As if placed on an old-fashioned movie reel, memories of Scrabble nights and swim meets replay on black and white frames in my head as I think about my world. I have grown up in two vastly different worlds. San Leandro, a graffiti-covered, diverse, and increasingly violent city. Moraga, a six (or so) stoplight, upper class, and educated small town. Both places have contributed to the bubbly, creative, and inspired person I am. I want to be a journalist, therefore, I will paint pictures with my words:
Flamboyant-orange T-ball jerseys and dazzling pink tutus. Books I thought I'd never learn how to read. Books I learned how to read. Finally taking the training wheels off of my bicycle. Thinking that after basic fractions I'd be done with math. Teaching Jungyoon, my new Korean friend, the English word for "sand." Learning algebra and that I was wrong about fractions. Blue, velvet Converse under my home-sewn 8th grade promotion dress. Saying goodbye and learning to let go. Moving to a different world ‒ 11 miles away. Encountering pears...and cows: Welcome to Moraga. Greetings from the "put-together" seniors on the first day of high school. J'aime parler le français avec Sarah...A pale-white hospital room. Tears. Confusion. Anger. Doubt. Learning to accept my brother's bi-polar disorder. Learning that life follows no schedule. A birthday card from my mom that brings me joyous tears upon reading. Cold, deep, and dark water at 5 am swim practices. Discovering my "country soul." La Puma layout sessions, red pens, and always-overflowing text boxes. Countless bookmarks in my worn copy of 1,000 Places to See Before You Die. Falling in love...with writing. Newspaper clippings from my summer-long attempt to be the Oakland A's most dedicated fan. Pep banders love Cougar Pride. Calluses, bad sock tans, golf, dedication. Silly vocabulary stories usually involving Oreos or Kenny Chesney. Hammers, fuses, and free popcorn on Sundays - scenes from a hardware store. Hitting the gas pedal instead of the brake. The "Jesus bar" and nearly giving my mom a heart attack. Learning to drive. Enjoying John Mellencamp's luminous words, twirling around my bedroom in a sparkly, turquoise dress, holding on to seventeen as long as I can. Planning for college and life. Trying not to hit fast-forward. Farsi and Arabic. Falling in love again...with the Middle East. Realizing that sometimes randomness is perfect. Discovering my dream. Leaping with faith.
Swirls from a color palette, experiences from my life, make up the portrait of{my name}. It was the rich diversity of races, ethnicities, personalities, and backgrounds in San Leandro that constructed what I consider my greatest attribute: my ability to let people feel like they don't have to be someone else. San Leandro instilled in me my strong sense of acceptance. In a time when the Middle East is a sensitive subject for many Americans and certainly not a desired place of destination, my belief that we can gain more knowledge and understanding about the world from each other than from a microscope, makes me want to see the other side. Moraga, with its deep belief in the value of education, has encouraged me to practice writing, to find my voice, to speak. And so, I have to thank both worlds; I would not be a budding overseas correspondent without their years of molding.
I have grown up in two vastly different worlds
: San Leandro, a graffiti-covered, diverse, and increasingly violent city
; and Moraga, a six
(or so) stoplight, upper class, and educated small town.
Both places have contributed to the bubbly, creative, and inspired person I am.
"Bubbly" is something one says about somebody else; it sounds strange (to me) as a self-descriptor. How about energetic? Upbeat? Similarly, I question "inspired." Not really sure what you mean by that.
I want to be a journalist, therefore, I will paint pictures with my words:
Start your new paragraph with this. Also, replace the comma after "journalist" with a semi-colon.
Break the stream of fragmented descriptions into paragraphs. Be sure to start a new paragraph when you shift back into writing complete sentences.
You know, of course, that you run a risk in devoting so much of your essay to fragmented description. I think it works, but you must be sure to structurally set it off so that there's no question that this is purposeful.
