Certain events mark the beginning of maturity: Narrative essay

Dear Diary:


This is my first entry so this may be long and could be short. I really have no family, no friends and no one that really cares for me. I'm on my own; seems like I have been caged in some kind of place I have no control over, it's been like this for a while now. I'm the little girl you see sitting on the window sill, trying to look through the dirty glass to see some light but at the same time look with such hate towards the world asking, "Why?" I was born into a family that is pretty wealthy, loving, and popular, but somehow I was not included. Your pages I use to poor my tears, heart and soul and occasionally catching drops from my nose are the only things I have that will let me do so. You don't judge me. You are there, forever and always.

1 page finished, 2 pages finished, 3 pages finished and so on and so forth. I can't stop. The wave of words spirals from within me and on to you, like skittles falling from the big beautiful blue sky. My struggles are becoming harder and harder each and every passing day. Dawn strikes then dust falls. Dawn strikes, dust falls again and again, over and over. Nothing grateful happens between dust and dawn, I drowned myself in my own dreams: to have love, to have a love, to be loved and to give love, but most of all I just want someone there for me. Feels like I'm the only one that gets punished for not knowing what to do. I bring you every where and I am grateful I do not hear you tell me, "no!" Right now, you are the one and only thing that I look forward too, that makes me think I have a purpose in life. As I become older I understand a whole lot more then others seem to think, thinking I don't know anything nor feel any type of emotion. But I can't help that I'm quite, shy and bruised in the heart. It is hard to open up to people you know don't love you. I'm beginning to think I'm some worthless yet tasteless piece of gum, just there to be chewed then spat right out on to the ground.

4 pages finished, 5 pages finished, 6 pages finish and so on and so forth. I look in the mirror every day hoping to see some kind of change: a real smile, a nice glow to my hair, a sparkle in my eyes? But looking at "that" makes me cry inside and thinking, "I'm nobody and have no purpose here on earth." Everyday I look out that dirty window wishing someone will clean it for me, so I can see outside of this mess. I want to be embraced and caressed with the loving hands my Mother and Father like new born babies when they are first introduced into the world. I want to be part of the family circle. I wish upon a start every night hoping that maybe someday I can get a hug or some kind of close contact. My fragile existence dissipates like tasty cotton candy on my tongue. But that all started to change when my "sister" (she is someone whom I'm really close to and haven't seen in such a long time) came to visit. It's been about three years since I've seen her. She is someone that I can look up to as a Father, Mother and Sister.


7 pages finished, 8 pages finished, 9 pages finished and so on and so forth. My "Sister" is someone that I look up to for help, like I should with my Mother and Father. Her name is Jen. Each and every second I spent with her, I would grow on every aspect that I needed: love, intelligent, beauty, confidence, what I believed in and most importantly, maturity. She never came out saying, "you are immature" or "that is not the immature way to do it." I was so use to the fact of stepping back and letting things get to me instead of fighting for what I needed or wanted. She taught me how to fix that. She mended that once bruised heart into something that I never knew I could have; a happy, healthy heart. I was always mad at the world for things I didn't have; my family. But there are so many more families in this world that are in far more need of help than I was. Some don't even have family, a home, friends or even someone to look up to for help. I at least had most of those. I never once thought about someone elses needs besides my own. Throughout this journey, I am now able to look out a clean window for the first time to see the outside world. Not only from my Sisters help but mine by realizing there are people that need more help but nobody can hear their cry of terror, fright and somber. I finally know what it is like to feel there pain and had an epiphany that can change my life. I can now move forward and take what I have learned and help others see what I saw.

--P.s
Now that I have broken the wall that I had build, I now have established a relationship that sparked out of now where with my family. We are learning, together, to help eachother and include everyone in everything!


THE END.

How can I say this nicely, Mr. Kleats?????

Peter Chow

127 Lilly lane
Snowville, British Columbia
Canada IAm CND

Mr. Kleats
Central High School
123 Main Street, Sports town,
British Columbia, V2A 1W3.



Dear Mr. Kleats:

My name is Peter Chow and my daughter, Chelsea Chow, is currently a team leader on a Volleyball team you coach. I do greatly appreciate your dedication and willingness to coaching girls Volleyball, they do need someone who has the skills as well as patiance. I would also like to point out a few of my concerns in regards to my daughter's athletic practices.

I try to attend Chelsea's practices and games on a regular basis, but find that they could be more organized. I would suggest more communication between you and the team to get a better understanding on what your expectations from the team are and what they need from you. Volleyball is something that Chelsea is passionate about, but gets a bit discouraged by not hearing enough encouragement for her to try her best, instead of focusing on the winnings.

After watching last Tuesday, Wednesday and Fridays game, I have noticed there are times when you are running a bit late. The girls seem to be a bit confuse as to why the most important person, you, is not present. Perhaps practices and games could be arranged to a different time? Making a more flexible schedule/time that will be more convenient for you. I would also like to suggest having an assistants helping hand with warm-ups until you are able to take over.

Chelsea loves and adores playing volleyball and attending all practices but often, she and other players, become embedded to the bench and would like to get more involved. Timing who is on the court would help keep better track of the children's playing time, and make it a bit easier on you, so that nobody is forgotten, also, to keep it fair.

Seemingly, I can relate to some of the difficulties you may face coaching the girl's Volleyball game/practices and understand it can be hard trying to get a group of hyper girls to simmer down their silly conversations and concentrate on the task at hand, the big game. I suggest talking to the girls in a calm yet serious manner rather than yelling profusely and or using profane language.

I would like to congradulate you on the success you have had coaching the girl's Volleyball team. My daughter, Chelsea, has won a few metals and is now is the team leader. I thank you for the time and effort you put into teaching the girls every practice. By you reading this, I hope that you are able to take my suggestions and put them towards making a stronger team. Thank you for taking the time to read my concerns. Hope to hear from you soon. Take care, Mr. Kleats.


Sincerly,


Peter Chow

A mans method of cooking a Turkey -Dave.

The short story Dave Cooks the Turkey, by Stuart McLean's, describes many different types of humorous acts when Dave's wife gives him a task to cook a turkey for Christmas dinner. For example: situational comedy, situations we can relate to, and creative humorous, description. Situations that we can relate to are when most men are given a task like, "cooking a turkey". They often don't think of what it all involves. They just know that they have to take care of something that was told of them. "...looking after the turkey" meant going out, buy it, prep and then cook it. When the epiphany occurred that he had to do more than cook, at the last minute , he went out to frantically find a turkey. After locating a turkey, he could not figure out how to use the oven and shortly after got frustrated, "looking at the turkey. It was propped on a kitchen chair like a naked baby," then says, "come on, Butch." "[His] Turkey looked like it have a break from the slaughter house and dragged itself a block or two before it was captured and beaten to death." What kind of man would "[uses] an electric blanket and a hair dryer" to thaw a turkey?

Certain events mark the begining of maturity: Expository- liturature

What is maturity? How old do you have to be when you get it? Is it a good thing? Is it a bad thing? How do I know if I'm mature? Will I be able to do a lot more in life? Will people like me more? Will I be smarter? There is so many different types of maturity whether it be emotionally, mentally, physically, and to be independent? Maturity can hit during age group from childhood, teens, adult or maybe older. There is always room for more maturity, no matter how old you are. There is always room for more.



The book "Tuesdays with Morrie", by Mitch Albom, describes the relationships between society in which our decisions from the pass can be a reflection in the future, "the guidance an old man [Morrie] gives to a young man [Mitch]", chasing the dreams you really want and that anybody can have an influence on someone no matter the age. Seemingly everybody is suppose to be the same, we chase dreams, make friends, make money, get married, have kids, get divorced, and die, but really we are all different in how we choose to achieve those things. This book points out a lot of things that we may not realize. Mitch is a work-aholic who likes to make money and can be "immature" in the ways he deals with things where Morrie, who is in contrast to that, is more laid back and a very happy individual, he too can be "immature" at times. I mean can't anybody?

Mitch is a student, in Morrie's class, that just likes to keep to himself. Not talking about much to nobody. He is a student that tries to do his best but also very shy, making it hard for himself to open up. When Morrie taught his course, which he taught what ever he really wanted (all was useful information about life), Mitch was interested, slightly. As time passed, he grew, got wiser and more mature. Or so he thought. After graduation Mitch moved on to something that he (thought he would have) loved to do. He was a column writer for athletes. Mitch loved his job because he made a lot of money doing just that. Money was all he could think about. The cash flow was the blind fold preventing him to actually realize or seeing why he was in this job. Most people like the fact of having more and more money...but at what cost? The happiness? Mitch didn't always know what to do, he had bigger plans to actually become something; whatever else he wanted to do could have made him a happier/better person and not just following what he thought was right, but what he really felt. The immature ways of this situation is not thinking for yourself. Not creating a happy environment to be surrounded in and being more confidence and more mature. The one night Mitch had the T.V on to the "Nightime" show and was carelessly watching and herd the name, "Morrie". After about sixteen years he finally herd that name and looked. It was the Professor. The Coach. The old man. Mitch and Morrie soon reunite and create an unbreakable bond. Like father like son. Something that can't be broken easily. They matured into two different people by the help of one another. Life is something that we should love and not ever regret. The time that we put into our lives is what mends into mature people we want to be seen as or become. The more Mitch saw Morrie "suffer" made him a bigger, better, brighter and more mature individual. Also by watching Morrie slowly die, right in front of his very eyes changed his perspective on how he viewed things before.

Maturity is not something that can just come within the "snap of a finger". It takes work, like most things in life. There are many ways to achieve that "mature" image. Something important to you like: helping others (besides yourself), learning something new, a tragedy (loved one passing, "failing" at something you have attempted), those things can be the first step to a more mature person because there is nothing that you can't learn from. But with some individuals maturity can come faster. If a family member passes, they may get the feeling like they have to take on more responsibilities or even play the role of someone else along with themselves. Plus juggling there own responsibilities and duties.