Writing Portfolio: Five Essays on America





















While I was growing up I used to to think to myself how was brought into this world. I used to wonder this to myself never asking anyone how was I born. So finally one evening when it was just me and my mother in this house by ourselves. I managed to summon up the will to ask her. I asked her how did she and my father meet. I guess pretending like she had not heard me she glanced at me witha questionable expression on her face. So I repeated myself until she answered me. She had plainly said that she and my father met at a party. With my young and ponderous mind, I asked her to explain it more in detail. So she explained it as much as she could. That she had heard of a cute boy that lived in the Vill Vitoria which is opposite the Cathedral projects where we used to live. She told me that his name was Jose Lozano a kid always doing the coolest tricks on his bike. She also implied upon his early breakdancing skills. She told me that she and her friends would always pass by there to see if he was out doing his tricks. So bored with the complexity of the story I told her to get to the part where they had finally met. My mother told me that it was at one of their friends parties that they were introduced to each. It was her that made the first move. After they had been acquainted they had stayed together for a couple of years not very long, I guess it was a sort of fling. But hey life goes on. I was born on August 23, 1984. To an Andrea Curry and a Jose Lozano. My mother at that time was of the age of sixteen and my father the age of fifteen. Young parents I know but it has its benefits we both can grow together. Now that I'm in high school I have benefited alot from my parents we have grown together as a whole. My mother is now thirty-two and my father thirty-one. They are both currently married and I have a litle brother named Ahmane Curry. I have used my knowledge from my parents to help refine the world in a new form. Through my art and football skills I have helped mold the world and its population as I and many other children continue to grow.












As time flowes through it's endless stream like a vast river untouched by man.  In the celestial vortex opposite this world, watching the mortals of this plane age and decay.  Counting down to it's own parousia; As the eternal ocean-like presence ticks away evolution occurs in it's most subtle but obvious manner.  I stand in the middle of this scheme on soil that has evolved and progressed through the process of time has taken on this American land that I call my own "misbegotten land."

  With transparent eyes that are used to develop an image for my minds eye and relay this data to the nerves that not only connects to my vocbaulary cortex but also to my voice box.  While information is interprted into an image then dispersed into a writing-scheme for a common reader to interpret.

 A column of grass is spread across an open area of soil as if it were a doormat the words "Welcome" inscribed on it.  The grass doesn't swish around as seen in the movies or cartoons because it's not as high and is not that healthy.  It has a greenish tent to it most of the time, like it was worn out by passing footsteps.  Other times it is interrupted by the eternal clock and as often coated with either dew or frost from the morning air.
 When I turn to the right of my drive-way alternate from my back porch that was repainted into a creame shade after we moved in.  I noticed a solo tree, alone and standing tall as a lonesome soldier at attention.  It stands there as if it were a natural component  to the image that has been painted into words.  This tree is not as tall as a redwood but it has some height on it.  This soldier is narrowly connected to the yard but a slinder patch of grass that flowes like a small stream on the right of the drive-way.

  This land is forgotten and has no past for it will have no future if someone were not to come and change its purpose.  Just like any peice of American soil it has the blood, sweat, and tears, of a nation impowered by its own presence.













Dreams of beautiful women flutter through my mind as I lay in this current form of utopia.  Other wise known as my bed its soft texture caresses my spine and causes bliss to overwhelm me.  Until I heard the calling of which seemed to be an animal calling it’s young.  
Bubby!  Bubby! My mother replied.
What!  Why you yelling man?!
Who you talking to?! I ain’t one of your friends so shut up and listen!
Aight, what happened?
I need you to go to the store and get some juice and some milk.
Hol’ up didn’t you go to the store this morning when you woke me up earlier?
Yeah, and I forgot so get up and go to the store.
Okay dag man always getting on my nerves, I uttered under my breath.
Nothin’, nothin’ how she hear me?  I get up to hear my little brother in the living room blasting the cartoons and running around with his mega-zord robot.
He screams.  Mane stop yelling what is it?
Come play playstation wit’ me.
I can’t I got to go to the store, when I come back.  
He yells again and runs away laughing.  I’m walking outside and after I get off the tagged up elevator I peep my boy Red Rum a.k.a. Rick.  
Yo! Man I been out here calling you for an ill minute what were you sleep again?
Yeah what time is it?
It’s like 1:30 p.m. you went to that party wit’ Toe-nail didn’t you?
Yeah! I got in like at 3:45 a.m.
Dag! Man I tol’ ya’ll to wait for me! Man!
I waited for ‘bout 15 minutes then bounced you should’ve been ready.
Nah! Dawg mom deuce was trippin’ again; I had to clean the house.
Yo man your MADD corn, yo moms be punkin’ you.
N*#$@%!  Shut up!  I’m sick of ya’ll makin’ fun of me.
N$#%$*$#!  you betta act like you know!
Yo!  I’ll holla at ya’ lata.  One
Aight then, Holla!  Walking toward the store I see my little cousin KeKe and my older cousin P., they’re both comin’ from da’ store.
Yo!  Whassup cuz!
My little cousin called out.
Yo?!  What ya’ll upto?
Chillin’, chillin’ don’t tell me you just woke?
Yep, yo wait for me down at my crib I gotta go da’ store right quick I’ll be right back.  
Racing back from the store I peeps them and my boyz that make up CB (Cornbread) Leon, Bo, and injured Chris Reeves.  We all just hang outside my building until moms starting calling from the window.
Bubby!  Bubby!
Eventually we make our way to Copley to chill for a bit.  When we get back we get into the usual discussion.
Yo!  Red why yo’ moms always nagging at you, why don’t she go out or somethin’ I wanna play PSX2?
Man!  Leave me alone dawg, Red uttered.
Aight I got you we’ll chill at my crib, Bo surprisingly announces.
Altogether everybody responds.













Using the methods of rhythm, beats, and riddles, poets for centuries have created imaginary sequences, fictional events, and even just depicted into writing their love and hate for the world and nature.  Like many arts and sciences poetry has evolved with the times but is has always kept its principle of expression.  Writers and poets have developed their own distinct and common style but the one rises above the rest is Emily Dickinson.  A poet that gives realism to her words, her use of metaphors coincides with her poem’s theme.  Dickinson’s most recognizable work is “There’s a certain Slant of light.”  In this tribute towards light Dickinson captures the true essence and nature of light an entity equipped with various possibilities.
Emily Dickinson’s style which is a combination of religion and fiction, and her choice of words has a tremendous amount of meaning attached to them.  The feeling of openness is present in her writings and the usage of rhythm is also intriguing to my conscience.  Emily Dickinson represents the ideal poet and writer I would like to become or experience in my lifetime.   The subjects that she picks to write about also have a relentless clutch on my personality.  She has written about death, paradise, life, the world passing her by, and her own personality.  Such poems as “A fly Buzzed by,” “I could not stop for death,” and “My song to the world.”  

Those elements plus the gears that she has used to compose her works’ tell me that she either led a great life or dreamt about doing so.
“There’s a certain Slant of light,” is the poem I have selected of Emily Dickinson’s that has influenced my criteria of poetry.  This literary masterpiece has the elements of sanctity, honor of light, despair when light is not present, and the changes it causes.  These four regions that define the meaning of the poem are highly respected in my literary persona.  They give the feeling of resurrection in the sense of light, as the rays of the sun branch from its burning sphere to be represented as the bringers of life.  It is honored when it is present and it brings apocalypse in its absence.  For example,

   When it comes, the landscape listens,
   Shadows hold their breath;
   When it goes, ‘tis like the distance
   On the look of death.
The poem can depict light as having no meaning to its grace but is still rejoiced for its soft manner. “Where the Meanings are, None may teach it Anything ‘Tis the Seal Despair” light magnified by its radiance is an enigma in its own structure yet breeds about respect.
The feeling of transformation is apparent in the beginning of the poem which signifies either a new era or the process of change.

    On the winter afternoons,
    Heavenly hurt it gives us,
    We can find no scar,
    But internal difference
    Where the meanings are.

This quote signifies the poem’s need to bring about change in its entrance so it can start off a clean slate to get its message across more efficiently.  The message this poem has concealed under metaphors and adjectives is that light is sacred and should be thought of more as a gift instead of a factor for life.
     What this poem gives me is a piece of its creators mind and also, so ever boldly, points out the nature of how weak human beings have taken things for granted.  The poem can also enlighten a few readers in a religious manner; it gives a hint of godlike presence that the light is Gods finger stretching across the lands and bestowing light and life along with despair.  In its core this poem has riddles added to it so that it can be solved either by an answer or by a question.  The question can only be asked and answered by someone who will take the time to read between the lines and find their own slant of light.

















Blood, sweat, tears, and restless years contribute to the fact that people endure such hardships toward becoming an athlete, the best one at that.  Hours spent pushing your body to its limits and beyond, gallons of sweat and bodily fluids drained from your interior.  Your pride shattered with the scars and bruises to show for it, and the many years you’ve suffered toward becoming a worthy opponent.  These are the elements it takes to be a contender or an adversary in the sport of your choice.  
     Sports are often played by competitors to show the world their immense strength and physical capabilities.  For some sports is an altercation from a stressful day or weekly routine, sports may also be viewed as a means of entertainment.  Sports can be the only factor that aids someone in achieving honor and greatness.  Soccer is a game that fits the standards of competition and entertainment; it’s a game that has been played since the early 1600’s.  A game that soul entity revolves around mental and physical distortion, fatigue and dehydration become your opponents.  The aspect to the game of soccer is to get the ball into the opposing teams net with the aid of your teammates.  This sounds rather simple, but you try running continuously back and fourth along a rectangular battle ground that spans unto one hundred to one hundred and thirty yards you will feel the pain of the soccer player.  With the width ranging from fifty to one hundred yards for ninety minutes and only two forty five minute halves.  
To be considered an opponent in this sport you must have balance between your speed, agility, stamina, and accuracy.  Having a well rounded mind like returning goalie Eddie Pope is also crucial.  After returning from a two absence due to extensive surgeries this is what Pope had to say, “I was just happy to be able to play my role and help the team win.”  John Phillip Willie journalist for the magazine Soccer Digest has coined Pope a “survivor.”  A person that no matter the circumstances continues to stand strong and face new and difficult challenges, that is a survivor.  However, professional athletes in the end are more so human than we realize and they also face issues of controversy and paparazzi.  Subjected to this type of fame was Diego Maradona the youngest Argentinean to become a professional in the art of soccer.  Also the highest paid which sprouted the intent of controversy, often times Diego was faced series of controversial disputes about his salary, and Diego stated “I have made enemies, but it doesn’t matter.  They can say what they want about me….Remember, it’s the players who bring 90,000 people to the stadium.  I am Maradona, who makes goals, who makes mistakes.  I can take it all, I have shoulders big enough to fight with everybody.”  A man like the rest of us faced with mere feats like a normal human being, but also considered to be the best in his league.
     Where there’s practice to becoming a great athlete, there’s also practice in becoming a great coach.  Coaches from distinct sports all feel the same when they have their players scrimmage against each other or run malicious drills.  They all feel they must push these men and women to the best of their abilities so that one day when it’s all over that they’ll have no regrets about a crucial game or a winning play.  Coaches have either succeeded or failed but its one thing that keeps them going and this determination.  One coach, James Cramer failed at becoming an Internet based manager and coach, now he says he will try fifth grade coaching, “There I can accomplish everything I want in life.  I can make everybody happy at home and have something to show for it I the end.”
     This sport is a clear understanding of how influences and balances can create something constructive that widely and equally accepted.  Through the strains and gains of international popularity soccer has established itself as a center for various cultures to become linked in the gift of freedom.  Free to play whatever you want, free to be whatever you want, free to achieve whatever goals you choose to strive for.  That itself is very American in many ways as in others.