Final Blog

Dear Dr. Morris, 

It’s been real. I really have enjoyed being in your class and have learned a lot. I met some really cool people and made some new friends. I loved the atmosphere that you created. Everyone was able to interact with one another. It wasn’t like most of my other classes where no one really talks and you just sit there listening to the professor drone on and on and staring at clock. You know the saying “Time flies when you are having fun” and that is what I had. Fun. You did a wonderful job keeping the class upbeat, fun, and positive. I enjoyed coming to class every week. I have never heard of creative nonfiction before I took your course and to be honest, I think it is my new favorite form of writing now. I can, however, live without the opinion editorial. It was really nice of you to let everyone who didn’t do so well on their opinion editorials re-do them. Me included. 

One suggestion I have is to take your class outside for a lesson on the days it is nice out. And to give out more free SKITTLES. I also suggest that you give me a good grade. Haha just kidding. Some of my blogs are boring and not worth reading, particularly the one about the Flyers (who is the most awesomest team in the world) so if you read them I’m sorry for the pain you went through reading them.

I look forward to broadening my horizons as I get more in depth with my major (professional writing). It was fun learning different writing techniques and discovered what I was and was not good at. If I ever go on ratemyprofessors.com I will surely give you the highest score possible.   

Memoirs

Everyone is writing memoirs these days and to be honest I really do not give a rats’ ass about the lives of celebrities who have done nothing for society except for existing. However, Eminem’s memoir is the only one I took the time to read because he just brings awesome to a whole new level. He actually wrote it himself unlike Paris Hilton who can’t string two words together to make a proper sentence. The only words she does know is “like”, “like”, and “like”. I can feel my brain cells depleting just thinking of her. She must have paid a hell of a lot of money for someone else to write a coherent memoir about how she does absolutely nothing because God knows she couldn’t do it herself. If you’re going tow write a memoir WRITE IT YOURSELF. If you have someone else writing it for you then it’s not really considered a memoir now is it? So technically your memoir is a lie and lying pisses me the fuck off. 

I mean what makes them so darn special that they think they can write a memoir? (other than they can and are famous...that doesn’t count)Everyone has done something they can write about and everyone has their own set of issues. Memoirs are fine if you 1) write it yourself 2) have done something worth writing about rather than writing nonsense no one cares about.  For example, I don’t care that Paris Hilton has a dog named Tinkerbell and that she dressed the poor thing up in ridiculous outfits. That dog has to be dead now right? Ghost writing does sound fun (probably because of the huge sums of money you’re getting) but at the same time it would be super annoying because you are not the one getting recognized for your hard work. 

It’s not like there aren’t any good memoirs out there. You have Eminem’s memoir which I mentioned in the first paragraph. And then you have yet to read Memoirs of a Geisha which I have not read but heard it was a good book and a movie so I may read that. 

Final Draft of CNF Number 3

Attempt #1:

To whom it may concern: 

Each day is a huge struggle and the tormenting gets worse. Keep in mind that I’ve been dealing with the same nonsense for the past several months. One week things seem to be going smoothly and the next people are making fun of me and putting tator tots and an open carton of chocolate milk into my new hoodie. It’s not like I have friends anymore to help me cope with things. They left for some reason.  I have a feeling that my entire life is going to revolve around this vicious cycle. So why not end my troubled and pathetic life? Nothing is worth it and I can’t find joy in anything. My friends avoid me, my sister is one of my tormentors, and the only comfort I have is the bottles of vodka I have hidden in the back of my closet. Drinking offers me an escape from what I feel. It helps me forget everything that’s wrong in my life. Unfortunately it’s only a temporary fix and I’m left with a huge hangover. 

No one will miss me when I’m gone except maybe my parents and to them I say this: “Don’t be sad. I’ll see you guys again in the next life. A better, happier life. Don’t feel guilty either, I love you both and I want you to know that you did everything right. This is my decision and I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I just want it all to end. 

Now.”  

Attempt #2:

To Who It May Concern:

I’m always tired and I have no motivation for anything. I want to close my eyes and never wake up. I want to feel death’s warm embrace.  I can’t take it anymore. I’m sorry but I can’t. The world is a cold, hard place and people will be better off if I’m not in it. Everyone at school says so. It would be easy to grant them their wish. Both my parents work and they go to bed fairly early so timing wouldn’t be an issue; except my sisters would be home around the same time I am. The only option I really have is to wait until everyone is asleep and the house is quiet. I have a rope tucked safely away in the bottom of my drawer along with a few bottles of nyquil. 

Attempt #3:

To Whom it May Concern:

You know that rabbit hole Alice falls into in Alice and Wonderland? I’m falling into a similar hole except there’s no bottom. I’m surrounded by bits and pieces of my past I’d rather forget. I see a blur of faces tumbling over one another and blending into one giant nightmare. The songs they sing just as haunting. One kid who I recognize from school silently laughs while a guy I dated tells me everyone hated me and that I was a waste of space and air. You don’t know what it’s like to have only one person stand up for you and that one person is now dead. My parents are among the spectators; and a shiver runs down my spine at their disapproving glares. A bottle of gin floats by me and I reach out desperately trying to grab it. My hand comes away empty and I stare at the bottle in desperation. I reach out again and once more my hand passes through it. Tears spill down my cheeks as I realize that I won’t be drinking my sorrows away tonight. Tonight I will be forced to lie in bed as unwanted feelings come crashing down threatening to suffocate me. I need the alcohol. Alcohol is one of my saviors, it temporarily stops my free fall; a reprieve of sorts. So is the cutting. Except it’s not really “cutting” it’s just a few scratches on my stomach. It’s a safe place where no one but me can see the truth of what I’m trying to deny. With each swipe of my finger on my skin each error and mistake I ever made floods my mind and pours out into each scratch. The pain makes me feel better. It gives me something else to concentrate on. 

The pain eventually  stops and I’m free falling. My mouth opens into a scream for help but no sound comes out. I can’t do anything right. I can’t even write a proper suicide note. I’m tired of falling and have decided to create my own bottom, my own end. So farewell I’m sure I’ll see you all in a better, happier life. 

~ Jane Doe

CNF Number 3

For my last CNF piece I'm going to write about depression in the form of a suicide note. Within the note I was thinking of writing three (maybe more?) attempts at writing one. Here's what I have so far...

Attempt #1:

To whom it may concern: 

Life has become unbearable. I’ve tried my hardest to push past all the pain and hurt nestled deep within me but something keeps tugging me into this never ending abyss. As time moves on I fall further and further into this dark hole that is swallowing me whole. For a while I’ve tried to fight against it; but as time passes I realize that the fight isn’t worth it. 

Each day is a huge struggle and the tormenting gets worse. Keep in mind that I’ve been dealing with the same nonsense for the past several months. One week things seem to be going smoothly and the next people are making fun of me and putting tator tots and an open carton of chocolate milk into my new hoodie. It’s not like I have friends anymore to help me cope with things. They left for some reason.  I have a feeling that my entire life is going to revolve around this vicious cycle. So why not end my troubled and pathetic life? Nothing is worth it and I can’t find joy in anything. My friends avoid me, my sister is one of my tormentors, and the only comfort I have is the bottles of vodka I have hidden in the back of my closet. Drinking offers me an escape from what I feel. It helps me forget everything that’s wrong in my life. Unfortunately it’s only a temporary fix and I’m left with a huge hangover. 

No one will miss me when I’m gone except maybe my parents and to them I say this: “Don’t be sad. I’ll see you guys again in the next life. A better, happier life. Don’t feel guilty either, I love you both and I want you to know that you did everything right. This is my decision and I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I just want it all to end. Now.”  

Attempt #2:

To Whom it May Concern:

You know that rabbit hole Alice falls into in Alice and Wonderland? I’m falling into a similar hole except there’s no bottom. I’m surrounded by bits and pieces of my past I’d rather forget. I see a blur of faces tumbling over one another and blending into one giant nightmare. The songs they sing just as haunting. One kid who I recognize from school silently laughs while a guy I dated tells me everyone hated me and that I was a waste of space and air. You don’t know what it’s like to have only one person stand up for you and that one person is now dead. My parents are among the spectators; and a shiver runs down my spine at their disapproving glares. A bottle of gin floats by me and I reach out desperately trying to grab it. My hand comes away empty and I stare at the bottle in desperation. I reach out again and once more my hand passes through it. Tears spill down my cheeks as I realize that I won’t be drinking my sorrows away tonight. Tonight I will be forced to lie in bed as unwanted feelings come crashing down threatening to suffocate me. I need the alcohol. Alcohol is one of my saviors, it temporarily stops my free fall; a reprieve of sorts. So is the cutting. Except it’s not really “cutting” it’s just a few scratches on my stomach. It’s a safe place where no one but me can see the truth of what I’m trying to deny. With each swipe of my finger on my skin each error and mistake I ever made floods my mind and pours out into each scratch. The pain makes me feel better. It gives me something else to concentrate on. 

The pain eventually  stops and I’m free falling. My mouth opens into a scream for help but no sound comes out. 

Attempt #:

To Who It May Concern:

I’m always tired and I have no motivation for anything. I want to close my eyes and never wake up. I want to feel death’s warm embrace.  I can’t take it anymore. I’m sorry but I can’t. The world is a cold, hard place and people will be better off if I’m not in it. Everyone at school says so.

Creative Nonfiction Essay Number 1 (posted only a part of it)

I decided to post part of my first nonfiction creative essay for those who haven't had the chance to read it.

Just Breathe

My heart pounded within my chest, each beat faster than the last. My fingers curled around the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. In an attempt to calm myself, I breathed in a lungful of summer air. My heart thrashed against my ribs like a wild animal trying to escape it’s cage. Letting out a frustrated sigh I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep the panic attack at bay. 

I’m not that girl anymore. I’m a different person.

The pep talk I gave myself wasn’t working. Frustrated, I swung open the car door and hesitated, trying to prolong the inevitable. I didn’t want to go back in there to the hell I was put through. Even though the building was renovated it was still the same. Ahead of me was the chain link fence that surrounded the blacktop and jungle gyms, the sun dancing brightly off the cold metal. Taunting me. A shudder rocked my body and goose bumps formed along my exposed skin as my fingers curled around the chain link fence.

“I choose...Sally.” Joe said, as he bounced the bright red kickball against the blacktop. I started to thrum my hand against my leg, anxious. My throat started to close and my heart hammered in my chest; making breathing almost impossible. The two captains exchanged a glance as they realized I was the only one left. “You can have Breezy,” Chris said glancing over at Greg who was looking up at the clear blue sky. At the sound of Chris’s voice Greg turned his attention to his friend. “I have more people than you do.” 

There was a look in his eye filled with words unsaid. A feeling of dread rushed through me and not saying a word I trudged past the small group with my head down. I ran off to the jungle gym where my “friend” Kim was playing. She was dangling from the monkey bars laughing as Sean pulled off her shoe and threw it. “Hey Kim!” I said. A fake smile plastered on my face. Sean looks at Kim and snorts. “I’ll see you later.” I watch as he runs away to join the kickball game. I watched in envy as Greg welcomed him onto the team and I turned back to Kim. She was shuffling her feet and looking down at the woodchips, avoiding my gaze. 

“Hey Bree,” Kim said. Turn this into another sentence. 

“We’re friends right?” I said. I wasn’t sure why I asked. but at the same time, I knew. No one liked me. I was ultimately alone. I had no friends to play with. No friends to talk to or joke around with. They slandered me with crude nicknames and talked behind my back. 

“Uhm...no. I can’t be your friend anymore.” She said. My heart fell into my stomach.

“Why?” 

“Because you’re embarrassing to be around. You’re a huge cry baby and no one likes you.” The words were said and I knew they were true. It explained why no one wanted to be seen with me. That’s why everyone ran from me like I had an infectious disease and they were going to catch it. The only people who loved me was my family and at times my own sister was embarrassed of me. 

I couldn’t breath anymore. I was going to die. My heart sped up and my hands became slick with sweat. 

I didn’t say anything. I just turned away and ran aimlessly. Hot tears fell angrily down my cheeks. The further I ran the more I convinced myself I couldn’t breath. I shook as sobs wracked my body. I blindly ran over to the small cluster of teachers who were on recess duty. 

“I need to go to the nurse,” I nearly screamed the words and the teachers looked to one another, not quite sure how to respond. 

“Not now. Recess is almost over.” It was Mrs. Cambell who spoke. She was used to me acting like this. This wasn’t the first time I said those words.

“No. I need to go NOW!”  I said.  I was jumping up and down, trying to make them understand that I was going to die. I needed to get home. I needed my mom. I knew once I was with her I’d be fine.  I’d be safe.

Part of the Opinion Editorial I Re-Did

During my first week of high school the first week of High School the class of 2010 was called to the auditorium to hear a presentation by the school principal.  Each student slowly made their way into the venue and took their seats.  We were excited to hear how our senior year would unfold and what was in store for us during this final year of high school.  We heard about class trips, college choices, prom and other exciting events.  But there was one message I was not prepared to hear.  After information overload of what to expect throughout the year, the Principal abruptly switched gears.  He cleared his throat, his body language projected discomfort and I could detect a slight nervous tone to his voice.  The presenter told us to take a look at the person to our sides and to the front and back of us.  He paused and went on to tell the audience that some of us in the group would not graduate.  He told us that some of us would not live to see our friend's on graduation day.  My initial thought was that he was attempting to "scare us straight."  The Principal talked about dangers of drinking and driving and the responsibility we had to our friends when we got behind the wheel of a car.   He reminded us of the dangers of texting and driving and how we could injure ourselves, or worse, one of our friends.  The principal provided examples of situations he felt were "real" and those that he felt we had the ability to control.  However, there was one particular example the Principal did not prepare us for and that was the possibility and probability of one or more of our peers not making it to see their graduation day due to suicide.

It is said that nearly one-third of all teenage deaths are a result of suicide.  It is also said that teenage suicide increased 18% since 2004.  Why the rise in suicides over the last 8 years?  There are many causes for teenage suicide from depression, alcohol or drug abuse, bullying, a breakup with a boyfriend or girlfriend or some other life changing event such as a death in the family or divorce.  When you stop and think about it, there are other factors that may impact the 18% increase.  For example, many prescribed drugs have side affects including increased suicidal thoughts. Although the drug labeling is listed as a warning or disclosure, does it indirectly raise awareness and inadvertently plant or reinforce the idea of suicide?   Maybe not, but if someone is already depressed or in an unpredictable state of mind, does the drug labeling raise the awareness of a suicide tendency?  

Todays teens are far more dependent on technology than teenagers of years past.  Teenagers today are connected all day, every day including having their phones by their side in bed. Bullying, on the other hand has been a part of growing up for decades past.  However, the style in which bullying is done nowadays is very different; and unfortunately, bullying is a lot more effective today.  With the introduction of computers, phones and social media, bullying has reached a new level of sophistication.  Stuffing tatter tots in the hood of a sweatshirt, or having a plate of spaghetti and meatballs dumped on you in the cafeteria is still a very effective means of bullying.  But with the advent of technology, word of the cafeteria bullying spreads within minutes.  By the time the poor spaghetti splattered student gets to her next class, 50% of the school knows what happened and "why" - there is no escaping the incident and no where to hide.  Thanks to modern technology, by the time spaghetti girl gets home, her parents greet her at the front door already knowing what occurred earlier in the day. In years past, a student may have been bullied, however, word did not spread at the same pace as it does today.  It was possible to get home and in the door without having to explain to your family what happened.  It was possible to forget the day's events long enough to eat and possibly get a few hours of sleep.  In today's society, the constant electronic connection does not allow a moment's peace.  The Facebook messages, text messages and other sources of media will make sure the bullying incident is not forgotten quickly.

Tape Recording and Handwritten Regarding Interviews

The only interview I have ever done that I can remember was back in tenth grade. I had to interview my grandmother about geneology and I remembered handwritting the interview. I didn’t mind it but I wish I had used a tape recorder instead. A couple of times I had to ask my grandmother to repeat herself because I had somehow missed the first part of what she had been saying. She had to speak slowly enough so I could write down everything she said which, for me, was kind of awkward. With tape recorders you can look at the person you’re interviewing with and take note of facial expressions and anything else you wouldn’t be able to notice if you’re looking down at a piece of paper. On the downside using a tape recorder could intimidate the person you’re interviewing which wouldn’t help you gather the information you want. For any upcoming interviews I may have I think I would choose to use both the tape recorder and handwritten notes. Both have positives and negatives but I think they outweigh each other. By doing both you’re able to get down anything you may have missed during the interview (specific quotes, etc). 

Then there’s the ethical use of tape recorders. You can only use tape recorders when you have permission from the person you want to tape. That’s a good rule but when it comes to the well being of other people I think it’s okay to use a recorder without permission. It’s like in the movie Horrible Bosses when the one boss threatens to kill his employee and his two friends. If they hadn’t been recording then the three guys would have gone to jail for murder. There are other instances where it should be okay to bend the rule without worrying about getting sued. For example, the incident with the one coaches wife where she knew that her husband was molesting kids and someone got her on tape saying that she knew what he was doing the whole time. The ethical line is a fine one and I think that it should looked at again. 

If I had a Million Dollars

I can clearly remember the day I found 1 million dollars. It was a warm summers day, perfect weather to go bike riding, hang with some friends by the pool sipping ice cold lemonade or going for a nice long walk in the park with your dog (if you have one). I chose to do the latter. Ever since I was little I loved going to the park there was something about the long line of trees that outlined a trail and the smell of nature that I loved so much. After a straight week of downpours I decided to take advantage of the nice weather and took my dog, Chance, for a walk at the park. I grabbed my two year old dog and my bright orange backpack I took on trail rides, filled it up with water and drove to the park. 

After a couple of hours of exploring and chasing squirrels I plopped myself down on a fallen tree and took a moment to relax. I gave Chance some water and drank a whole bottle myself. It wasn't until I got up and started to head back to my car that I found the 1 million dollars. I snagged my foot on a hidden twig and went crashing to the ground, luckily no one was there to see my predicament. Laying in the spot I had fallen I turned my head and there was a small crevice in the trunk. I had no idea what possessed me to look into the trunk but I crawled over and reached my hand in the small hole, my fear of spiders momentarily forgotten. My fingers brushed against plastic and curiously I tugged it from its hiding place. I pried open the bag and my eyes widened in shock at what I saw. Piles of bills layed untouched at the bottom of the bag. 

I ended up moving my family to tenessee (my mom always wanted to live there) and bought her an old house with a live in maid. I paid for my brother and sister's college and my dad a pass to the gym. For myself I bought a ranch bought a couple of really nice horses and started to breed them. I spent uncountable sum on clothes and opened  my own bookshop (a small quiant one) and met a cowboy and lived happily ever after. 

My Not so Loverly Inner Critic

I’m awesome, I’m smart, pretty, and an over-achiever. My hair is always perfect and I’m up to date with all the latest fashion trends. I’m a little OCD when it comes to my things. I hate it when my room is disorganized and if one thing is out of place my mind goes on overdrive and I have to fix it. With that being said I’m a perfectionist which leaves me little room for error. I have a 3.8 GPA and involved with several clubs and volunteer committees. It’s a wonder my grades haven’t suffered. It’s me though, of course my grades haven’t suffered. I’m freaking amazing. 

Seriously Bree you’re not going out like that are you? You need to do something about that hair of yours...you can’t keep pulling it back into a messy bun and bobby pinning the crap out of the loose strands! No wonder your hair looks stringy and the ends are broken. You should seriously invest money in going to a real hair salon and letting them fix it up for you. It’s better than those chain hairdressers. They have no idea what they’re doing. And while we’re on the topic of investments you should consider hiring a fashion consultant. You’re choice of clothes isn’t half bad but you need to learn how to pull it all together. You should do something about your procrastinating as well. It seriously pisses me off that you always wait until the last possible second to do things. Seriously, how hard is it to just do the assignment the day or day after it’s given? It’s not hard at all. And you’re room? Well at least you clean but the sight of it at the moment makes me want to pick up your things and throw them out the window. Maybe then you’ll learn to put things back where you got them. That’s why you can’t find anything. Your work is strewed across your floor under a pile of clothes and books. Look at Jess’ room or Bryce’s, they’re room is clean and not cluttery. You should take a few lessons from their book. And the last paper you wrote was complete crap. At least Dr. Morris is nice enough to let you redeem yourself and re do it. You can do a lot better. I guess it doesn’t help that you have a bunch of nonsense running through your head 24/7. Some of the stuff that comes out of your mouth leaves me speechless. Take last summer for instance, you were at Panera with your family and aunt and cousin and you said “Chocolate milk comes from chocolate cows”. Seriously Bree, I worry about you sometimes. Where the hell is your brain? I know that answer, it’s probably partying with the floating marshmallows in your head. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. 

My inner critic is a piece of work. She loves criticizing me but I know she’s just trying to help. I hate her sometimes, I can’t help it. All 5’8’’ and 130 lbs of her is perfect. Her long hair always falls just right even when she wakes up! It’’s not fair! When I get up in the morning it looks like a birds nest but maybe that’s because I have it up all the time...she’s always nagging me to let my hair down. Maybe she should put hers up once in a while! She loves to brag about how much better she is at sports and writing than I am. It’s frustrating. She has helped me out a lot though, my room is so much more organized thanks to her nagging.  She’s like my mom and the reason why I left home to go to school is for independence. No one to tell me what to do and when (disregarding school stuff). I am finally becoming independent but my spiteful and annoying inner critic is holding me back. Oh and she has horses! Can’t forget that. That’s the only thing I’ve asked for for christmas for the past fifteen years of my life and what does she go and do? She goes and gets two horses. She named them Captain Jack Sparrow and Delilah. 

When I was told that we were to write a Lyrical Essay/Montage for our free write I started panicking a bit. 1)  I'm not good at writing poetry and lyrics are basically the same thing. 2) I had know idea what lyrical essays were until it was explained. Needless to say I was over thinking things...again. No surprise there. Once I settled down and just listened to the music playing it became easier to think. I just let my fingers tap away on my keyboard and create something. Even though writing in a Lyrical Essay/Montage form was awkward for me I have to admit that I enjoyed it. So this is what I came up with....

Sleeping beauty dancing in a meadow, rodents scampering under the shady trees, compelling, frustrating, heartbreaking, yet beautiful like a shakespeare play. Our fingers laced tightly afraid to let go, afraid of what the morning will bring, tears glistening brightly, dancing to our own music, a wave of sweet sounds crashing around us. Darkness and light. 

The second writing prompt was a heck of a lot easier for me to do than the first one. Power was the word that I chose to start with and I found that a lot of the words I came up with ended in an E. There are only so many words that I could think of that started with an E. Kind of depressing now that I think about it. You would think that spending 12 years in school and taking vocabulary I would have an easier time thinning of words beginning with E. Nope. Maybe it was because I felt rushed...who knows. Below is the list of words that I came up

Power. Right. Time. Tell. Late. Elephant. Tall. Long. Game. Excellent. Try. Yell. Length. Halt. Halt. Halt. Halt. Triumph. Hungry. Yonder. Ringer. Ringer.Ringer.Ringer. Rising. Gone. Escape. Excell. Laced. Daring. Groove. Erase. Escapade. Escapde. Escapde. Earth. Hearth. Heart. Torn. Torn. Torn. North. Horn. Horn. Horn. Notice. Notice. Notice. Earsplitting. Grave. Entrench. Hard. Dangerous. Sleep. Pray. Yearn. No. Obliviate. Erratic. Caper. Rest. Torrent. Teach. Heat. Threat. Teeth. Heap. Pile. Elevator. Righteous. Sing. Gong. Gift. Too. Operate. Ebony. Yes. Soft. Tough. Heard. Dress. Simple. Excplicit. True. True.T True. True. Early. Yup. Pierce. Elk. Kill. Lilt. Tilt. Till. Listen. Nob. Bony. Yen. Novice. Efface. Elder. Read. Dear. Rear. Reach. Hunt. Ton. Numb. Bomb. Blast. Troll. Lullaby. Yip. Pie. Eye. Eel. Leak. Kilt. Tye. Ewe. Earl. Lean. Night. Tropical. Loser. Reason. Nosy. Yen. Note. Elate. Establish. 

Trends and Clothes

(I wasn't in class Wednesday night and I decided to post my op-ed for a blog. Please leave comments and let me know what you think =) )

Two short years ago I graduated high school with anticipated excitement.  Would it seem possible that  I’m sad to say I don’t have to deal with pointless drama that was a part of everyday  high school  life ; and that  I miss dealing with stupid, ignorant sophomores who  thrived on clog ging up   the hallways  between classes making it impossible to get to your next class on time .  Oh, and the fact that the hallways were jammed up was no big deal considering classes were spread out over what seemed like mile-wide compound!  That's right, compound.  The high school was so large it could have passed for a small college.   . Oh and the rules about no cell phones in school, now there is a rule I will surely miss.  The teachers and their sense of entitlement were on the hunt for the naughty student who had their phone out during bell time or lunch.  Now those students should surely be punished for their terrible manners and poor behavior.    But those high school students who wore their mini skirts, hot shorts or belly shirts, now they should be commended for their impeccable style.  Oh , oh, oh.....  North Penn ,  or North Penitentiary I should say, how I miss you and all  of the day-to-day drama of the school-filled days .     

 Oh w ait! I don’t have to miss the kids who dressed sleazy  in high school  because I  have the pleasure of  see ing  them everywhere .  It's great.  I get to see them  when I’m in town with my grand-mom eating lunch .  Or when I am shopping with my friends.  The best time of all is when I am walking campus on a Thursday, Friday or Saturday night.  My only real question is where do these girls get their sense of style.  And holy smokes, how do they stay warm?     I’m happy to say that this years freshman know how to dress with class and style. Those short skirts that barely cover your badonk-a-donk and those flamboyant ten-inch heels that girls wear .  You know the ones that you can barely walk in , well they are just  to die for! I seriously need to get myself a pair. Maybe guys will start to notice me more if I start to wear shirts that barely cover my ta-tas. Why not jump on the bandwagon and smoke a fat pound, make out with three different guys in one night, and if I’m lucky I’ll get laid.    Hopefully I won’t get raped but I can’t be certain because the dress I usually wear to go to a party is easy access for any guy who is way too horny to control himself. Good thing I got my girls with me...oh wait they’re going to be too wasted to help if anything goes wrong. Oh well. 

 Truth is, I don't quite fit that mold.  Not that there is anything wrong with that particular mold, but it just isn't for me.  I may sound harsh, but in these three short semesters in college I sure have learned a lot.  It is safe to say we all take different paths to get to the same place.   Whether I wear stiletto shoes to class or wear my sneakers, we sit side by side learning the same material.  For some, living on the edge is the way to go.  For me,  I’d  prefer to  keep my self-respect and dignity and hope that it will get me further in life.  I don't believe that getting shit-faced and crazy, losing control of myself, sleeping with a random guy and risk getting an STD  is going to benefit me in the long run.  It may make me a bit more popular, but at what price?  I don’t want my college years full of regrets and I would rather be labeled an “outcast” than subject myself to  an unsafe lifestyle just to fit in.    

 I believe that  many  young women subconsciously choose to dress in a style that will get them the most attention.  Trying to look nice is one thing, trying to dress for attention is another.  There are risks associated with dressing in a sexy, barely there ensemble.  Can a man get the wrong idea of a women based on how they are dressed, or is that just old school thinking?  It is a challenge to find the right balance between enjoying college life and all it has to offer.  Three semesters under my belt and I'm still trying to figure it all out.

Hockey and Visors

On October 24,2011 the Philadelphia Flyers faced off against the Maple Leafs  ending a two game loosing streak . Needless to say the game didn’t finish without injury. The captain of the Flyers, Chris Pronger, was hit in the face by Mikhail Grabovski’s follow through shot. I cringed as I watched Pronger hit the ice, hands covering his eyes. In those moments ,  Pronger lost control and his calm demeanor evaporated as he ran on skates off the ice, “his feet moving, his manner so unsettling, so frantic.” (Philly.com) This accident could have been avoided by using a visor. 

In the American Hockey league it’s mandatory for players who were born after  December 31, 1974 to wear visors but some veteran players (for whatever reason) refuse to wear them. The visors now are more technologically advanced so the glass doesn’t fog up which was a major problem in the past. One of the “problems” that players have today is the sweat and water that clings to the glass but that can easily be remedied by wiping it off. Sweat and water momentarily fogging the visor mask is a small price to pay for eye and face safety. Pronger lost his eyesight for several minutes but thankfully gained it back. The doctor ordered Pronger to be on bed rest for 3-4 days to make sure there are no  further complications.  

 Of  the  eighteen  Flyers  players that dress for the games ,  only fifteen players wear visors. The risk of losing your eyesight and your job isn’t worth it. People are skating around throwing bodies at one another, checking each other into boards and there’s the occasional high sticking and fights  are common place in the NHL . There would be  fewer  injuries if players would just suck  it up, put their  pride  aside  and  use a  visor. Those who don’t wear visors are used to playing without them ; they have played without the visor  for so long  they   probably think it’s stupid  and possibly unnecessary.  Although I understand where they’re coming from , sometimes change is just for the better!  When I played fieldhockey in high school I never wore a face mask  - no one did.  It wasn't mandatory.     However,  after taking a field hockey stick to my face (in between my eyes) , I began wearing a metal eye goggles which were used for lacrosse..  I felt stupid because I was the only one on the team who wore  the goggles,   but I would rather feel stupid wearing the mask than risk getting a concussion or losing my eye sight.  

I think visors or additional face protection should be mandatory for all ice hockey players.  I think this is one rule that should not be optional. 

Car. That was the word written on the tiny scrap of paper I picked from the golden cup.

Car car C-A-R stick your head in a jelly jar. My mom's silly saying was the first thing that popped into my mind after I read that small piece of paper. But that wasn't what I wanted to write about. I wanted to write about the adventures me and my friends went on and oftentimes we ended up in some random place completely lost. I'm horrible with directions to begin with so having a gps is one of my most prized possessions. Two years ago I didn't have a gps and I had to find my way to the high school I would be attending my senior year. North Penn is a seven minute drive from where I live and I have been there hundreds of times before but I never really paid attention to my surroundings and ultimately had no idea where I was going.

 The morning of my senior portraits (which turned out horribly and I went somewhere else to get them redone) I woke up in a good mood. I was excited for many reasons. The first reason is that it was going to be the first time in a few years that I would be seeing my old classmates. The second being that I had an excuse to get dolled up. I dried my hair put makeup on and headed out the door. It was a nice summer day and the weather couldn't have been more perfect. My day could have gone a lot better.

Instead of the seven minutes in my car it should have taken to get there, it turned out to be a one hour long affair. I was seventeen years old and had just gotten my license and I theatrically could go wherever I pleased. But then reality hit. I realized I was limited to a very small radius around my house due to my inability to navigate my way around. Eventually I made my way to the school but by the time I got there I was drenched in sweat because I had no air conditioning in my car, my eyes were red and swollen form crying out of frustration and my makeup smeared.

Even though I laugh at the memory now it was a very serious matter then. Two years later we are in the here and now and my car can take me all the way to KU and back with no troubles.

Whoever Said Life Was Fair Lied

People have always said life wasn’t fair and it’s not. Life is cruel and it will knock you down until you’re lying on the floor. It’s up to you to decide whether you want to lay on the ground groaning and moaning about your troubles or get up, wipe the dust off your clothes and fight. Some people that I know complain about their misfortunes blaming anyone and everything but themselves. The type of person I’m describing is one who is used to getting anything they want; everything is handed to them. 

Three years ago this girl (lets call her Trisha) decided to run for class president. What you need to know is Trisha had this wonderful self-impression that she was the best thing that happened in our town…the most wonderful person God ever created. She was one of those people who walked around like she owned the place and belittled anyone who got in her way. One voting day, everyone voted and to everyone's surprise, things didn't turn out for Trisha as expected -- for once in her “perfect” life, she didn't get what she wanted. The next few days following the election she complained to her parents as well as teachers and anyone else who would listen how unfair the voting was and she didn't believe that everyone's votes were counted. She was relentless – her parents called the school and she kept pushing until she felt she got what she was owed.  For the first time, the school had Co-Presidents. So the girl who won the election had to share her presidential responsibilities. What Trisha should have done was swallow her pride, congratulate the winner, and run again next year if she still wanted that position. People can be so absorbed in themselves that they don’t take the time to step back and look at the big picture. 

Life isn’t about always getting what you want. If we did, life would be boring...we wouldn’t learn anything and we wouldn’t grow as a person. It’s important for people to realize that life doesn’t just hand itself to you on a silver platter. Sometimes you have to fight for what you want. That doesn’t mean punching, pulling hair, scratching to get the job or spot on the varsity team but taking the time to build skills needed. It’s not about taking the easy way out because in the long run it makes you a weaker person. For example, during my brother’s freshman year of high school he tried out for the hockey team. La Salle gave him one tryout whereas the other guys were granted the opportunity to tryout multiple times. The more tryouts you have, the better chance you have of making the team. There was one spot left on one of the teams and through hard work and endless hours practicing, he made the team. He didn’t "buy" his way onto the team – he fought his way on fair and square.  He had a huge sense of self satisfaction at the end of the season when he was the only defender from his team to make the All-Star Team that year.

To Those Who Have Never Been on the Outside Looking In

Diversity comes in many shapes and sizes and oftentimes what you see in
a person is not always what you get. It was not just about the color of
a person's skin or ethnic background, but it also about acceptance of
differences that go beyond the surface of ones skin color. 

During my sophomore year of high school I decided to go to a private
school ten minutes from where I lived. Throughout my first year I was
welcomed with open arms as everyone crowded me in flurry excitement. I
was the new girl and in a school of 350 students I was a treat. People
seemed nice and caring with no intentions of being confrontational like
many students at my old school. I was going through a culture shock of
sorts and I was blind to what was really happening by a black veil.  It
was't until my junior year that the veil finally lifted. For the first
time I could see everyone clearly. It was as if the summer away from my
friends cleared my mind. I went back to drama, teachers pets and
two-faced lying students.  I was guilty of stereotyping.  Because I was
attending a mennonite school, my expectation was that the students would
be different and I expected them to kind, caring and honest.  In reality
-- they were no different than the rest of us. 

For the first time I realized that in order to fit in you had to play a
game and you had to play it well. The rules were simple: gain
information of those around you and use it. Do what you have to do to
stay on top including lie and cheat. It was like a jungle and it was a
game I had no intention of playing. Because of this I was an outcast and
people who I thought were my friends turned their backs on me. This was
all because I didn't share their beliefs. I wasn't mennonite, I didn't
possess all the ins and outs of the inner circle that were partially
required to survive.  In their eyes, I wasn't normal. In a school so
small everyone knew everyone else's business and problems. The students
of the school were all related.  I was way too trusting and learned the
hard way that confiding in one person was like a death sentence in their
social heirarchy.  

I have to admit that my peers did do a good job of saving face and
pretending like they cared. In my opinion, it was common practice for
the students to make fun of anyone or anything that was different from
their own ideas.  The irony is that mennonites are taught to love, care,
and respect one another no matter the diffferences that seperates us and
they used the term "community" to describe their school. I was so
disgusted from hearing it so much that I thought I would scream and
voice my opinion on the matter. This place wasn't a community it was
hell. 

But my experience attending the school  wasn't all bad. In fact, I
learned something very important during my two years of torture...no one
is perfect and everyone is different. I learned to accept people for who
and what they are disabilities and all. People can relate and understand
someone if they have a visible problem like a broken bone. Instead of
being scared they are understanding and sympathetic.

You're left labeled and friendless with no one who really understands.
You're forced to walk around with a weight that drags you down because
no one is willing to help you carry that weight except for family.
People are scared of what they can't see becasue they don't understand
it. 

Everyone should be aware that words cut deeper than a knife. 


Thank you.

Ten Years Later...

Ten years ago today, the sense of security was stripped from the United States Government as well as the civilians residing in the United States who were old enough to remember the tragic day. Thousands of people lost their lives that day leaving behind sons, daughters, parents, and significant others. I can clearly remember that day as if it happened yesterday. I was in fourth grade when my principal's worried voice came over the loud speaker causing the room to fall into a sullen silence. We were ushered outside into the small yard where our flag hung high and proud. It was the backdrop of a warm, sunny, beautiful day. Even though I was too young to grasp the gravity of the situation dealt suddenly into our hands I was, however, able to notice the panic stricken expressions plastered onto our teachers faces. The rest of the day passed in a blur of fuzzy confusion. From that moment on I, personally, felt as if I had to always be on my guard; as if my own home and school would burst into flames claiming more lives. I was too scared to set foot on a plane making what should have been fun trips to Disney World a battle I inevitably lost.


As the years passed and understanding enlightened me I realized how much we have taken for granted. Before 9/11 happened everyone went about their business, hopping onto flights and taking the smallest things for granted.  We, as Americans, had freedom that some countries could only dream  about but many of us were blind to the anger and range and jealousy emanating from our neighbors. Seemingly overnight homeland security took charge and planted high quality security systems in malls, airports, and other populated areas. Rules became more stringent and the ability to walk happily through airports without going through security was ripped out from under us. Now we are forced to stand in line as we are herded through the security checkpoint. Phones are now being tapped ensuring that the US is safe from yet another terrorist attack. Even though the government is doing all this to make sure we are safe our standards of what privacy is has been forced to change. Some people believe this to be an inconvenience, but we have to understand that it's a price we now have to pay to ensure our safety. 

In listening to the news and other multimedia sources the theme seems to stay constant: that people should live life to its fullest, take nothing for granted, and let those you love know how much you appreciate them. Life is like a burning flame, inevitably to be snuffed out. 9/11 proved that much to us as thousands of people lost their lives.