Tuesday, August 24, 2010

A Short Bio for Analytical Reading and Writing

We had to write a half page biography for my Analytical Reading and Writing Class a while back and I thought I might put it up here. It's not everything but it's some stuff and I thought it might fit here on my blog. It wasn't something I was marked for so... yeah.


My name is Warren Moore. I just started university at the University of Western Sydney.

When I was a child, before I started primary school I remember my brother and I being asked what we wanted to do when we grew up. My brother said he wanted to be a fire engine. He then said said he wanted to be a police because they had guns so they were cooler. He also said that he did not want to be an ambulance because he thought that was a girly job and besides, that was too hard to pronounce.

I said that I didn't like any of those choices. The police-man and the fire-fighter jobs seemed way too dangerous and the ambulance made way too much noise. I didn't, at that time, know the difference between a paramedic and a doctor, but I don't suppose it would have made a difference because I didn't and still don't want to pursue either of those professions.

The first time I made a choice about the profession I wanted when I grew up was in primary school. I decided I wanted to be an archeologist. This decision was sparked after I watched and Indiana Jones marathon. I was so consumed with the idea that I was certain that was how I was going to live my life. A cowboy hat, a whip, a gun and the power of sheer awesomeness.

To get myself ready for this career, I taught myself how to read Ancient Greek (only how to read it, not how to translate it into english), I learnt all I could about the histories of Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt. I did read a little bit about other countries but the mythology of Egypt and Greece had me enraptured.

In year 8 I lost the desire to become and archeologist when it was proposed to me that archeology careers did not guarantee a life of thrill and adventure. In fact, it was completely possible that I might never find a thing and that no villains would chase me around the world and I wouldn't be a millionaire.

Once I thought about it, I realised that I had actually been attracted to the idea not for the job prospects or the lifestyle but for the mythology and the fantasy of all of it. That is around the time I fell in love with reading and writing my own fantasy. It's probably a lot more selfish than the career of archeologist, but that didn't really matter to me.

In year 9 I fell in love, and I fell hard.

I can't really write even a short biography without mentioning Simone. She was such a giant part of my life, and for better or for worse she was my entire life. It was by no means a perfect relationship. We fought. We had our differences and even if it does sound bias I know I put more into that relationship than I got out of it. A lot more.

I always tried to be there for her and my every thought was consumed by her. I was kind to her family and fell in love with them as if they were my own. I talked for hours on the phone to her almost every night. I defended her to my parents and received many beatings because of it. I protected her and indulged her. I spent nearly every dollar I ever made on her. My whole life during those five years was mostly dedicated to seeing her smile.

Simone lighted up my life. She was kind at times. Her laugh, her smell, her smile and generally just everything about her was intoxicating to me. With Simone I could be myself and I didn't care how she judged me. She was silly and not afraid to be herself around me and that was very special to me.

Unfortunately, the real Simone isn't all I crack it up to be. She was an introvert. I remember she once told me that she aspired to grow up and become a hermit.

I, as most people who know me know, am the complete polar opposite to an introvert. I like to party, I love to have fun and I love being outspoken and unafraid/unashamed to just be myself in front of anyone and everyone.

She was also kind of a bitch. The face she presented to everyone we knew was one of a kind, innocent and shy little girl with a little bit of a silly side. Yes she was kind. Yes she was shy and yes she was very silly. But that was only the surface. She was bitter. She hated almost everyone at one point or another and more often than not, she hated them all of the time.

Simone was a very jealous person. Not just jealousy from the women I talked to, but she was envious of everything that everybody else did that she wanted to do but was too afraid to.

I listened to it all. I wanted to hear about her problems. I wanted to help her through them. I gave her advice, that was never listened to, but rarely (and by rarely I mean never... I'm very good at the advice and the reading people thing) incorrect. I don't know why, but the fact that my advice was never wrong made her bitter. In the end I think that she might just be asking and ignoring my advice just to prove me wrong.

I wasn't perfect either. I had a bad habit of saying I told you so. It didn't start that way. I used to just be there to pick her up from her falls. I still did that. But I also got bitter about the way that she never listened to me and seemed to be ignoring me just to spite me.

I let myself go. I know I shouldn't have but I was stressed and I retreated to eating. My home life was horrible at best. So I put on a fair bit of weight. She said she didn't care and that she loved me any way I chose to be. I still have my doubts.

I was violent. Never with her and almost never because I wanted to, but I got into way too many fights and she was frightened of me when she saw me fight.

I loved my family, she hated my family. They beat me, we always fought and Simone always told me to leave. I couldn't do it. I hated every second of my life there, but despite all they did to me I loved them.

We both had our flaws but in the end I guess it just turned out that I loved her more than she loved me. I always had and a part of me knew that for a long time. She cheated on me. On the night of before her 20th birthday I went down to the supermarket to visit her at work and to buy the wrapping for the birthday presents that I had spent the last of my money on.

I got down there and I bought the wrapping. I usually buy bags to put gifts, but I knew that she liked it when I wrapped her gifts. She appreciated the extra effort that I went to when I wrapped her gifts because she knew how terrible I was at it.

That was the last thought that was passing through my head when, on my way to the store she was working at I saw her there with another boy. Emphasis on the word boy. He had just turned 16. She confessed to me.

I was so angry. I was so hurt. I was sad and in pain, but the feeling that I felt most strongly was helplessness.

I felt that I should have gotten angry. That I should have yelled at her and should have killed him.

All that I managed to do was break down. I cried like a bitch. I begged for her not to do this. She lied to me, and the worst part wasn't that it was with a child, or that I caught her red handed or that she went behind my back all that time. The worst part was that this was not the first time she had done it. It was that this wasn't the first time and that after the last time I made her promise that if she ever felt that she was falling out of love with me and if she ever felt that way for another man again she would tell me and end it before I caught her out at it for the second time.

She told me that it wasn't like that. That she still loved me and that she just loved him also. She said that she was going to tell me, but she wanted to wait until after her birthday. She didn't want to ruin her birthday.

Well I went to her birthday. I pretended that nothing was wrong. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I tried. I did all that I could to get her back. I waited and waited for her decision. In the end the last part of me with any sense realised what she was doing. She was stringing me along. She wanted to date both of us and I disgusted myself when I realised that a part of me didn't care.

So I got out with all the dignity I had left and went about tying up loose ends so I could end my life.

I had already paid for it and made the appointments and since I hadn't worked up the courage to do anything stupid yet I figured I might as well go ahead and go for round 3 of getting my licence. This time, without any of the pressure of caring about the outcome I passed with no problems. I found that incredibly funny.

The last thing that kept me going was that I still loved my family. Even after all the shit that they had put me through I still loved them. But that night as I went to go and pick them up from the club I knew it was going to be rough.

They were, as is typical of a Saturday night, off their faces drunk. When we finally got back home they wanted the car keys so that they could drive somewhere. I refused. I couldn't let them do it.

That was the last physical fight I have had with my parents. When I say I'm a violent person that doesn't really count with my family. I get really angry and have that scary look but all I do is stand there and try to deflect blows and keep getting back up for as long as I can.

By the end of the night I was struggling for to stay awake, afraid that if I let myself pass out on the gutter a car would hit me. I clearly wasn't thinking straight because if I had stopped to second guess my common sense I would have realised that was exactly what I wanted from the start. I'd lost everyone I loved and I was ready to die.

In the end one of my best friends, Natalie, talked me out of doing it. One of my other best friends, Tim, let me move in with him. My face healed up. I got a job with Tim's dad and after a while started to find myself getting my life on track.

I still have plenty of issues which I am trying to work through, but now I find myself enrolled in UWS and on my way to a career. I'm not certain if this is what I want to do with my life and I am worried about how to gain my own independence but at least I have some stability and some direction and that will have to do for now.

2 Response to A Short Bio for Analytical Reading and Writing

25 August, 2010 00:28

wow you sure have gone through a lot
I'm glad your still around ♥

01 September, 2010 22:32

You know you always have support behind you to catch you dude :)
I'm also glad your still around

Post a Comment