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Ventura Monrreal III


I sat in front of my computer for almost three hours yesterday trying to discover an approach to writing an essay about myself that would be accurate, attractive, and honest. Unfortunately, the backspace key was the most frequented button. After a while, I realized that I have thought so much about so many things, to write over just one of them would be giving a narrow impression of myself. To me, that would be even worse than not writing an essay at all. I sat back, and asked myself some questions:

What interests me?
The gift of thought interests me. The sounds I hear at night as I stand alone outside motionless and quiet interest me. Conservation and preservation of life, both human and inhuman, interest me. People who live up to their word interest me. The lost city of Atlantis, the Bermuda Triangle, and the disappearance of Amelia Earheart interest me. Dinosaurs, extraterrestrial life, and Elvis sightings interest me. Role models that understand and appreciate their influence on others interest me. The ads in the Thrifty Nickel interest me. The Vietnam War, the Y2K bug, our national debt, and the thought process behind the opposite sex interest me.

What angers me?
I get angry when someone betrays my trust. I get angry when I don't understand as fast as everyone else, and when they make fun of me or talk about me because of it. I get angry when things don't go as planned. I get angry when my radio eats my tape. I get angry when I buy a mechanical pencil with no lead, or the lead keeps breaking on it. When my favorite pen gets lost or runs out of ink, I get angry. When I realize, during the spin cycle, that I forgot to put the lint-catcher ring back on the washing machine, I get angry. Hypocrisy, disloyalty, and negative stubbornness anger me. I get angry when I am reminded on a morning in dead winter, the hard way, that I forgot to check the radiator for antifreeze. The little packets of ketchup that burst on you when you open them anger me.

What worries me? 
My parents' retirement worries me. Choosing my career worries me. The relationship I have with my brothers when I go away to college worries me. I am worried by how much we as a people depend on computers. Sadam Hussein and his biological warfare worry me. The depletion of the rainforest, the hole in the ozone, and melting ice in the north and south poles worry me.

What do I like to do?
I like to be creative, to be original, to go swimming in a stock tank. I like to play with toy cars, ask advice of older people, and watch the dirt fold over neatly when I plow. I like to fight a big fish that jumps out of the water and makes a big commotion just when everyone is looking. I like to actually get him on shore. I like to laugh with friends, finish a job, and get a good grade. I like candy that's not too sweet, but sweet enough. I like to help people when I can.

What do I love?
I love my daily cup of coffee. I love God's defenseless creatures. I love those who love me, and those who just need love. I love a cozy blanket on a cold morning. I love an increase in wages. I love a cool drink of water while resting under a shade tree, after stacking the last of eight hundred bales in the middle of the day in late July. I love an unexpected kiss, a best friend, finding quarters in public telephones, and finding out that the test I didn't study for has been moved to tomorrow.

What am I proud of?
I am proud of being able to work. I'm proud of applying myself to a goal wholeheartedly and being able to face myself and the choices that I have made. I'm proud of being able to accept the truth. I'm proud of who I have become and how I have gotten here. I'm proud of learning how to deal with hard times, difficult circumstances, and heartache. I'm proud of what I know I will accomplish someday. I'm proud to say that I gave myself some honest answers.