Boxes upon boxes upon boxes, it is a sight I am quite used to. My hands, sticky from the humid air, hold duct tape in the right and scissors in the left. My teeth are clamped on a black sharpie. It is time to move. Again. The house has almost completely been cleared out. Most of our possessions--items deemed by my mother to be junk we could always find somewhere else--are out on the curb sitting and waiting patiently for the garbage truck to pass by. Throughout the years, my baby clothes, old toys, stuffed animals, diaries, bikes, and memories have met the same fate at the ol' curb.
My mother would always urge me to consider each move a fresh start, a clean slate on which to explore new interests, but after awhile, I started to feel like I was being erased. The experience of repeatedly being forgotten haunted my endeavors of gaining new relationships. Following a move, I could not help but picture myself remembered merely as a portrait in the yearbook of that one girl who vanished shortly after kindergarten, third, fourth, sixth, or ninth grade.
It did not take long before teachers and peers started to describe me as aloof, dispassionate, and worst of all, apathetic.
In the summer of 2011, I went to a camp supported by the Global Korean Youth Network. As an outreach program, this camp ushered in kids with Korean heritage from all around the world, each of whom strangely held both uniqueness and familiarity. I discovered that many of these kids shared similar experiences of being introduced to new surroundings, forced to instantaneously become accustomed to unfamiliar culture and blend into groups of strangers. I got to know Ambi, a laidback junior who played on a famous soccer team in Italy, Onsem, a meticulous student aspiring to be a nurse in Germany, JP, a goofy sophomore who loved performing dance in Sydney, Australia, Junwoo, a tall, slightly intimidating, senior whose father worked in Afghanistan for an oil company, Ha eun, a sisterly graduate who had attended an international school in Sri Lanka, and two leaders, a college student from Arizona and an elementary school teacher from Africa. In the presence of these newfound friends, I was, for once in my life, able to have pride in my past and the quirky, somewhat awkward character I had built through frequently relocating and I also came to an understanding of the importance and benefit of diversity. Though short lived, this camp helped me discover my identity and the value of time. I realized the relationships, schedules, and promises the present holds, despite its evanescence, are stepping-stones for the future and whatever mine will hold.
It's a big long, but I'd really appreciate any criticisms, comments, and edits! It's due on November 1st and I'm really panicking! I really need to know if it sounds personal enough and if it doesn't, how I should go about improving that. Also, I realize there's a lot of cheesiness... Not sure how to change that up as well. THANK YOU!
My mother would always urge me to consider each move a fresh start, a clean slate on which to explore new interests, but after awhile, I started to feel like I was being erased. The experience of repeatedly being forgotten haunted my endeavors of gaining new relationships. Following a move, I could not help but picture myself remembered merely as a portrait in the yearbook of that one girl who vanished shortly after kindergarten, third, fourth, sixth, or ninth grade.
It did not take long before teachers and peers started to describe me as aloof, dispassionate, and worst of all, apathetic.
In the summer of 2011, I went to a camp supported by the Global Korean Youth Network. As an outreach program, this camp ushered in kids with Korean heritage from all around the world, each of whom strangely held both uniqueness and familiarity. I discovered that many of these kids shared similar experiences of being introduced to new surroundings, forced to instantaneously become accustomed to unfamiliar culture and blend into groups of strangers. I got to know Ambi, a laidback junior who played on a famous soccer team in Italy, Onsem, a meticulous student aspiring to be a nurse in Germany, JP, a goofy sophomore who loved performing dance in Sydney, Australia, Junwoo, a tall, slightly intimidating, senior whose father worked in Afghanistan for an oil company, Ha eun, a sisterly graduate who had attended an international school in Sri Lanka, and two leaders, a college student from Arizona and an elementary school teacher from Africa. In the presence of these newfound friends, I was, for once in my life, able to have pride in my past and the quirky, somewhat awkward character I had built through frequently relocating and I also came to an understanding of the importance and benefit of diversity. Though short lived, this camp helped me discover my identity and the value of time. I realized the relationships, schedules, and promises the present holds, despite its evanescence, are stepping-stones for the future and whatever mine will hold.
It's a big long, but I'd really appreciate any criticisms, comments, and edits! It's due on November 1st and I'm really panicking! I really need to know if it sounds personal enough and if it doesn't, how I should go about improving that. Also, I realize there's a lot of cheesiness... Not sure how to change that up as well. THANK YOU!
