Write some aspect of your autobiography, in the way that Sandra Cisneros does in the “House on Mango Street” excerpt. Write as much as you can, for as long as you can, with as much detail as you can.
The catch here is that you need to post it ANONYMOUSLY or PSEUDONYMOUSLY.
In other words, if you don’t want to tell us who you are, submit it with “ANONYMOUS” as your name. But if you want us to GUESS who you are, write a made up name.
Post it when you’re done. We won’t have time to look at it today, but we’ll try guessing who wrote what tomorrow after we do the Daily Blog Post.
Now GO WRITE!
wrightlevelup2015 
My two things that are the most important to me in my life:
I have always been drawn to movement, dance and music. I participated in a variety of After School Matters Programs in Chicago. I have learned new way to express my thoughts and see how others express their ideas feelings and emotions through different performing arts and cultural avenues. I participated in the “After School Matters Program,” called Kuumba Lynx last summer.
“Peace, Love, Honor, Respect, Vas, Emor, Respecto, Aashay, Aashay, is Kuumba Lynx’s motto to help ourselves and to help our community so we may grow!” Vas means vocal, Emor means speak, Respecto means respect, and Aashay means creativity, These different words came from Latin and African culture. The instructors fostered peace, love, honor, and respect in our group we often chanted these words before we began our activities. The principles: Love, Honor, Respect, Aashay, reshaped me into awareness of a larger unity through dancing, poetry, graffiti, and discussions. Although I was drawn to the dance and music aspect of the program, I was mostly impacted by the discussions surrounding the cultural and social history of the arts.
The high school sport I enjoyed the most out of the four years I have been there.
The experiences of going to state the last two seasons for cross country, taught me a few important life lessons. The first time going to state during the 2013 cross country season, as you all may know that year we made it to state as a team. It had been 35 years since went to State . Our teams individual gains were shared as a whole and if we didn’t hit our personal records there was no “dissing.” The second time going to state, I made it there as an individual. I was happy that I made it for my last year of cross country, but it would have been better to go to state as team again. This experience showed me sharing some experience with someone is better than having experience at all.
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that is so awesome cause i love asm and to dance
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Being raised in a big city it was very hard for me when my grandparents moved to the country. Since I came from a single family home I had to spend my summers with my grandparents. What a difference it was. In the city I had my friends from school, my own room and most of all my mom. I was very close with my Grandma and my mom, so this really pulled on my heart to have to leave one for the other. When going to Grandmas house there were no children around so I had to invent things to do. So I got in my Grandmas way a lot. I did however love the garden. All the fresh vegetables I could eat. I especially love all the tomatoes. Ate them till I was sick. Thank God I had a bike. I use to go where I wanted when I wanted. My Grandma was more willing to let me do things than my mom. Which sometimes I must admit I abused it. Being her baby was kind of nice. I can still remember the first time I seen my grandma kill a chicken. Twisting its head off. Pretty gross. So some things country folks do I just don’t understand. But after a whole summer away I was ready to go home. Back to mom and my concrete city. Yes two different worlds. So much apart. Not saying I loved either more than the other, but I loved the women I got to spend my time with. I look back at all the memories and sometimes I smile, and sometimes I feel the warm tear running down my cheek, because I miss them so much.
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Definitely related, grew up living with my grandma
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Back in 2003 I went to my first family reunion on my dad side. It was me, my little sister destiny and my parents. We went all the way to Arkansas, which was a 10 hour ride from Chicago. We stead at a hotel reserved by some of our kin. They had activities and special events for the family reunion like going to a carnival, game room, six-flags and so on. Even though it was my family, it was still my first time meeting them and I stead close to my parents. After the family reunion was over I started to know a lot of my kin and when we went back in 2004 i wasn’t nervous no more like last year. I reacted with the rest of my cousins in my age group or a little older than me, but around the same age. Now i am very comfortable we my family in other cities.
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Undergoing change is the most scariest thing that I have been faced with. Moving from a location of where I grew up and made so many memories to a new destination is pretty scary. The thought of making new friends, going to a new a new school, etc. All made my heart pound even harder. Eventually I got adjusted and everything went smoothly. I became a brand new person, a person who I never thought I will end up becoming. Looking back from this quiet and shy little girl who would always hide behind her Dad for protection eventually turned into a reserved, sometimes social butterfly. I finally realized change is good, change brings success but it all depends on you to put in the effort to make it happen.
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thumbs up
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as I traveled to Florida I began to think that I was going to have a boring time and it turned out to be boring because I did not learn anything new I knew that it was a nice place because there was lots different activities to do. Also as long as I was able to be distracted that’s all that matters.
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i really think you should go back so you can fun and learn something
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When we came from mexico my parents use to work in factory when they got here to Chicago, my mom and dad finish high school but never when to college. my dad started as a truck driver in a factory and my mom making samples for lows and home-depot. my mom use to win $6.20 an hour but as and my dad $10 an hour as time when by my mom would get a raise and got a new position at work. and my dad would change factory’s but still as a truck driver. we used to live next to Loyola university, we had to leave because the top floor was burning. after 2 years my dad quit his job and when to look for a job and he ended up working as a driver at domino’s pizza. after 1 year of my dad working their my sister was a junior in high school and started working at domino’s pizza.
i would always go on delivery with my dad because he would drive fast and it was pretty fun, few years later i was a senior also in high school my sister was in college. my dad had 7 years working in domino’s pizza was already a assistant manager. the old manager that was their offer me a job i took his offer. so i started off as a csr witch means an insider, taking orders, cutting pizzas and making pizzas. after a year that i was working their my dad had made enough money to buy domino’s pizza off the owner, the owner talked to my dad and now
we own the domino’s pizza at Pulaski and foster, we basically achieved my dads when he came from mexico to Chicago didn’t had nothing now we. we struggle had are ups and downs after 15 years.
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Is this the Domino’s next to ALDI? I buy from there! Nice story and like how your family didn’t give up and got into a steady life
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I like this one
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I like and I agree that it means a lot that your dad didn’t give up
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One day I went to school and I didn’t expect things to change for me in school after that day but they did whether they were for the better or for worse but they did.
When I went to school that day I went all my classes and it was a regular day I have lunch went out to play in the play ground and ended my day by going to the afterschool program with my little brother and that’s how it started. Now I never expected my little brother to get picked on cause at time he was the tallest kid in the school even though he was only in the 4th grade but apparently he was by a kid who was short and pudgy but was a bully now I had never had problems with this kid and we were friends but I had no idea that he had been picking on my brother for quiet a while now. So that day when we went to the after school program and we were separated into age groups like we always were and we went outside to the playground now I really didn’t play on the playground I more sat around with my friends or played soccer, that day I decided to hang out with my friends and the other councilors. I would always keep an eye on my little brother even though I knew he could take care of himself I had to cause I was the older brother…. you know how that goes or maybe you don’t, but I did and I knew I had to protect him no matter. That’s besides the point well not really but we’re getting off track… so I was watching him that day and I noticed these two kids were messing with him and I didn’t pay any attention to it cause I saw him pushing back. I was watching them and all of a sudden they tripped him and wouldn’t let him get off the ground. So I as the big brother ran over I had intended to push them both but I had rolled over the bully who was more pudgy and broke my wrist and my bone and popped out of my skin.
After this happened the bully was taken out of the afterschool program and he kept away from me and my brother. I also got the pity vote for the president of the student council at the time. I also was seen as a hero by my teachers for protecting my brother even though I didn’t intend for this to happen it did. I kinda like the feeling but things started to change when I started relaxing in school because of this and started slacking in my class. I also wasn’t allowed to go on the end of the year school trip that I wanted to do because I had a cast and it was too dangerous.
In conclusion the experience taught me that people look and treat you differently for the things that you do. I couldn’t believe how much one thing that was only regarding me my brother and a bully changed a lot in my school and even though I got stuff I also ended up losing things because of it aswell.
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I like this one, I can connect to.
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I’ve always lived on Sawyer street but before that I lived on 4 previous buildings. The first one which was quite few years ago it was big place where it was me, my sister, my brother, new born baby brother, my mom, and dad. I only shared the room with my sister, but we had to move because the owner didn’t want to fix the heat. It would get really cold and we would always complain about it but he never did anything, and plus that building was old.
Then I moved to sawyer street it was a smaller building where I had to share rooms with my sister and brother and it was not so good. After a year me and my parents, and my little brother moved to Mexico for 2 years.
After those 2 years we moved back to Chicago on Monticello street with my sister, brother, uncle, and aunt. After living there for maybe around a year my family wanted to move because we didn’t want to share the apartment with my uncle and aunt anymore. We moved to this house on sawyer street where we been living for a few years now and to this date now we are planning on moving again because we don’t fit anymore since my sister had a baby we need more space we need an apartment that would at least have 4 rooms. My parents were thinking about buying a house instead, but after thinking about it they decided not to because it is to much money and a lot of problems when trying to buy a house. Me and my sister have been trying to convince them into buying a house but so far it hasn’t worked quite well. Now all that is left is just try to look for another house to live in or just stay there where we don’t fit.
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thumbs up, definitely felt emotion put into this explain your life situation. I’m sorry you have to go through that, have you told them that if they get a bigger apartment with more rooms it is just as much as mortgage for a crib… have them look for actual houses for rent, at least you’ll have a lease instead of a mortgage.
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i know how that feels . you got this !!!!!
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I chose this because it sounds very similar to the author of ” The House on Mango Street”. I love your way of writing. It is interesting and engages the reader to read more. Keep up the great wok.
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As a kid grew up in a tropical country in the south and moved here in the west, that’s quite a daunting task. There are a number of problems that I am currently facing. The main problem here is language barrier, that’s the problem. I wish I moved here earlier just so I can adapt and settle well enough. If only I was able to speak just like how I write, then it would be perfect. That is what I am aiming for , for the time being. Next, it is the weather. ‘Winter’ that’s the nightmare but lucky enough I do not have to live with an average of 95F or even worse over 100F where I come from anymore. Then, it is my self confidence. Will I do good in college ? No one knows, I will have to do my best, that’s the only thing I can do anyways. Finally, my future. I have always been thinking about my future and that bothers me a lot, it really does impact my ability to concentrate on what I am doing. About me it is quite obvious who I am when I mentioned I am from a different country.
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Thumbs up
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always do what you want to do so you can a the life you want to have .
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I used to live in a narrow apartment complex on winona near foster and Lincoln. It wasn’t the greatest place to grow up for the first quarter of my life. Gun shots rung at night, floor boards creaking as the house settled from not a soul awake in the empty night. As some years went on, my mom had thought it’d be a great idea to move in with our grandparents. At first it was a smooth sailing ride, and then they started to hate it. Constant badger, constant bother of my grandparents from being tech-illiterate and not know how to change batteries or some tasks that we had to do every time they could not solve their own problem… My father enraged, we go house hunting. We find a house down the block now from my grandparents on Berwyn ave near Harlem and foster. Okay, enough about my moves around the city and a little about me, I am Chinese & Mexican, and I am 23years of age. I grew up with a brother but then god blessed my mom with another boy in 2004.. Life moved on quite fast, before I knew it, my little brother was up to my chest and life has taken the biggest toll on my family and especially myself.. I wouldn’t say we had a good life nor would I say it was treacherous, but it was an average one. Full of changing moments, full of knowledge and experience from friends that have come and gone and from the ones whom chose to stay, along with family too.
I don’t want to say I’ve been through hell and back because basically everyone has been. Maybe for some it is still hell or they went back again (such as I have I feel), but definitely from the things I’ve been through I can say I have gladly grown physically and especially mentally. Alright, alright, back to my life and boring houses. So now, as we moved into this house on Berwyn with a pretty decently sized backyard and a two car garage. My parents told us of some expectations and of course, they all didn’t come true but hey, the house was pretty nice otherwise. A year of being in the house we bought a puppy to complete the little family we have. We bought a chocolate Labrador retriever, and named her Reese cup just like the candy (no judgement please). Well I am running out of things to say, uhhh I have quite an extravagant way of thinking, about life, the universe, government, and other subjects.. Oh! I also lived in a shaolin temple with the monks and ninja warriors.. THE END, hey yessss this class is over.
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I chose this because it sounds very similar to the author of ” The House on Mango Street”. I love your way of writing. It is interesting and engages the reader to read more. Keep up the great wok.
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Thank you, thank you, i try.
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I’m nervous, also I’m cold, it’s raining outside, and I forgot my umbrella again. My mother is sick and this morning she out slept my alarm. I didn’t want to worry her, and I figured I’d spend my last days on earth in hell. School was never hell, however, today, somebody was going to raise it. I wait patiently as the yellow bus rounds the corner, Latrell approaches me and states the obvious. I board the bus, the driver, seeming careless, that the world was going to end today. The year is 2013, the news from yesterday, was that somehow everything would be over, to top it all off, death was going to wait for me at the door.
I sit in the corner by myself, Latrell talking to Bailey in the seat across from me. I turn up my playlist, and listen to the most depressing of tunes, I could possibly think of. I tried to reassure myself, several times, that this was not going to happen, and if it did, to prepare myself for the brutality that would eventually ensue. When the bus finally pulled to a stop at entrance three, my friends and I dashed through the rain. The voices from the halls, rushed to our ears from inside, as the voices from outside dissipated. My throat and lips were dry, as my friends and I searched the halls for death. If the killer didn’t get us, then the world eventually would. We reached our lockers, and grabbed our books, we ran off to class as the late bells rang deftly in our ears. I remember looking left and right for the face of the killer, it could be anyone, at any corner, ready to pounce, and drain the life out me.
When I got to class the teacher’s mocked us for our bravery, then mocked themselves, the world was ending, and yet here we were, waiting for death to arrive, and deliver the blow. I remember what it felt like going through the rest of the day, lessons were cancelled, due to the fact that half of the school’s population was gone. In each and every class all discussions were either, about winter break, the end of the world, or the event that was to take place. By the end of the day, the sun had shown itself, I boarded the bus, as it drove me back home, I could only think of what could have been. Once I walked past that green door, on Cape Cod Lane, the television was on mute, and I could hear my mother’s ragged breathing.
She called my name, “Lizzy? That you?”
“Yes mom, I’m home.” I answered.
“Why did you go?” She asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I heard about the shooting that was going to happen today,” said her raspy voice, “Why did you go?”
“I-”
“Why would you go, if you knew what was going to happen?” she began, “Why would you not tell me?”
I froze.
“I didn’t want to worry you.” I stated.
“Did you think I wasn’t going to find out?” She croaked.
I began to feel guilty.
“Liz, your father is very angry with you, you could have-”
“Died?” I interrupted.
“Yes, that was a very stupid decision, please never do it again,” She coughed, “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.
As I went up the stairs, tears in my eyes, as I stopped midway and stared at the wall.
“I did it because I knew it wouldn’t happen,” I paused, “And even if it had, at least I would have known what it felt like to live a little.
She was silent.
I went downstairs to check on her, only to realize that she had fallen asleep.
I draped the green fleece blanket over her, and kissed her forehead.
I then went back upstairs into my room, feeling grateful once more that I had lived.
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interesting, interesting, i like. it’s very detailed, you snapped
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I like this one
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So apparently, there’s another day we are all suppose to die. September 27-28, 2015.
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In the last 10 years ago my family and I made the first change of house and place.
My first change of place and home was a challenge, new school, new people, a different place to which I was accustomed.
My mother was not working, my mom took care only of my and my brothers and my dad was devoted to work.
Stop seeing my mother throughout the day was a change, and after two years my family decided to make a change of place and home again, we moved from one village to a city and things changed again, my mom got a different job and I enter a different school, not always been easy for me, not only at school but also with my family, but with the support of my family everything was different and much better.
I have always spent a lot of time with my sister and we are always together everywhere, I remember the things I did when I was little and I want to re-live them.
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It all started when I was 13 years old, my mother my two sisters and my nephew had to move us from my house.
The new place was a bigger town, my mother decided to move to the town because there were more opportunities to study and yet she could have a better paying job, but I was not happy because I left my friends, family and neighbors on the other town who lived before.
I take a long time to get used to the new lifestyle they had to live in the new larger town but I did.
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well that is why you are here to to make sure you get a better job.
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I didn’t always have her as a mom. Before I had my current mother, I had another. Should I just say I just have two mothers? It’s a difficult thing to explain. Especially, considering that I want to respect both. But, you know, it’s not that easy.
Here’s the story. My mother, the real one, was not what would be considered a “fit” mother. She was gone most of my life. Not even counting the times that has passed since she really has been gone. When I was born, she was in prison. I did not get to have that attachment to her. I was passed to another woman who is still not the woman I will refer to as my mother. I went to someone else after that. And, well, her, that is my mother.
Everyone is supposed to eventually be released from prison right? My mom got out. You know the one that gave birth to me? But, still- troubles occurred. I was a toddler and lived the life of a grown up. I cooked for myself. Nothing major. Food that could be heated in microwave. If I didn’t do that, I wouldn’t eat. That’s what happens when both your parents are on drugs. I was their cover up. Nobody suspects two adults with a baby girl to be bad people.
What about the other mom? She was still in the picture. Not as much because my other mom still wanted to be a mom. I spent weekdays with my real mom. Weekends with the mom that I knew. The turnaround, was March 6,2004. My birth mother dropped me off. It was a weekend. A routine. But it became permanent. My mother, the real one, passed away. March 7,2004.
Breaking the news to a 5 year old who hated going back to where her real home was supposed to be unbelievable. I wasn’t sad. I finally got what I wanted. What I deserve. A family.
Now, yes. I feel bad. I wish I knew my real mother more. I still have these fantasies about how my life would’ve been. A part of me is gone. I can’t ever get those questions answered. But, my life now is well what most will say a good life.
I have a great mother who wakes me up to breakfast every morning. Who takes me to school, helps me with homework and just is someone who will never put me in danger. I have a father. Who works very very hard. Who is never late on a bill and is the most reliable and consistent man that I have came across. I have brothers and a sister. All older than me. They are people who look out for me in every way that they can. I have a house. One that’s paid for. One that has 3 bathrooms just like the girl in The House on Mango Street wanted.
Don’t think my life is perfect now. I still have what I don’t really have. I still have a real family who I don’t know much about. Maybe, when I get closer to them, I will be closer to myself. Because, they are a part of me. My DNA is found somewhere else. However, one thing that I have learned is that you don’t have to be blood to be a family.
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I really like this one its heart felt and it makes me sad and happy and not want to think what life would be like with out my mom
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Beautiful
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I managed to start remembering the old days back in Mexico, where I was a few months ago, like when we remember our first kiss in that specific place with your first girlfriend, like when you remember the best restaurant where you ordered an exquisite dish and you wouldn’t get tired of eating it over and over again. As I pronounce the word “Mexico”, I’m referring to the most beloved piece of land on earth, where you can roam freely from state to state, where you cannot be worried if there’s going to be someone around the corner whose kindness would be noticeable in any aspect of him/her, where you’ll have the most delicious dish around the world.
Sadly, my family can’t cross the border legally, they’re undocumented, limited, as a result, the whole family is ununited.
As days pass by, I feel like my major thoughts are always about them: Mama, papa, my sister Itzayana (the tall one) and me. And as for me, I would believe that I’m a fortunate guy for having a family who has confidence with me, love, whose always there for me, and many other characteristics that a perfect family can have, because I consider my family perfect, indeed.
Now I live inside this odd environment comparing it with Mexico; Family would rather have a significant better life, (considering the economic aspect) a better environment with less delinquency of course, better schools, etc.
But I still believe in the moment I will return to where everything was peace, love, colorful, and joyful.
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Well I love to dance, sing , acting and in my life I just love to meet people and try to make friends anywhere I go. I had to move around lot so it’s hard to make friends. But I will try to do my best to make friends everywhere I go.i love to read and do math for fun. I love to travel and see new places and learn new things everywhere I go. The only sport I play is softball , any there not that much.
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like
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I like this one too.
I connect to this because I like those things as well. I like to sing, act, dance.
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LIKE
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I didn’t always have her as a mom. Before I had my current mother, I had another. Should I just say I have two mothers? It’s a difficult thing to explain. Especially considering that I want to respect both. But you know, it’s not that easy.
Here’s the story. My mother, the real one, was not what would be considered a “fit” mother. She was gone most of my life. Not even counting the time that has passed since she really has been gone. When I was born, she was in prison. I did not get to have that attachment to her. I was passed to another woman who is still not the woman I will refer to as my mother. I went to someone else after that. And, well, her, that is my mother.
Everyone is supposed to eventually be released from prison right? My mom got out. You know the one that gave birth to me? But still, troubles occurred. I was a toddler and lived the life of a grown up. I cooked for myself. Nothing major. Food that could be heated in a microwave. If I didn’t do that, I wouldn’t eat. That’s what happens when both your parents are on drugs. I was their cover up. Nobody suspects two adults with a baby girl to be bad people.
What about the other mom? She was still in the picture. Not as much because my other mom still wanted to be a mom. I spent weekdays with my real mom. Weekends with the mom that I knew. The turnaround, was March 6,2004. My birth mother dropped me off. It was a weekend. A routine. But it became permanent. My mother, the real one, passed away. March 7,2004.
Breaking the news to a 5 year old who hated going back to where her real home was supposed to be unbelievable. I wasn’t sad. I finally got what I wanted. What I deserve. A family.
Now, yes, I feel bad. I wish I knew my real mother more. I still have these fantasies about how my life would’ve been. A part of me is gone. I can’t ever get those questions answered. But, my life now is well, what most would say a good life.
I have a great mother who wakes me up to breakfast every morning. Who takes me to school, helps me with homework and just is someone who will never put me in danger. I have a father. Who works very very hard. Who is never late on a bill and is the most reliable and consistent man that I have come across. I have brothers and a sister. All older than me. They are people who look out for me in every way that they can. I have a house. One that’s paid for. One that has 3 bathrooms just like the girl in The House on Mango Street wanted.
Don’t think my life is perfect now. I still have what I don’t really have. I still have a real family who I don’t know much about. Maybe, when I get closer to them, I will be closer to myself. Because, they are a part of me. My DNA is found somewhere else. However, one thing that I have learned is that you don’t have to be blood to be a family.
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;'( i like this, it kept me interested..
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Growing up in Chicago, Logan Square and being use to the city life style, with many people, cars, buildings, and that unforgettable traffic rush hours. This would all change for me when my mother told me that we would be moving to the suburbs. I was in shock, I didn’t know how to feel or what will happen next. I knew that I would lose my current friends I have and I would move away from my other relatives. Moving day came I was as depressed as a small kid who drops there ice cream on the floor.
Something told me that my life would be miserable, granted that I am only in the third grade, but still, the thought of leaving my home is the scariest thing. I remembered when I was just about to leave, I remember that my uncle took my scooter out and told me ride it before I left. This gave me a cringe because I knew I was going to say goodbye so I bawled my eyes out. I thought this was the end for me and this made me cringe.
When I arrived, I saw nothing but plains and grass fields, nothing but open wide area this was all so new to that I thought I was in a foreign country because all I knew was Chicago. I then entered my new home although it was a beautiful house it still didn’t fill me up on the warm comfortable feeling of “home”. I had to adapt to all of this, but it was just so difficult for me to take in.
I then had to attend the elementary school closest to me. That being said I was also overweight so it killed my self esteem tremendously. This was real challenge for me being new, from the city, and being overweight made it hard for me to speak out and me make new friends. What was “cool” in Chicago wasn’t cool in Plainfield, so the kids always looked at me always so puzzled, so I even had to change the way I acted just to fit in.
I soon adapted to the changes yes, but it still didn’t satisfy me with the feeling of home like it did in Chicago. I grew accustomed and found out that it wasn’t so bad being here. Sometimes you may not like change but here and there it is always good thing or a bad thing but if you are happy then a place shouldn’t matter or define who you are.
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I LIKE THIS
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