Xer0
09-25-2005, 10:56 PM
Okay so we have to sit down and write a paper about a person in our life for class. I chose my mom (brownie points plus its easy). My main concern however is the fact that i haven't writen a paper in a long long time and and am wondering what my skill level is at. Could you guys read it and tell me what you think please?
1:30 A.M, almost a whole world apart from the 12:00 A.M that should have had me in my bed asleep. If all goes well, I’ll be in bed and asleep by 1:35, no questions no problems. Yet, when does all go well? Coming up the stairs I could see her, as she always has been, sitting on the couch. My Mother, the person that has influenced my life the most through just being herself.
Being a clever person, all doors were locked except for the sliding glass patio door that overlooked the family room. There she waited, looking at the door with all of the patience in the world, getting her thoughts together, as I slowly entered the dark house. I knew all to well what was about to happen. She eyes me carefully taking notice of any irregularities in my movements as a hint at what I have been doing to cause me to be so late, still not having enough trust in me. Being night and her sitting on the couch, a black mask covered her face making it impossible for me to even try and see what she thought from her expressions. However with me being right in front of the glass door, I did not have the same luxury. Looking at were I knew she was, my mind was racing to try and piece together some sort of coherent story that would allow for the least questions while not being a lie, if the need should arise. Nervous and uncomfortable, the conversation was about to begin.
“Why are you late?” Her cool and almost emotionless voice broke the lingering silence between us, making it now more uncomfortable then before.
“I lost track of time” I replied with this tried and tested phrase.
“Why didn’t you return my calls?” She asks me, again in the same exact tone.
“I didn’t hear it go, my phone was on vibrate.” I answered back
‘That seems to be the continuing excuse”
Silence, I have nothing to say to this that wouldn’t make me look like an idiot, so I just continue to look into the dark, knowing full well what the image that is clouded by it is, those eyes piercing into me, that expression of distaste, I know it all to well.
“What am I going to do with you? You never return my calls and you’re always coming home late. I know that you don’t want to be with mom, but I love you Steve and I just want to know where you are.” She again cuts the silence between us. Her voice as sharp ever.
“I know mom, I know. But its just…I don’t know, I love you too and I understand that you want to keep tabs on me, but I don’t want to be home now, everyone else is out except for me. Its not like we are doing anything stupid like drinking or smoking or something.”
“Then what is so special that you have to be out, if you aren’t really doing anything, then what’s the point?”
“I don’t know, but on the same idea, what’s the point of coming home? I wont be doing anything there either.”
“Because its home, it’s were you belong. Look, if you want to stay out so badly, just pick up the phone and tell me where you are. At least do that, okay?”
“Okay mom.”
“Okay.” She gets up, removing herself from the darkness allowing me to see her. She has a smile on her face. “Just don’t lie. I can’t go to sleep if you don’t come home.’
“Mom, your crazy.”
“No I just love you, now go to sleep.”
“Yeah.”
Of course, up next is the great big hug of understanding and love and all of that, and then off to sleep for the night. It was just like every other talk we had had before this, it’s almost turned into an act now. We know our lines and we recite them flawlessly each and every time. We are the actors and our problems have turned into the stage. All the words are carefully thought out fakes with their only purpose being to get past each other while holding on to some shred of dignity. Sadly that’s what this has all turned into. Its not like I don’t love my mother or she doesn’t love me, its just that this is tedious and on some levels hypocritical as even if I do pick up and tell her were I am and I am going to be a little late, she still will be demanding on my return home. It’s an annoyance at the most basic level that is masked by the ideas of love and caring. However, as fake as the words may be, the fact that she still stays up, each and every night waiting for me to get home to make sure I am safe, is not. I continue to defy her, night after night, yet still she sits there and waits. It means she does really love me, and that is worth more then some people can imagine. This affect one me is substantial in comparison to others.
The thing is, people come and go and with them come new emotions, feelings, ideas, and other infinitely many prospects. They carve you into what you are through their varying words and actions and change your whole outlook on life. They define everything that you are, your fears, your beliefs, your ambitions, just by their mere presence. Yet for all the thousands, possibly millions, of people that you will somehow encounter during your life, one will have the most profound impact on you. For me that person is my mother, Valentina Zhupa. Having lived all of my eighteen years with her, that’s not hard to understand, but coupled with her forceful attitude and loving personality, it’s almost impossible not to happen.
She is always on my case about everything that a person can possibly complain about. Be it my dirty room, my lazy nature, or something as small as sleeping. Strangely enough though is the fact that she complains about how I behave but she doesn’t want to be away from me.
For instance, one day three of my close friends, Alex, Gabe, and Pete, were over and we were watching football. During commercials an add for Corona beer comes on and we all know how those look, a beautiful deserted beach with a bright sun and the clearest looking water imaginable. Perfect vacation spot. That’s what ran through my mind but it also rekindled a thought that hadn’t been brought up in awhile. We had made plans to go to Puerto Rico one of these years, or more accurately when I turn eighteen, since I was the youngest. So I asked if we were going next year because I would have turned eighteen already. The answer was a strong yes. Hearing this my though, my mom’s questions quickly started to pour. Where? When? Why? Really? Do you have money? Just you four? And so on. We answered all of them with big smiles on our faces. Then she said okay Steve, I’ll come with you too. Most parents would be happy to have their kids gone for a few days of quite, but not my mom, she was serious and I actually had to argue with her on her not coming. It ended up that I would have to pay for everything myself now, which wasn’t really any different from the original plan anyway. Its one of those weird cant live with them cant live without them situations. Its that strong sense of love that overcomes all others from her and I am happy that its there.
I realize that some people can go their whole lives and not find anyone that truly does love them, however the fact that I have had that person my whole life just adds a certain layer of protection, a feeling of comfort to me. It’s a feeling that you are good enough for the affection and that you are a good person. This same feeling goes on to affect your attitude and how you are around people or how you feel about yourself. I know that this may sound corny or cheesy, but just knowing that my mother loves me so much has a profound affect on my life. I can’t really explain it, and I don’t want to try as I might end up completely tearing to shreds and making it more complex, however I do feel it and I know its there and that is what is most important.
So what do you guys think?
1:30 A.M, almost a whole world apart from the 12:00 A.M that should have had me in my bed asleep. If all goes well, I’ll be in bed and asleep by 1:35, no questions no problems. Yet, when does all go well? Coming up the stairs I could see her, as she always has been, sitting on the couch. My Mother, the person that has influenced my life the most through just being herself.
Being a clever person, all doors were locked except for the sliding glass patio door that overlooked the family room. There she waited, looking at the door with all of the patience in the world, getting her thoughts together, as I slowly entered the dark house. I knew all to well what was about to happen. She eyes me carefully taking notice of any irregularities in my movements as a hint at what I have been doing to cause me to be so late, still not having enough trust in me. Being night and her sitting on the couch, a black mask covered her face making it impossible for me to even try and see what she thought from her expressions. However with me being right in front of the glass door, I did not have the same luxury. Looking at were I knew she was, my mind was racing to try and piece together some sort of coherent story that would allow for the least questions while not being a lie, if the need should arise. Nervous and uncomfortable, the conversation was about to begin.
“Why are you late?” Her cool and almost emotionless voice broke the lingering silence between us, making it now more uncomfortable then before.
“I lost track of time” I replied with this tried and tested phrase.
“Why didn’t you return my calls?” She asks me, again in the same exact tone.
“I didn’t hear it go, my phone was on vibrate.” I answered back
‘That seems to be the continuing excuse”
Silence, I have nothing to say to this that wouldn’t make me look like an idiot, so I just continue to look into the dark, knowing full well what the image that is clouded by it is, those eyes piercing into me, that expression of distaste, I know it all to well.
“What am I going to do with you? You never return my calls and you’re always coming home late. I know that you don’t want to be with mom, but I love you Steve and I just want to know where you are.” She again cuts the silence between us. Her voice as sharp ever.
“I know mom, I know. But its just…I don’t know, I love you too and I understand that you want to keep tabs on me, but I don’t want to be home now, everyone else is out except for me. Its not like we are doing anything stupid like drinking or smoking or something.”
“Then what is so special that you have to be out, if you aren’t really doing anything, then what’s the point?”
“I don’t know, but on the same idea, what’s the point of coming home? I wont be doing anything there either.”
“Because its home, it’s were you belong. Look, if you want to stay out so badly, just pick up the phone and tell me where you are. At least do that, okay?”
“Okay mom.”
“Okay.” She gets up, removing herself from the darkness allowing me to see her. She has a smile on her face. “Just don’t lie. I can’t go to sleep if you don’t come home.’
“Mom, your crazy.”
“No I just love you, now go to sleep.”
“Yeah.”
Of course, up next is the great big hug of understanding and love and all of that, and then off to sleep for the night. It was just like every other talk we had had before this, it’s almost turned into an act now. We know our lines and we recite them flawlessly each and every time. We are the actors and our problems have turned into the stage. All the words are carefully thought out fakes with their only purpose being to get past each other while holding on to some shred of dignity. Sadly that’s what this has all turned into. Its not like I don’t love my mother or she doesn’t love me, its just that this is tedious and on some levels hypocritical as even if I do pick up and tell her were I am and I am going to be a little late, she still will be demanding on my return home. It’s an annoyance at the most basic level that is masked by the ideas of love and caring. However, as fake as the words may be, the fact that she still stays up, each and every night waiting for me to get home to make sure I am safe, is not. I continue to defy her, night after night, yet still she sits there and waits. It means she does really love me, and that is worth more then some people can imagine. This affect one me is substantial in comparison to others.
The thing is, people come and go and with them come new emotions, feelings, ideas, and other infinitely many prospects. They carve you into what you are through their varying words and actions and change your whole outlook on life. They define everything that you are, your fears, your beliefs, your ambitions, just by their mere presence. Yet for all the thousands, possibly millions, of people that you will somehow encounter during your life, one will have the most profound impact on you. For me that person is my mother, Valentina Zhupa. Having lived all of my eighteen years with her, that’s not hard to understand, but coupled with her forceful attitude and loving personality, it’s almost impossible not to happen.
She is always on my case about everything that a person can possibly complain about. Be it my dirty room, my lazy nature, or something as small as sleeping. Strangely enough though is the fact that she complains about how I behave but she doesn’t want to be away from me.
For instance, one day three of my close friends, Alex, Gabe, and Pete, were over and we were watching football. During commercials an add for Corona beer comes on and we all know how those look, a beautiful deserted beach with a bright sun and the clearest looking water imaginable. Perfect vacation spot. That’s what ran through my mind but it also rekindled a thought that hadn’t been brought up in awhile. We had made plans to go to Puerto Rico one of these years, or more accurately when I turn eighteen, since I was the youngest. So I asked if we were going next year because I would have turned eighteen already. The answer was a strong yes. Hearing this my though, my mom’s questions quickly started to pour. Where? When? Why? Really? Do you have money? Just you four? And so on. We answered all of them with big smiles on our faces. Then she said okay Steve, I’ll come with you too. Most parents would be happy to have their kids gone for a few days of quite, but not my mom, she was serious and I actually had to argue with her on her not coming. It ended up that I would have to pay for everything myself now, which wasn’t really any different from the original plan anyway. Its one of those weird cant live with them cant live without them situations. Its that strong sense of love that overcomes all others from her and I am happy that its there.
I realize that some people can go their whole lives and not find anyone that truly does love them, however the fact that I have had that person my whole life just adds a certain layer of protection, a feeling of comfort to me. It’s a feeling that you are good enough for the affection and that you are a good person. This same feeling goes on to affect your attitude and how you are around people or how you feel about yourself. I know that this may sound corny or cheesy, but just knowing that my mother loves me so much has a profound affect on my life. I can’t really explain it, and I don’t want to try as I might end up completely tearing to shreds and making it more complex, however I do feel it and I know its there and that is what is most important.
So what do you guys think?