10 Pieces
My Introduction
The wind blows through the autumn trees, and there a girl is seated on a bench, listening to the sounds of the world and watching the clouds pass by; imagining a life that could be. A hopeless romantic who loves chivalry and classic romances such as Anne of Green Gables, Little House on the Prarie, and Far and Away sits there. She imagines life in the olden days, with open pastures, bike rides, and imagination. She wonders where those days have gone, and wishes for something different, but she thinks “at least I still have my imagination.”
My name is Megan Benzing, with a middle name of Elizabeth. I was born on a bright and early morning, on the 7th of June, in the year 2003. I now attend Desert Christian High School as a junior, using my imagination as a survival tool in this place we live in called “the world”. I am a believer and disciple of Jesus Christ and I live my life solely to glorify Him, with many moments of enjoyment as life goes on. Although I fail and I mess up and sin, He has forgiven me, and helps me move on; I owe my life to Him. God has given me many blessings, one of which, a wonderful family of six: my Ma, Pops, Tyler, Kylie, and Matt. They are my pain and my joy; they are some of the help that God has given to encourage me in my life. He has also given me many friends, one of which is my blessing and my joy, and she is called, Chingu.
As I am a junior in high school, I do have some aspirations and these of which include my wanting to become an airline attendant flying internationally. With my imagination, the idea of being in a plane, flying many places, and helping others, is the most romantic thing there could ever be. Being able to communicate in another language other than English just adds to this idea as well. I wish to learn languages and be able to fly to places like Korea, France, Spain, and hopefully many others. As of now, my imagination is the only thing that takes me to these places; it would be a thrilling experience for me flying there, to come true.
DeFinition
A collection of sounds floating through the air, through our ears, into our heads. A slight whispering that can touch the heart, mind, and soul all at once. It can speak in languages. It sees languages as no barrier, for with it, all can communicate with one another. All can communicate, celebrate, weep, and be silent with it. It brings people together based on what it communicates, and when together, great things happen; for better, or for worse. It can heal, and it can diminish the soul. When one is with it, it can definitely influence.
When I am with it, it lifts up my spirit; it overjoys me. It can celebrate with me, and it can empathize with me. It can challenge me, and it can encourage me. It shields me from the world, as best it can. It takes me away from this world and sets me up in the stars where I can see them glistening and shimmering. I feel at ease with it. I can close my eyes and imagine with it. I love it. Although it is incapable of loving me, I still love it like a unrequited love. A very long unrequited love, that will never go away.
Even though the world might try and use it for evil, we can glorify our good and mighty God with it. He can use it for good. Much of it has been corrupted and has ruined lives, but much of it still lives with life spoken into it. Even in the midst of evil, it has kept people together. Wonders come from it, lives are saved by it, and lives are ruined by it.
One can make it, hear it, live by it, or live for it. God created it for us to praise Him with it, and Him alone. He alone created it, making it His. Therefore, we should give back to Him what He owns. Music, I believe, is powerful in many ways; and one should never underestimate the power of its rhythms, rhymes, and lyrics. I love it yet still. Music is power.
Description
That warm smell of fall, the smell of pecans roasting in the oven, the crackling of boiling caramel suffocating in the heat of a 350 degree oven; it consumes me. As the fall leaves blow outside of my window, blowing a cool breeze into the kitchen, opposing the heat from the oven, I cannot wait until it is done. As I pull it out from the oven, I can see the brown, crystal caramel color of it, making me a drool a bit. The crust is a hint dark, but still a light brown, making it so much more appealing. The smell of it overwhelms all of my senses: just by smelling its savoriness and sweetness moves my sight, my hearing, my taste. I can taste it before it even hits my mouth. I wait until it has calmed down a bit, and I get a knife and a fork. I can hear the knife and fork clanging together as I cut it. I pick up a drooling piece of it on my fork and as I bite into it, it just melts in my mouth; a wonderful sensation. Then there it is! The crunch of the pecans mixed in with the caramel and sugar; we get sweetness and bitterness all in one. They balance each other quite well; and then comes the crust: it’s familiar yet dull taste compliments the well-known taste of the caramel. It warms my throat as it descends into my stomach; I then reach for another bite; it’s addicting. By the time I know it, all of my pecan pie is gone; all of it’s savoriness, sweetness, and crunchiness, has all been consumed by its maker.
Ethnography
An American high school homecoming football game in September of the year 2018, is quite the event. Friends, families, high school students, adults, kids, babies, smelly players, good-smelling food, and of course, football. On the bleachers, a couple sat together as they were wrapped in each other’s arms; they then left and walked hand in hand along the stairs to get food at the snack stand. As they left, a group of friends, about twelve, go and sit down below them, about seven bleachers down. They take pictures of themselves, and as a group, not even watching the game, as most of the people there are doing. Many students and friend groups are down near the snack stand chatting while the football players play their hearts out for them, their coach, and their biggest crowd of the season. A few little kids run along the bottom of the bleachers, clanging the metal together; a mom runs after them, and finally succumbs to let them play. Many parents are in the middle section of the bleachers, watching the game, cheering for them. Cheerleaders, cheer their hearts out, yelling loudly, trying to pump up the crowd; the crowd stays silent besides the exception of the proud parents. The aroma of the pizza fills the air, causing a line to form at the snack bar; two dollars per slice; the crowd waits and gets their pizza and then drift apart once more. Lots of people walk back and forth from one side of the bleachers to the other saying “Hi” and laughing to almost everyone they pass by. Then there are some who say nothing, they just walk. Along the bleachers, including the middle section of parents, there are clumps of friends all along the sides, laughing, smiling, and getting to know one another. Halftime then reaches, the people wondering how the time went so fast. The players step off the field, and the cheerleaders step on, ready to perform the halftime show. The crowd cheers loud, as they pour their voices, and hearts out to the crowd. Many people then go to use the restrooms, which are porta-potties; a line forms but dies out by the time the game starts once again. The groups also form once again and the fun begins yet again.
Process Analysis
First thing is first; to make a sandwich, one must go to the store. The supplies needed are bread, mayonnaise, and turkey(or any meat of one’s choice). Once one buys the supplies, one must go home and prepare to make the sandwich. One must bring the groceries into the kitchen(or wherever one wishes to make a sandwich), place them on a surface, and unbag the supplies. One must then take a knife from a drawer as well as a paper towel to set the bread on. Once the bread is out of the packaging and onto the paper towel, one then opens the container of mayonnaise, dips the knife into the mayonnaise, and spreads it thinly on one slice of bread, followed by the other slice. Once the mayonnaise is on the bread, one will place the knife in the ‘dirty dishes’ section of the kitchen and continue. Next, one will open the package of their choice of meat, and lay a thin layer of meat on the bread. This does not have to be a thin layer; place as much meat as one would like, onto the slices of bread. Once this is completed, one will then place the slice of bread with no meat on it, on top of the slice with the meat; this will complete the making of a sandwich. One last step that one can do is to take that knife that was placed elsewhere and use it to cut the sandwich diagonally, horizontally, vertically, or even into little shapes.
Inquiry
Good evening, I had a question regarding the mooncake product you had posted on your website. I love mooncakes; the taste of them are quite divine; when made right of course. I was wondering if your mooncakes have the quality that you guarantee your buyers. They look utterly delicious from the pictures, but as many would know, these days, pictures say nothing. I would love for your product to live up to its description without me asking, but I would like to ask anyway. Many times before, I have ordered these expensive delicacies, and they have not lived up to one, their price, or two, their listed quality. Not only this, their pictures were just as beautiful and delicious are yours are. Not only did some of them fall apart, but some of them did not even have any filling in them; or if they did, there was little of it. I would like to know if your product will do the same, and if so, is there any way for me to get a refund? When one pays around how much you are asking for, for a food product, they expect a good product in return, not one that is less than a cent below what they paid for it. Food especially, when it is expensive, yet not worth the money, is quite disappointing. The packaging of the delicacies look marvelous, and this was one of the things that brought me to your page, but again, do the quality of the actual products live up to their appearance, to the description, and to the packaging’s appearance?
Compare/Contrast
The fall and winter seasons are quite similar, yet different in certain areas. The fall season is cool and refreshing, with beautiful leaves falling from trees in colors of red, green, orange, yellow, or any mixture of these. The sound of the wind blowing through them is divine, and the smell of pumpkin latte’s brewing adds so much to the season. Pumpkins are out, as well as pilgrims, villages, fires, and thanksgiving. The winter season is full of wonderful chilling mornings, with bare trees, warm fires, beautiful starry nights, warm hands, and a bunch of Christmas cheer.
Fall, unlike the winter season, has full trees working their way to the bareness of winter; the leaves are falling due to the wind and their life cycle. In winter, mostly all of the leaves have fallen, and the trees look bare and cold to the tip. Fall is also full of comfort food such as turkey, ham, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, and much more, while the winter season is filled with delicious treats such as peppermint and hot cocoa. Fall, of course, has the celebration of Thanksgiving, and some may like to participate in the festivity called Halloween. The winter season has the holiday known as Christmas; families gathering to celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ.
While there are some differences, there are plenty of similarities. Both seasons bring families together to celebrate the beginning of the United States of America or celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior. Both seasons are enjoyable for walks, runs, and for sports. They both include food, fun, festivities, and most likely, some festivals for little children. Both seasons, where I live, are cold with no snow or rain(most of the time); and they are also enjoyable seasons as there is a beauty to both of them. The beauties of both of them may differ, but yet they still are both beautiful.
Effect
Joining a soccer team in high school years affects not only the player's physical attributes, but also the emotional, mental, and maybe even the spiritual aspect of that player.
I joined the soccer team at my high school my sophomore year; I was quite the stressed out freshman if that says anything, so I chose not to play then. After I went to a few practices over the summer, not only did I begin to feel the aching of my muscles, I began to feel the wear and tear it had on the mind. I became tired so much easier, I fell asleep way quicker, and I even got better sleep than I did without playing a sport. The aching pain I continued to feel was annoying but rather satisfying; I knew that my hard work was paying off. By the time the season actually started in December, I was all ready to go physically. My muscles were strengthened, I was quite conditioned, as well as used to the game. I was scared of games though; I still am now. The adrenaline rush that hits when I start a soccer game is absolutely incredible; because of soccer, I now know the thrill of that adrenaline rush.
I have also learned how to work as a team; soccer is a team sport and does not work very well if it is not treated as one. I had to learn this the hard way; in a game. It taught me teamwork and how valuable a team, its players, and the coaches are to one another. I am also a very competitive person, so being able to see where I fail has humbled me greatly in my ability; I have seen so many others that are ten times better than I will ever be at soccer. Overall, soccer has been quite the rewarding experience in my high school years.
Literacy Narrative
I was a sophomore in high school piled with homework, tests, reading, writing, and everything else. In English class that week, we were reading The Book Thief. We had read a few other books that year, but this one, this one made my heart hurt the most. As we made our way through the book, I got a bit excited and decided to read ahead of the class and see for myself what would happen. I decided that I would finish the book when I had the time the following weekend.
As I laid in my bed on that Saturday, I read the Book Thief tirelessly intertwined into the breathtaking story of Liesel, Hans, Rosa, Max, and Rudy. I read and read, page after page, engaged with the text; following Death as he tells his story. As I read, without even thinking about sustenance, I fell upon the ending chapters of the book. I think to myself “I’m almost done, I’m almost done.” I felt a thrilling sensation rise up my body, excited yet scared to see the ending of the lives of these characters. As I read the bombing, the deaths, Death itself speaking of the situation and explaining how he got Liesel's book, I became nervous. Nervous as to what the outcome would be, and how I would react. As I read these things I cried. I cried at the beauty of the relationships, at Max’s returning, at Liesel’s marriage, at the deaths of the beautiful creatures the author had created. This book was the first book that had made me cry in years; this book was beautiful yet heartbreaking for a hopeless romantic like myself. As I cried, I reminisced the memories of the book, and how I had grown up with Liesel and Rudy, and how I had to now let them go.
To this day, I remember that day my sophomore year, as the memories of the book had me in tears minute after minute; and still to this day, when I reminisce of Liesel and her relationships, I feel that sensation that I felt when I had first finished the Book Thief.
Memoir
The car drove away from the curb of the public school that had haunted me for so many years. My Mom and Dad were driving me away from my hell at that time, although it was not much of a one, to a seven-year-old, it was definitely hell. I was in the back seat crying out of frustration and a bit of joy at the fact that we had to make a decision; a decision that would change me forever: would I be homeschooled?
For the first five years of my school life, I attended a public school in Southern California. The teachers were wonderful, they lifted me up and encouraged me to learn; I even skipped the first grade because I was ahead in their eyes. My ability to study was well intact, but my mind was far from ready; I was not ready for friendships that were toxic. I was a shy, unmotivated girl who would not stand up for herself; I would just watch and deal with the emotional pain. It was easier that way; “we would be fine after she was done; she would do her thing and I would take it, that is how it worked”. At some point, after a while, I got dead tired of it and wanted out. My parents thought long and hard about it as I wanted to be homeschooled with all of my heart, and so, I fought for it. After a while, we had a meeting with the Principal, and it was decided that day that I would be homeschooled. As we drove away, I was crying, and to this day, I am not sure whether those were tears of joy or sadness or a mixture of both.
For the next three years, I was homeschooled through a fairly small private school; my mom taught me all I knew those few years. I became closer with my mom and she was more than a mom to me, she was my teacher whom I looked up to even more. She taught me math, language, science, Bible, and all of that; most importantly though, she taught me how to respect my elders and those around me. I am the person I am today due to my parents’ teaching, due to our studies of the Word, and due to their examples. One other thing that became apart of me during this time was literature. I read the entire series of Nancy Drew, Little House on the Prairie, and Anne of Green Gables. Anne of Green Gables formed the hopeless romantic part of me, as Gilbert Blythe stole my heart from the very beginning. To this day, I read bit and pieces, or even sit and watch the series with Megan Follows, as some relaxation time with my family. Following these three years of homeschool, for my eighth-grade year, my parents and I decided that I would go back to school.
The first day of eighth grade will forever be etched in my mind. I was scared and nervous and about to just sit down and burst into tears. I was so overwhelmed, as I had not been in a classroom for three years(besides my band class); I had few friends and had to start all over. In Algebra I, I was sitting in front of the teachers' desk, and I literally almost cried due to stress; but thankfully, I did not embarrass myself my first day. After a while, I made a friend who treasured the friendship and helped me learn how to trust once again. That year was quite the memorable year, as I learned how it felt to be the “new one” and learned how to befriend people and show myself to others. These friendships that I made have lasted throughout the years into my high school life, they will forever be treasured inside my heart, and the memories made will forever be inside my mind.
After my eighth grade year, I went to the high school and on the second day, I made my soon-to-be best friend of all time; “my Chingu”. We were sitting inside a Bible classroom, about to play a game to get to know one another; I was sitting in the front, and she in the back. The teacher told us to get a partner, and she and I were the only two who did not have one, and from that point on, we were a team. She was shy and laid-back, the perfect person to bring out my "get out of my comfort zone" mode. She and I made many memories our freshman year, and now as juniors, we remain the best of friends, grateful for one another every day. Seven years ago, I would have never imagined I would have made such a good friend; only by God was this able to happen, and I will thank Him eternally for it; for her.