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Mental Metamorphosis

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Introduction

Man-Ju Sara Talpos English 125 01-25-2006 Mental Metamorphosis My childhood memory is full of "Ouch!" I was vivacious, uncontrollable, and enjoyed sticking my nose in everyone's business. Injury was usual practice in my daily life. Toys, sofa, door, or any object that obstructed my marching were my enemies. I blamed them for blocking my way and tripping me. They were the dark evils who carved crooked-shaped scars on my knees. But I knew my parents would always tend to me and their hugs would alleviate all the pain. I am lucky indeed. For me, family is not a word but an indescribable feeling embodied with comfort, affection, caring and protection. Even as a baby, faces that kissed and cooed surrounded me. I was passed around praised and cherished with tender. From the moment I was pushed into this world, loneliness had remained as a mysterious word for me. Every morning, I would be awaken by the aroma of omelette and soup. My family would spend a blissful time having our breakfast. In my little simple brain, I could picture every kid in the world having a happy family just like mine. ...read more.

Middle

Tony hopped around his chair like a drunken frog. Surprisingly, my best friend Alice, who was always quiet and modest, hugged me dramatically. The scene somehow reminded me of one of the Oscar ceremonies I watched on TV. "Our destination is St. Nicolas School." My teacher tried to calm us down but the effect was another outburst. "Oh Yeaaah!" We cheered boisterously even though we never heard of that school before. "Children! Listen up! St. Nicolas School is a very special school and home for deaf and blind kids. Some of the children have experienced terrible things. I will pair you up with a kid from that school and I hope you will be their good friends." I didn't fully grasp what my teacher meant by "terrible things". In my innocent mind, I could not picture children abandoned by their parents. Aren't we all protected and adored by our loving parents? What terrible things could have happened to them? Ah! Maybe the girls there lost their Barbies? I wondered. What I was about to find out has had such an everlasting impact on me and the way I contemplate life. ...read more.

Conclusion

The heartrending moment comes back in mind once again. I have been trying to lash out the dreadful moment in my memory for years, but I never succeed. Whenever I recall that moment, my pulse would quicken and a feeling of nausea would confront me. The truth was ruthless, yet it helped my metamorphosis from an immature girl to a compassionate person. I began to notice the nuance of my community. Jamie in my class, who was always bright, energetic, and caring, lived in a shattered shelter. Gabrielle did not have a single Barbie doll. Kenny had been wearing the same jacket to school everyday because that was the only coat he owned. There were so many stories, shows, movies and cartoons about homeless children, which I had never paid any attention to before. My perspective on the world changed unconsciously. I gradually recognize the reality that not all children are as fortunate as me. No parents tend to them when they fall; no parents feed them if they are hungry. They do not sleep on soft, bouncy beds, they do not receive presents every Christmas. They have to be self-reliant and paddle their own canoes. I admire them, profoundly, candidly, and sincerely. 1 W.B. Yeats (1919), The Wild Swans at Coole. ?? ?? ?? ?? 1 Lin ...read more.

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