Value of Life

“Hey, can you hold this flashlight for me?” I said as I struggled to try and hold the camera steady.  At the same time I was trying to hold the flashlight steady to take a picture of a little hermit crab scurrying along on the dark sand.  “Sure.”, my one friend said and he took the flashlight so that I could take the picture. 

Meanwhile another friend makes what at the time I had thought to be a somewhat cruel joke, but nevertheless what I thought to be a joke, about taking the very hermit crab, after I was done taking the picture, and throwing it into the campfire. I took my picture and then as promised, but certainly not expected, my second friend picked up the very hermit crab that I had just taken a picture of and threw it into the campfire which was still lit that we had made earlier that night.

A mixture of “Hey, why’d you do that?” to “What’s your problem”s erupted from the few of us who saw.  To be honest we kind of just let it roll off as he wasn’t the kindest person anyway.  When he did this he proved that he didn’t value the life of that poor hermit crab and that he doesn’t value other’s lives.

Another time when my friends and I were back in third grade my science teacher got a couple of mice and put them into a tank with a hamster.  Our science teacher had gotten them for feeding to the snake, named King, as he was a king snake, but he figured that they’d all be okay in there for a bit until he got a chance to feed the snake after school or whenever it got hungry.  Class was calm but then all of the sudden, CRASH, BOOM, BANG!  Now two mice were dead and one injured, later to be named Survivor.  I guess that technically we should have been really sad for a the mice and we were a little sad but…we were a bit more interested in watching the snake eat the two mice that had died.  As we watched we chanted “Go King, Go King, poor mousy, Go King, Go King etc.”  Now I suppose that being in third grade we weren’t exactly the best example of valuing life but we are an example.

Now that I’m getting up so early to go to school the only thing to really watch in the morning is the news. So some mornings I sit there watch it and just on an average day I can see the headlines go by and I can see anything from “One man shot by corner store”, to something like “four dead and three wounded in a shoot out”.  These aren’t just little kids who don’t know really what the difference between right and wrong is these are full grown adults.

This weekend I had another reminder of the fact that some people just don’t value life.  It was 12:00AM and absolutely silent in the house.  Then the phone rang and it was my dad’s work, it’s the emergency desk.  The police needed to search an inlet because they thought that a murderer has tossed a gun or a knife, and other evidence down into the inlet and it needed to be found.  Yes, the crew did find a weapon and they turned it over to the police.  Not only do these people not value life but they want to make it seem, in one sense at least, as if some people’s lives just didn’t ever happen.  

Some people don’t value life.  Younger people may not be able to appreciate the value of life.  So I guess that valuing life does sort of depend on your age and it also does depend on your maturity level.  But it also has to do I think with just the fact of whether you care about anything or anyone else.  Life is precious, you only get one, and some people just don’t get that at all.


De Donde Vengo Yo?

Niños en los calles
toque de queda es nada
asuntos primordiales- ¿qué hora es la cena?

Amo o no amo, es mi barrio
dices lo que te guste
Yo no puedo cambio



Sí, están hablando malo
pero, otra personas, no yo
el reputación estuvo ganó
Yo no ayudo en lo que tornó

Se llama "The Borough"
pero soló un chiste
Es famoso para las personas locos
Yo no "Un Chicca de Roxborough"

Yo no bebo alcohol
en los fines de semana
Yo prefiero jugo
con mis amigas como hermanas


Reflexion
I'm proud of my rhyming that I included. It's sporadic but it flows nicely. I may have to change some of the words to fit the flow of the song. The way it fits into the music may have to change. I chose to talk about about how my neighborhood is and how I am different. Important though, I included though it may have a bad rep I can't change where I'm from and I'm okay with it. A lot of bad things are said about where I'm from so I chose to focus on that. 

I'm hoping to make this a rap type thing, using techo music. 

My Life in Someone Else's Eyes

Markietra Keese

September 14,2011

Essay

“I do not have a band- aid for that size of a cut.”

That is what my second grade teacher told me. I was a curious seven year old, especially that day. We were reading a book, but I do not remember the name, and I kept rubbing my pinkie finger on one page of the book. I knew I was going to get a paper cut, but I for some reason I wanted to see it happen. My prediction was right and I ended up with a paper cut. I slowly turned my head, looked at my teacher, got up from my chair and slowly walked to her desk. I remember the wooden floors squeaking since the building was at least  one hundred years old.

“Can I have a band-aid?”

“Why?”

“ I have a paper cut.”

“ I do not have a band-aid for that size of a cut.”

That was our conversation. Since I was only seven, I did not really know what to do but believe it so I did. It was not until I saw her favoritism that she had for one of her students. It took me a while to figure out that she really did like one of her students more than she liked the rest of us. Her name was Megan, I think. She barely hurt herself, and did not have a scare or a bruise or anything at all to show for it. It was the same day I got my paper cut. Even though she was barely hurt it did not stop my teacher from giving her a band-aid, a band-aid that was supposed to be mine. Since then, eight years ago, I learned that the world was unfair. It is not about how hard you work but the established relationship you have made with that person.

I experienced that a lot in my life so far, and I know that I am going to experience a lot more. Most of it happened in my schools. The only time I did not mind it was when I was in the fifth grade, and that was because I was the favorite student. Now I am not going to lie, it felt kind of good. I am lying it felt very good. I am not sure when I became her favorite but it felt like I could do whatever I wanted, well almost whatever I wanted. I do not know how I became her favorite and I never questioned it until now. I was not a teacher’s pet, I was more on the quiet side, minded my own business, and did not start any trouble with anyone unless they started with me first. That is probably why she liked me. Whatever the reason was, I got good grades, but that was only because I deserved them.

I also realized the favoritism outside of school, and in personal lives like friendship and relationship wise. Everyone has a best friend, and if you are a little more social than others you may have a handful. Even if you have a handful of friends that you can call your best friend, you will always have that gets a little bit more favoritism. Even if you only give them a little bit more detail about something that happened to you or you hang out with them more, they are still your favorite best friend. This same thing applies to relationships. Long lasting relationships last long for a reason, and everyone has one relationship that was better than the others.

Favoritism can be both good and bad. Of course if it benefits you than it can be a good thing but also is unfair, and when it does not, than that is a whole different story. Sometimes it is not that big of a deal and there is no point in talking about it, and other times, it can affect your whole life.

Filadelfia <3


Me encanta mi ciudad

Me encanta mi ciudad

Mucho amor por mi ciudad

Me encanta mi ciudad

Filadelfia


Filetes de queso
Si, mucho bueno
Tú vienes a mi barrio
Si, está todo bien
galletas saladas muy fresco, hoagies tambien.


Me encanta mi ciudad

Me encanta mi ciudad

Mucho amor por mi ciudad

Me encanta mi ciudad

Filadelfia

las calles están locos
Pero la visiones están bonita
Tú vienes a mi ciudad
nada es mejor
Mi ciudad es la mejor


Me encanta mi ciudad

Me encanta mi ciudad

Mucho amor por mi ciudad

Me encanta mi ciudad

Filadelfia



Reflection:
I am proud that I made my first song in spanish and I managed to get all the lyrics done. I do not anticipate on having to change anything before recording my song. In my song, I talked about the food of Philadelphia and how it is. I decided to talk about these things because they are the things I know most since I have been here since birth. The song Im putting my lyrics to are "Moment For Life".


My Personal Essay

Jamekea S. Lee

 

           

            “Get her, get her! No you don’t touch her, you better not touch her!” I was screaming so loud, my ears were ringing. I was getting pushed back in forth. I hate it when I’m standing the middle of a crowd when a fight is going on. Even though most of the time I’m encouraging people to come and look at them because I was screaming loud enough for everybody to hear. Just because I don’t like people fighting will there’s nobody looking. It seems useless.

We were all standing in the schoolyard because it was our lunch. It was warm day I’ll say not hot enough to have sweaters on but not cold enough to have shorts on. The lunch was made up of the 8th, 7th, 6th graders. We all knew what was going to happen because we’ve been talking about it for months.

“You gon to fight her? my friend asked.

“If she gets in my face, yea!” My other friend responded.

“You better not start bitchin’ neither.” Said the first girl.

“Yea you better Waka Flocka Flame her.” I said. And all my friends started laughing. They laughed until tears came streaming down their faces. “Waka Flocka Flame” was the name of a move my “twin” and I made up. It was basically two punches and a body- slam.

 

            That was me in the 8th grade. I used to be rough, I mean I’m still am but not like I was. When my friends from home and me get together we always reminisce about how we were.  That was then, though. This is now.

“You wanna spy on people?” Ayoola asked.

“Yea come on!” I replied. As Ayoola and me ran through the hallways trying to find somebody to spy on, we heard people say ‘ Ya, need to stop. Ya too old to be acting like that’.  We would just laughed about it. If you saw our faces you would have been cracking up. Ayoola had yanked her head back, laughing basically screaming. It sounded so bad. I was the leaned against the chipping painted wall, with one hand on my head, and the other on my leg. I was laughing so hard that you heard me gasp for air.

 

            I have two sides to my personality. When I’m in front of my friends that live other my way, I’m this cold- hearted girl. You could die tomorrow and I’ll be like ‘Oh, I really don’t care.’ When I’m around my friends at this school I’m friendly like if you was to die I would console your family. I know it may seem weird but it’s true. I don’t fully understand why I act like that. I guess I’m still growing inside.

           

One place where I am friendlier is on facebook. I remember when I posted that I was “playing spy” with Ayoola. My friends from home saw it and was like ‘ WTF you mean you was playing spy. You need to cut that out.’ I knew had forgotten that they could see it.

 

The biggest factor is that I don’t want to have two sides to my personality. I want all of my friends to accept me for who I am. Which is being sometimes friendly and sometimes to cold- hearted. I mean I’m not always friendly, and I’m not always cold- hearted. I have days that sometimes I feel like being “weird” as people call it. Then I have some days when I feel like being mean. All I really want it is for them to accept me for who I am.

 

I’ve been trying to show them that I’m half and half. This process is going to be a hard one, but one day I’ll like to be able to who I’m really am. In the future I want people to think I’m cool and friendly but I can also be serious. If the people at this school were to come around my way, they would recognize me. If the people from around my way were to come to my school they won’t recognize me. Basically I’m just saying I don’t want to have to act a certain way for people to recognize me.

msanders verso

Mi nombre es MIQUAL.!!!!!

​Mi nombre es MIQUAL.!!!!!

Yo mi gusto el comida.

Yo comido el pollo y el sandwhiches.

Y Yo siempre es hambre.


Ahola mi nombre es miqual

Yo vengo es Filadelphia.

My madre y padre vengon es Filadelphia.

Nuca me abuela venge es virgina

Ellos decae. uno cuento.’

Nuunca dexperdico hambre.




Mi gusta deportes

Yo deportos el futbol

y baseball y basketball y Amercanio de futbol

Mi famila la historia in deportes

Nosotros gustomos deportes.



It explains where my actual neighborhood Im from. It also talks about what my family and doesand eats. I don't believe the full lyrics is done but my el refrain and 2 versos are done. The full lyrics will be done on sat.

Broken Mirrors

Octavius Collins

Sept. 22, 2011

Silver

 

“Are you guys twins?” A lady would ask,

“Yes ma’am, we’re fraternal” I’d respond.
“Awww, what are y’all names?”
“Dwayne and, Octavius” we’d answer together.

“How old are you?” She’d individually as one of us.
“15.” I’d reply with a monotone voice.
She’d then continue with an ignorant follow up question like “ … and how old are you?” directed toward my twin.

 

People have a lot of misconceptions about what it’s like to be twins. A clear example of the conversation above. Twins are generally the same age unless for some miraculous reason one is born before 11:59pm on December 31st, but with my brother and I that isn’t the case. Assumptions have been made that my brother & I dress alike, act alike, even look alike, do the same things, like the same things, but the honest truth is that we are completely different.

I was always told that I had the exact traits and attributes of my father. I took his looks, personality, and that we were walking reflections of each other. Of course my brother was also a reflecting image of my mother. My mother and brother were just alike, she favors him. Even though we we’re twins we were treated a little differently. As I got older it became more of a problem but I always kept it to myself.
         Since first grade my brother and I were always separated from each other. In 1st grade my mother detained him & had him repeat. It wasn’t a problem since we were still in the same school and we lived in the same house until I went to high school. Small things like getting home late, starting new sports, or problems at school is what separated us from each other. Each year we’d both run track, but last year I took it upon myself and decided I wouldn’t do any sports but more or so focus on my schoolwork, and my job. The examples of us being completely opposite start to fall in as he started 2 new sports and I stopped sports. By age 8 we hated dressing alike each other. That’s when we began dressing differently.

I’ve always been the tough one, the less sensitive one, I never went to my mom for help, hated asking for help, always tried to do things myself. My brother was a completely pole apart; he was the mamas boy, which wasn’t a problem because I favored my dad. The problem I had was that she favored him as a child and I felt that we should have been treated equally, but that’s beside the point. Although him being the technically older brother (by two and a half hours) I’ve always been told I act older. His goofy, and young adolescent ways are what became the explanation for as to why I had to act older. Some people even ask us do we fight and argue. The fighting had been frequently lately but the arguing is pretty consistent since we’re different and will always have our disagreements but it’ll never change my love for him.

I bet if I didn’t take the time out of my day to write and explain how all twins aren’t the same, and how my brother and I are complete opposites, the misconceptions of twins would still spread among other citizens that thought the same. Everyone is there own person regardless of how related you are, or how much differently you look, you’ll never find two twins completely the same.

 

 


Things don't always go your way

“ Why do you always do this when I need something?”

 

“ You know what, you can keep it all ”

 

I always wondered what goes through the mind of a mother. I don’t always ask for stuff unless I need them and that day was the day I needed my money back. When you want to go to a place you always wanted to go you would want to do anything, for you just to go. And that was what I did that day. I don’t usually overreact like this but for some reason my mind just went off. 

 

            It was a nice day out on my birthday, July 3rd 1996. I had a small birthday party at my house. Most of the time it’s just my family and my mom’s friend. So, today was the same as always. I got birthday money that was about 300 dollars. It was all given to my mom because it was mostly her friends giving me money. Like always my mother decided to keep the money and let me spend it little by little. Most of the time when I get that much money it would be gone in one day. The reason I didn’t whine about it is because I know if I get that money I would spend it on dumb things. So, I let her keep it for me.

           

            A couple weeks later, my cousins were going Dorney Park. I always wanted to go there because I never went there ever in my life. The only place I usually go is Six Flags. So I went home all happy and asked my mom for my money for that one day. Then the next word I heard was a no. I wondered why she said no and then she explained to me how I spend too much money. I tried to tell her that this was a once a summer event but she didn’t seem to understand me. 

 

            We continued to argue about this situation for about an hour. Until I just sat there and kept my mouth shut. I knew there wasn’t a point fighting a battle I know I can’t win. I know it may seem I was overreacted but if you were in my shoes at that time you would probably be doing the same. Most of the time when I argue with my mom I would stop after 10 minutes but this time I had a feeling telling me that I shouldn’t and I should just keep going on. I knew there was no point of this but I really wanted to go. Soon my mom called my sister to tell her what happened. She talked to me and gave me a lecture, but at this point I didn’t care. I then again gave it another try and asked my mom for my money back, the same thing happened. Except this time I’m walking through that front door out to somewhere I didn’t even know. But there was one place I always go to, to get away from my problems and that was my cousin house. My mom knew I would end up there, but just in case she called my grandma to make sure. And knowing my family gossip is a big thing they do. The smallest things can happen and family members across the world would find out in an hour. I stayed at my cousin house for a week. Then I went back home. I always go home in the morning because no one is awake yet. It makes me feel less awkward. Then when I reached my destination I realize I don’t have any keys. I rang the door bell about twice no one responded. I planned on sitting in front of the house for about and hour but I was still tired. So, here I go back to my cousin house. It is funny how when I walked all the way backs to my cousins house my aunt called me to tell me she opened the door for me. Off I go again back home. I walked in the house I felt kind of weird but I didn’t care. Then I went to get check on my mother like I always do. She talked to me about us arguing. But she decided to give me back my money anyways because she felt bad.

             What I have learned from this is you cant always get what you want, you have to take your time and show that you want it to get the things you want. I know this was just me being a spoiled brat but just from this little argument I learned a lot.

 

Pumpkin Faced Love Bug

Aazimah Muhammad 
Silver stream

Old people are curious about many things, the newest songs, the newest dances, and most importantly, the newest technology. My grandmother and I sat and had numerous conversations about what’s in the new or as she calls it, “the hippies.” I love hearing her trying to pronounce the names of things because of her down south country “bumpkin” accent she has.

 She has a very good sense of humor, so teaching her how to use some things often turn into a comedy show. They always leave me clinching my stomach. Even thought I don’t mind teaching her, sometimes a teenager and an elder aren’t always the best combinations. Sometimes it even turns into a fight, not physical but verbal.  There is a lesson in teaching her, not only for her but also for the both of us. She always has to know about things every time I see her. Even if she already knows about a certain thing, she always wants to relearn it.

 When I see her I always greet her saying “good morning”, “afternoon” ect. She is a very traditional person, so seeing her is always the same thing, greeting, hug/kiss, and then the learning. For her its very important so if I don’t teach her that moment, she will call me at night asking questions.

  She got a new phone and was completely confused, when ever she would look at it she would make sort of a confused angry face, and then I would call her cute and her cheeks would rise to touch the bottom of her eyes, insuring me that she is happy. Her phone was one that flip up to reveal a number pad from 1-9 plus the “#” and the “*” keys (you know the standard). The up down arrows and the OK buttons, were always the ones that would confuse her. I sat down and taught her. First showing her, her phone, and then a more complicated phone. I know she likes challenges so I set her to a test. Turning them on. She was happy about turning her own phone on because she knew how already.

In the middle of our lesson she’d say

“1970 is so much better, we would go to the movies instead of killing our brains with this nonsense.”

That meant she was angry, so I said “Bigmom why don’t we take a break and come back to it tomorrow?”

Well of course she would say something denying that she was ready to stop like, “are you sure your done” and “only if you want to” So after I would convince her that we should stop, she would give up and say “ok”.

 After that I was satisfied and it would be over, then we would lie down and watch a movie. Relaxing for a while, then secretly, she would pick up the phone or whatever it was we were working on and do it on her own, which made her less frustrated. I am very observant of her because she is such a pumpkin faced love bug, and very sweet (when she wants to be). She’s like a dream grand mom, and she would go out of her way to make you happy. But that is beside the point. In the end, it shouldn’t matter who or what it is, you should stay determined. Being there when someone needs you and just being patient it always a big must.

New Beginnings After a tragic ending

             Keyaira Doughty Silver stream

 

  New Beginnings after a tragic ending

 

“Tick Tock Tick Tock” my body froze, motionless I can hear the hands on the clock ticking so softly but roaring loudly in my ear. My head turned slowly towards the clock “2:00pm”.

“Key what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Oh uh nothing” that was weird.  I was walking with friend home from school since we got out early. It took us a while to get to her house but once we got there we were exhausted. After we got something to eat we sat on her porch and laughed for hours and hours, that’s when it all began. Instantly I realized I had 14 missed calls I quickly called my cousin.

“Hey wassup,” silence.

“Hello” I repeated caught of guard by the silence.

“Key, where you at? We been calling you, you need to get home now!”

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

“We’re coming to get you. Your brother died in a car accident.”

I didn’t know what to say my vision blurred, palms began to sweat. Crash, my phone fell from my grip and for once in my life I couldn’t speak.

 

 

         “Dang Kev you always cheating in something!”

         “Dang lil sis you always losing in something!” my brother laughed hysterically mocking my anger. I stared cold-heartedly at him I didn’t find a damn thing funny. I was 7 years old and he was 12 at the time. We just got done playing Street fighter 4 times and I lost each round. The thought of losing to my brother made me cringe and him rubbing it in only made it worst.

“Its not funny!”

“Your right it’s not funny key” I smiled

“Its Sad!”

“Housed!!” my cousin yelled cracking up on the floor. My smile faded quickly,

Thump, thump, thump, I stormed up the steps flushed with embarrassment.

“Aw key you know I love you and don’t worry sis ima teach you how to strategize that way when you older you can take on anybody well except me of course.”

“Chill cuz now you know aint no girl playing video games it’s a man thing that aint no girl ready for.”

I proceeded to my room as I glanced at my cousin one more time and smirked we’ll see bout that.

 

         Everything around me grew black and cold. None of this was making any sense how could my brother die, I just saw him yesterday? I stared at the sky reminiscing about old times we had. I could feel a storm coming and before I knew it my vision began to blur as the liquid formed into my eyes and then it rain. Tears began to drop from my eyes flooding my cheeks with streams of sorrow. Each teardrop represented the time I’d have to spend without my brother until the tears stopped symbolizing that my pain and time would be gone and I’d see him again. Just then my cousin drove up the block and signaled me to get in the car I glanced at my friend who understood it was time for me to go. I hopped in the car and drove home with my cousin silently except for the small talk about how my whole family was inside my house. Staring out the foggy window spotting families sitting on porches and little kids playing I suddenly realized my life would never be the same. We parked the car down the street from my home and began walking up the block. I signaled him to go ahead of me because I was in no rush to go home. I walked slowly to my house as people stared at me to see my reaction. I began walking up my steps as I stood frozen on my porch breathing slowing reaching for the doorknob I slowly turned it open entering my home knowing that it was time to face my reality.

 

Through my brother’s death I realized that the world is REAL.  Life is short my brother died at 19 and for the times I have on earth have I’m going live it to the fullest and do things I’ve never done before, be spontaneous and adventurous but most importantly have fun!  Life never goes the way you may plan it to but you have to deal with the cards you’re dealt with. I learned to never hold grudges for a tomorrow that may never come and to tell the people that matter the most to me that I love them because it maybe the last chance I get. I realized that you only get one shot at life and every minute counts no matter who you are. That person who thinks they’re above everybody (your not), or that shy boy or girl who always feels misplaced and or unwanted (your not), jus let go of all insecurities and negatives and have fun besides like Drake said, “Everybody dies but not everybody lives” 

Embracing who I am.

​“What are you?”

“Huh?” I turned around to look at the girl outside the office at school.

“You look so weird to be fully black and I know for sure you’re not white.”

“What do you mean?” I was confused about what she was asking me.

“You have red hair, it looks good but you don’t look fully like anything.” I

was only fourteen and I didn’t know what to say. Why was she asking my questions

about my race? She confused me when she asked me that question out of thin air. I

was so confused on what exactly had been the point of asking me. I just answered

politely I am not sure. I didn’t know my full family history.

I always had longer hair and smaller features then most African Americans

like my nose is very small and my eyes change color depending on the season, and

when it gets hot my hair lightens up. Yes I have some features that don’t come

to most African Americans. I do have some Trinidadian blood inside of me. I am

reassured that I am in fact African American. When I dyed my hair that also struck

questions.

“I think that hair color looks so good on you.” A woman said to me outside

the supermarket. I had dyed my hair a extremely bright red the week before and I

looked even more less than what I really was. People told me that I never looked

like I was supposed to since I was “Black” I knew what I was so that shouldn’t have

matter I know I am black.

My father’s father is from the Island of Trinidad, which may have something

to do with the fact that I don’t look all-natural. My mother doesn’t know her father

and my grandmother refuses to talk about him so I may get some features from him.

But since I’ve always had lighter skin then I was presumed adopted. My mother

assures me that I am hers.

“The color of your skin and the hair makes you look so different” An old

friend of mine said to me.

I simply replied that I was just looking for something different and it wasn’t a

change to make me look any different.

This hair color change wasn’t the first time I had my hair dyed. I have always

had a sandy brown blonde shade of hair and my mother always hated it even though

it was her hair color when she was my age. My first dye was a very dark brown color

and it made me think that I was grown up and I was a new person but after that dye

was washed out it was a permanent darker to my hair because I have never been the

“Dad who’s in our family tree?”

“Umm well your grand mother is all black and her slave ancestors were

owned by the famous McCormick family.”

“Okay and what about grandpa?”

“Your grandfather is from the Trinidadian Islands, I’m not sure where exactly

but that’s all he told me about himself”

I never asked my father anything else more about the family history and

frankly I didn’t really care anymore about it. But as I got older my curiosity grew

larger for the family I never knew.

So looking not all African American is just a little thing I went through in my

life and I will go trough more I’m sure of it. Dying my hair red wasn’t me trying to

escape exactly what I didn’t want to be but finding an individual in who I already

was. I was just a “Black” girl who has red hair. I thought of my red hair as an old me

with a new thing not a new me trying to forget the old me. I know that I am African

American and I had strands of other blood in me.

I think of my hair color as a bright light or the brightest crayon in the box. I

love my Red hair and I love where I come from. So I wouldn’t dream of trying to hide

where I come from. The way I look is the way I look because that’s the way I was

born and that’s how I appear to the world. I love my heritage on both sides so yeah I

do have some Trinidadian blood but I am an African American girl with red hair.

Where Misty Go?

How could you do that to a ten year old? Don’t you know the significance of a dog to a caring family? I always seen this in movies but never would of though that the sad crying little boy or girl  would someday happen to me. What am I talking about you ask? I’m talking about the time that my dog was almost took in away from me.

It was a great day for cookout I spent the whole day with my family .It was fun even the ride home was a funnier then the usual. When I got home I  sat down and watched television, then I happened to noticed that no one had let my dog Misty in from the backyard. So I went to the backyard to let her out, but this seemed to be only a failed attempt because she was not  sitting outside the door from hearing the rattle of the door. I began to look around the backyard for her but she was nowhere to be found .Then, I noticed in the left corner of the gate there was a huge  opening big enough for more then a dog to go under. So my family and I quickly assumed that someone had broken to are backyard and either set my dog free to roam in the cruel world or try to take her for themselves. This seemed to be one of the  worst days of my life  because I could be losing a long time friend that I have known since I was just 4 years old.

Shortly, after we began our long search for the family dog we came to believe that our seem futile. A month had gone by there has been no citing of her around the neighborhood and we haven’t received any calls from anyone who have seen our flyers. Perhaps its because we only had a picture of Misty at 3 years old when she was now 7. After about a month of searching my parents found that there was no point invest any more money or time to continue the search. So we began “the waiting game” it seem like I have been waiting by the phone  each day for years  and yet its only been a couple weeks.

After about 2 months of Misty had been lost we finally got a call from a man saying he had found our dog on a corner,  and had taken her to his house around 40th and market where she had been staying for a couple of days. Until he noticed that she had a collar with her name and our phone number incase she gotten lost. So I told him we would be there to pick her up as soon as my mother gets  home from  work. Later that day when my mom returned home I told the great news and her mans address. We left out right then and there so I could be reunited with my dog and I thanked the man  for his kindness and for helping us find our dog. Ultimately it all ended great, and I had a totally different perspective on the world and nice society might  actually be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Day my Neighbor Died

I heard the phone ring so I yelled; “Mom the phone is ringing” She goes to pick it up. A couple moments later I hear her scream. I run down the steps to my mom, trying to figure out why she screamed. She turned to me and said; “Our neighbor died.”

I was frozen in shock. No one I knew personally had ever died before. I always heard about it on the news, but it had never been anyone I knew. I was devastated, I had never really thought about people dying. It scared me. After a few days my initial shock disappeared, replaced by a deep feeling of how fragile life is. For the first time I thought about every time that someone had died and everyone around them who had been affected by it. I began to think with a sense of purpose and sympathy.

The day my neighbor died I matured, the day my neighbor died a lot of things started to change in my head. Things can happen so unexpectedly that you don’t know how to handle it. We were in the middle of a game of chess (he was winning, but I had a better set up for later). You have to be prepared for as much as possible even though you have to live your life to he fullest.

When people die, their life on this planet ends. They no longer exist in this world and the only thing left behind is their memories and their legacy. What you do with your life is vital because I believe that you don’t get a second chance.

I never thought so deeply about a subject before. This must be what they call, a “revelation” because I have never felt like I felt right then. I started to look at the world differently and thought back a lot on the best and how horrible an unexpected death is.

One of the first things that crossed my mind is the day of 9/11/01. So many people were killed during this event. None of them had a say and the majority of them probably never got to live out a full and happy life. It is terrible to think of a life as wasted but dying unexpected makes me think exactly that. Especially when it is someone who hasn’t reached adulthood yet. You have to have a purpose in life, something to strive for, to hope for, to dream for. Without it your life is truly meaningless. If you have never had anything like that then your life goal should be to find one and find it quick. Even if you die before you achieve it. That won’t mean that your life was wasted but that it was a constant struggle for that sense of ultimate achievement.

I know exactly what I want to do with my life and I have been striving for that goal since about 7th grade. I have always loved to take apart and build things. I want to be an engineer and possibly even run my own company. I want to have a name people know for a having a vast intellectual capacity. I would like to invent things that help the world and not just weapons to “protect it” That is what I want out of my life. That is my personal goal.

I have a great amount of sympathy for everyone who has wasted there life or has had it stripped from them unwillingly before their time. It is a crime even if it is an accident.

A life is important, not only what you do but also what you leave behind. What will you leave behind for the next generation? People mostly learn from those who are older and more experienced. What you leave behind for someone else is what the next generations will be like. You should leave behind a positive message so that you can continue to make the world a better place even after you die. Sort of like Martin Luther King, he is the leader of the non-discrimination in the world (my opinion). He did what he believed was right, and even though he died prematurely, his legacy will live on until all racial barriers are gone. That is a life well spent.

In conclusion, I know that I have said a lot. I know that there will be someone who will read this paper and not get my message. I know that for the people who do, it will hopefully change you. I hope that you will make your life worth something more than just getting through to the next day. You have to have a life of meaning. You have to have a purpose in life, something to strive for, to hope for, to dream for. Without it your life is truly meaningless.

Unbearable Pain

Brandon Mangum

9/14/11

 

Unbearable Pain

 

What do they mean, when they ask

 

“How old are you?” 

“What grade are you in?”

“How tall are you?”

The first time I got asked these horrible questions was my first day of 6th grade. It began when I walked into my homeroom class; there was a nice breeze of cool air, and a strong vanilla scent coming towards me as I entered. I felt enthusiastic and happy to be there. I Sat down at the closest seat I saw and I started to have a conversation with some of my friends. After a few minutes of being in class my teacher called my name to ask me something.

My teacher ms. Barks said, “I think you got the wrong class? 3rd grade is down stairs with Ms. James”.

I responded with a confused look on my face and I said, “No, I’m in your class,” then I showed her my paper. She looked at it then immediately she got a shocked look on her face. It was an amazed look that a person would have when they win the lottery. She apologized to me with that same look on her face.

She said “I’m sorry for doubting you, you just look younger they others kids your age”. “Its cool” I said but I was still wondering how I looked younger then everybody else. I pounded for a little bite wondering how I was different from other boys in my class. But I couldn’t think of anything.

The next day I came to school I notice a new girl in the class. I found her very pretty so I thought I should introduce myself to her. I began to walk up to her when I notice that she was taller than me. I worried about for a little bite. I started thinking to my self “do I want a girl that taller then me”. Never the less I still went up to her and started talking. I started off by having a normal conversation with her, I said hello and introduce myself. Then I asked her for her number.

She replied back to me by saying, “ how old are you? Are you even in this grade?”

 I said I’m 11 years old and I’m in 6th grade. She then embarrasses me by saying “your to short and you don’t look 11”. I began to tear up when I said, “I’m not short”. She said, “ You look like a midget. How tall are you anyway?” I screamed at the top of my lungs and poured down tears of anger. I ran out the classroom at my top speed, I went straight to the bathroom. Since my eyes were so blurry I accidently ran into the females bathroom. I didn’t notice it at first.

But then I heard a little girl scream, “there’s a boy in here”.

I turned around then someone else said, “he’s a midget”. I was heart broken. I felt as if someone shot me five times with a shotgun at my heart. This is the unbearable pain I felt. I just drop to the ground and laid there until the teacher came for me.

The next day of school came. I didn’t want to go, I begged my mom not to send me to school but it didn’t work she still made me go. So I figured since I had to go I should make the best of it. So I tried on things to make myself look taller. I put on some very thick pair of socks and some boots with the highest soul. I also put on a hat. I walked out the house looking kind of dumb because it was still summer it the temperature was 88º, but I didn’t care because I looked taller. I got to the school and walked in the class thinking I’m the “big man on campus.” I looked for the same girl that called me short yesterday; I wanted to see if see still felt the same way.

After I found her I walk to her and said “Hi.”

She said “hey”.

So I then asked “can I get your number now that I’m taller.”

She laughed and said “you don’t look taller at all; you still look like a seven-year-old midget.”

I cried for a little bit. But then I stopped because I realized that crying is not going to make anything better because people are always going to judge you by your physical appearance and I cant do anything to stop them.

Me, Myself & I.

“What Are You!”

 

“Excuse Me?”

 

“Like What Are You?”

 

These are the type of questions I get all the time. It all started when I entered a new school, outside of my region. I was mad but more upset that I was entering a school where I felt like I didn’t belong. It was still in Olney, but I knew no one. First day of second grade I came into the room, thinking “Why did my mother put me in here?” The feeling stuck with me for a while.

 

This girl named Sydney, came up to me and said, “What are you?” this was the first I ever heard this, I was shocked but more like disrespected. I just answered, “What?” she repeated the question over and over again, till I couldn’t take it anymore and I said “Rican!” She chose not to believe me and yet it didn’t bother me or affect me the way I thought it would. I mean I was mad that it concerned her that much what my nationally was, but it shouldn’t have mattered to her. She wasn’t me nor a friend at the time. She went and told all her friends about it, they ambushed me. It wasn’t a big deal. Her “friends” and I became real close while she chose to be difficult. It took one strike in fourth grade, when someone called me “FAKE”; I have never been called anything in my life.

 

Hearing that made me think that I didn’t have to prove myself to anyone, I am who I am and no one can tell me. I spoke Spanish to prove to them that I was a Puerto Rican, but not for their approval but more to prove to myself that nothing can affect me.

 

While I was walking to the Chinese Store around the corner from my house with one of my closest friends, some man stopped me as I was crossing the street “I don’t mean to be rude, but I noticed you walking and I have to know what you are?” I just stared at him, lost. Took me a while to think of what to respond to him. I just answered nicely, “Rican”. I was irritated and tired of it. I hate it when people and try and tell me who I am. Like you have the right to.

 

He just stared at me until he realized we were about to get hit by a car. As I was about to enter the Chinese Store, he said, “You can’t be, you’re to pale to be Rican, most have some color. So what are you really?” This is what made me tick, like how are you going to tell me what I am? I didn’t know what to say to him, I just stared at him.

 

I felt insulted but more disrespected. I walked away, felt like he didn’t even need an answer either way he was going to have an opinion about me and think what he wanted to. Through out the rest of the day, that’s what I was focused on. The way people speak to others is a shame; I know parents taught their kids manners.

 

Last year during the summer, I was heading to mothers job after my job. My headphones were on loud. I was in my own little world, paying attention to no one. I was a stop away from my mom’s job, as I was rising, this young lady stopped me and said, “Oh My God, you are very beautiful, skin and all. I don’t mean to be rude but what are you? Like your race.” This was the one and only time I did not feel any type of way.

 

I smiled and said, “Thank You, and I’m Rican.” She just looked at me, like she had something to say but just didn’t know what to say. “I can see it.” I was beyond shocked; it was like a miracle had occurred. She was the first person to ever say that and not start an argument. Right when I was getting ready to answer her, the bus had reached my stop. “Have a blessed day,” she said.

 

It amazed me how a stranger like herself, was able to keep a smile on my face all day. I was more thankful for the fact that she didn’t argue with me, but the fact that she believed me when I said, “I was Rican”. The compliments were just extra. I just felt the need to tell my mom, she didn’t seem to understand why I was so happy, but that wasn’t going to change my mood.

 

I think why is it that I’m the palest person in my household, and everyone else looks like they belong. Time passed and the questions continued and so did the people. I still get the question everywhere I go, but people start to believe and see that I am “Rican and NOT White”. I’ve grown to love myself for how I look and who I am.

 

Cancion by Vinny

Refrán

Mi antepasado come de Irlanda,
y Italia  y eso es la cuento de mi.
Verso I
Mi antepasaso come de Irlanda,
Ellos fue barco los cruzo de Atlantic.
Antes de embarco,
Ellos junataba todos cosas
Y continuar de viaje.   
Refrán
Mi antepasado come de Irlanda,
Y Italia  y eso es la cuento de mi.


Mi antepasado come de Irlanda,
Y Italia  y eso es la cuento de mi.
Verso II
Mi antepasaso come de Italia,
Ellos trajeron los comida de cultura, y  las memorias.
Mi antepasaso come de Italia,
Ellos trajeron los familia de todos cosas y vida.
Refrán
Mi antepasado come de Irlanda,
Y Italia  y eso es la cuento de mi.

  • What are you especially proud of?
    I'm proud of the uniqueness try to put two different types of music together(even though it probably won't work).
  • What do you anticipate having to change before recording your song?
    I probably will change some of the lyrics to make it work with the music. 
  • What did you talk about in your song?  Why did you choose to talk about those things in talking about where you come from?
    When I first thought about the question I thought of my ancestors and how they might have come over. Also, I think explaining my heritage will help in explaining me.

NaQuan's Cancion

Refran:

Filadelfia

Es mi ciudad

Filadelfia

Es mi casa

Filadelfia

Tiene la vida

Filadelfia

Tiene mi amigos.


Verso Uno:

Soy de Fila, soy de Fila,

El gente es loco.

Soy do Fila, soy de Fila

Porque es bueno.

La comida grasa,

El gente extraño,

Las casas lindas,

Y los carne rojo.

Yo no tengo más

No amigos

O lugares iré.

Pero no importante

El ciudad da abundancia

Todo ésa quiero.


Filadelfia

Es mi ciudad

Filadelfia

Es mi casa

Filadelfia

Tiene la vida

Filadelfia

Tiene mi amigos.


Verso Dos:

Cuando yo lluegué,

Tuve mi madre

Nadie más,  

Hasta no mi padre

El ciudad habló

Habló a mi

Dijo estuve tranquilo

Estuva libre

El diversión, la vida

Sólo comenzaré

Está Filadelfia,

Cuando pasar todo

Encontré amigos

Encontré amor

Encontré peligros

Encontré emocións

Encontré familia

Encontré mascota

Encontré una gata

Encontré una perra


Filadelfia

Es mi ciudad

Filadelfia

Es mi casa

Filadelfia

Tiene la vida

Filadelfia

Tiene mi amigos (x2)


  1. I'm just happy I managed to get this song done, especially having as long as it is. It could've been longer, I guess, but it could've been way shorter. I also love the music I have to go along with these lyrics.
  2. I am definitely expecting having to make some changes to the lyrics both grammar wise and flow wise. Some lines may have to many syllables to make the song sound natural. If that comes up, I'll have to find a way to make that line shorter.
  3. I chose to talk about why I love Philadelphia so much, mostly associated with the things it gave me that I didn't have in other states, at least not in this kind of quality.
  4. I made the music myself. I don't know what kind of genre it would fit under, but it's pretty slow compared to what I had originally planned. It's sort of melodic, combining piano with drums. I like what I got. 


Espanol song- danny wirt

vengo de America
vengo de filadelfia
vengo de un amor por jugar fútbol
vengo mis amigos y mi familia

vengo de la musica
vengo de la escula
vengo de la ciudad
ciudad de los libres

vengo de America
vengo de filadelfia
vengo de un amor por jugar fútbol
vengo mis amigos y mi familia

vengo de los amigos
me gusta mis amigos
vengo de los familia
me gusta me familia


i am proud that i did this on my own, even though it isnt great or it may seem like a lot of effort, but i didn't use a dictionary or google translate or anything. 

a few lyrics? 

i talked about who i am and what made me who i am 

i have no idea, since im not much of a singer probably like a rap-ish kind 

La Cancion Complete

¿De donde vengo yo?

Vengo de donde sonrisas, comida de la alma, y risa

Los árboles altos en el cielo tiene ramas brazos abiertos

Siempre buscando

Basta con buscar

El futuro y el pasado están en mi presente

 

No sé donde mis ancestros, pero yo entiendo mi familia presente

Ellos dijeron mis ancestros de África

Ellos son esclavos

No tuvieron una vida para ustedes

Supieron vida en los hijos de futuro

En una día brillante

El día es ahorita

 

Vengo de donde sonrisas, comida de la alma, y risa

Los árboles altos en el cielo tiene ramas brazos abiertos

Siempre buscando

Basta con buscar

El futuro y el pasado están en mi presente

 

Soy de los forestales pino de Nueva Jersey

Tiene muchas aventuras y misterios

Estoy perdido en la belleza los misterios, en la transparencia 

Yo sueño

Soy una árbol fuerte con ramas crece rápido

 

Vengo de donde sonrisas, comida de la alma, y risa

Los árboles altos en el cielo tiene ramas brazos abiertos

Siempre buscando

Basta con buscar

El futuro y el pasado están en mi presente


Reflection:

I am proud of myself for simply completing this song, because I initially saw it as a challenge.  I am also prod of my interpretation of answering the question. I think that I answered the question in a less physical way. Prior to recording this song, I think that I may need to find synonyms for some of the words so that they flow better. In my song I talk about how I don't know  much about my families history, but I know who they are now and the pieces of stories I've heard. I also talk about being from nature and my place in my world. My life began in the pine lands of New and what I experienced there lives on through me. I'm thinking about using a negro spiritual for music.



Mi cancion


Refrán
¿De dónde vengo yo?

¿De dónde vengo yo?

Vengo de el ciudad pequeño

Famosa comida y museos

Es gran... lugar... estar. 


Verso Uno

Soy de Filadelfia.

Vivo en Wynnfield

Es la zona bien

Es tranquilo y bonita

Las personas es amable.

Es gran lugar estar


¿De dónde vengo yo?

¿De dónde vengo yo?

Vengo de el ciudad pequeño

Famosa comida y museos

Es gran... lugar... estar. 


Verso Dos

Vengo de grande familia

Mi familia es especial para mi

Mucho talento y inteligente

Y mucho cariñosa


¿De dónde vengo yo?

¿De dónde vengo yo?

Vengo de el ciudad pequeño

Famosa comida y museos

Es gran... lugar... estar. 





I'm especially proud of being able to put this song together, and be able to get input from my peers about how to improve.
I may have to change the format of the words, if I have any problems with recording it.
I mainly spoke about the city, and my family. I think it represents who I come from, and where I live basically. 
I want fast music, but really something at a good pace that fits well to my lyrics. 

Mi cancion

Vengo de Filadelfia.
Yo viví en ese ciudad
todo mi vida.
Me encanta los luces,
sonidos y edificios altos.

Yo vengo de una ciudad.
historia, arte, y música
Mi corazón vive en ese ciudad.
Mi alma pertenece.

Yo vive en una ciudad
pinta una obra maestra
de personas muchas.
Expresa se mismo.
Aceptamos todos los personas.

Yo vengo de una ciudad.
historia, arte, y  música
Mi corazón vive en ese ciudad.
Mi alma pertenece.

I am especially proud of the fact that I actually finished the song without worrying too much about fitting it to music. I know I will have to, but I had to let go of the music aspect so I wouldn't get too paranoid about it.
I anticipate changing the way the lines are organized to make them fit the beat of the song and maybe changing a few words to make it flow better.
I mainly talked about how I felt about living in the city, I stuck to the more (and maybe upmost) positive things. I chose to talk about those things because I believe that in order to know where someone came from, you have to know how they felt living there in the first place. Also when you look at travel brochures you will never see anything about crime rate or litter, so I decided to keep negative things out.
I'm not sure what type of music I want. I think I might have to try out different genres and see what would be able to fit right with my lyrics.

Don't take walking for granted.

Taylor Thomas Silver.

 

It felt like a few seconds of sleep until my eyes crusted open. I looked around not knowing what was going on. I couldn’t remember how I got to where I was or what happened. The anesthesia still hadn’t worn off. I looked down, and saw a big purple cast on my foot. I started to remember what was going on. This was the beginning of a long cycle of surgeries. This was only one of four.

I was in fifth grade. My foot started to hurt when I walked on it. I told my parents and they just told me that I probably hurt it in gymnastics somehow. After a couple weeks of it hurting, they finally took me to get it checked out. It turned out that I had an extra bone in my foot. The medical term for it is a calcium deposit. When I first found out I was scared, I didn’t know how to take this information. I knew that I should have been sad or upset, even scared, but for some reason I was almost excited. I mean, I never had anything major in my life before, it was exciting to know what it felt like to have the attention.

I missed out on three summers, and three months of a school year because of having surgeries. It always bummed me out because I couldn’t go swimming with my friends or even take a walk with them in the summer sun. I could only sit in the house and watch movies, because I didn’t have the energy to get up. I felt dizzy just walking from the couch to the bathroom. I needed help every step of the way.

I remember when I found out that I was going to have my second surgery. I was with my dad in the doctor’s office. He told us that I had the same thing happen to my left foot that happened to my right foot. I was kind of disappointed because it meant I would have to miss out on another summer. When I got home my mom asked me what the doctor said, so I told her. She started to cry because she didn’t want me to have to go through it again. I told her that I didn’t mind it that much. I was stupid for saying that, because the last two surgeries I had were just terrible.

My cousin Bridgid came down the shore with me about two days after my third surgery. I had so much fun just sitting in the room with her. It was nice just to have someone with me instead of being trapped in the house all day. When I was with her, she could push me around in my wheelchair at the boardwalk. She did a lot for me that week too. I am so grateful for her. She would get me a water or soup if I needed it. She even made sure that I was comfortable before I fell asleep.

I could never walk by someone who has a disability, and they look like they are struggling. When I see someone in a wheelchair, or on crutches I always ask if they need any help with anything, because I have been there. I know what its like to not be able to do anything for your self. I know what it’s like to not even be able to take a shower with out help, or get dressed by your self. I can honestly say that there were a few times in my life when I was completely helpless, besides when I was a baby. I have been in that position in a store, where I could either chose to walk on my crutches or sit in the disabled motor scooter. I am very thankful to my doctors, my parents, and my friends who have helped me through my difficult times. The reason I always want to help people who are in wheelchairs or on crutches, is because I have been there. I know what its like. It sucks and there is nothing you can do about it. The only thing you can hope for is a little bit of help. That’s what I try to give it. 

Chelsea Ann Smith's Song



Refrán:
vengo de mi familia;
mi mama, mi papa, mis hermanos y
mi tia y bisabuelos
te amo, mucho te amo.


VERSE1:
Vengo la musica favorito
escuha Blink 182 todas las días
audifonos  en mi orejas
mi musica es muy fuerte
sin ninguna preocupación (without a care in the world)
estoy muy contenta porque musica,
mucho graicas musica, tu importante musica

vengo de mi familia;
mi mama, mi papa, mis hermanos y
mi tia y bisabuelos
te amo, mucho te amo.

VERSE2:
vengo Jesus Christ
leí la Biblia y fue iglesia
fue el servicios tres días in la semana
no asistia iglesia.
no sé porque.

vengo de mi familia;
mi mama, mi papa, mis hermanos y
mi tia y bisabuelos
te amo, mucho te amo.

VERSE3:
me amo fútbol
deportes por la escuela
dos la años con SLA.
Me gustan mis niñas

vengo de mi familia;
mi mama, mi papa, mis hermanos y
mi tia y bisabuelos
te amo, mucho te amo.
  • What are you especially proud of?
    I really like my refrán, i think it really works as a good part to repeat.

  • What do you anticipate having to change before recording your song?
    I don't think my second verse is very strong nor do I think it makes sense. I need to get some people to look over that for and with me. 

  • What did you talk about in your song?  Why did you choose to talk about those things in talking about where you come from?
    I talked about how my family made me and my love for them. Also how soccer is a huge thing in my life, Jesus made me who I am and shaped my life and also about how music has a huge impact on me.

  • What kind of music are you planning on setting your lyrics to?  
    I want something kind of fast, not really sure what to use though, I have to continue think on this now.


Cancion De Anastasia

​Vengo de un lugar tranquillo.

Una casa de amor.

Vengo de la musica

Y bailar.

 

Vengo de la familia de Smith.

Un nombe común

Pero con rasgos ünicos.

Vengo de donde los ladrillos son ponían

Alto suficiente a cubrian.

 

Vengo de un lugar tranquillo.

Una casa de amor.

Vengo de la musica

Y bailar.

 

Soy De Filadelfia.

Donde edificios brillantes suben.

y carros moscas.

Vengo de dónde todos vivan para sueños.

Pero todos no llegan los sueños.

 

Vengo de un lugar tranquillo.

Una casa de amor.

Vengo de la musica

Y bailar.

 


1.I am proud that I incorporated both things about me personally and also things about the city that I come from. 
2.I might have to use some simpler words so that they flow nicely with the beat I choose.
3.I tried to hit all the basics, stuff about me personally and also about Philly.
4.I think that I am going to take a beat from another song that i like.

Mi Cancion

Verso 1


De donde yo vengo

Hay mucho amor

Una gran familia

Todos mis amigos me conocen desde la infancia

No hay nunca un momento aburrido

Yo vengo de un lugar

Donde puedo ser libre

Deporte y fraternidad

Un pequeño país en el mapa

Pero este es un país donde la felicidad vidas.



Refrán


Vengo de donde hay las playas

Las granjas y el sol hermoso

gente amable y deliciosa comida.



Verso 2


Un lugar donde reina la libre

No Estados Unidos, sino que funciona de la misma

Mi casa para siempre

No es perfecto

El lugar para estar

Mi casa Jamaica.


Refrán


Vengo de donde hay las playas

Las granjas y el sol hermoso

gente amable y deliciosa comida.



Refrán


Vengo de donde hay las playas

Las granjas y el sol hermoso

gente amable y deliciosa comida.



Mi Reflexión



+ What are you especially proud of?

I am especially proud that I was able to use my class time wisely to work on my song. I am also proud that I was able to finish my song on time. I am also proud that I was able to address the question ¿De dónde vengo yo?


+
What do you anticipate having to change before recording your song?

I think that I might add another verse or I might make my existing verses a little longer. I also might adjust some of my lyrics so that the song sound better. There is so much I still want to say so I have to work on getting this into the song.


+ What did you talk about in your song? Why did you choose to talk about those things in talking about where you are from?

I talked about the geography of Jamaica, my friends, my family and all the good memories I have of my home country. I talked about these things because they helped to shape who I am today and they are a part of my culture, heritage and identity.

I think that I might add another verse or I might make my existing verses a little longer. I also might adjust some of my lyrics so that the song sound better. There is so much I still want to say so I have to work on getting this into the song.


+ What kind of music are you planning on setting your lyrics to?

I am planning on setting my lyrics to some medium paced lyrics. Not too fast by at the same time not too slow.