That afternoon at my apartment I sat at a chair and start to look for my meaning. At my first search I wrote down, meaning of Ryan. I do not want to remember the address, but the search told me that my name means fat. I read that meaning a couple of times and yes it means fat. With my big confusion, I search on another address. In addition, the second search told me that my name means little king. With that meaning I was a little less frustrated. But again extended essays, I repeat the search and went to a third one. That one told me both meanings, fat and little king. I thought like what such a meaning could have my name! I accepted the meaning and here I am writing this essay. On the contrary, all of it was not frustrated. My name’s origin is from Scotia, Europe. That is the positive point of my name. As long as I can remember, I have been labeled as a tomboy. I believe this is how I adapted the nickname Sam so easily. Sam is a short version for the masculine name of Samuel. A particular memory I have using the name Sam over Samantha was on Monday, June 6th, 2005. It was my first day of class and I remember entering a classroom full of men ranging from a young smug football player to a kind simplistic looking grandpa. I sat down in the closest blue plastic chair that was available, not realizing it was broken. I began to wonder if this was a place for a “Samantha.” Surely they would accept a “Sam” as a serious and strong person in the motorcycle industry. So example of an essay body paragraph, as the potbelly forty-year-old man with short gray peppered hair and a five o’clock shadow called our names, I simply replied with “Here” and “Call me Sam.” Throughout the rest of my training at Motorcycle Mechanics Institute, my bully attitude and dirty clothing tagged me, Sam reading university essay help, as one of the guys. As years went by david hume essays, various experiences made me more accepting of my name. One of the most memorable came on the first day of middle school when the teacher called out our FULL names in the roll call. I’d always kept my middle name a closely guarded secret, fearing certain humiliation if anyone ever learned what is was. I expected a room full of laughter as she called out “Mark Harold Liles”, but to my amazement everyone was quiet. Then something totally unexpected happened. The quiet girl I secretly admired turned to me and said, “I like your name, it sounds cool”. That day marked a turning point. Maybe I’d been wrong about Mark, maybe the name was ok. Sometimes I think back on my days in kindergarten when I didn’t like my name and I laugh. I’m so happy to be Mark and not Robert. I like the person I’ve become and am thankful for the people and events that have helped shape me. I realize how it was never really about my name but instead about personal feelings of self confidence and self worth. There are times in life that I see obstacles and wonder how I’m going to overcome them; I worry about who I can count on to help me. But then I pause and remember that dependable friend that has always been there, I think of my respected friend, Mark Liles do review literature thesis, myself. On a hot and sunny Arizona afternoon, I stand next to my shiny lime green two wheeled machine and swing my right leg over the hot black seat. I start the engine and listen to the deep exhaust as I twist the throttle. Maneuvering my way out of the parking lot filled with big lifted trucks and neon sport bikes I feel a sense of people watching me. As I look to the left, I see two tall men wearing baby blue collared shirts with looks of confusion and excitement. I begin to realize this must be the first time they have seen a girl who is five feet, four inches tall with long brown curly hair and a small waist controlling what has been traditionally seen as man’s vehicle. My name is Samantha essay on social networking sites, and I ride and repair motorcycles. Samantha may sound beautiful, soft and caring; however I am brute shooting an elephant essay, loud and hardhearted female in a man’s world of mechanics. Why couldn’t I have names like my brothers? Richard was the oldest and his name was strong and confident. Best of all he could be Rich or Richard how much of my essay is plagiarized, a multifunctional name; Richard when he became president and Rich with his buddies on the playground. And then there was Russell who could always be Russ when the need arose. What were my parents thinking? Did they just run out of letters? It was obvious to me that my name should’ve been Robert. This theory was reinforced by my Sesame Street logic: Richard reasons for doing literature review, Russell, Robert, Mark; which one of these just doesn’t belong? I wanted Robert… not Mark, and like that unwanted tag along there didn’t seem to be anything I could do to get rid of it. In class I was assigned to write a narrative about me name and use that to describe me. My name is like snow in the spring, difficult. It’s also like 70 degree weather in October, pleasant. But it’s also like a new routine, you get used to it after a while. Everybody’s name is unique to them regardless if your name is Sarah or some crazy, extravagant name. Without our names, who would we be? It doesn’t matter if you hate your name or love your name; it was intended to be for you. That’s why I wouldn’t change my name for the world. В В В My name’s meaning came as a shock to me, as if a train had ransacked my pure sole. The name is not synonymous with a brave warrior or a powerful man like I had wished. It is a big disappointment handcuffed to me for the rest of my life. My parents did not think about different perspectives when naming me. All that mattered was that the name “Brandon” had two easy syllables, which made it perfect for my elders to pronounce. Just like that! В В В There are many Zhong grandchildren. There are, Zhong X sample persuasive essay homework, Zhong Y topics for art history research papers, Zhong Z, and obviously Zhong Han. Grandfather himself even has tons of trouble keeping track of who is who.
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