everything I do, and that he doesn’t miss a single sweet gesture or good intention. I thank God every day that I leapt for myself. I have never looked back, unless it’s to say a silent thank you to the Nazareth House, to my family, and to my heart. That is what I mean by taking a leap of faith. You don’t know what’s out there on the other side of your life, until you JUMP.

14 Childhood Fears Monica Hernandez

It was April 16, 2008. I was 14 years old when the incident occurred. It took place at Roos- evelt High School. I was not the only one involved, for my friends Angel and Jay experienced this incident as well. The whole thing happened unexpectedly. Before the incident occurred, my friends Angel, Jay and I were walking around the campus during lunch break, as usual for us. We usually walked towards the back of the campus where the track field was at. As we were walking, we ran into my dear friend, whom I considered my brother, Jesse Carrizales. We stopped and talked to him, but I remember looking at him and seeing that something was odd. I asked Jesse, “Are you ok, bro? You look mad.” He said he was fine, but then he told me something odd, he then hugged me and told me how much I meant to him, and that he loved me. I told him I loved him too, that if anything I was there for him. After telling him, “I’ll see you later”, me, Angel and Jay continued to walk towards the track field. After talking to Jesse, I felt this strong feeling inside that something bad was going to happened, like Jesse getting in a fight or something. Little then I knew that my strong feelings I had inside would be true. As me and my friends, Angel and Jay finished talking to my other friend, Jesse, we walked towards some bleachers that were there facing the track field. As we almost got to the corner of it, we heard a loud pop. I remember telling Angel and Jay that the loud pop sounded like a gun shot. Just as I made that remark, we heard a lady screaming. Just as we ran towards the corner to see what was going on, we saw the most horrible thing ever. Jesse had been shot by a FPD (Fresno Police Department) officer who was also campus security. We got there when Jesse fell from the gunshot. The police officer was bleeding from his head as if he were attacked. Angel, Jay and I couldn’t believe what we were seeing. I remember dropping to my knees a few feet

away from Jesse and seeing a puddle of blood around him. I felt as if my heart broke into a mil- lion little pieces. As tears were running down towards my face, I yelled at Jesse to stay alive, to

try to breathe, and most important to not to leave us. I felt hopeless, I froze and went into shock. Watching him try to breathe was the scariest thing I have witnessed in my life. I was trying to make sense of what was happening and I knew that Jesse had attacked the police officer with a

15 metal bat that the cops had found at the scene. The officer fell, and it caused the officer to drop his gun. Thinking that Jesse might have picked the gun up, the officer took another gun from his ankle holster and shot Jesse towards his chest, hitting a main artery. As soon as the word came out that there was a shooting, the school went on lock down. Cam- pus security and staff gathered all the kids from around the area took them to their classrooms, the cafeteria, and the gym. As they were gathering everyone up, campus security came for me, Angel and Jay. When the security officer came, I didn’t want to leave Jesse alone. I screamed and cried with every emotion there was I felt. As the security forced me to leave, I remember telling Jesse that I loved him and to fight to stay alive. Security took us three to the gym locker rooms because we were the ones who last seen Jesse alive. As we were sitting in the gym locker rooms, all I can do was cry and think if he is going to make it. Angel and Jay hugged me tight as they both

were crying to. I remember asking Angel if her friend was in a classroom with a view of the incident. She said, “I think so. I’m going to text him right now to see.” As she texted her friend, they responded back that they could see everything at the scene. I told Angel to ask her friend to see if Jesse was ok. When he responded back, I seen Angel’s facials expression as she started to cry. Angel’s friend responded back saying that Jesse didn’t make it that they covered his body with those yellow plastic covers. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. I cried my heart out to the devastating news. Angel, Jay and I hugged each other as we were all devastated to learn about Jesse’s passing. As the school was in lock down, they started letting people out little by little. As soon as I hit the gates outside, I went straight home. As soon as I got home, I went straight to my room and cried. My mom tried to comfort me, but I felt like it didn’t help. After Jesse’s death, I went downhill. I didn’t want to go school, I ditched, I was smoking weed and drinking, and I couldn’t sleep. I developed insomnia because if I closed my eyes all I could see was Jesse lying there in his blood, trying to fight to stay alive. I felt lost. I felt like no one knew what I was going through and how much pain I was in. Thankfully my parents took me to get counseling, even though it helped a little, the pain is still there, but I learned how to cope with my pain by simply letting out my tears once in a while and going to visit Jesse’s grave site.

16 This incident affected me in many ways. I still catch myself crying whenever I think or talk about Jesse. He was my best friend, “my brother from another mother,” as we say. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss him. I go and visit his grave site when I can. I usually sit there and talk to him as if he were still alive. It just comes to show you that one day you or the people you love, or even just know, can be here in this world and the next gone forever in a heartbeat.

17 Sad Statue Jacqueline Lagunas

The chilling voice that creeps behind my ears is like a monster about to torment a child. It echoes inside my head and makes everything else in the world silent. I’m left alone with just the sound of everything that has gone wrong in my life, and this time it’s shouted at me with anger and hatred. It tells me secrets, only ones I can hear and fully understand. This is what I hear every night; this is what it’s like to listen with my ears. The sound of my voice is merely a whisper compared to its icy tone. It’s a voice without a face and it hides in the mix of my thoughts, and only lets itself be heard in the dead silence of the night. I sound sheepish when it speaks and I can hear the crack in my voice when I try to tell it to stop. When it finally stops, I’m left in silence. I hear my whimpers and heavy breathing, and finally I hear my loneliness. When I see myself I see pain; I see the hurt in my eyes and the discomfort in my arms. I‘ve never seen the beauty my mother has spoken of. I see the catastrophe the world has inflicted on me over the years. My sunken eyes show my lack of sleep and happiness. I see the quiver in my lips at the sight of human contact. The frizz on hair shows my lack of effort in my appearance. I see the way my hands begin to lock when I approach big groups of people. I see my chest raise and fall heavily like if I was running away from monsters and I had the possibility of getting away. I see a person that I shouldn’t be. I see my mother’s lips and my father’s eyes but only they are upon my face. I see the pain of a thousand needles poke my face to make the effort to smile. My only sign of beauty is upon my cheeks; my dimples are like craters on the moon. I feel the roughness in my skin and the scars on my knuckles as I prepare myself to speak. I touch my rings as if they were to give me strength. I feel the thickness of my hair between my fingers and the frizz at the peak of my head that remind me of an ugly Christmas sweater. I feel the tension in my body and the lump stuck in my throat as I began to talk to unknown people. I feel it coming almost like an object that I can touch; a mental breakdown. The feeling of swallowing razor blades, the pain I endure when the red warm blood starts gusting through my mouth touching the comers of my lips and flowing down my jaw making it impossible to say a single word. Warm tears kiss my cheeks like rainfall on a hot summer day. I feel the sorrow and

18 the desperation of a child wanting to touch its mother’s hand for safety. I feel the emptiness when it’s over, the disappointment that hits me harder than a ton of bricks I feel everything and nothing at the same time. I taste the lies that flow out of my mouth as I tell my family that’s everything fine. They taste bitter like sour candy but they never turn out sweet. I taste the pain and hatred in every word that I speak but mostly whenever I say my father’s name. I taste my salty tears that fall gently upon my face like rain and meet upon my lips for the saddest kiss. I taste my held in weeps after a good cry that leave an awful taste of weakness. I taste the secrets that I’ve held on for so long, that tang of discouragement for a better life. I taste the salty hand I place above my mouth to hold in the screams like a murderer would do to his victims. After all the brutal taste placed upon my mouth, the sweetest would have to be my saliva, which above all taste of me, and only me. My aroma reeks of dried up salty tears and loneliness with a hint of anxiety. I smell of my beloved dog because of cuddles that last far too long. I smell of my mother’s hugs that linger on me even after she has left. I smell of forced happiness, and of false hope but most importantly I smell of ink from my favorite black pen that knows all my sorrows and secrets leaving clues on the palm of my hands as part of a puzzle for someone to put together. I smell of body series lotion, and Loita perfume that remind me of a field of beautiful red roses that are meant to be admired, even though I’m not. As my hair blows in the wind it smells of TRESemme that brings the only hint of freshness in my life. The fume of fresh nail polish raise from my finger tips and circles around me like a cloud, that can’t shadow the smell of my unhappiness.

19 Water Was My Worst Nightmare Elizabeth Leon-Moreno

My fear of water started on August 20, 2003, about 12 years ago. I was about 10 years old when this incident first marked my childhood life. It happened at a beach here in California, I don’t remember the name of the beach anymore. It was a nice hot summer day when my family and I went there to have fun before we went back to Washington, at the time my original home. None of this creepy moment was intentional or on purpose, it had just happened unexpectedly, it came from nature. When we first arrived at the beach, I couldn’t help it but want to jump out of the truck and run straight to the water. But I had to be patient and wait for everyone to get off and help my aunts take the food and drinks out of the back of the truck. Once we finished unloading the food, my cousins and I just took off running towards the water; good thing we had the appropri- ate clothes on to swim. Then I was having fun swimming around with my cousins. A few of my aunts and uncles were there watching and swimming with us. In total there were ten of us in the water and five were at the table preparing burgers. I was playing in the water and having a blast with everybody in my family. We were playing with the beach ball, making sand castles, and whenever we had the chance we would run to the table where we had food and goodies, there we would take a bite of a burger, stuff our faces with goodies, take a few sips of Pepsi, and go back to the water and play again. Like always, at a beach the waves occur fast and they all come and go in different sizes and in different speeds; especially the big waves. Those happen unexpectedly and they can take you in very deep in the water. That is why we were always told over and over to be careful and watch out for those big monster waves, but as always little kids don’t always pay attention to what is being told to them. It was just too hard to not have fun at the beach, and that irresistible feeling of the warm sand under my feet and the cool water from the waves that rushed through my toes felt just too good. Everything was going well; I was having so much fun with my cousins, aunts, and uncles, but all of a sudden a big wave appeared out of nowhere. I did not even realize it when I was in the water. When I had finally noticed, the wave just covered me completely and I took big gulps of

20 salty water; it was the most disgusting taste I had ever had. In this terrifying moment when the wave had covered me, I was scared to die and scared that I would never see my family and parents again. My parents were in Washington because that’s where we lived when I had come to Cali- fornia with my family. While I was still in this nightmare the water felt so cold; it seemed so dark that I couldn’t even see anything. I imagined so many things like a shark coming my way and killing me, or something taking me under the floor of the ocean; it was impossible to keep my eyes open under water. It felt like I was gone for an eternity. I thought no one had noticed when the wave covered me and took me down. None of my cousins where covered by this big wave, but I did wonder where they were at when this happened to me since they were with me playing. I will probably never know where they were when I was taken under water. I was wrong about nobody noticing I was gone, because all of a sudden I felt someone grab me and take me in their arms. When I was on the surface and out of the water, I saw that it was my aunt that had saved me. I felt relieved but I was more scared than anything. I was crying so much that my aunts and uncles didn’t know what to do at that moment. They tried to calm me down by hugging me and saying nice things. In reality all I wanted the most were my parents to be there by my side, but they were so far away from me. After several minutes or maybe even hours, my family had finally comforted me. They promised me something nice that they were sure would make me forget what happened. My aunts, uncles, and cousins told me that they were going to take me to SeaWorld in San Diego to have fun for the rest of the day. Of course they had kept their promise; once we got to SeaWorld I was already excited to go in. We paid for the entrance and got our tickets and walked into the place; it was beautiful. At first it was all nice but when we got to the parts where there’s water, I felt a little scared. Then I saw my favorite animal,

the Orca or Killer Whale. I was fascinated when I saw the whales. They were so big and beautiful that I just wanted to touch them but I didn’t. We did so much more than just watching the whales. My family and I went to go see the penguins, sharks, fish, and the Orca whales show; I even got to touch the dolphins and feed them. We ate vanilla ice cream and food. It was all excit- ing for me. I was just so grateful that my family got to take me to this wonderful place in San Diego; that memory is unforgettable. I hope to go back to SeaWorld one day, and if I remember the name of the beach I went to as a child, I will go there too. 21 In conclusion, I still get flashbacks on this incident that happened to me many years ago. During the summers when I go to the beaches in Washington, the water always brings back those terrifying moments I went through when I was a child. Now that I’m older I don’t really have that same fear, but when I do see the water at the beach I get the chills, and to be honest I stopped swimming ever since then so now I don’t swim. I just go and walk around and play volleyball with my siblings when I go to Washington. Since I don’t swim anymore and I used to fear water, people always ask me if I’m scared to shower, and my answer to them was always a no because there I can control the water that pours on me. Some kids are afraid of water for a couple of reasons; it could be because someone has told them scary stories about something being in the water, they are afraid to drown, they don’t know how to swim, or simply because they just fear it. Water or waves make kids feel powerless because the water in lakes, rivers, or beaches is so big that it seems they have no end. The waves at the beaches are so enormous and powerful they make kids feel so tiny, not being able to control what’s about to happen. Overall, kids shouldn’t be afraid of beaches; they are very beautiful especially when the sun is setting and the sky is colored with pink, orange, purple, and white colors, and when the first star comes out. As kids we will always fear something or someone, but then as we get older we learn that not all things need to be feared. As years pass everyone will fear something no matter how young or old we are.

22 Bullying Out of Nowhere Shakira Lorenzo

We live in a world where our lives unfold as we grow. Most of the time, our lives are spent not only experiencing new moments but also watching what could be acts of courtesy or unforgivable mistakes. These are elements in life that we cannot escape. We are both witnesses and victims of life. As one thing happens, another occurs at the same time and just like the domino effect, one event falls on top of another. I’ve seen so many people succeed and fail but no other memory has struck my mind every single day like the memory of a young man who had been bullied and eventually had stood his ground. It all started when I was walking home from school. There was a house at the corner of a street that I had been walking on that had red roses on its porch. It was about noon when there had been a large group of teenagers walking behind a boy. The boy had been storming up a cloud when he had seen the kids behind him; his face was red and full of hate. The teenagers behind him had sensed that they were annoying him and began to make vulgar comments. “Hey kid, where’s your mommy? Wasn’t she going to pick you up today,” said the teenager with a hat on. The teenager had been making fun of the kid ever since school had ended. He had a black t-shirt, a pair of white shoes and a face to match his personality. The boy continued to ignore him as he heard the group of teenagers laughing at the comment the teenager with the hat had made. “Why don’t you have any friends, kid?” said the teen who continued to tease the boy. “Leave me alone.” the boy finally exclaimed. He began running past everything around him like a bull after a red flag, the target being his home. Immediately after him were the teenagers boasting on humiliating him in public. One of the teenagers wore a long sleeved t-shirt with gym shorts and had almost grabbed the boy but missed with only inches away from the boy’s sweater. With fear taking over his face, the boy kept running. “Stop right there. We’re going to catch you sooner or later,” the teen exclaimed, “You’re surrounded!” the boy looked back this time, anger speaking for him as he had turned around and proceeded to make an offensive hand gesture towards the teens. As soon as the teens had seen the hand gesture, they began to invade the kid and had managed to create a circle around him. Then there was a loud thump that made everyone cheer in excitement. In a matter of seconds, the teen had managed to land two punches to the boy’s face. A breeze of cold air began to flow through the

23 crowd causing them to huddle together even closer. In the center of the circle lay the boy on the hard cold pavement. He had looked like he had been tired of receiving threats and looking at him would make your bones ache. At first, it had seemed like all the boy’s spirit had disappeared but the fight wasn’t over yet. The Boy got up, this time his face full of confidence and determination. He began to throw fast forceful punches at the teen. The crowd began to cheer even more, smiles reaching every face in the circle. The boy was throwing more punches than the teen had expected. The teen tried to scurry away causing his hat to fall to the ground. Stunned at the punches that broke loose upon him, the teen had begun to cover his face. The boy stood tall for he had then been crowned victor of the fight. The teens began to laugh and point at the teen with the hat for losing a fight that he had pursued to win. The teen with the hat was now inferior to his victim. Finally, Sirens began to break the noise of the teens cheering for the boy. “Step away from the fight”, the officer instructed,” We will contact each and every one of your guardians regarding your activities.” The officer had been wearing a uniform but it didn’t look like he was a city officer. The badge on his

chest read probation officer. He was tall and slender but had looked as if he’d been taking weight lifting classes. The circle had broken up and began to look like a swarm of ants running away from their intruder. The teens ran in every direction, many of them stumbling into each other and eventually getting caught. The teen with the hat had run off before he could get in trouble leaving his victim and friends behind. The boy who had been the victim had now taken the fall for his actions. He began to explain to the officer what had happened as I walked away from the scene knowing I had witnessed a terrible consequence of bullying. In conclusion, life goes on but the memories are there forever. There are events that we witness that have a greater impact on us than those that happen directly to us. They don’t necessarily need to connect to our own lives but how it impacts us is as if we had experienced the moment ourselves. I will never forget the memory of the boy I never knew stand his own ground and take the fall for his actions. Being a witness, it was a moment I knew I could never understand and never wanted to find out. It had struck me because I never knew how bad bullying could get and was saddened at how far people would just to bully someone. I learned that when being bullied, it can be very hard to avoid making a situation tough. Even though you are supposed to advise an authority when you are being bullied, there are times when we can’t escape. 24 Success Ashley Macias

He was just a young man when he made one of the biggest decisions of his life. My father Jose, decided to leave his hometown in Mexico to the United States for a better future. Leaving his three brothers and parents behind. My grandmother was very anxious and worried. Hearing that my father became an independent, successful man has motivated to be successful as well. A few nights of walking in the dark dessert, Jose made it to the United States. He went directly to Fresno, California where he lived with his uncle and found a job as a painter. Jose knew nothing about painting but he was taught by his boss who was, a nice gentle man who loved Jose and his kindness. Working as a painter he was able to make enough money to support himself and send the rest of money to his parents. Being alone in the United States as a young man, Jose did not find it easy. He still did not give up his dream in being a successful person. There were times in his life where he just wanted to go back home with his family, but he knew he wanted a better future. After feeling alone he was able to meet some people who were nice and helpful that became his roommates. He learned how to

be independent step by step, and accomplished his goals little by little and never gave up. No matter how tough things looked he just thought about how happy his parents and brothers would be. A few years later, Jose was able to file for citizenship status in 1987 and was accepted. A year later he was able to receive his citizenship. Two years later my father was able to file papers for my grandparents and they were approved. My grandparents were allowed to be at the United States they were really proud of their son and felt beyond blessed. My father on the other hand was super excited to have accomplished his goal to bring his parents to the United States. He knew they would love it because they were able to be with their son reunited once again. My grandmother was also really excited because she was very sick from her leg and was able to be taken care of here because the doctor was able to do something for her. As the time passed by Jose met a beautiful young lady who was his neighbors niece her name was Nubia. A year after dating the couple decided to get married. As the years passed by Jose decided he wanted to own his own painting business. He took exams as the process to receive

25 his license, but since Jose did not read English it was very difficult for him to understand the test. Every time they would tell him that he did not pass he still did not give up, he was not ashamed and went back every time. After taking the exam 7 times Jose was able to receive his license. He jumped along with his wife, happy as could be to have received his license and own his own painting business. He once again felt really accomplished. I was only a young girl when my father told me the story of himself becoming an independent, successful man. I was super excited and proud of how much my father had accomplish, it showed me how to be a successful person and never give up. Now every time I just want to give up he reminds me that I can do it with the help of God and to never give up on my dreams. This story will be passed down to my kids just how it was passed down to my brothers and I because, I believe success is important and it will motivate them to be successful like it did to me.

26 More Than A Piece of Clothing Veronica Mendoza

Have you ever looked into your closet and had a rush of memories flood back? Whether it is what the clothes symbolize, or simply what you did in that piece of clothing. A person would think that in order for something to mean so much or for it to have so much sentimental value, it would have to be something consistently worn or used. However this is not the case. I have three pieces of clothing in my closet that has plenty of sentimental value to me. My Quinceanera dress, my prom dress, and a worn out t- shirt. My Quinceanera dress is by far the most beloved item I have in my closet. Quinceanera’s are a very common tradition in the Hispanic culture. This is a celebration of a girl becoming a young woman. Usually there is a big party with food, loud music, and there is almost always the traditional dance that the young woman dances with her father. Dresses can vary in colors, sizes, and cuts, all depending on a person’s style. Mine was a beautiful white princess cut dress, with a top half that sparkled like stars on a beautiful dark night, lighting the sky. The bottom half had an enormous poof. It was somewhat long with tons of tulle material. This dress was by far the most beautiful dress I had ever seen, and I knew I had to have it. When my mother and I went shopping for dresses, I had no idea what I was looking for. I was kind of set on having a colored dress, because I felt like white dresses were more for weddings, up until the moment I saw my dress. I literally stopped in my tracks and I looked at my mom and in that moment, she must have seen a sparkle in my eyes because she knew right away that I had chosen my dress. As I went to try it on, I was so excited. I was hoping and hoping that it would fit perfectly. When my mom zipped me up, it was practically a perfect fit. It hung a little too low on the floor, but it wasn’t anything an equally beautiful pair of heels couldn’t fix. When the big day finally arrived, I was more than ready to try on my new dress. I went to the salon early that morning, got my hair done in a beautiful up-do full of lavishing curls. After that I went to Sephora to do my make-up. Soon after, I was ready to put on my princess dress.

When I turned to look at myself in the mirror after I was all ready to go, I felt absolutely beautiful. Never in my life had I ever felt more beautiful than that day. My hair, my make-up and my

27 pretty silver sparkly heels were just the icing on the cake. It was my beautiful dress that brought it all together, in a breath taking manner. Throughout the night I walked around, danced around, and enjoyed my night. I truly believe that my dress made the majority of my day absolutely amazing. As I looked through the pictures of my awesome day, every time I looked at the photograph, my princess dress was the first thing that stood out. Everyone loved my dress, not nearly enough as I did. I was so thankful to my mother who was able to bring it all together. It was truly an unforgettable day. The second most valued item is my prom dress. It is a stunning peach colored long dress that is a little shorter than knee high in front and long in the back. Directly under my breasts is a silver broche that wraps around my entire front side. It is snug from the top but starts to flow into a loose fitting, gown near my stomach. My shoulders are completely bare, which to me, adds so much more beauty to it. My prom date was, at the time, my best of friends. We had been friends for about four years and he had seen me through just about every obstacle throughout my high school years. We had planned since freshman year that we would be going to each other’s dates for the big day. I had previously seen this dress a couple months back walking by a store, so I had already purchased it. Since my shoes were clearly visible because of the nature of my dress, it was clear that my shoes would be crucial. So I gave Cathy Jean a visit; Cathy Jean carries hundreds of different types of

shoes from a basic flat, to a killer thigh- boot. The best part of it is that the soul is so comfortable that no matter what height of heel you have, you can count on comfort throughout the whole time you are wearing them. Soon after, I walked out with matching silver heels that only had three straps. They made my dress look more formal than it really was. When prom arrived, I was reminded of my Quinceanera. I was very anxious and excited. I was back at the hair salon and at Sephora. My hair was left half up, half down with beautiful long locks of curls with my bangs pulled back so my flawless makeup was just as visible as every other thing I had on. As my date and I arrived at the ballroom, I felt gorgeous. I knew I looked beautiful, but what made my outfit complete was my stunning corsage. It was an intricate small bouquet of simple white flowers, with a peach- pink Catalaya flower. It was divine, and smelled even better. Throughout the night I was constantly reminded of how pretty my dress, shoes, and corsage were. 28 My friends and I danced the night away; we laughed and shared many unforgettable moments together. This night will forever be a magical day for me. The last valuable item in my closet is a beat up T-shirt. This T-shirt is by far the most faded piece of clothing that I own, and continue to use. It is black with a yellow Kobe Bryant sign largely imprinted on the front. There is a small hole on my back shoulder, it is a mystery as to how it appeared there. It is very loose fitting, but hangs perfect over my back side. This T-shirt brings back so many sweet memories. When my husband and I first starting dating, I would go over to his house and as we talked the evening away, eventually night fall came and it was too late for me to make the long drive home. I would stay the night, and he would always give me his favorite T-shirt. He would always tell me how pretty I looked wearing his T-shirt, which made me want to wear it even more because what woman doesn’t love to hear her love call her beautiful? As time went by, the nights grew longer, and the feelings got stronger. It became a lovely habit for me to fall asleep in his T-shirt. When I would have to go home, I loved taking his shirt with me because as childish as it sounds, it brought me some sense of relief and comfort. That shirt has seen me through some tough times. It has been my sense of comfort for quite some time and will continue to be for as long as the thread and cloth can stay together. Out of all the clutter in my closet, these three items remain a special part of me and give an

insight as to who I am, and what I value. My Quinceanera dress, my prom dress, and my husband’s beat up t-shirt. These items represent a moment in time in which so many wonderful memories were made. To many people a piece of clothing is only remembered for that day, or that short amount of time. If it is not expensive, or does not have a brand name, it is of no importance. To me these are more than just pieces of clothing.

29 A Day I’ll Never Forget Donald W. Micheletti

What started out as a nice day of relaxation, family fun, and fellowship ended with me in fear for the lives of my loved ones. I also learned a cold hard lesson that things can make a change for the worse without warning! I really wish that I made this story up, but for the people who were there, it will be a day that will be hard to forget. As you read this, I am sure that you will agree with me. The day was Easter Sunday April 8, 2012. At the time, I was attending a church called Victory Outreach in Stockton, CA, and we were having our annual Easter picnic at Oak Grove Regional Park in Lodi, CA. The picnic area we were able to get for the day was just perfect for our large group of 400 people and well worth sending a few church members there at 4:30 in the morning to claim it on a first come, first served basis. If I remember correctly, I was one of those sent early to hold the spot. It had a huge field for a two hand touch football game, a horse shoe pit, a nice play area with slides and swings for the little ones , about thirty picnic tables and six barbeque pits (not counting the fold-up tables and barbeque pits the church members brought from home). All in all, the area was about 300 feet by 1000 feet. (As you read this, you will see why I had to mention how big the area was) As I said, it was the perfect spot for our needs that day. This sounds like a really nice time of kicking back, relaxing, and stuffing one’s self with more food than usual. Well, you are right. If I think back hard enough, I can still hear the sounds of dominos slamming, the men arguing while playing cards, and the clanging of the horse shoes over the horse shoe pit. I could also hear the sound of the kids’ laughter as they played tag. The strongest memory of day up to this point is stuffing myself with all the food I could eat, not to mention the sweets that I was eating for the first time since giving them up for a forty day fast. That all changed at about 3:45 PM. At that time, I was taking a walk around our area after playing Connect 4 with my seven-year-old friend, Alexis. Or did I play Checkers with her that day? Either way, I was going to walk around for a little bit. The next thing I remember hearing was the sound of fireworks coming from God knows where and the words “EVERYONE GET DOWN!!! TAKE COVER! With these words, I knew then that the sounds that I thought were fireworks were gun shots from somewhere close. As I said, things SCARY got really scary, really fast.

30 The first thought that went through my head when I hit the ground was “None of those bul- lets better hit the kids (who were at the playground about 900 feet away). Then I popped my head up just enough to look around and it was then that I noticed that I was laying down right in the middle of that open field. My next thought was, “OH NO! I’m a sitting duck to get shot out here in this open field”, Better me than one of the kids, I thought to myself. All I could do at this point was pray like I never prayed before. “Lord, don’t let any of the kids get shot. If somebody gets shot, let it be me instead of some kid”. What I am trying to point out here is that I value the safety of children above my own. The way I looked at it was this way: on that day, I was a few months shy of 36 years old. I also felt that I did not make much of the life that God gave me up to that point. The kids who were there that day on the other hand, barely had a chance to live their lives. So with this in mind, yes I did pray “God, if someone gets hit by a stray bullet, let it be me instead of one of the kids.” After a few minutes (which seemed like an hour), one of the church leaders made the announcement “All clear! Everyone you can get up now.” Even though I did not which one of our leaders it was who gave the announcement, I knew that I could trust it due to the fact that (at least to my ears), the “all clear” came from the same voice who called out “EVERYONE GET DOWN AND TAKE COVER IF YOU CAN!” Right then and there, the top leaders of the church made the decision to end the picnic and send everyone home. This decision was made for safety reasons of course. Everyone was told by top leadership to “wrap it up and go home” before anyone had a chance to ask, “Is everyone OK?”

As the Van Driver for the church’s men’s rehabilitation home, I was told by the Home Direc- tor, “Round up the guys and get them out of here. I’ll meet you at the house.” As I was doing just that, I over-heard the Home Director tell his brother-in-law “Moses, wrap it up and go home.” His response was “I’m not going anywhere ‘til I find my daughter!” He then started calling his daughter’s name at the top of his lungs (in hopes to be heard way over at the playground where she was last right before everything went wrong). “Monique! Monique!” As I was walking to the van after finding all the guys, I had the worst thoughts going through my head. I honestly thought that at least one of my loved ones had been shot and I did not know 31 how they were. To add to it, a young lady that I loved like a niece (my friend Moses’s daughter) was nowhere to be found (as far as I knew at the time that is). This was the scariest time of my life to say the least. The whole trip home, I could not get the thought out of head that somebody I loved had been shot (and possibly killed) that day. To say that it was hard to convince me nobody was hurt was an understatement. To be honest with you, I have no idea how I was able to drive home that day. I was spooked, to say the least. Just to give you some background here, the guys who were in the men’s home just loved to play the game of “Test the driver’s nerves”. The game goes like this. Let’s see how far he can drive before he blows his temper on us for acting worse than a bunch of five- year-olds on car trips. 99% of the time, my nerves were tested to the end by the time I was able to drive out of the parking lot. Thank God this trip was different. Instead of the guys trying their very best to test my nerves, they were quiet. All I heard on the way home was “Don, take it easy. Nobody was hurt. If anyone was hurt, the paramedics would have been called or they would still be down.” I cannot say that I was not pleased by those efforts; it is just that me was very hard to convince me of that fact. As soon as I finally made it home, the first thing I did was check my Facebook on my phone in an effort to at least try to get news about my loved ones. I was Facebook friends with more of the people in the church than I had the phone numbers of, so that was my best bet to use to get the information I was looking for. I got nowhere using this method, so I told myself “Donny. give up for now. You will see everyone on Wednesday. You can ask everyone how they are doing then.” Next I called my parents to tell them what happened. I felt that it was better for them to get the news straight from me than hear it on the Channel 10 Evening News. Remember, I was rushed out of the park before I even had the chance to ask, “Is everyone OK?”, so I wanted to make sure my parents knew I was all right just in case that this story made it on the 6:00 News.

As I was talking to my dad, I told him that I was calling because there was a shooting at the picnic I was at that day and wanted him and my step-mother to know that I was OK. Sadly, I was still a little shook up due to not knowing if anyone was shot. I remember to this day telling my dad these words. “Dad, I’m not trying to sound like I’m high and mighty here, because I’m not. On the other hand, if somebody did get shot, I would rather it be me than some kid. Dad, I know 32 I’m not bullet-proof, but neither are those kids. I had my chance to live what I would call a decent length life. Those kids on the other hand didn’t.” Even though I did not think my dad really wanted to hear the words I was saying, he told me, “I know Donny. You should feel this way.” Good news! When I saw my friends at Wednesday Night Mid-Week Service, I was told by one person after another, “We made it home fine. Thanks for asking.” Long story short, nobody was shot. The worst that happened was that one of the cars was hit by a bullet and by a miracle stopped just short of hitting the baby that was sleeping in his car-seat as if the car seat was made out of bullet-proof material. The cops may not be able to explain how this could happen, but if you believe in God and miracles, you will understand this perfectly. I did not find out for sure why this shooting happened in the first place. According to stories that I heard from some of my church friends, it turns out that somebody who a member of our

church invited to the picnic either had ran his mouth off to the wrong guy or was seen by somebody who had beef with him. Either way the shooting was done in retaliation towards that person. I can not say for sure if those stories have any truth to them, but I can say that I find that explana- tion sounds believable to me. Even almost three years later, I still find myself on edge and having thoughts in my head that this will happen again at a church picnic. I do my best to put those thoughts behind me, but I just can not seem to do it. Worse off, I get the feeling that this time I will end up giving the eulogy for one of the kids I love so dearly.

33 Moving to the United States Husna Razzaq

I have many beautiful and everlasting memories of my childhood that I will never forget. All of these memories are equally important to me. I can still remember those days when my cousins Asif Malik and Shazia Malik, who lived in the United States would call my family every day. They would tell us, “Just in few days you guys will be here with us.” The memories of the day when I got the news about my family and I moving to the United States is fresh in my mind even today. It was summer, and I was in my uncle Iqbal’s house, which was located in a small town of Sialkot, Pakistan. As I was sitting in the living room, my dad got a call from my uncle Alias saying that our airline tickets were now ready; and he would bring them to our house the next day. Right after disconnecting the call, my father told everyone, “Our tickets to go to the United States are here.” He also told us that we will be leaving on April 1, 2008. That was the day when our lives were going to be changed by moving to a new country and adapting to its culture. I was waiting impatiently for April 1, 2008, so I could gather with all my friends, neighbors, and family members for one last time before I left to United States in search of a better life. Every- one was there, including the people whom we rarely talked to. After we met with everyone we were in the car and ready to leave to the airport by 1:00pm. We said goodbye to everyone and drove away from them. As I was sitting in the car thinking about how the life in the United States would be; I thought about many things like how there would be more job and career opportunities. As I was daydreaming about life in America, I dosed off. Later, when I opened my eyes; I noticed our car was parked in someone’s driveway. I looked around in the car and found my cousin Asim sitting there, and I asked him, “Whose house is this, and why are we here?’ Asim replied, “This is your aunt’s house your dad came to see her.” As I was talking to my cousin I saw my dad leaving of the house trying to stop himself from crying. The driver started driving the car, and we continued toward the airport. We were still two hours away from the airport, so I started chatting with my brother Ahsan about the United States. He said, “I believe the United States will be like a country of dreams where everything is possible.”

34 As we reached the airport we said goodbye to my cousins Asim and Sehar and they headed back home to Sialkot. We got to the airport like an hour early so we had to wait; we went to the little store inside the airport to grab some food. After a long wait, we boarded the plane. It was my first journey on an airplane, so I was a little afraid and excited at the same time. Because neither my family nor I spoke English, we had lot of trouble getting tour destination. After a long and tiring trip, we finally reached Los Angles at around 2am, and saw my uncle Faiz Malik waiting for us with his son Asif Malik. I remember being so tired from the plane ride not only did I fall asleep quickly, but the rest of my family did too. The next day, we went to see my uncle Faiz’s house and farm, which was really fun. We spent the day at the farm looking at people working there. While we were at the farm, I asked my cousin Shazia “Which city do we live in?’’ Shazia gave me a weird look as if she expected me to know the name already, and then responded, ‘The city is called Kerman.’ After that, we visited Kerman and noticed how different it was compared to Pakistan. Back home men and women had to dress very modestly; women were not allowed to show their arms and legs. In Kerman, women walked around in shorts and dresses that exposed their bodies. In Pakistan the houses have multiple stories and the houses do not look identical to one another. In Kerman all the houses are small and look the same. It felt as if we came to another world because we finally felt safe. In Pakistan, there was crime and danger everywhere because the police would not enforce the law. The language was a complete opposite from my first language Urdu. My uncle Faiz rally helped me and my family by teaching us how to speak English and explained how it is really easy to learn English if you put your mind to it.

We faced many problems in the United States because we did not speak English. Some problems we faced included difficulty understanding school work and difficulty communicating with Americans however, my cousins Asif and Shazia were always there for us to help us with our home- work; and to translate for us every time we needed a translator. My first day of school, I was really mad because I was one of the smartest students at my old school in Pakistan; however, over here I could not even understand what the teachers were saying. Another thing was that the other students would make fun of me because I didn’t speak English, so I decided that I had to learn English quickly. After the school started, I began to miss my old school, but it all changed when I started 35 speaking English. I felt more comfortable at school; no one made fun of me anymore and became really friendly to me. I was really happy to see that change in my life, and very grateful to my cousins Asif and Shazia who helped me learn English, so I could fit in with everyone else at school. I will never forget the day that I came to the United States of America. That day changed my life because before moving here I knew everything I needed to know to live my life. However, after I moved here I had to learn everything from the begging. I struggle a lot in order to live a good life.

36 Dog Abuse Vannarie Rom

One morning I decided to visit a family friend nearby my house. We were in the living room sitting on the bed watching Tarzan while eating a big bag of Hot Cheetos. Halfway through the show I heard a cry that came from outside in the backyard. It did not sound human like. After- ward there was a loud bang followed by more uttered cries. I went to the backyard to investigate and what I discovered was horrifying. My friend’s father was beating a dog that was chained to a pole in the ground. I wanted to help the dog because I knew that it was helpless. Sydney’s father had a bad history of abusing the dogs he had in the backyard. He had anger issues that he couldn’t cope or deal with, which then led him to lash out on the two pets by shouting, smacking, and kicking them around if they did not obey him. Along with being beaten one dog was starved to death. As for the other big dog, he was still chained in the backyard saddened and helpless. She loved dogs so much so she decided to rescue two little dogs that we came across on our way back from the liquor store upon the streets. The father did not approve, on the other hand Sydney’s mother did. Later that evening, once we were back in her room, we thought of ways to have a better place for the two puppies to live. One was a little chubby Pit bull, and the other was a skinny small Chihuahua. They looked like they were disowned and not well fed. We asked her father and mother if there was a way to give them a better home. Of course Sydney’s father disapproved on trying to help the dogs. Instead he insisted on letting them stay in the back yard. We did not want to see another little dog go down from the father’s ways of coping with his rampages. We decided to secretly ask around the area if anyone wanted free dogs that needed a secure home. An hour or two passed by, and while we were sitting at the curb of the streets right next to her house, a little party began a few houses down. A man pulled up in a minivan and looked our way. I looked to Sydney and saw that she did not want to give up the dogs. The man who was the neighbor’s relative, asked her if she was selling dogs or knew if someone was. She responded in a joyful and relieved manner, and said, “Yes I am, and they are free, and are in need of a home and someone who can take wonderful care of them.” The man was filled with joy and happily

37 took one of the dogs. We secretly snuck out the Chihuahua and handed the dog to the man. He then thanked Sydney for bringing him and his family their little bundle of joy. For Sydney’s kind act he can now surprise his wife and daughter with the gift they have been wanting. The father caught her and overheard how it made the man feel, which caused him to really think about how it can affect the ones he loves and how he treats others. The remaining two dogs, the chubby pit and the big dog are now freely roaming about the backyard. The father changed his ways and sought another way to free his anger issues. This pleased me, knowing that there are people who are willing to give support to even an animal disregarding the flaws of others who mistreat them. When I first saw Sydney’s father abuse their dogs it gave me a sad, sinking feeling of how the poor helpless dog could not do anything to protect itself. It is significant to me because both Sydney and I love dogs. I do not like seeing them in a helpless situation or in harm’s way to the point they end up dying. We feel, we eat, we breathe. This event will always be with me every time I see any stray or helpless dogs amongst me. Every living creature deserves to be treated with love and respect as humans do.

38 Passion Shiyue Thompson

Passion plays a very important role in people’s lives. Passion gives people positive energy and strength. Passion encourages people to express their creativities and pursue their dreams. Passion also gives people motivation to increase their productivity and enjoy what they do. Without passion, Bill Gates probably wouldn’t have developed technology that has changed the world; without passion, Claude Monet probably would not have painted the water lilies for so many years and not given up; without passion, the moon landing probably never would have happened. Life needs passion. In my life, the love of family, freedom, and self-improvement are the three passions that have deeply influenced me. To start with, the love of family has always been a priority in my life. My family gives me unconditional love and support. When I was sick, they were there to take care of me, and give me comfort; when I felt down, they were there to listen to me and keep me company, and I did not have to worry about being judged. They gave me advice and guidance from their hearts when I needed it most. I trust them to tell me honestly and sincerely my strengths, mistakes, and weak- nesses. They reflect back to me the person I want to be. They helped me to rebuild myself, so I could become a better person. The love from my family also makes me feel secure. They gave me financial help when I was in need. My family is so import to me in my life. From the time I was born, my parents and sisters have always been there for me, and even other relatives have been a part of my family and have given me support and love. After I had my own family, I became a wife and mother. I can say that I have been totally fulfilled by my family. I know that it doesn’t matter what I do, wherever I go, my family will always be there for me, and they are my life and strength. Next, freedom has affected my family and I in big ways. I was born in China. Since I was young, I never felt that I was truly free. In China, the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution

took place from 1966 until 1976, and my family suffered physically, mentally, and economi- cally from that. The people that worked for the government not only took away everything that both my grandparents owned, they also publicly tortured and humiliated them. They put signs around my grandparent’s necks with some nasty words written on them, like “kill the landlords”

39 or “beat down the rich” on it. Then they put them on a stage to show people how bad they were for being rich, owning land and/or businesses. As a result, these abuses caused my paternal grand- father’s death. Sadly, I never got to meet him before he died. I wish that I could have met him, because everybody has told me how kind and wonderful he was. Sometimes, when my parents told us about our family’s history, we all cried. Thus, for a long time, I hated the government of China and felt that this was a great injustice. I have seen my parents afraid and being very careful of what they said or did. I know that they were afraid of history repeating itself. Our history also affected me in my early school years. Throughout my first seven years of school in China, the teachers would give me a paper to fill out, stating that my identity was “landlord.” I was teased and despised by my classmates for years, even though I was the top student in the class. They made me feel ashamed of myself and made me want to hide in a hole somewhere. I think that was the main reason I didn’t like school and didn’t want to continue my education at that time.

Nowadays, the old identity is no longer important and nobody cares anymore. The Chinese government has showed improvements since then, but I still felt a dark shadow in my mind that made me afraid to be myself. When I came to America, I really felt the freedom here. I can freely express my emotions and it opens up my perspective of the world. I feel that people’s thoughts are valued here. I feel that my soul was released and my mental scars were healed. I feel that freedom has allowed me to be myself as I always dreamed, and it certainly makes me a happy person and grateful for my current life. Last of all, self-improvement has benefited me in many ways. Before I came to America, my English was very poor. I struggled to communicate with my then American boyfriend, now my husband. He encouraged me to improve my English, and I have enjoyed learning English. When I first arrived in America, I could not understand the TV shows and I could not go shopping without my husband. I decided to go to school when my daughter first started school. This decision has certainly benefited me. Going to School gives me knowledge and confidence. Now, I am much better at communicating with people, making friends, and I feel that I have higher self- esteem than before. In addition, I never dreamed that I would learn how to drive a car. Now, I can drive my car to go anywhere by myself. I can go shopping, the bank, school, visit my doctor, and I even drove to LAX once. Also, I believe that parents are a great influence on and inspiration 40 for children. By improving myself, I will set a great example to my daughter, and it will encourage her to learn and will hopefully motivate her to achieve her own dreams. In short, the love of family, freedom, and self-improvement are my three enduring passions. Family gives me love and support; freedom makes me happy and grateful for my life; self-improvement gives me the abilities to do things and makes my life easier. Looking at my life, I can’t imagine living my life without these three passions. Without them, I would not be the person I am today. Without them, I would not know the meaning and purpose of my life. I will continue to follow my passions, as well as continue to grow and develop my life.

41 Technology Today Patricia Winn

I can remember the excitement of buying my iPhone 5. It was the phone that would make life a little easier. That is what the salesman said anyway. I actually believed him though; with all the gadgets the phone had, how could it not make my life easier? It was expensive, yet well worth the initial cost due to the fact that my phone would do a lot of jobs: MP3 player, Global Position- ing System (GPS), Calculator, Camera, Recorder, etc. It was all on my phone, like a little built in computer. All I had to do was pay a semi expensive bill to get good service, and I would actually end up saving money in the long run. That was what I believed this new technology would do, save me money and make my life easier. Now that I have had this phone for a couple years, I understand why they get you under a contract in the beginning. By the time you figure out that the phones has a lot hidden fees and requirements, it is already too late to back out. The first issue I noticed with my phone was the cost. I got a decent plan with four gigabytes of high speed data that I pay one hundred and ten dollars for. When I went on vacation to Hawaii, I used a lot of data. I did not realize I went over my plans data allotment until; I went to pay my bill. My bill was one hundred and forty dollars. I had gone over by two gigabytes, each costing fifteen dollars. There went the one time monthly cost I was sold on, in the beginning. The appli- cations (APPS) that were supposed to make my life easier also cost extra. The music too, was yet another charge. Not only did I end up paying extra, the next issue I had was that I never had enough space to keep all the stuff I bought, on my phone. I bought the sixteen gigabyte phone that I was assured would be more than enough space. However, it was not enough space to hold all the gadgets that the phone contained. I was constantly downloading my pictures and videos to my home computer, just to make more room. During my nephew Roman’s seventh birthday, I was taking a video of

him blowing out his candles, just as he got his little cheeks full of air to blow, my phones camera shut off. As it turned out I was out of space. When the latest updates came out for my phone I could not download them until I deleted some apps. The updates require a lot of space; this defi- nitely was not making my life easier.

42 Another issue I had with my phone was with the service. I paid a little extra to ensure that I would not be stranded without service, which turned out to be a waste. I was using the GPS to navigate on a road trip, and it got me out of town and gave out on me because I was out of range. I was lucky to find a little gas station, on a pretty desolate highway, to stop and ask for directions. Even when I go on small road trips between cities, my Pandora gives out because the service is really spotty. The biggest issue that absolutely drives me crazy is that the AT&T service bought out Cricket, so all the phones will go off the same towers and get the same service. The only dif- ference is that the price for cricket is half of the cost of mine with unlimited data and calls. This basically means that I am paying for the name AT&T. The things that downright made my phone seem worth it have let me down in every way. The promise that technology will make your life easier and save you money is a hoax; there are so many proverbial strings attached, and some very strict guidelines to follow if the technology will actually do the things it is said to do. So this makes me ponder the reason that humans would attempt to buy a gadget to make their life easier. Who buys a ticket to an easier life, sounds kind of silly to me now. Next time, I will think before signing over three years of my life in a contract. I do not need an easier life, I will settle for putting forth a little extra effort

43 Picture of Me Samantha Yang

When I look into the mirror, I see myself. I notice I look like a mess. My hair is all over the place and it looks like a lion’s mane. I have hair that is frizzy and needs a trim. My face is oily and my eyes are like an owl. My eye brows are really bushy, they look like a porcupine. I have my paja- mas on and I see that I’m really short because my pajama pants are dragging on the floor as I walk around in the morning. My nose looks flat and round like a hippo. I see a round face with a dou- ble chin. I look like I’m always tried because my eyes have dark bags, as if I didn’t have enough sleep. When I smile, my face seems to expand making my face wider. I have a gap between my two front teeth. My teeth are yellow because I smoke. When I hear myself, I can hear myself breathing hard as if I’m gasping for air. I have a firm and loud voice, yet kind at times. I can hear characteristic humor and exaggeration in my tone of voice. My voice sounds manly at times, especially when I’m angry. I can carry a tune and sing well. I find my voice soothing when I sing. I don’t like my tone of voice when I complain because it sounds annoying to me. I have a unique laughter that sounds like Peter Griffin from the show “Family Guy”. My hair feels oily and frizzy when I wake up in the morning. When I feel the back of my arms it feels rough without lotion. My hands feel soft but my knuckles feels almost like sand paper. My skin on my face feels like I have dry spots that need lotion. I have a few bumps on my face when I scratch. I feel comfy like a pillow sometimes. I can feel the sweat beam down my face and body when I exercise. I can feel the fabric of the clothes on my skin when I walk and move. When I get out of the shower I smell fresh and clean like the Irish Spring, bar of soap. My

hair smells like coconut with a hint of mixed berries. When I put on deodorant it makes my arm- pits smell like baby powder. When I get dressed I smell like the scent of clean clothes the smell of snuggle fabric softener. After smoke a cigarette, I smell like an ash tray. When I spray my perfume

I smell like a sweet scent of spring flowers. Throughout the day my perfume starts to fade and I would end up smelling like tobacco. Sometimes I smell like the food I eat because it ends up on my clothes, especially when I accidentally spill it on my blouse.

44 Before I jump into the shower, I taste salty like the ocean. Once when I get out of the shower, I taste like a bar of soap, clean and smelling good. After I smoke a cigarette my mouth tastes like that cigarette I smoke for a while until I chew some minty gum. Sometimes I can taste my coconut butter lotion. I also taste like Chap Stick when I put it on during the winter. When I sweat a lot during summer I taste like chlorine and salt. Sometimes when I wear makeup I can taste the makeup on my fingertips.