The Story Of My Life - Research Paper Example

 The Story Of My Life My earliest childhood memories are of sunny mornings in our little thatched roof cottage, with mom at the stove making breakfast and our nanny at the kitchen table besides the fire, brandishing the toasting fork with a smoldering slice of freshly baked bread slices. Mornings used to be the same each day except on Sundays when Daddy was home. If I close my eyes now, I can still vividly smell the thick aroma of bacon and butter that permeated our cottage each morning, I can still clearly hear the dishes clattering in the sink and my little brother yelling and running wildly across the backyard. My mom was very beautiful she had pale skin, brown eyes and naturally rosy red cheeks. My Dad on the other hand was dark skinned with hazel eyes and a tall frame. Mom and I had a special relationship, making us as much friends as we were mother and daughter. Throughout my childhood, I dreamt of leaving our little village and pursuing the life I desired. But my mother’s illness forced me to stay. I remember that at times it was very hard for me to live in our grey little village with its colorless people and infernally dull, monotonous routine. Each night my mom would start the same charade that I was wasting my time and I should go on and pursue my dreams. But she knew I would never leave her alone because she was living her last days, breast cancer had finally taken its toll on her. I remember that during her last days, her eyes had lost their sparkle and her once glossy hair had turned dull. I knew that nothing in the world would have persuaded me to leave my mother and find the life I constantly desired. On a cold December night, my mother died peacefully in her sleep and I was left alone to console and take care of my daddy and my brother. I was twenty one when I left my village in my old Volkswagen Beetle and headed towards the city. I was fascinated at the sight of tall buildings and posh ladies with their little cute dogs. Unfortunately, my timing had been wrong, some Hollywood star had committed suicide about the same time I rented an apartment and started living in the city. Therefore, my early memories are more of rumors and speculations about the death of the star than of anything else. I worked as a receptionist for seven months at a merchant bank with an imposing Victorian façade. The media world had always fascinated me and so I tried my luck at the local television station. To my surprise I was accepted as a personal assistant to a researcher for a current affairs show. The pay was low and I was expected to perform all odd tasks, from getting coffee to clearing the mess left after lunch. However, I thoroughly enjoyed the constant noise of faxes, PA machines, TV sets and not to mention the constantly ringing phones. I enjoyed the last minute hassles before a program was due to broadcast and non stop screaming of the director. Our director, David Mallory was a heartthrob, and everybody including me had a crush on him. He had dark blond hair which was always disheveled, his tie was always loose and the top button of his shirt was always undone. He had an immaculate face bone structure so no matter he was angry or smiling, he always managed to look devastatingly handsome. One particular December night, we were working late because a special programme based on terrifying events going on in north of the city where youth gangs had begun rioting on the streets, was to be broadcasted. The angry gangs had set almost everything alight from shops to houses and cars. I left the office building around 3 in the morning and since I had sold my Volkswagen a month ago, had no option other then to walk home. I was dodging the icy puddles on the pavement when a Ferrari came roaring out of a parking lot ahead of me, with tires shrieking, spewing slush and engine snarling. What was even more horrifying than the shrieking tires was that the car was headed straight in my direction. I was practically paralyzed, never in my life I had known such fear, the fear of staring at imminent death. As the car flew towards me I flung myself backward, lost my footing and hit my head on the pavement. I woke up a day later in a local hospital ward, a nurse told me that the car had missed me with an inch and I was lucky that a man had witnessed the whole scene from his balcony and had rushed me to the hospital or else it was fairly likely that I would have overnight succumbed to frost bite. I was discharged two days later and since that day I have never walked home late at night. Most of the days, I was the first one to arrive and the last one to leave so it was not long before my hard work was noticed by the higher officials. I was rewarded by being transferred to the post of a researcher. Little did I know that soon things were going to turn bad. So bad that it would take enormous amount luck to set everything alright, problems started the very day I was posted on the position of a researcher and was allocated a separate office. Suddenly everyone except the director was giving me a cold shoulder at work; I was so confused about what was wrong with everyone. Later I discovered that another coworker had been expecting to land the post of a researcher which had, according to them, was so easily and undeservingly offered to me because they thought that I was having an affair with one of the higher officials. I was put through every kind of workplace harassment for the next few months. I never answered their accusations nor did I let them get me down. My determination to excel was the only reason that made me go on each day. I worked as researcher for three years. During these three years I learned tremendously, I soaked up every skill I needed to strive towards the dream of hosting a show of my own. My childhood friend Paula broke up with her long time boyfriend on a warm spring night, after discovering that the tart had been cheating on her all along. As expected, Paula was devastated and nothing seemed to console her. Therefore, I decided to take two weeks off from work and take Paula to Riviera for a holiday. I must say that I can never forget the breathtakingly beautiful sunsets of Riviera. Almost each evening, Paula and I sat at the terrace of the villa my company had rented for me, to watch the beautiful crimson canvas of the sky, the vibrant yet soft orange streaks of setting sun were truly memorable. I particularly remember the villa’s pale stone terrace which had red germaniums tumbling from terracotta pots. Moreover, several plants of lobelia which were the color of lapis lazuli, twisted like a snake around the terrace balustrades. I vividly remember the picturesque splendor of the coastline. The coastline was littered with sprawling white palms and other tropical vegetation. The aquamarine sea was not only crystal clear but was magnificently beautiful. One particular evening, I was wandering on the beach enjoying the touch of wet golden grains of sand beneath my bare feet that I saw the most magical sunset. The setting sun was perfectly magnificently mirrored in the shimmering turquoise gentle waves of the sea. I was mesmerized with the beauty of nature. During my stay in Riviera, I realized that being close to nature heals all sorrows and which is exactly what nature did for Paula. She had arrived in Riviera heartbroken, with teary eyes and pale bloated skin, after two weeks she was radiant with a golden sun kissed tan. On our last night in Riviera, we had dinner at a local hotel which was not only beautiful but served the best food in town as well. However, the best that happened in Riviera had nothing to with the food or with the beauty; it had to do with Paula. She fell in love with a handsome French guy and they got married last year in France. She is now expecting twins and I will be flying down to Riviera to help her through her last few weeks of pregnancy. Life has taught me a simple rule: no matter how hard things might seem, always have faith in yourself because only your determination to survive can turn the tide in your favor. Read More