Every story starts with it’s set of characters and mine’s no exception. My mother is teacher and my dad a musician. My mother and her parents are 100% Ukrainian and my father and his parents are Hispanic. So I am a product of pretty much both ends of the spectrum. My culture on both sides is deeply rooted in me. On one side I remember Easter mornings at my small town Ukrainian Orthodox Church where everyone is family (literally.) As for the other side I have vivid memories of large get togethers, where I danced the mamba with my relatives to hot Latin beats. I sometimes feel guilty because I favor my Hispanic roots but there is no way I can deny my Ukrainian side. I guess I would like to be a tan dark haired Latino rather than a pale skinned thick blooded and heavy-legged Ukrainian. But that’s really not fair for me to do. I would not give up the smell of church incense and taste of paska for anything.

  &bsp The setting of this suburban Frankenstein story takes place for all of my 15 years in Peters Twp. Actually that is partly true. Mix in there summers in Fl since I’ve been 9 and add a few vacations to New York to visit my dad’s family. I may also be moving to Florida this summer… Peters and me have a love hate relationship. I hated it at first and it didn’t treat me well but than I faced the facts and realized I must go with the flow and I’m now pleasantly happy. When I say go with the flow I don’t mean sacrifice my self-image because trust me I’m still not the norm. But I’ve realized kids my age can be idiots, they tease, they are insensitive, but as long as I have my few friends I could pretty much care less. There are still a lot of good people out there. High School really helped me realize this because of the interaction with other grades and the diversity. But I still have those moments where I see no visible sign of hope in my generation.

    The time I live in has changed drastically through out my life. I’ve always had a short memory for pain and a long one for joy so my life is punctuated at points. Quickly I do forget the mood of the past and it is just filled by NOW. Currently I’m mixed. The times we live in now are fast and dangerous. It is filled with patriotism at a price. It’s a price of lost life and ignorance. People spout words of “Bomb the Towelheads” and it frightens me. Innocent people are getting hurt just because they wear the wraps. A sheik was shot and killed recently because of his headdress. We are getting as bad as the terrorists in ways. The terrorists saw no distinction between military and civilians and now it’s the same for us. Peoples say “Level Afghanistan!” Yet there are so many people suffering and fighting for their own liberty in that country. Good people that are fighting for what us Americans claim is most important, freedom. I do believe there should be repercussions for the horrible, unspeakable tragedy but not this way. We can’t just blindly kill. I think we should fight with the people take down the Taliban. I was accused of being an anti-American and other not so nice words when I expressed my thoughts about not bombing the whole country. But I thought the ideal of an American was to help and to preserve liberty for everyone. I’m sorry but I cannot put my mind in that frame of thought. I just can’t. And it’s hard to say cuz either way we are going to lose military… But I have gotten off track. My main point in this time of hatred I still hold on to what makes me happy. Sometimes I forget and feel happy but I feel guilty when I do remember the tragedy and it’s victims at hand. Even though I know we must remember and honor those lost by living and caring on their memory for them.

    As for the rest of the parts in this story they are too vague. I’ve had my share of conflicts and climaxes. But trust me there is no end in sight and definitely no denouement in sight. I am a work in progress and there is no rushing a masterpiece. ;P