Prompt: Indicate a person who has had a significant influence on you, and describe that influence.
Essay:
One single person has had an absolutely permanent fixture throughout my life. My mother, Cyndi. I have met a significantly greater number of people in my short lifetime than the average seventeen year-old. Each had their own strengths and weaknesses. My mom is no different. Let me be clear when I say I would not consider my mom to be my hero. The term "hero", to me, implies a certain natural ability beyond the normal scope of human talents to complete the challenge or challenges set forth to them. My mom certainly does not and did not have any natural abilities to complete or deal with the challenges life presented her with. She had only her talents as a writer and determination. She is only human and this has made her influence on me and my life all the more powerful.
The first place I ever lived was in a small one bedroom apartment in the Chelsea Hotel which is in downtown Manhattan. The entire building had a general atmosphere of "funk" due to it's transient inhabitants of artists and semi-permanent residents. The "cleaning ladies" and our neighbors became part of my family. Just next door was the African-American artist Herbert Gentry and his wife Mary Anne Rose. Herb and Mary Anne were like family to me in every way but blood. When Herb died he left me a small globe I used to play with when I visited. I keep it at my desk to this day where it reminds me of a simpler time when I was carefree and my mom bore the weight of all our worries. The hallways of the Chelsea were massive or at least seemed that way to a 2 year old. They had broad curves at regular intervals on the ceiling and the walls were covered in the art of the residents. These ranged from relatively clean cut concepts to the wildly abstract. The hallways made many other places look boring. Our apartment was essentially a long corridor with high ceilings. It started against the wall to the hallway with the bathroom. This was technically the only other room in the apartment. Then as we progress outward from the hallway we get to the kitchen. About three feet away from the bathroom door is the hot plate and refrigerator. Immediately after that is the queen sized bed. I knew my parents fought and yelled at each other but eventually they always seemed to calm down and be fine. As it turns out I was wrong. After my parents became divorced and my dad returned to the Netherlands my mom and I were essentially broke. I soon had my first encounter with economics. I realized something was wrong when we had to make a trip down to the landlords office. His name was Stanley. I didn't know exactly what he did but I knew he was important. His office was always dark and had massive dark stained oak doors. This was the only place in the entire building I was afraid to go. From what I could tell Stanley wanted more money and we didn't have any. This began my education on greed.
We could no longer afford to pay rent and eventually my mom used what little money we had to move us to Santa Monica. I had no idea where we were going but I knew it had something to do with not seeing my dad for what seemed like an abnormally long time. This is where we began our transient period. When we arrived we stayed with my moms friend for a while. My mom looked for work and continued her writing. This was easily one of the most difficult times in our lives although I was not aware of it. My mom had used up a significant portion of her money getting us and our belongings to the west coast. In fact essentially all of it was gone. We survived only on food stamps and social services. We spent the following year just barely getting by. I remember sometimes my mom would ask "Hey, maybe we'll go camping tonight! How would you like that?" the first time she suggested this it took me by surprise but it still sounded like fun. I only understood later that we might have to go "camping" because we might not have a place to stay the night. In the morning before school I'd eat half of a bagel for breakfast and then have the other half after school to hold me over until dinner because that was all we could afford. Despite all of this my mom did not allow me to think even for a second that our situation was as dire as it actually was. She always managed to distract me with activities like reading to me every night. I knew we didn't have tons of money but I certainly wasn't worried about it. The only time I ever felt like something was wrong was when she would get angry and cry for no apparent reason. When I asked her what was wrong every answer essentially summed up to "You'll understand when your older." It was during this time in California that I truly learned to hope. To hope for something better, for a life that did not involve struggle. Over the years I became extremely skilled at this. Finally we caught a break when she won the New York Foundation for the Arts grant for one of her plays. We moved back to Manhattan almost immediately.
While our situation was greatly improved we were by no means solvent. We spent the next few years struggling to get by but were helped significantly by our friends. As I grew I began to understand what exactly was happening in my life. I knew not just that we were poor but that my mothers profession did not provide the same type of income opportunities as other careers. We stayed with different people in different places in New York City until the year 2000. My mom was offered a spot in the well known play writing workshop at the University of Iowa in order to earn her MFA. Since she did not have her bachelors degree this was a huge opportunity to say the least. As far as I was concerned I didn't know where Iowa was but I did know that I certainly didn't want to find out. I didn't have a say in the matter. When we finally got to Iowa I was quite horrified. All around me all I could see was corn. One could drive for an entire day in most directions and almost ninety percent of the view included corn. For all it's faults though Iowa City became my first real home since the Chelsea. We could afford to live in our own place now. A small gray house with a front porch and a large backyard. Even a large oak tree in the front that we put a tire swing on. For the first time I had my own room. My mom and I were both ecstatic. We spent the next nine years enduring the freezing winters and obscenely hot and humid summers.
During this time the cumulative effect of my mothers determination and pose finally hit me like one huge sledge hammer to the head. I had finally gotten older. Her influence on me became extremely apparent and clear to me. Not only did she have the most significant influence on me but she was quite literally one of maybe three to four things that actually have had any real significant influence on me at all in my lifetime. I finally understood the effort and the quite ridiculous work she had to endure just to get by. I'm still not sure how she accomplished this while giving me such an excellent childhood and upbringing. Now this is not to say her influence on me made me like her. I should only be so lucky. No not at all, quite the opposite in fact. We are almost polar opposites. She has made me the person I am today and without her I would be nothing. I owe my strength, intellect, and character almost entirely to her.
Just one other question, does anyone have any suggestions for Titles or if there even considered a good idea?
Thanks for the help :)
Essay:
One single person has had an absolutely permanent fixture throughout my life. My mother, Cyndi. I have met a significantly greater number of people in my short lifetime than the average seventeen year-old. Each had their own strengths and weaknesses. My mom is no different. Let me be clear when I say I would not consider my mom to be my hero. The term "hero", to me, implies a certain natural ability beyond the normal scope of human talents to complete the challenge or challenges set forth to them. My mom certainly does not and did not have any natural abilities to complete or deal with the challenges life presented her with. She had only her talents as a writer and determination. She is only human and this has made her influence on me and my life all the more powerful.
The first place I ever lived was in a small one bedroom apartment in the Chelsea Hotel which is in downtown Manhattan. The entire building had a general atmosphere of "funk" due to it's transient inhabitants of artists and semi-permanent residents. The "cleaning ladies" and our neighbors became part of my family. Just next door was the African-American artist Herbert Gentry and his wife Mary Anne Rose. Herb and Mary Anne were like family to me in every way but blood. When Herb died he left me a small globe I used to play with when I visited. I keep it at my desk to this day where it reminds me of a simpler time when I was carefree and my mom bore the weight of all our worries. The hallways of the Chelsea were massive or at least seemed that way to a 2 year old. They had broad curves at regular intervals on the ceiling and the walls were covered in the art of the residents. These ranged from relatively clean cut concepts to the wildly abstract. The hallways made many other places look boring. Our apartment was essentially a long corridor with high ceilings. It started against the wall to the hallway with the bathroom. This was technically the only other room in the apartment. Then as we progress outward from the hallway we get to the kitchen. About three feet away from the bathroom door is the hot plate and refrigerator. Immediately after that is the queen sized bed. I knew my parents fought and yelled at each other but eventually they always seemed to calm down and be fine. As it turns out I was wrong. After my parents became divorced and my dad returned to the Netherlands my mom and I were essentially broke. I soon had my first encounter with economics. I realized something was wrong when we had to make a trip down to the landlords office. His name was Stanley. I didn't know exactly what he did but I knew he was important. His office was always dark and had massive dark stained oak doors. This was the only place in the entire building I was afraid to go. From what I could tell Stanley wanted more money and we didn't have any. This began my education on greed.
We could no longer afford to pay rent and eventually my mom used what little money we had to move us to Santa Monica. I had no idea where we were going but I knew it had something to do with not seeing my dad for what seemed like an abnormally long time. This is where we began our transient period. When we arrived we stayed with my moms friend for a while. My mom looked for work and continued her writing. This was easily one of the most difficult times in our lives although I was not aware of it. My mom had used up a significant portion of her money getting us and our belongings to the west coast. In fact essentially all of it was gone. We survived only on food stamps and social services. We spent the following year just barely getting by. I remember sometimes my mom would ask "Hey, maybe we'll go camping tonight! How would you like that?" the first time she suggested this it took me by surprise but it still sounded like fun. I only understood later that we might have to go "camping" because we might not have a place to stay the night. In the morning before school I'd eat half of a bagel for breakfast and then have the other half after school to hold me over until dinner because that was all we could afford. Despite all of this my mom did not allow me to think even for a second that our situation was as dire as it actually was. She always managed to distract me with activities like reading to me every night. I knew we didn't have tons of money but I certainly wasn't worried about it. The only time I ever felt like something was wrong was when she would get angry and cry for no apparent reason. When I asked her what was wrong every answer essentially summed up to "You'll understand when your older." It was during this time in California that I truly learned to hope. To hope for something better, for a life that did not involve struggle. Over the years I became extremely skilled at this. Finally we caught a break when she won the New York Foundation for the Arts grant for one of her plays. We moved back to Manhattan almost immediately.
While our situation was greatly improved we were by no means solvent. We spent the next few years struggling to get by but were helped significantly by our friends. As I grew I began to understand what exactly was happening in my life. I knew not just that we were poor but that my mothers profession did not provide the same type of income opportunities as other careers. We stayed with different people in different places in New York City until the year 2000. My mom was offered a spot in the well known play writing workshop at the University of Iowa in order to earn her MFA. Since she did not have her bachelors degree this was a huge opportunity to say the least. As far as I was concerned I didn't know where Iowa was but I did know that I certainly didn't want to find out. I didn't have a say in the matter. When we finally got to Iowa I was quite horrified. All around me all I could see was corn. One could drive for an entire day in most directions and almost ninety percent of the view included corn. For all it's faults though Iowa City became my first real home since the Chelsea. We could afford to live in our own place now. A small gray house with a front porch and a large backyard. Even a large oak tree in the front that we put a tire swing on. For the first time I had my own room. My mom and I were both ecstatic. We spent the next nine years enduring the freezing winters and obscenely hot and humid summers.
During this time the cumulative effect of my mothers determination and pose finally hit me like one huge sledge hammer to the head. I had finally gotten older. Her influence on me became extremely apparent and clear to me. Not only did she have the most significant influence on me but she was quite literally one of maybe three to four things that actually have had any real significant influence on me at all in my lifetime. I finally understood the effort and the quite ridiculous work she had to endure just to get by. I'm still not sure how she accomplished this while giving me such an excellent childhood and upbringing. Now this is not to say her influence on me made me like her. I should only be so lucky. No not at all, quite the opposite in fact. We are almost polar opposites. She has made me the person I am today and without her I would be nothing. I owe my strength, intellect, and character almost entirely to her.
Just one other question, does anyone have any suggestions for Titles or if there even considered a good idea?
Thanks for the help :)
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