Personal Experience: My Experience At A Community College

1591 Words 7 Pages
Athena
After spending the last two years at a community college working toward my associates degree, I am transferring this fall to the State University just thirty minutes from home.
Well, that 'll be three to four hours away from where I live since I take public transportation to school. I cannot believe I am a nineteen-year-old girl, who graduated at the top of her class in both high school and college, and I am petrified of driving. My body shivers as the memories kick in.
"Dude! What the fuck are you doing?" Sam shouted. The only thing going through my head was why is he calling me dude? "STOP!" I pressed the brake, but the fence kept getting closer and closer.
The car stopped moving as my head made contact with the steering wheel and
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We got stopped by a police officer who thought I was a drunk driver. He said I was moving the car in a zig-zag motion and got worried I was going to crash. So, after a year with my permits I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles, gave the lady my waiver and she gifted me with a license. No test, no questions asked. I am crossing my fingers and praying to God that Google comes out with their car already. My parents say it 's good I have my license because by the time I get over my fear of driving the insurance of the car will go down a litt4le. But that was three years ago and I am still horrified to drive.
I guess I would drive if the steering wheel of the car would be on the center of the dashboard and I will be able to see the nose of the car. Is that even the name for it? See! I shouldn 't be on the road if I don 't know the proper technicality for a vehicle. I am doing a favor to all the drivers in Miami. And the traffic in Miami sucks; people honk all the time for no reason. Yeah, I might have switched lanes without looking in the mirrors first, but give me a break; I was learning to drive!
I need a distraction. I get out of bed and walk over to my painting studio connected to my room. With my painting smocks on, I start collecting oils and brushes, setting them in front of the easel. I pull my black hair into a low bun and roll up the sleeves of my shirt. Just as I am about to sit down
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Grandma opens her caramel eyes like the wolf in Red Riding Hood about to eat us.
"Sorry, sorry," we both say in Spanish.
"Are you going out with Luis tomorrow?" grandma asks America.
"Yes, Dad said it was fine. Luis is picking me up around nine or ten," America answers.
She looks happy and excited for this date; I hope Luis is a nice guy and treats her right. I have never had a boyfriend or dated any guys. It kind of sucks, because being the big sister I am supposed to experience everything before America and give her advice on what to expect, do, or say. I won 't be able to do so.
It always got me mad when I would go visit family and the first thing to be asked was if I had a boyfriend. Why do you care? Hispanic families always want to get in your business and know everything there is to know about you so that they can sit on their porch, drink café Cubano and gossip about their family 's life.
I mean, I have had crushes, but nothing serious. I am one of those girls that believes when I see the guy I am supposed to spend my life with, I will know. I rather focus all my attention on school and getting good grades, so I can become a better artist and have my own shop. I don 't need a man with me to feel whole, I just need

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