My Heritage
The United States has been traditionally referred to as a “melting pot” of cultures and peoples. As a person of Lebanese descent, my culture and my heritage are important to me; my values and morals reflect my Lebanese background. I think of myself as a person with a positive moral code and values that benefit not only myself, but others around me as well. Growing up, I've always thought of myself as an American kid- being surrounded by American culture for years would make one think so. Only years later, I realized that as much as I am American, I am also Lebanese, and I should embrace my heritage as my own-whether it's attending more events at my local Lebanese church, volunteering more in my community, or just living every day the way I was raised. My parents, especially my mother, tried hard to convince me to “be more
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Over this past year I worked two jobs; one of them involved me working as an inventory manager in a local store's office. Every weekend I would go up to the store in the afternoon to log invoices, which would mostly entail sitting in front of a computer screen entering inventory data into the database. Although the work seemed pointless and menial, the experience of working an office job was worthwhile. For my second job, I worked as a painter for my childhood friend's grandfather. Every weekend I, along with a couple friends, would paint and repair the outside of houses that needed to be redone. The work was physically demanding, and the hours were long, but I truly enjoyed working as a painter. I loved painting because I felt that I gained experience in home maintenance that will benefit me later in my life. Working outdoors was an experience that exposed me to manual labor while forming a sense of brotherhood with some of my closest friends. While the jobs I've been paid for were worthwhile and meaningful to me, my most favorite work didn't even involve payment; I was
Over this past year I worked two jobs; one of them involved me working as an inventory manager in a local store's office. Every weekend I would go up to the store in the afternoon to log invoices, which would mostly entail sitting in front of a computer screen entering inventory data into the database. Although the work seemed pointless and menial, the experience of working an office job was worthwhile. For my second job, I worked as a painter for my childhood friend's grandfather. Every weekend I, along with a couple friends, would paint and repair the outside of houses that needed to be redone. The work was physically demanding, and the hours were long, but I truly enjoyed working as a painter. I loved painting because I felt that I gained experience in home maintenance that will benefit me later in my life. Working outdoors was an experience that exposed me to manual labor while forming a sense of brotherhood with some of my closest friends. While the jobs I've been paid for were worthwhile and meaningful to me, my most favorite work didn't even involve payment; I was