Finding your personal identity, and your belonging in this world, are composed of different factors. Realizing who you are, and all the things that you feel are not just random. It’s who you are, and there's something very important that makes you who you are. The important aspect of building your identity I want to focus on is how your past experiences shaped who you are today. From everything you have done, and what you have gone through, you have learned from, and sometimes benefited from, has built who you are. I want to go into deep research, and discover why a person is that person based from their past. Or in better terms, “Declan’s Attempt at Psychology.”

In The Great Gatsby, the author did a terrific job with building the identities and personalities of his beloved, and hated characters. Jay Gatsby, the man who has lived it all. He’s one fancy talker, a complete class act, and a very persistent man. But why? It all came from his past. At a young age he was poor, but he had a glimpse at the society of the socially elite and fell in love. He attempted everything he could to reach that society once again. He was taught how to speak like one of them, and he was taught how to act like one of them. This all came from that one life changing experience in his past where he saw the glamorous lifestyle, and it has altered his life in the most grand way. When Scott Fitzgerald was writing The Great Gatsby, he had to think about a few things when designing his characters. Their intentions, motivations, preferences, and their personality. All of those things are formed from what you have experienced in the past, and how you dealt with those situations.

According to Drake Baer from Business Insider, that we are indeed affected by what's happened in our childhood which turns you into the adult you are today. “Tons of research shows that our adult behavior stems from what we experienced as kids.” An article on paradoxical.wordpress.com, a writer speaks on how your past experiences shaped who you are. “Our response to situations, and events in our lives are all shaped by our experiences. Your thought process, our mind set, attitude, aspirations, expectations, and social behaviour are all altered or shaped by our experiences.” This is what Maaher Sayeed said about how are past has changed us. “Most of us feel anxious or experience irrational thoughts from time to time. Often there is a relatively simple background or explanation to why we are acting or thinking in an anxious or irrational way – this may for example be because of certain events in our childhood which make us sensitive in particular situations or it may be because of recent events, or a mixture of the two.” This what David Bonham-Carter had to say about the connection of your past affecting your life in the present. Writers, filmmakers, and other variants of story tellers all have to think about who their characters are, and why they are that way. I have noticed in any form of storytelling, the author/creator will give us either a brief or a long story about their past and why they make decisions like they do now because of the past.

I was young, and very protected. I was shielded off from all the harmful things that the world produces. I didn’t understand the negative, and I hadn’t experienced the negative. I spent my first couple years in the world going to “Mommy & Me” music classes, private preschool, dance classes, and my mom made me go to theatre camp. I grew up in a courtyard in Society Hill, and one of my best friend's parents were the head of the Republican Party of our protected neighborhood. I didn’t know what else was out there besides Starbucks hot chocolate, and arranged playdates. But I did finally have my first experience with the real world when I was 5.

I wanted to do Karate. I was inspired by all the Bruce Lee movies my dad showed me. He would always tell me not to tell my mom I was watching them. My mom was against the idea of me going to Karate classes because she didn’t want to see her baby get hurt, but my dad was all for it. The pride a father takes in their son being a champion is something you could only understand if you were a dad. They spent time looking for a “nice” dojo for me to go to, but there really wasn’t much for a 5 year old. I went to a place called Zhang Sah. It was an odd experience for me, I didn’t know anyone. No one here grew up where I did, and I knew no one. All the other kids gathered in a group and made friends with one another, and I was left out. A lot of my classes were spent like this, and I was always the one being targeted. I didn’t exactly mind, since the purpose of this was teaching someone self defense and I was well aware of the concept we were practicing.

I felt the most vulnerable in the locker room. I never knew to get changed in the locker room, or to go to the bathroom and get changed there. I remember when I went to the gym with my dad, and he got changed in the locker room. So I just did what he did. We all would go into the locker room before our class started to get into our uniforms, and put away our bags. All the other kids were laughing and talking, while I was left to myself. I was nervous to get changed in front of people. I took off my shirt cautiously, and slowly. I knew they were watching when I heard the conversation start to quiet, and I knew some of the other kids were peering over in my direction. I continued to take off my blue jeans, this was what I thought we were supposed to do. Their conversation came to a hush, and all the kids bursted out in laughter. I was nervous, and I didn’t know why they were laughing. One of them approached me.

“What you doing?!”

I looked at him scared.

“You gay for that.”

I was now confused, I didn’t understand the context of that word. After the day was done at the dojo, my mom picked me up. She strapped me into my seat, and we started driving. I was quiet, still thinking about what I had heard earlier.

“Declan, why are you so quiet honey?” My mom asked.

“Some kid called me gay. What does that mean?” I responded.

I could tell by the look on my mom’s face she wasn’t happy. She was silent for a few moments as well. I understand now why she wasn’t happy with the name I was called. All of her best friends were gay, and those friends were the same people that babysat me. It was something that she didn’t have to face anymore, and she found it so sad that a 5 year old would just say that. Homophobic beliefs are not something you just develop, they are taught. Whether if it is through religion, or close minded parents.

“It just means happy, Declan.”

She was silent after that. We continued the drive home, and I felt a sense of reassurance that I now understood the name I had been called. But I knew that’s not what that kid had meant. He meant to call me gay, like actually gay. I was able to pick up on that. A few days had past and my head was still wrapped around on this situation. I had to ask again, but I didn’t go to my mom for the answer this time. I went to my dad. We were going to the nearby park, and he was giving me a piggy-back ride.

And somehow in the most innocent voice you’d ever hear, I just came out and asked my dad “What does gay mean?”

My dad seemed shock, that wasn't a question he’d be prepared to answer for a 5 year old. He came up with a very simple answer for me.

“Well, it just means another boy likes another boy instead of a boy liking a girl.”

That was simple, it was music to my ears. It didn’t seem like a big deal at all, this was minor. What a pointless word. And I connect this back to the theme. Homophobia is something you teach. It is developed. If my dad had phrased what gay meant in a negative way, my positive thoughts about gay people in this country would be flipped. If only that kid’s parents said to him what my dad said to me.

My goals with this paper were to get across a point that we shouldn't worry so much, and we should

enjoy life for what we have. I feel like I did well with good description of the scenic set around me.

I'd like to improve the sense people are getting of my larger idea.

I found myself waking up around 7 AM, and I had no ability to fall back asleep. I’m not sure which it was, it either could have been the strong sunlight beating through the tent walls, or it could have been the early morning chills in the Fall. I absolutely have no business being up this early. I was still lying down with my eyes open waiting for my cousin to finally get up. I grew bored of just waiting for something to happen. I unzipped the tent slowly, quiet as possible to make sure I didn’t wake anyone. That sunlight became even more intense without the tent walls to protect my eyes anymore. I rubbed my eyes and threw over the hood on my jacket. I made sure to zip the tent wall back together. Directly outside my cousins tent, was his camper where everyone else was sleeping. I doubted any of them were up. I needed to do something, so I grabbed my bike on the side of the camper and went out for a ride.

I kicked off the side of the road and my journey to nowhere began. It was clear I was still exhausted. My legs could barely push the pedals around. There was no way in hell that this was going to stop my ride. I was still unclear of the geography of my cousins campground. That just added onto the fun of the ride. In a matter of seconds, or so I thought, I was heading over this tiny bridge across a pond. It was beautiful. The countryside of upstate New York was peaceful. I could finally get away from the honking horns, the SEPTA trolleys in the mornings. I could replace the grey pavement with green grass any day. Birds were chirping to one another, and not to sound too poetic or anything, I absolutely could tell that they were talking to each other. Possibly even bragging to each other about that they could fly and I couldn’t. That's just the dream, to actually fly.

I  was still riding around the campground with no sense of time. It must have been at least 30 minutes since I left the tent. No one even knew I left. They could have either been worried, or still asleep. I was really hoping for the second option. If it was the first option (worried), my crazy aunt would have freaked out and yelled at me when I got back. There was no way I would stand up in front of her and take that vocal beating from her. Don’t get me wrong, I love her to death, but she can be a very tough cookie in a flip of a switch. Like I said, I didn’t know my way around the campground at all. I found myself on a bike trail at a turn I had never seen before. I knew I wasn’t lost. All I had to do was turn around and bike back.

There were red & yellow leaves on the ground that would crinkle under my tires zooming right over them. I was under the trees, protected by the shade as I enjoyed this harmony. As I kept biking, I remembered how I got there instantly. I was beginning my ride back, and it was a quick one. More people were awake and spending their time outside. Since other were people awaking, I knew my family back at their camper was as well. I started riding as fast as I could, as I thought of excuses why I was missing in the morning. I’m probably just going to say I went to the public bathrooms so I didn’t wake anyone by going into the camper to use the one in there. I really didn’t think it would matter that I decided to go out for a bike ride. I can just tell them that. It’s honest, and endearing.

Short Chapters Are Better For A First Person Story

In the book, The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night Time by Mark Haddon, he uses very small chapters to break up his work. Sometimes they range from being a paragraph to being more than 10 pages. He does not even use the usual format of how chapters break up the story. He will put the number with no title right below other writing. It doesn’t just use a blank page on the left, then a page on the right with the chapter number and title, then some words underneath going on to the next page. He might just put it in the middle, or bottom, or top. This book is in first person which is very key to using these short chapters. The effect that the chapters had on the first person story, really lets the character decide to break up his story, and it felt a lot more free flowing. It was better to read it like this because you lived each day with him, giving insight on what everything was going on. It made the book faster and I feel like this is a strong new tool for first person stories. The short chapters enhance the first person story, and should be used more.

Early off in the book, he gets to chapter five which was only on the third page. The previous chapter before the fifth one only lasted for five short paragraphs explaining his relationship with his neighbor Siobhan and how she treated him. He says that he likes her and how she takes care of him, and what she reads and draws for him. That is all what that chapter was about. Chapter five, was also very short. It only lasted for a paragraph but it made the book progress through a scene that could be very large. “5. I pulled the fork out of the dog and lifted him into my arms and hugged him. He was leaking blood from the fork holes. I like dogs. You always know what dog is thinking. It has four moods. Happy sad, cross and concentrating. Also, dogs are faithful and they do not tell lies because they cannot talk.” (End of chapter). This chapter was very concise. It had only a total of six sentences, and it made it very easy to understand what the character thought. This chapter could be a lot longer but it didn’t have to be. The writer captured everything you needed to know about Christopher helping out the dog. If it was a regular chapter that would be long, he would have gone on and on about the dogs blood, not necessary literary elements, and too much of a description.

The short chapters being used by Mark Haddon are very elaborate and enjoyed by many of other readers. In many reviews, they talk about how great of a first person story this is. Christopher is autistic, and many people picked up on this through out the book. It was really good to get the inside look of someone with autism and their inside thoughts. Making the chapters shorter was really well fitting. Also, with how the chapters are numbered which are all prime numbers. Christopher likes to solve puzzles and is very smart with numbers. In the beginning of the book he says “Prime numbers are what is left when you have taken all the patterns away. I think prime numbers are like life. They are very logical but you could never work out the rules, even if you spent all your time thinking about them.” This made the book very interesting on top of the short chapters. I only say first person because this is what comes straight out of a character's mouth and how he wants to tell the story, unlike a third person story where the narrator is only going into detail about the events that take place, and that they have to break it up in to different parts of the story.

Christopher’s chapter numbers were a great way to communicate how he felt about numbers and how much he likes to solve puzzles. He has a great knack for numbers and what they mean to him. The prime numbers really enhanced the story, and same with the way how they were short. It was a great way to really understand someone with autism because I know from friends that do have it, that they really like numbers and are good with them as well. Sometimes, they might talk about one thing extensively or keep it very short. Thats how the chapters were set up, and everything they did was a real masterpiece and put the story together so much better. An online source explains the chapters very well and how they work. “Equally, Christopher chooses to give his chapters prime numbers because he likes them: they mean something to him. He does not choose prime numbers because they have significance for someone else, like his name meaning carrying Christ. Also like him, prime numbers do not fit in with a typical or easy pattern - they are difficult to identify and they are a rule unto no one.” This describes very well of how the chapters play out. The chapters are a representation of him, not just a story. They hold a meaning that relates just to him and no one else. On top of them holding a meaning to what he likes and what he is good at, they are short too which makes it even better. If these went on for a while, the prime numbers wouldn’t be as powerful because he doesn’t get to show an abundance of them if he wrote long chapters which would mean there would be less. Short prime numbered chapters played out amazingly in this book.

We just got off the Broad Street Line and now walking to his house. We were excited about to going to the pool hall later. We planned this for a few days now and the anticipation built. It was just a pool hall, but it was going to be fun.

We got to his steps and walked into his house. We got settled and put our stuff down and had a light snack before we were about to go out.  

“You ready to lose?” I asked him sounding confident with a smirk on my face.

He gave me a look knowing that he wasn’t going to lose. I was rushing him for us to leave soon because he was taking forever, I guess he wasn’t as excited I was to go. I just hung on and tried to wait as patient as can be.

I walked over to his bathroom and right after I closed the door shut I heard a vibration in my pocket. It was from my phone. I pulled it out of my pocket expecting just a casual notification like a measly snapchat or something, but it wasn’t, it was from my mom. Usually when I get a text message from it has to do with complaining or something about a holiday, thats not what this text was about this time.

I read off my lock screen and it said “I need you to come home right now, there is something I need to tell you.” That scared me, when someone says “we need to talk” it’s serious. I responded back right away.

“Sorry, I cant. Im about to go play pool.”

More texts went back and forth between us, she kept saying please come home, I don’t need you to but it would be very helpful and I said “I will be home soon.”

I put my phone back into my pocket and it vibrated in the vibration mode when you’re getting a phone call. I pulled it out of my pocket and I read what it said off the screen. MOM. I answered the phone right away, she was crying.

“De-De-Declan…”

I can tell she’s been crying for a while.

“Mom, whats wrong?!?!” I responded immediately because I knew something was wrong.

“Something happened” She cried some more and bursted into tears.

“Mom, please tell me. I’m worried.” I was starting to get really scared.

“Its Bebop” My heart sunk. This was the man that helped my parents raise me, the one that was best friends with my mom for 30 plus years now, always there for her and all of us. He moved out of Philadelphia which was devistating and he finally found a good job and I was so proud. She continued talking.

“Well, it started off as being sick and he passed out yesterday. The results came back, he has a brain tumour.” I lost all sense of everything. I only heard a buzz in my ear and I stared off into blank space.  I didn’t know what just happened, my phone fell through my hand and I hit the floor. I started crying as my friend had no idea what just happened. I told him right away and left his house. I ran right home.

White Boy

Average, bland, plain, boring, and proper english fell out of my mouth every time I talked. It grew into me dashing in a little slang, threw in some philly made words and then add the dominate bland english, congratulations! You have made my voice. My communication tool. I was the white boy, “The inside-out oreo”. I enjoyed it. My friend Vaughn told me “You got the perfect flow of urban and ya whiteness.”

My voice and dialect has changed a tremendous amount for each interaction I have with different people. The interactions are teachers and I, parents and I, family and I, and friends and I. Some interactions with the way I talk has grown more than others like friends and I and parents and I are the two biggest ones that have expanded and grown. A good example of me saying to a friend when I saw him when I was little.

“Hey!” to

“Whats good bro?”

Then the conversation would go something like,

“Want to ask your parents to have a play date after school?”,

and then now it would be

“You wanna chill after school and grub, man?”  

Then my conversations with parents started off as,

“Daddy (or mommy) what’s for dinner?”

and now it would be like

“Yo, what ya gonnna make tonight?”

The transition of our language is just natural, we all do it. We will not live our whole entire life speaking like we are 5 years old but the step into talking like a young adult may be different for all of us. Some people may stick with the complete proper english and talk like that. Some others like me, may make the transition into adding some slang and talking a little more “urban”.

I feel as if the case for me were the multiple transitions of my surroundings. When I was 7 years old I moved from Society Hill where everyone speaks with proper english to West Philadelphia where it starts to get more african american populated. The other big transition in my life was leaving a private school (The Philadelphia School) where everyone responded to proper english. From there I changed schools to a public school (Meredith) where the language completely changed.

There were a lot of things I learned from that school like that South Philly kids talk weird. Water was now “wooder”. I learned what “jawn” meant. “Ratchet” was now a word. Sauce and Gravy had two completely different meanings and “Crayons” was now “Crowns”.

Even the non South Philly kids also had a special way that they talked. “Yo” and “bro” were thrown into every single sentence. We did not eat anymore, we “grubbed”. Wearing nice basketball shoes was now cool and the recess sport was now kickball and not soccer.

At The Philadelphia School, it was only proper english. You never heard “Black English” in the school. It’s not like it was prohibited it was just the amount of african american students in my grade. There were two out of the 36 of us. Then, at Meredith you even heard “Black English” come out of some teachers mouths.  Out of the 62 of us it was probably about around 60% african american and then 30% white. That is when it really started developing into my voice today. It was after the move but when I came to that school it picked up intensely.

I started there in sixth grade and that is the point where we turn into teenagers. It was a really big change for me and I had no clue what to expect from the school. That is when I was “The white boy.” The jokes were all in good fun so that was not a bad thing. As the year went on the way I talked was changing a little bit. I started using some of the slang words, hey turned into yo. He wasn’t my friend, he was my bro. We weren’t a group of friends hanging out, we were homies chilling.

From noticing what everyone has said to me about the way I talk, even things I do notice, I know that I am distinct. I am my self. I enjoy very much being who I am. I come from a proper english Jewish family, and I come from a proper english German family. I am different and it is amazing to know that. Philadelphia itself has made a huge impact on my life. This great, diverse city.

In James Baldwin’s essay; If Black English Isn’t a Language, Then Tell Me, What Is? I have found a quote that ultimately describes why my language has changed and how it has changed. “People evolve a language in order to describe, and thus control their circumstances.” What this quote is saying that a language is evolved based on their circumstances meaning what is going on in their lives. My circumstances were living in a heavily white populated neighborhood and then moving to a greatly diverse neighborhood, those were my circumstances thus my language evolved.

Mi Escuela

Hola, Yo soy Declan Maxwell Zisser. Yo tengo catorce ańos. Soy estudiante de Science Leadership Academy. SLA está en viente y dos de arch. SLA está cerca de Comcast Centro y Libertad Lugar Dos y Libertad Lugar Uno y Arch gastrónomo. Es adjectivos en leer, estudiar, escribir. Hay cuatrocientos veinticinco estudiantes. Hay cuatro pices. SLA tenemos bobo, pequeño y estudiantes tengo computadores. Tenemos fútbol. Participante en estudiante. Hay veinte profesores. Mi tutor es seńor Herman.

Mi clases es africano americano historia, espańol, ingles, geometria, bioquemica, el muerza, ingeniería, tecnología, drama y arte. Mi cantana de clase ingles porque muy comico, cantana escribir y muy divertido. No me gusta mucho geometria porque aburrido. Ingles necesitar una pluma y hojas de papel. Geometria nesecitar un lapiz. Seńor Kay es profesor de ingles. Kay es comico, serioso, bobo, intelligente y balensesto entrenador. Seńora Garvey es profesora de Geometria. Garvey es comico, estricto, bien profesora y entranador chicas balensesto equipo.