I had and open book test today in History of Science, we were allowed anything that was on paper, we could have printed straight form the Internet, we could have the books, our class notes, anything none electronic was a okay. I took along with other things my AP European notebook and folder. I know it might have been silly but they helped a lot. After class I came back home and decided to organise my folder because as much as I knew that I had valuable info in there, not only for my midterm but for my other classes as well (come on those DBQs could be the basis of where to research for my next final essay ;D,) I couldn't’t get to it easily.
I sat on my bed and started to look over these papers, essays I hadn't given a second glance after looking at my grade when I got them back. I had forgotten Mrs. Magee made our parents sign the exams. I had also forgotten how silly Silvio was at signing anything school related. Here for your own amusement are some examples of this delightful snippets of the ppl I lived with,
“Dear Ms. Magee:
Isabel’s foster mother & I are concerned that she is stressing out of the upcoming AP exam. What do you suggest we do. We’ve tried Bollywood & Seinfeld. What else?
S. Sirias”
“ Ms. Magee:
I don’t see Isabel study. How can she get grades this good? It’s a mystery.
S. Sirias”
And my favourite,
“I’m very proud of Isabel.
S. Sirias”
In reading these essays I realised around 4 things,
1. I was right in thinking I could used these essay in my classes
2. Mrs. Magee did amazing things the 3 years I knew her. I owe her the fact that I can actually write a deasent essay.
3. I can actually write an essay
4. When Silvio becomes the amazing and very best selling author I know he will be I will be a very rich gal after selling all my report cards with his signature on eBay.
All this to say, Mrs. Magee I am not quite sure where I would be with out you and what you have taught me both of history, of studding practices and of my own person.
Thank you.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Saturday, February 02, 2008
I Love it When the Weather Forecast is Wrong!
Vancouver as a city is a beautiful city, but when it rains it becomes depressing, cold and grey. Since I am in Vancouver for the winter months this is the Vancouver I get the majority of the time. And if you think it is hard to get up in the morning try it when it is grey, rainy muddy, and cold. I know that some people like the cold and that some people live in colder places that Vancouver and that temperatures between –1 and 1 degrees Celsius are warm in comparisons but to me it is cold and I don’t think I will ever get used to it. Having said that, it is days like today that makes me realize how much I love Vancouver. To day was Today it was supposed to rain and snow. Instead I got glorious sun and warmth.
When I left my house today I wondered whether to take my rain jacket or not since the weather forecast seemed sop gloomy. Since I was already on my way I figured I would deal with the rain when it came. As I was walking from the bus station to the apartment, where I was to meet my cousin Paula, I was thinking to my self how nice a day it was. I didn’t know half of it. The sun came out the clouds went away and one of the most beautiful days I have ever seen appeared in front of my eyes. I got to go walk through Granville Island and down town. I arrived at campus at 4 and the sunset was at 5. I saw it from the cliffs. A perfect end to a perfect day. Now if it could only remain like this forever.
When I left my house today I wondered whether to take my rain jacket or not since the weather forecast seemed sop gloomy. Since I was already on my way I figured I would deal with the rain when it came. As I was walking from the bus station to the apartment, where I was to meet my cousin Paula, I was thinking to my self how nice a day it was. I didn’t know half of it. The sun came out the clouds went away and one of the most beautiful days I have ever seen appeared in front of my eyes. I got to go walk through Granville Island and down town. I arrived at campus at 4 and the sunset was at 5. I saw it from the cliffs. A perfect end to a perfect day. Now if it could only remain like this forever.
Friday, June 08, 2007
A Book Shelf
It is silly that one simple thing like a shelf can bring so many memories.
I say and mildly brag that I have lived in several countries. Although this is technically true, it never felt that way. I don’t remember Canada or Miami so my life as I know it really only begins in Bogotá and the 777 apartment building. I don’t remember where I lived while the 777 was being built but I remember going with mom to see the construction. I always wanted to wear the white construction hat cause it was the one the architects and the engineers wear. I remember the day we moved in. My sister (she must have been around 2 years old at the time) had a fever and my mom was pregnant with my brother so mom was about to go nuts so I went out with a friend of the family Mario Ochoa, (big mistake of my parents cause I ended up bringing home a rabbit).
I was 4. We lived there for 8 years. My sister and I shared a room and we had what I always called Princesses beds. Our room at had bears that my mom had stenciled it was pastel orange. When we became “grown ups” we made my mom takes us to a home depo store so we could re-paint and get like a paper wall (but no bears cause those are for kids) we picked a pink and a (yes you guessed it) green for the wall, and a bear wall paper. We had a costume chest that we loved; we had 2 desks and 2 bookshelves. My brother’s room was baby blue for the longest time then we painted it white and my mom painted a mural of a jungle that we got helped on. I panted a toucan and the waterfall.
Where we spent most of our time was the everyday living room. At that point in time my mom still had the idea that there should be an elegant dining room and living room and an everyday one. The biggest item in the room was the bookshelf, not even the books just the shelf.
When we moved to the farm and then to Panama it stayed in deposit and it has been 8 years since I don’t see it. Recently my mom brought it back out and this flood of memories filled me up: my brother’s first step, my hatred towards my homework, the black and white computer, the vinyl disks.
My home felt like home again.
I say and mildly brag that I have lived in several countries. Although this is technically true, it never felt that way. I don’t remember Canada or Miami so my life as I know it really only begins in Bogotá and the 777 apartment building. I don’t remember where I lived while the 777 was being built but I remember going with mom to see the construction. I always wanted to wear the white construction hat cause it was the one the architects and the engineers wear. I remember the day we moved in. My sister (she must have been around 2 years old at the time) had a fever and my mom was pregnant with my brother so mom was about to go nuts so I went out with a friend of the family Mario Ochoa, (big mistake of my parents cause I ended up bringing home a rabbit).
I was 4. We lived there for 8 years. My sister and I shared a room and we had what I always called Princesses beds. Our room at had bears that my mom had stenciled it was pastel orange. When we became “grown ups” we made my mom takes us to a home depo store so we could re-paint and get like a paper wall (but no bears cause those are for kids) we picked a pink and a (yes you guessed it) green for the wall, and a bear wall paper. We had a costume chest that we loved; we had 2 desks and 2 bookshelves. My brother’s room was baby blue for the longest time then we painted it white and my mom painted a mural of a jungle that we got helped on. I panted a toucan and the waterfall.
Where we spent most of our time was the everyday living room. At that point in time my mom still had the idea that there should be an elegant dining room and living room and an everyday one. The biggest item in the room was the bookshelf, not even the books just the shelf.
When we moved to the farm and then to Panama it stayed in deposit and it has been 8 years since I don’t see it. Recently my mom brought it back out and this flood of memories filled me up: my brother’s first step, my hatred towards my homework, the black and white computer, the vinyl disks.
My home felt like home again.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
My Life at the farms.
This year I have come to realize that not everyone knows how to ride a horse and that some people are very afraid of them. This made me start thinking about when I was learning how to horse back ride.
I have never done the whole helmet, pants, going around a circle, jumping fences horseback riding. I never saw a point to it really. The reason? I had two farms with horses to which I would go every weekend. In the farm there is a much bigger space to gallop, trot, to just make the horse go into his own pace.
When I was little, farms were my life and although now I live very far away my farms they are still a big part of me. Each of them has a part of my heart because of all the family moments and the times where it was just my brother, my sister and I, or with my cousins or just me spending time. Each of my farms has a different character, story and nature.
Andalucia is located in La Dorada, Caldas. It was named by my grandpa Ramiro and my grandma Alba after their trip to that region in Spain, each parcel has the name of a place in that region; Sevilla, Torremolino, Granada, Malaga, and so on. The house is simple with high ceilings, the walls are white and the floors have ceramic tiles. There is a nice outside area with big comfy chairs which have gotten smaller as I have grown up, my grandpa’s desk which he would sit on to take care of the ranching business “move 30 bulls from Almeria to Granada”, and three hammocks when I was little these were white purple and stripes; the purple was my grandpa’s he loved it that’s where he would take his naps. Now the purple one is no longer in service and has been replaced by another stripes one. There is also an outside area which has the best part of the house that I am sure my cousins would agree to, the pool. This title is slightly deceiving, no very deceiving, it is actually a large size Jacuzzi shaped well, when the water is really high the water will reach a normal adult to above the waist. No matter the children loved it and still do. Around the house is a beautiful garden that my grandma tended. This farm has a large extension, and many animals in full capacity it can hold around 600 young bulls. My grandpa made sure every one had a horse to ride on and a job to make no matter how old you were. In the break fast table I still remember him saying, “ Weo weo weo! Las faenas de hoy son asi…” It always mage me feel so especial.
La Candelaria is a milk farm right next to Madrid, Cundinamarca. In contrast with Andalucia this farm is in high altitude and has cold weather. Its real name is “Las pesebreras de la Candelaria” but no one actually calls it that. Although it is a milk farm the biggest part of its character is the apple orchard, hands down. They grow the best apples in the world and I have been spoiled rotten by them to the point that I wont eat any other because lets face it they are just not as good. The house used to be an old stable and has two silos, one on each side. My mom remodeled the stable to be a house but it kept a lot of the characteristics, and the silos were transformed into separate houses. The one on the farther end was my family and I lived for around a year. It has 3 levels, the ground level has a bathroom and a closet and one desk, the second level is a small round room with a bunk bed that has a pull out bed where my brother slept and the fireplace, the last floor was mi parents room, it has their bed and the sofa my dad made for my mom when they were newlyweds.
I am not done and I will probably revise it but I wanted to get something on here and this one is the one I have been working on for a while.
I have never done the whole helmet, pants, going around a circle, jumping fences horseback riding. I never saw a point to it really. The reason? I had two farms with horses to which I would go every weekend. In the farm there is a much bigger space to gallop, trot, to just make the horse go into his own pace.
When I was little, farms were my life and although now I live very far away my farms they are still a big part of me. Each of them has a part of my heart because of all the family moments and the times where it was just my brother, my sister and I, or with my cousins or just me spending time. Each of my farms has a different character, story and nature.
Andalucia is located in La Dorada, Caldas. It was named by my grandpa Ramiro and my grandma Alba after their trip to that region in Spain, each parcel has the name of a place in that region; Sevilla, Torremolino, Granada, Malaga, and so on. The house is simple with high ceilings, the walls are white and the floors have ceramic tiles. There is a nice outside area with big comfy chairs which have gotten smaller as I have grown up, my grandpa’s desk which he would sit on to take care of the ranching business “move 30 bulls from Almeria to Granada”, and three hammocks when I was little these were white purple and stripes; the purple was my grandpa’s he loved it that’s where he would take his naps. Now the purple one is no longer in service and has been replaced by another stripes one. There is also an outside area which has the best part of the house that I am sure my cousins would agree to, the pool. This title is slightly deceiving, no very deceiving, it is actually a large size Jacuzzi shaped well, when the water is really high the water will reach a normal adult to above the waist. No matter the children loved it and still do. Around the house is a beautiful garden that my grandma tended. This farm has a large extension, and many animals in full capacity it can hold around 600 young bulls. My grandpa made sure every one had a horse to ride on and a job to make no matter how old you were. In the break fast table I still remember him saying, “ Weo weo weo! Las faenas de hoy son asi…” It always mage me feel so especial.La Candelaria is a milk farm right next to Madrid, Cundinamarca. In contrast with Andalucia this farm is in high altitude and has cold weather. Its real name is “Las pesebreras de la Candelaria” but no one actually calls it that. Although it is a milk farm the biggest part of its character is the apple orchard, hands down. They grow the best apples in the world and I have been spoiled rotten by them to the point that I wont eat any other because lets face it they are just not as good. The house used to be an old stable and has two silos, one on each side. My mom remodeled the stable to be a house but it kept a lot of the characteristics, and the silos were transformed into separate houses. The one on the farther end was my family and I lived for around a year. It has 3 levels, the ground level has a bathroom and a closet and one desk, the second level is a small round room with a bunk bed that has a pull out bed where my brother slept and the fireplace, the last floor was mi parents room, it has their bed and the sofa my dad made for my mom when they were newlyweds.
I am not done and I will probably revise it but I wanted to get something on here and this one is the one I have been working on for a while.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Fainally a new post
I haven’t written in a while. This is because I usually like to talk/write about stuff that is funny, happy, and/or cool. Well seeing as I haven’t been feeling any of the lather well I found no reason to write and seeing as my last post was about how I was home sick writing about that again would be just an over kill to write about it again. I am now better. Not great or good but just okay. But it is now Reading Break and I am going to Port Alberni with Courteney things look better. The ferry ride and the beautiful scenery reminded me that I actually live in Canada and in beautiful British Columbia. The mountains and ocean are right out of the post card. The ferry is really really nice. Courteney’s family was very welcoming. I am sorry this is quite short but I am not very chatty and or imaginative.
PS. Thanks to all of the people that were there for me. You know who you are.
PS. Thanks to all of the people that were there for me. You know who you are.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Tengo mamitis, papitis y hermanitis.
I have gotten to the point in my life where I am not sure if I can do this whole year away from home. Next week I will be starting my second semester in college and with it marking the longest time I have been away from home. I wont see my family until this summer and I am not sure if I am going to be able to make it. In the end I will but right now it doesn’t look that way. I miss my dad and my mom and my sister and my brother. I want to be part of their lives not some one they call once a week to see what is up. I don’t want to here a week after my brother broke his arm about it, I want to be there helping him and taking care of him. I want to help my sister get ready for her party, not hear about how pretty she looked. I miss being able to torture my brother and sister. And play cards with my mom. And talk about anything with my dad. I even miss them dragging me to exercise and them scolding me when I bite my nails. I want to go to the farms and ride horses and paddle. I miss the sayings, inside jokes, the traditions. Right now I am tired of trying to be strong and not breaking down. So far I have been good about it but I cant do it any more. I miss them.
Monday, December 18, 2006
A trip to San Diego
After going to bed at 3am this morning because of different reasons from Caitlin being her normal denying self, to saying goodbye to Carolyn, to the brilliant smoke alarm in my room. I woke up at 6 because I ignored the alarm clock, which was set for 5:30, until it annoyed me and it turned it off. Megan, thank god came over and got me up and going. Once in the airport I got in to the bus. It was a nice ride I had a whole row to my self so I got to sleep a bit and listen to some music. The immigration was really nice which was great as I am used to it being long and conflicting the lady even told me to where eat great Italian food in San Diego.
Seattle airport was a little daunting as I am still not used to the whole self check in it took me a little more time to check in as I had to do two lines instead of one. But in the end I got a human to do my check in instead of a machine and all went perfectly fine. The plane ride was nice I slept through all of it basically. There was a newly wed couple sitting next to me who were all cute and in love. I woke up just in time to see the plane enter San Francisco it was sunny and so beautiful. I took some pictures from the plane.
I had better expectations of the San Francisco Airport but maybe it was just the gate section I was at. What really sucked was that I could not get online so I could not speak to my family who where all in my house gathered for a Christmas Party. So that was a bummer and I also wanted to chat with my friends. So I just watched the rest of Arrested Development. What an amazing show. I am right now in the plane to Sunny San Diego, and it is kinda of turbulent.
Seattle airport was a little daunting as I am still not used to the whole self check in it took me a little more time to check in as I had to do two lines instead of one. But in the end I got a human to do my check in instead of a machine and all went perfectly fine. The plane ride was nice I slept through all of it basically. There was a newly wed couple sitting next to me who were all cute and in love. I woke up just in time to see the plane enter San Francisco it was sunny and so beautiful. I took some pictures from the plane.
I had better expectations of the San Francisco Airport but maybe it was just the gate section I was at. What really sucked was that I could not get online so I could not speak to my family who where all in my house gathered for a Christmas Party. So that was a bummer and I also wanted to chat with my friends. So I just watched the rest of Arrested Development. What an amazing show. I am right now in the plane to Sunny San Diego, and it is kinda of turbulent.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Cooking for over 50 people can be a challenge.
Two month ago, when 
Elyse, Megan, and I thought about cooking a thanksgiving dinner for the whole Sherwood Lett (population 109 people) we thought it was a great idea. I mean how hard can it be to cook for say 70 people? We started planning two months in advanced and it was going to be easy. We were going to buy already made turkeys, get everyone to R.S.V.P. two weeks before the event reserve the kitchen way in advance and it would run smoothly.
Yes I know what you are thinking, “THEY ARE CRAZY” and we were/are. Nothing went as planned except that the meal was a huge success. No one would cook the turkeys for us so we had to cook them our selves which included de-gibliting them which non of us knew how to do. But with lots of luck and many friends we manage to pull it of. It was amazing I made Mashed potatoes from scratch and learned how to cook turckey and that you need much more time than 20 minutes per pound. All in all it was an amazizing evening, Tom made a very moving speech and I can now say that I cooked for more than 54 people.
Oh!!! And it SNOWED!!! REAL WHITE, FLUFFY, COLD, SNOW!!!!
Elyse, Megan, and I thought about cooking a thanksgiving dinner for the whole Sherwood Lett (population 109 people) we thought it was a great idea. I mean how hard can it be to cook for say 70 people? We started planning two months in advanced and it was going to be easy. We were going to buy already made turkeys, get everyone to R.S.V.P. two weeks before the event reserve the kitchen way in advance and it would run smoothly.Yes I know what you are thinking, “THEY ARE CRAZY” and we were/are. Nothing went as planned except that the meal was a huge success. No one would cook the turkeys for us so we had to cook them our selves which included de-gibliting them which non of us knew how to do. But with lots of luck and many friends we manage to pull it of. It was amazing I made Mashed potatoes from scratch and learned how to cook turckey and that you need much more time than 20 minutes per pound. All in all it was an amazizing evening, Tom made a very moving speech and I can now say that I cooked for more than 54 people.
Oh!!! And it SNOWED!!! REAL WHITE, FLUFFY, COLD, SNOW!!!!
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Why you should have your mother with you at all times in all places
I’m sick and as if being sick is not bad enough I am tired. Which I guess is one of the reasons I am sick. When you get sick it is when you realize that mothers are amazing. All I want rights now is for my mom to give me an “aguaromatica de sauco” and for her to hug me and tell me it is going to be alright. My mom as most of the moms of the people that live in my house live a distance away, for some it is only 30 minutes, for other it is a continents away, and for other it is a continent and an ocean away. My point is that we all have to deal and learn from these new experiences. Not having a mom is one of the ones that has hit me the hardest. ESPECIALLY WHEN SICK!
Friday, November 10, 2006
Lessons I have gotten out of University life.
Dorm life has taught me several very important things, which include:
Sleep is overrated: In Dorm life there is no one that goes to bed before 9pm. I don’t care what time you had class in the morning…the reality is that if you went to bed early, you went to bed at half past eleven. Why? Because there is always something that needs to be done (or something that would be fun to do) or you get caught up talking to people until 5 am. This brings me to my second point,
Naps are awesome at any time: sleepy at 11am? Take a nap. Since you didn’t go to bed until 3am last night, and woke up at 7 to get to your 8:00 class it is completely reasonable and not at all uncommon to take a nap at 11am, before your noon class. This concept also applies to afternoon naps at, say, 6pm. If you are going out partying at 8pm but are tired, take a nap from 6-7 and you still have an hour to get ready! My best nap, by the way, took place between 7:30 and 8:30 am.
Free things are always superior: It doesn’t matter that if you had to pay for that coffee, you would never drink it. If it’s free, it’s the best coffee you have ever drunk. In your life. The reason behind this is… IT IS FREE!!! Students are short in cash. This is a fact. And as a wise Oliver once said, “I have pocket money. It is the money I have in my pocket.”
Home cooked meals at their worst are better than caf food: Even when you were given toast, cheese and chips at home, that was better than this. Even on good days at the cafeteria, students will find a way to have problems with it. The food is too greasy, there are way too many people, the music selection is horrible, and the food is always the same. And so on and so forth.
Clothes are not dirty until the third time used: Doing laundry is hell. When you get to your dorm you acquire a new sense to what is clean and what isn’t. Suddenly clothes that you would have considered dirty when you were home are now wearable for at least two more outings. (On a tangent, a serious one… You also learn to look in your pockets before you wash your clothes.) Some people actually think it is acceptable to wear the same shirt two times in a row.
Sleep is overrated: In Dorm life there is no one that goes to bed before 9pm. I don’t care what time you had class in the morning…the reality is that if you went to bed early, you went to bed at half past eleven. Why? Because there is always something that needs to be done (or something that would be fun to do) or you get caught up talking to people until 5 am. This brings me to my second point,
Naps are awesome at any time: sleepy at 11am? Take a nap. Since you didn’t go to bed until 3am last night, and woke up at 7 to get to your 8:00 class it is completely reasonable and not at all uncommon to take a nap at 11am, before your noon class. This concept also applies to afternoon naps at, say, 6pm. If you are going out partying at 8pm but are tired, take a nap from 6-7 and you still have an hour to get ready! My best nap, by the way, took place between 7:30 and 8:30 am.
Free things are always superior: It doesn’t matter that if you had to pay for that coffee, you would never drink it. If it’s free, it’s the best coffee you have ever drunk. In your life. The reason behind this is… IT IS FREE!!! Students are short in cash. This is a fact. And as a wise Oliver once said, “I have pocket money. It is the money I have in my pocket.”
Home cooked meals at their worst are better than caf food: Even when you were given toast, cheese and chips at home, that was better than this. Even on good days at the cafeteria, students will find a way to have problems with it. The food is too greasy, there are way too many people, the music selection is horrible, and the food is always the same. And so on and so forth.
Clothes are not dirty until the third time used: Doing laundry is hell. When you get to your dorm you acquire a new sense to what is clean and what isn’t. Suddenly clothes that you would have considered dirty when you were home are now wearable for at least two more outings. (On a tangent, a serious one… You also learn to look in your pockets before you wash your clothes.) Some people actually think it is acceptable to wear the same shirt two times in a row.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Idiots guide to UBC's Grading System
UBC's grading system makes absolutely no sense what so ever. I don’t believe any one in this place actually understands it. They might tell you they do, but they don’t. A few weeks ago I got my Microeconomics midterm back and I got a 62. Any half normal person who is at least not Canadian will tell you that that is a D-. Well in UBC it is in fact higher much highr than that, actually it is a C. Yes I got a C with a 62.
Today was a double heart attack day in the sense that got back not only a midterm but also a paper. Oh the joys of university life! NOT!! (So fourth grade but still great) Anyway to continue on, I got a 35 out of 60 in my Poli Sci midterm. Any people can se that that is not that good. I did the math and found out I had a 58. A 58 to me screams F! F! You got an F! F for FAILURE!!!! However according to the UBC grading scale I got a C-, yeah that’s right not an F not even a D a C. This story gets even better. I got a B- for my sociology paper with a 70. Still can’t believe it my self.
By the way the System is as follows:
90-100 A+
85-89 A
80-84 A-
76-79 B+
72-75 B
68-71 B-
64-67 C+
60-63 C
55-59 C-
50-54 D
0-49 F (fail)
I love my university!!!
Today was a double heart attack day in the sense that got back not only a midterm but also a paper. Oh the joys of university life! NOT!! (So fourth grade but still great) Anyway to continue on, I got a 35 out of 60 in my Poli Sci midterm. Any people can se that that is not that good. I did the math and found out I had a 58. A 58 to me screams F! F! You got an F! F for FAILURE!!!! However according to the UBC grading scale I got a C-, yeah that’s right not an F not even a D a C. This story gets even better. I got a B- for my sociology paper with a 70. Still can’t believe it my self.
By the way the System is as follows:
90-100 A+
85-89 A
80-84 A-
76-79 B+
72-75 B
68-71 B-
64-67 C+
60-63 C
55-59 C-
50-54 D
0-49 F (fail)
I love my university!!!
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
In the beginning
So for the past year or so I have wanted to write. After my year leaving with Silvio and Erinn (wow that was weird even writing it is weird) I saw how a real author worked and I must say it is very inspiring. Silvio writes in his blog http://silviosirias.com/blog.html every week on Wednesdays. So now I am giving it a try. I will try to write on a regular basis but as in my diary that wont happen. Maybe if Oliver or anyone actually reads this and makes me write more I will. So I know I am cheating but my first blog is going to be my essay for colleges, why? Because it discribes me and my family so i figure it is a good way to start.
Through the years, I have tried to find a family that at least reassembles mine. I have failed miserably. My family is like no other, and because of them I am what I am. We came to live to Panama five years ago. In June, my parents decided, for various reasons, to go back to Colombia. To me, this was a great blow because I definitely did not want to change my school during my senior year, especially for one that was triple the size of mine. So, my parents looked for ways for me to stay in Panama. My teacher, Mrs. Magee, agreed to take me in for a year. This year, Im living in Panama while the rest of my family is in Colombia. This has made me see them in a new light, and I now truly appreciate everything theyve given me.
Pablo is my 12-year old, soccer crazed, early-rising, energetic (maybe too energetic), and sometimes-pesky brother. Hes always doing something. I dont get bored when Im with him. He always makes me laugh, especially during our Tickle-me-Tuesdays, when my brother and I have tickle fights all afternoon. My mom once asked me what our ideal house needed to be in order to accommodate the needs of our family. The first thing that came to my head was a spacious living room where my brother could play soccer and watch TV at the same time. Also, with Pablo I can talk about everything: cars, cartoons, soccer, Formula One Racing, school . . . well, almost everything. I cant talk to him about books because he refuses to read. My goal is to get him to like reading. At least I can dream.
My 14-year old sister, Patricia, Ive been told, looks 16: because shes two inches taller than me, has an amazing figure. and sometimes acts more mature than I. Shes calm and soft-spoken. Shes the real big sisterwithout the privileges of getting to college first. Shes the one that sends Pablo and me to bed when it is getting too late. We are not exactly opposites, but we are quite different. When we were little, I would say that we were like oil and water. But its not quite like that anymore. She is more social, while I am a bookworm. But she loves books almost as much as I do, and I love going out almost as much as she does. Patricia also loves shopping and keeping up with fashions. I would be lying if I told you I wasnt interested in fashions, but I hate shopping. What I admired most about my sister is her determination and strength. Pato, as I call her, is an incredible person with great potential.
My Mom and I have a complicated relationship: we cant live together, but we cant live without each other. When we lived in Panama, my dad would often travel to Colombia. On some of those nights he was gone, my mother and I would talk and laugh about everything, and nothing. Shes the person that pushes me to be my best, and I, in turn, sometimes resent that. But I wouldnt be the person I am now with out her. I like to think of her as my pillar, and perhaps I sound arrogant but I think that she thinks of me as her pillar. My mother was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. This has shown me how important she is in my life, and what a hardworking, brave, and unselfish woman she is.
My dad is, to me, larger than life. If my mom is the one pushing me, my dads the one pulling me. Hes a sociologist, an agriculturist, a triathlon athlete, a carpenter, a canoe-maker, a cayuco paddler, a cartographer, a consultant, a terrific father, and a caring son. I stumble when Im asked what my dad means to me. The greatest thing about him is that he hasnt done it all yet, but he says that one day, when he grows up, hell do itand I believe him. The best part of my fathers plans for when he grows up is that my mom will be right next to him every step of the way. They seldom argue, and if they do, it never lasts long.
The truth is that my family is unique. Living without them has been the hardest thing Ive ever done. I am what I am thanks to them; to each of them. Weve done everything together: paddling in the Panama Canal, cooking, camping, reading, singing, and just enjoying a moment together. My cousin once described us as the family that always does everything together.
For 18 years I have done only a few things that didnt include my family, but living without them is the biggest by far. I am happy that I get to practice the whole not-living-with-my-family routine before college, and in a way, I have my parents to thank for this year of practice I am getting
Through the years, I have tried to find a family that at least reassembles mine. I have failed miserably. My family is like no other, and because of them I am what I am. We came to live to Panama five years ago. In June, my parents decided, for various reasons, to go back to Colombia. To me, this was a great blow because I definitely did not want to change my school during my senior year, especially for one that was triple the size of mine. So, my parents looked for ways for me to stay in Panama. My teacher, Mrs. Magee, agreed to take me in for a year. This year, Im living in Panama while the rest of my family is in Colombia. This has made me see them in a new light, and I now truly appreciate everything theyve given me.
Pablo is my 12-year old, soccer crazed, early-rising, energetic (maybe too energetic), and sometimes-pesky brother. Hes always doing something. I dont get bored when Im with him. He always makes me laugh, especially during our Tickle-me-Tuesdays, when my brother and I have tickle fights all afternoon. My mom once asked me what our ideal house needed to be in order to accommodate the needs of our family. The first thing that came to my head was a spacious living room where my brother could play soccer and watch TV at the same time. Also, with Pablo I can talk about everything: cars, cartoons, soccer, Formula One Racing, school . . . well, almost everything. I cant talk to him about books because he refuses to read. My goal is to get him to like reading. At least I can dream.
My 14-year old sister, Patricia, Ive been told, looks 16: because shes two inches taller than me, has an amazing figure. and sometimes acts more mature than I. Shes calm and soft-spoken. Shes the real big sisterwithout the privileges of getting to college first. Shes the one that sends Pablo and me to bed when it is getting too late. We are not exactly opposites, but we are quite different. When we were little, I would say that we were like oil and water. But its not quite like that anymore. She is more social, while I am a bookworm. But she loves books almost as much as I do, and I love going out almost as much as she does. Patricia also loves shopping and keeping up with fashions. I would be lying if I told you I wasnt interested in fashions, but I hate shopping. What I admired most about my sister is her determination and strength. Pato, as I call her, is an incredible person with great potential.
My Mom and I have a complicated relationship: we cant live together, but we cant live without each other. When we lived in Panama, my dad would often travel to Colombia. On some of those nights he was gone, my mother and I would talk and laugh about everything, and nothing. Shes the person that pushes me to be my best, and I, in turn, sometimes resent that. But I wouldnt be the person I am now with out her. I like to think of her as my pillar, and perhaps I sound arrogant but I think that she thinks of me as her pillar. My mother was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. This has shown me how important she is in my life, and what a hardworking, brave, and unselfish woman she is.
My dad is, to me, larger than life. If my mom is the one pushing me, my dads the one pulling me. Hes a sociologist, an agriculturist, a triathlon athlete, a carpenter, a canoe-maker, a cayuco paddler, a cartographer, a consultant, a terrific father, and a caring son. I stumble when Im asked what my dad means to me. The greatest thing about him is that he hasnt done it all yet, but he says that one day, when he grows up, hell do itand I believe him. The best part of my fathers plans for when he grows up is that my mom will be right next to him every step of the way. They seldom argue, and if they do, it never lasts long.
The truth is that my family is unique. Living without them has been the hardest thing Ive ever done. I am what I am thanks to them; to each of them. Weve done everything together: paddling in the Panama Canal, cooking, camping, reading, singing, and just enjoying a moment together. My cousin once described us as the family that always does everything together.
For 18 years I have done only a few things that didnt include my family, but living without them is the biggest by far. I am happy that I get to practice the whole not-living-with-my-family routine before college, and in a way, I have my parents to thank for this year of practice I am getting
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