Adversity can either define you, destroy you, or make you stronger – I choose to grow stronger. Beginning in middle school and most severely affecting me midway through high school, the decisions I made with regards to whom I associated with impacted me greatly. However, from the troubles I realized the errors I had made. I worked to redirect the negativity, to refuse to settle or crumble under pressure, instead choosing to improve myself...
My decision to study law was not born of an epiphany. It is true that “lawyer” was one of my childhood fantasy professions that wedged itself somewhere between chef, rock star and paleontologist. However, much like the extravagant tutus and costume jewelry of my youth, these dreams were relegated to the back of my mind (and back of my closet,) where they remained as I undertook the task of growing up. It was not until I went to college that I seriously began to evaluate myself...
Success may make us good, but it is the obstacles we overcome that make us great. In terms of economic status and race, I have lived an easy life. A middle class Caucasian woman, I have enjoyed the advantages of privilege. I have been loved, supported, and valued. I have had everything I have needed to grow and thrive, but these things alone cannot shelter anyone forever...
I live in a white house on a hill. There are no children in my neighborhood, and behind my home are woods so thick that, in spring, all I see is green. Inside, it has always been dark and cool and quiet; I have a dozen bookshelves packed with more literature than I could ever hope to read. I heard Frank Sinatra before I saw my first cartoon. I am an only child of older parents, and every word I say is not only heard, but listened to...
Mark Carder is not a man of any impressive stature, concerning either position or height. He is not a scholar, nor is he a gentleman. He is as quick to curse as he is to praise, as violent in his rages as he is manic in his passions. He is a great man or a terrible one, depending from which end of the spectrum of dedication you approach him, or indeed even the on which day you meet him. He is my high school band director...
In order to choose my name, my parents decided to write three down on slips of paper and put them into a hat. The name that got drawn, Vivian, was written by my mom and is supposed to mean “vivid.” It can also mean colorful, bright, lively, or anything that connotes or denotes the idea of being alive. I am really glad my parents had ended up going with this name as opposed to Helena or Angela, because I feel like neither a Helena nor an Angela: I am a Vivian...
It all started in fifth grade when I had to do a presentation. There I was, as confident as ever I could ever be. I had changed into my costume for my saint project and was excited to share my project with my class. Walking to the classroom, all I could think about was how excited I was to give my presentation. I had dedicated all my time and effort into making sure my presentation went smoothly. As soon as I walked into the classroom, everything changed...
I spent my childhood in libraries, greeting books like dusty friends, pretending to know more about the world than I actually did. Page by page I traveled through hundreds of imaginary worlds over the years, but it wasn’t until I picked up a book called Mexican WhiteBoy that one of these worlds closely mirrored my own...
A daydream invaded my imagination: my family sat down to a dinner derived entirely from our own backyard, and the heavenly spread would feature crisp stalks of lettuce, juicy tomatoes, and fiery hot peppers. A high school horticulture class, combined with a pre-existing love for the outdoors, was reason enough for this energetic teenager to commit her precious summertime hours to shoveling dirt and pulling weeds. I became enamored with this vision of perfecting nature's process, and becoming some heroic model for environmental sustainability. The seeds of inspiration had been planted, and my quest to conquer agriculture had begun...
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