Essay #3 "Family"

Does family shape one’s identity? How? Why?

What does the word “family” mean? I have a huge family. Not all are blood related, most are friend related.
Family, to me, defines the people that around you the most, the ones that love and treat you as part of their family.
People you grow up with, neighbors, friends, friends family’s, they all end up being part of yours, at least from and how I was raised.
I can say that the town I grew up in and the people that live there have always been there for me and watched out for me when my mom couldn’t, they went to all my basketball games to watch ME play and watch me grow up.
Because my step dad is a fireman, I grew up around every fireman and every cop in town. They treat me like their daughter.
Walking into my dads restaurant and trying to sit down and actually eat is probably one of the hardest things to do because I have to go in the kitchen say hello to all the chefs that have known me since I was a little girl and then to the bartender and waiters and everyone, it’s crazy!
I can’t imagine what I would being and where I would be with out these people in my life, they really are all my family.

Working in a Group

Working in a group is something you need to get use to. Not only in school but outside of that, in your job too. Personally I work better in a group. I like the feedback and responses people have about my ideas. In groups you have the advantage of not only getting your work done correctly but also getting to know the people in it and getting to be more comfortable around new people. The disadvantages are that you may really not work well in groups that you work a lot better by yourself, also getting stuck in a group with someone specifically that you don’t work well with.

Coming Home Again

Home, to me, is the hot homemade dinners my mom has on the table every night and the bacon and eggs she makes me in the morning. Home is the smell of freshly ground dried hot chili peppers my mom makes for her chili powder that no one but she can handle. Home is the smell of the grapes being crushed in all of Napa Valley; the smell of the yeast, alcohol and dirt. Home, to me, is the sound and smell of rubber burning on the pavement, the sound of a two-stroke or four-stroke dirt bikes, the joy of getting stuck and the sound of a knocking sound system over the roar of 36” tires.