|By Brandi (Brandi) on Thursday, August 28, 2003 - 10:51 pm: Edit|
The smells and sounds hit me first. Aromas of “Lechón y Arroz con Frijoles”, cheese “Arepas” and tobacco wafted through the air as I passed block after block from 5th Avenue to 27th on Southwest 8th street. The captivating pulse of Latin American music vibrated and bounced off the buildings. The “Merengue”, “Cumbia”, “Salsa”, and Spanish Rap caused people to dance rather than walk in the street. Along with over 1 million other people I am at the 25th anniversary of “Calle Ocho” Carnival: the festival that has become a celebration of unity for Hispanics in South Florida.
The street is filled beyond its capacity with wall-to-wall bodies. It’s a blistering hot day. Walking through the dense crowd people are saturated with sweat. “Calle Ocho” looks like the street of any major Latin American city. How could something only 30 minutes away from my house seem like a totally different country? The food from every Latin American nation was for sale at street vendors lining the sides of the streets.
Everywhere I looked I saw people celebrating their heritage, eating their native food, listening to their music, remembering their homelands, and reveling in their cultural diversity and unity. People were buying beaded necklaces in the colors of every Latin American Country. This is what I would see everyday if my mother had not come here from Columbia. They were wearing their Nationality like logos- on their hats, t-shirts, jewelry and tattoos.
My mother is Hispanic and my father is American. I have fair skin and light eyes. Since my father does not speak Spanish, I heard little Spanish at home. I was raised like an all American child; I grew up on pizza, McDonalds, and grilled cheese sandwiches a lot more than “empanadas” and “pastelitos”. All of my mother’s friends who were like mothers to me jokingly call me la gringa. Meanwhile my father’s family felt that I was amazing for speaking Spanish. English is my first language but I studied Spanish in school. I wish I could Salsa dance but I know how ridiculous I look. They always told me it was in my blood somewhere. I would hear my mother switching from English to Spanish to “Spanglish” in her phone conversations and was able to learn and understand.
The sun has begun to set but nobody seems to notice or have any intention of leaving. Some People young and old are dancing to the music that comes from the massive stage speakers and others are dancing listening to music from small radios in the back of restaurants and empty lots. All the songs are different but everyone is dancing together. Puerto Ricans, Colombians, Cubans, Mexicans all for a second forgot the animosity they had towards each other. It was an ocean of colors and people and music and noise and the tide brought me in. Me, La gringa was dancing freely maybe not exactly to the beat of the music and maybe not as well as Shakira. But it didn’t matter It was in my blood, Just like my Heritage.
|By Fee12345 (Fee12345) on Thursday, August 28, 2003 - 10:56 pm: Edit|
mines prolly a lit better
|By Ctrain890 (Ctrain890) on Thursday, August 28, 2003 - 11:07 pm: Edit|
It's a very vivid & creative story. I definitely like the idea. The only thing I would say is that you should expand more on the substance of the essay. Right now it's about 70% story and 30% substance. You should adjust it to at least 50/50. But other than that it's really good. Short, sweet, and to the point.
But good job!
|By Brandi (Brandi) on Sunday, August 31, 2003 - 07:37 pm: Edit|
Alright guys thanskf or your help...How bout this one..I think its way better..completely different topic and im not done yet. Its just a rough rough rough draft but tell me what you think.Here we go...
Her name is AuroraAS525S.She resides in the copy room at the Bob Graham for President Campaign office with the SharpFO4400, HPLaserjet4300,MinoltzQMS, and the SharpAR335 Digital Imager. Although she is the smallest of the appliances, she is by far the most merciless. When I first met her she looked so innocent, standing behind cardboard boxes collecting dust. Little did I know what I had in store.Aurora was the devil reincarnated as a paper shredder who’s goal was to make my life miserable.
Aurora and I did not get a long from the start. At first I was excited to take a break from my routine of folding , stuffing,sealing, stamping and labeling.As soon as I pressed the on button her motor started to hiss at me loudly as if to say “ I dare you to put more than 5 papers (Her maximum limit)inside me at a time”. I had heard the popular office joke “How many interns does it take to work the paper shredder?
””Nobody knows its never been done”.It was inevitable that I ,being the newest and youngest intern and at the bottom of the office food chain would be the one to shred bottomless boxes of paper.
I never understood what Aurora’s problem is but I have many theories. Maybe being the only black appliance in a room full of gray ones causes her to feel socially alienates. Maybe she is homesick for her native land of China where she was made. Maybe she is just allergic to paper. But most likely she is evil. I don’t know exactly how old Aurora is in paper shredder years. Maybe she is going through menopause. After all she often overheats and shuts down for 30 seconds to 30 minutes and then suddenly comes back to life with a noise that can be heard throughout the office. Maybe she is overworked and underpaid. I am in intern. I can definitely relate.
I often had to pry into her sharp class to retrieve bits of paper that were jamming the machine with pens, paperclips or my bare hands. I would have nightmares about being swallowed and shredded alive.No task was as daunting as dealing with the wrath of Aurora.
After months of paper shredding Aurora and i got used to eachother. I became known as the Director of paper shredding operations and other interns and even employees came to me for help.Finally i was getting the respect i deserved. Sure paper shredding is not the noblest of proffesions but in a political campaign office the shredding of condidential documents and destroying of evidence can prevent political scandals.Aurora is the only one in the office who knows all the secrets.
One day much to my chagrin Aurora was gone.In her place was a Fellowes Heavy Duty office shredder.Shredding at a whopping speed oft 38 sheets of paper per pass at a speed of 25 feet per minute it was an interns dream.But where was Aurora?Maybe over the weekend someone got really frustrated and murdered her.Maybe she is being held hostage at a rival political campaign or has been confiscated by the FBI.Maybe she was caught stealing office supplies or eating someone else`s Frappucino.Maybe when everyone was gone for the night she came alive and escaped.Aurora taught me patience that summer and she will be greatly missed-at least by me.Now,I know she has gone to a better place.She is up there in Heaven with all the paper shredders in the sky looking down on me.She is my guardian paper shredding angel who is watching over me.
Tell me what you think.Does this say anything about me really?Feel free to make changes.Also i have to shave off almost 100 words to have the limit of 500.Thanks,Natalie
|By Trojan1444 (Trojan1444) on Sunday, August 31, 2003 - 08:05 pm: Edit|
That one's ok, but I don't understand the importance of the copy machine...it's a funny story, but it doesn't really say anything about you....
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