All About Me, Dot

[dotbizzle86]

This is actually a paper I wrote for school, and got a perfect score on, that I wanted to share with you guys.

All About Me, Dot

Sometimes in life, we have to do things we don’t like doing. Writing about me is one of my least favorite things to do; however, my life is definitely a story worth telling, and is the point of this paper. So, here I am, writing about myself. To get started, I’ll tell you some basic things about me that would mean nothing otherwise.

I was born on September 12, 1986, at Tampa General Hospital, in Tampa, Florida. I was born extremely premature. My mother was only 26 weeks pregnant when I was born. I weighed in at one pound, four ounces; the doctors didn’t think I would survive the trip from the delivery room to the NICU. Obviously, they were wrong, as I am rapidly approaching my 24th birthday. These same doctors were totally convinced from all the tests they did during the pregnancy, that I was a boy. Again, totally wrong. I’m not a huge fan of doctors in Florida, but that’s beside the point. When I was born, and I survived a few days, my mother named me Amanda Michelle Brasher. I know you’re thinking, “But wait, your name isn’t Amanda, it’s Dorothy.” That was a genius move on my biological father’s part. My mom didn’t know my name had been changed until I was almost a year old, but when she found out the meaning of the name I had been given, she decided not to change it back. You see, Dorothy means “Gift of God.” I was her miracle baby, who defied all odds, and survived, even when the doctors had given up.

I should probably tell you a little bit about my mom, as she is very important to my story. My mom’s name is Pammie. No, that’s not a nickname. Her name is actually Pammie. She was supposed to be a twin; her sister’s name was to be Tammie. But Tammie died before they were born, and my grandparents decided to keep the name. I am the youngest of her three surviving children. I have two older sisters. However, I was her fourth pregnancy. She was carrying twin boys, but miscarried at about seven months in her third pregnancy. She had her tubes tied when I was born, just five days before her 20th birthday.

My mom has been a Type 1 diabetic since she was 11 years old. She is insulin dependent, and has what is called “hypoglycemic unawareness,” which basically means that she doesn’t feel when her sugar goes low, and is at risk of slipping into a diabetic coma if her sugar isn’t brought up quickly. Needless to say, I’ve gotten very good at telling when her sugar is going low, and how to bring it back up if she can’t do so herself. She has been with Mike, my stepfather, for over 12 years. They have been married for going on 7 years. Until recently, I had a very volatile relationship with Mike. He liked to treat me like I was still 12 years old, even after I turned 18 and he should have started treating me like an adult. However, he now realizes that I am an adult, and I can take care of myself, so I am gaining some independence. It is a slow process though.
Mike has three kids from a previous marriage; the twins, Melissa and Caitlin; and his son, Christian. I get along with his kids, for the most part, although part of the reason my relationship with Mike was the way it was, was because of a double-standard held between me and his kids. The twins don’t live with us anymore, and Christian is rarely in the house, although right now he’s kinda annoying me by being loud downstairs while I’m trying to write. That’s what loud music is for, though.

Music has always been a big part of my life, especially through my high school years. I have never been able to sleep in a quiet room. Silence actually scares me a little, to be honest. I’ve never really liked “popular” music; while most girls my age were listening to *NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys, I was listening to Rod Stewart and Culture Club. I discovered rock music in 10th grade, and I’ve been listening to various versions of alternative rock ever since. One of my favorite bands, who I have seen live twice, is Sugarcult. They are an obscure band, not many people have heard of them. The three songs they are most known for, “Pretty Girl,” “She’s The Blade,” and the one everyone knows, “Memory,” are probably my least favorite songs by them. My life “mantra” comes from one of their songs: “Love is wasted on the young.” (“Sugarcult”, 2010). (My other mantra is “I may not be perfect, but parts of me are pretty close.” Yes, I am a bit conceited.)

Growing up in Florida, I was exposed to a lot of different kinds of music. I have never been a fan of rap music, which was a prevalent genre when I was 11, living in Oldsmar, a suburb of Tampa. I was also exposed to Cuban music when I lived near Miami. The stablehands at the horse track my mom worked at when we lived down there listened to either rap or Cuban music, depending on the time of day and who was working. Getting up at 4 a.m. to feed and bathe horses was not exactly my idea of a great day. The family moved to Pen Argyl, PA, a few months before my 14th birthday. I saw snow for the first time that year. (Dot hates snow.) I also made friends who would influence my choices in high school. One of these friends convinced me, during the summer between 9th and 10th grade, to join marching band.

My school stopped giving varsity letters to the band a few years before I joined. (I have one, but it’s not for band. I cheered for winter sports.) Our band was small, compared to other schools’ bands in the area, but we were close. Joining the Pen Argyl Color Guard was probably the best decision I made in high school. (Color guard is the people that do intricate things with the pretty flags, for those of you who don’t know.) I made some of my best friends in band. We deserve varsity letters, because we did everything the cheerleaders did and then some. Band is hard work, and being in the color guard is harder; plus, it’s dangerous. I fractured my face with the end of a flagpole during my only season at the college level, forcing me to retire.

Outside of my family and close friends, my only real support was from my band director, Heather Depew. She helped me through breakups, bad prom dates, and was a great mentor. If I wasn’t in class, I could usually be found roaming around in the band room. Although I wasn’t great at it, she allowed me to continue being in color guard, because she knew I loved it. In our textbook, it says that research shows that people with strong social support systems are generally healthier than people without good social support (Boyd & Bee, pg. 68). If I hadn’t been involved in the music programs, I probably would have been another social outcast suicide statistic. Being in band wasn’t “cool” like at some other local schools, but they were my family.

One of my favorite memories of all time was with the band. It was my senior year, at the last big competition we participated in, the “Land of the Running Waters” festival at Tamaqua High School. We had a very small band that year, maybe 30 marching members, eight of which were color guard. We had not had a very good competing season, as the judges tend to look down their noses at small bands. We somehow managed to get a “Superior” rating at this competition, and I didn’t kill the poor seventh grade snare drummer who was always in my way that night. I also didn’t kill my 10th grade ex-boyfriend who I liked to play target practice with, who had to march maybe five feet behind me and my flag that year. We were, in a sense, perfect that night.

Another one of my favorite memories was when my parents took me to Sea World in Orlando. I was totally obsessed with killer whales, because of this little movie called “Free Willy.” I was in the third grade, and was on spring break. They put me in the car, and drove for more than 2 hours, without telling me where we were going. We got into Orlando late, and got a hotel room, and the next morning, they put me back into the car, and again, didn’t tell me where we were going. I think they might have told me that we were going home, I don’t really remember. I was seven, and I didn’t even register that we were in Orlando until we pulled into Sea World, and I saw this absolutely beautiful killer whale sculpture they have at the opening of the parking lot. We went to a couple shows, stood in line for the new Wild Arctic ride for like an hour, because I HAD to see the polar bear cubs, Klondike and Snow; but no killer whales. Then we went to see the Shamu show. It was amazing. Seeing the whales I loved so much in person made my life.

I’ve changed my career goal quite a few times in my life. When I was young, I wanted to be a killer whale trainer at Sea World, which is why my parents took me there. After I felt how cold the water was (because they let me pick where we sat at the show, and I didn’t comprehend that sitting in the third row from the front meant we would get soaked), I decided that it wasn’t for me. So then I wanted to be a vet, but I found out when I was researching it that vets are required to do surgery on animals. Not for me, I don’t like blood, and the thought of cutting into an animal kind of freaks me out. I started off in college as a vet tech major, until the day we were told that we had to buy a preserved cat to dissect. I bounced around different majors, from Web Design to Early Childhood Education, before I discovered Accounting. I have always been great at math, and since the two sure things in life are death and taxes, being an accountant appealed to me. I started off at Ashford as an Accounting major; but after helping my stepfather do taxes this year, I realized that I did not want to that for the rest of my life. I have always liked writing, whether it is song lyrics, poetry, or a political rant, and I’ve always been an excellent speller. So now, I’m a Journalism and Mass Communications major, with the career goal of being an editor.

My name is Dot Brasher, and that was my story. I hope you enjoyed it more than I hated writing it.

[Mich]

I enjoyed it a lot! Thanks for sharing it.