For the article by Steven Johnson, I have to disagree with him on the influence of video games on society. While it is a bad thing for a child or anyone else to sit and play video games all day, video games can promote some very impressive abilities amongst gamers. Such abilities can even be greatly beneficial for people in different career paths. Video games can even promote friendships with people from different places. Games nowadays are capable of allowing people to interact with other people either down the street or even on the other side of the world.
According to Steven Johnson, neither video game or books are really a bad thing. Johnson considers that if video games had came before books, then books would be considered controversial. Johnson believes that books have their pros and cons as much, if not more than video games since they both are capable of helping or hurting those that enjoy them. Johnson even mentions that for good things, books can provide knowledge while video games can promote various things with a person's hands. For bad things, Johnson mentions that books can produce apathetic behavior while video games can produce laziness in children.
Games today are actually scientifically proven to be very beneficial for gamers to play that allow them to be able to improve themselves when they are trying to go into a career field that they choose to go into. One kind of career that has been considered to benefit from all kinds of games is being a surgeon due to hand-eye coordination, but this isn't the limit for jobs that people can benefit from when playing games. Because games can be used as a tool for developing a person's abilities, they are often used for many things, such as in driving or for training a person to be able to properly be able to fly planes. Game systems like the Wii or the new xbox360 kinect are also useful, in that for various games, such as an actual surgery game that is available for the Wii, the controller used requires that the gamer also must be precise since it uses an infrared laser that is pointed at the screen, while the kinect has players being more active while playing because of their actual body movement being used or when only their body is being used and they must be able to judge the position of things like an in game soccer ball and be able to react to it. Also for the games that use just a person's body, real sports can benefit since games are getting up and moving around, thereby getting actual exercise.
When Steven Johnson had mentioned that games and books are both thought to cause people to become more apathetic, I strongly and completely disagree on the video game part and agree on books being somewhat bad for developing relationships. Video games are quite capable of helping relationships, since most of them are able to allow multiple people to play the same game as either teammates or in friendly competitions in multiple ways. At first, on systems like the Atari and the original Nintendo, people were only able to play games for two players, and often the two were already friends. When the first Playstation and the Nintendo64 had came out, these allowed more than two people to play and allowed a gamers' friend to invite people over to play. Now thanks to the internet and the improvements to game systems, people are capable of playing with more than just friends. When the xbox360 had came out, it was the first system that allowed people to be able to play with people who had their systems connected to the internet, meaning that people in a small town could play with someone down the street, in another state, or even with a follow gamer on the other side of the Earth. Books on the other hand are read individually, unless they are read to someone who can't read like those with dyslexia or preschoolers.
When Johnson had mentioned that games only produce better hand-eye coordination that’s not true. Games nowadays have started to promote problem solving skills with various puzzle games that are released, to games that have gamers manage things like a small farm to a vast complex city that they can build from the ground up with whatever they want in it. There are even systems out now that require gamers for certain games to have to get up and actually move around in order for them to actually be able to play. The first such system to be produced is the Wii, which uses a combination of a motion sensor and a controller that have the player move in various ways like, for example, paddling a canoe in a game for swinging the controller like swinging a flag. One such game was the wildly popular Wii fit, which enabled people to improve their balance, lose weight, and perform aerobics the games that have you, the gamer manage something will have you do different things to keep things running smoothly, like listening to the people in a virtual cities suggestions and complaints in order to insure that the city is going smoothly and not about to collapse on you. For the new Xbox 360 kinect, the games that go with it require only one controller to use it, you. While the idea is new, the xbox360's controller less idea allows the gamer to be able to move themselves and do various things, playing soccer or interacting with a pet.
Video games will long be part of our culture. Even children are helped while playing video games, by learning skills like math and reading using a combination of playability and the child’s favorite TV shows. Our government believes that if games can’t be banned, then they should be a controlled substance like alcohol or tobacco. Recently, I had found out that congress has establish in California that store that sell video games must now have the person wanting a game produce an ID that shows they are old enough for the game they want to get. Despite their attempts, each day thousands of gamers voice their opposition to these attempts while their numbers also continue to grow. As a fellow gamer and in opposition to people like Steven Johnson on games, I say will forever be a part of the world. “Who says video games are a bad thing?”
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Life at the Library
While at the library, I feel calm and have some peace and quiet. People here are going about their business, working on things for work or school or just doing whatever. People are also looking at the books and movies, seeing what catches their attention and is enjoyable. I am able to read a book without being interrupted by the common noises I deal with constantly each day. I have access to a computer and am able to surf the internet with no problems. This library contains a large variety of books and I am able to reserve one if a book is unavailable at this time. I also don’t have to worry about someone telling me to stop reading a book if I’m deep into it and enjoying it fairly well. Movies are also accessible to me at the library and I can check them out just as I can a book.
A group of people are talking as if no one else is around. The volume of their conversation continues to grow. They act as if they are the only ones in the library. People are also pretty crowded here even though it is a week day. There is only two librarians at the checkout desk so people have to wait in order to check out whatever it is they want or if they have to wait to be helped in finding something. I wish to use a computer but have to wait until someone else's time limit has expired. I, too, am limited in my time on the computer. This forces me to do whatever it is that I am doing quickly, or else I could get kicked off the computer before I am finished due to the time limit restrictions. As I look for a particular book, it has already been checked out which forces me to wait until it is returned.
While having written about the good and bad aspects of my trip to the public library, I feel the good far out way the bad. However, as I describe the negative things, I am more descriptive. This is probably due to the fact that I enjoy the library and these disruptions bother me. I have only a few details for each when I could of had more for each category about the library. I also should be more descriptive on each subject and maybe included more about the people here. I also needed to be more specific about what sort of things I can find at the library and what I cannot find here like the kind of movies there are or the books that they have for people to checkout. I could have also mentioned what it takes for me to get a movie.
My essay could also have been better written in that I could have used better words for the descriptions and provided a more thorough explanation on the problems with some of the things that I had described in both the positives and the negatives about the library. When I wrote about not having to stop reading a book, I could have explained why I would have a problem with someone telling me to stop reading a book. I could also mention the kinds of books that I can find here and what books I like to read while I am here.
A group of people are talking as if no one else is around. The volume of their conversation continues to grow. They act as if they are the only ones in the library. People are also pretty crowded here even though it is a week day. There is only two librarians at the checkout desk so people have to wait in order to check out whatever it is they want or if they have to wait to be helped in finding something. I wish to use a computer but have to wait until someone else's time limit has expired. I, too, am limited in my time on the computer. This forces me to do whatever it is that I am doing quickly, or else I could get kicked off the computer before I am finished due to the time limit restrictions. As I look for a particular book, it has already been checked out which forces me to wait until it is returned.
While having written about the good and bad aspects of my trip to the public library, I feel the good far out way the bad. However, as I describe the negative things, I am more descriptive. This is probably due to the fact that I enjoy the library and these disruptions bother me. I have only a few details for each when I could of had more for each category about the library. I also should be more descriptive on each subject and maybe included more about the people here. I also needed to be more specific about what sort of things I can find at the library and what I cannot find here like the kind of movies there are or the books that they have for people to checkout. I could have also mentioned what it takes for me to get a movie.
My essay could also have been better written in that I could have used better words for the descriptions and provided a more thorough explanation on the problems with some of the things that I had described in both the positives and the negatives about the library. When I wrote about not having to stop reading a book, I could have explained why I would have a problem with someone telling me to stop reading a book. I could also mention the kinds of books that I can find here and what books I like to read while I am here.
A story of my mom
A story of my mom
Wisaphorn Inatarchueajan
The story that I am going to share is not my own story, it happened to my mom and I have been told when I was a little by my grandma. She seemed to be so proud of my mom every time she told me the story. Mom has always been my idol and inspired me to be a tough person.
It started in a little hut made from coconut leaves and wood. It's where grandma and grandpa lived when they decided to spend their whole life together as a couple. The hut located in a middle of nowhere in the rural country side of Thailand. They grew rice and vegetablesfor a living.
They were very poor and didn't even have enough money to buy food and stuff so they ate the vegetables or potatoes or whatever they could find around the area. They would trade the high quality rice they grew in for more rice of lesser quality so that they could have food throughout the year.
One day, Grandma found out that she was pregnant. There wasn't any hospital or clinic around that poor country side. Grandma pretty much took care of herself until she gave birth to my mom. An old lady in the village who was the midwife helped give birth to my mom. Mom was a healthy baby and adorable. Grandma named her "Nuy" it means pretty eyes in Thai, because mom had the most striking eyes grandma had ever seen.
Mom was a very sweet girl. Grandma never had any problems raising her. When she turned five, grandma taught her how to cook rice and it has become her duty to cook rice every day. Everyday grandpa would go take care of buffalos and cows, grandma would grow rice and my little mom would go help. Grandma never heard the word "tired" come out of my mom or cry like a baby for normal five year old girls nowadays.
As time went by, grandma gave birth to twin babies when mom turned six. Mom had to take care of her two little sisters as well as the duties she had to do every day, and again she never complained, because she loved grandma and grandpa so much. She wanted to help as much as she could so her parents wouldn't be so tired all the time. Men in Thailand in the old days would not care much about the kids or housework. They would only do outdoor works. So there were mom and grandma to raise the kids. Since then grandma had been getting pregnant and giving birth to a baby girl every year…until the seventh girl. Mom and her sisters grew up together and they were so close. All the girls didn't get to play or run around a whole lot like other children. They had to do chores and help grandma grow rice and vegetables. They never had any money to buy candy or toys. Fruits from trees around the house were the only candy they could find. Sometimes there was no rice at all, they would go dig potatoes in the woods or look for crabs in the fishing holes or helped grandpa fish.
My mom was like a second mother for all of my aunts because grandma was getting old and she wasn't very healthy. When anybody in the family got sick, they were pretty much helping take care of each other and there was no medicine at all. Hospital was very far away. However life was not that unfair, my mother and my aunts they were able to go to school, even if they did not have any uniforms to wear like other children. Then my mom got a second hand uniform from some neighbors. When it was time for her little sisters to go to school, grandmother didn't have enough money for all of the other siblings. She decided to go talk to the teacher and took mom out of her fourth grade class to help work and earn money for the family.
Mom was so sad but she didn't get angry at grandma at all for doing that. She understood and handled it well. Grandma taught her how to cook and she became the cook of the house and even started carrying food around to sell when she was ten. Everyday she would go sell food at school and watched other kids study or playing on the school grounds. Mom never got mad at her tough life, she loved grandma and grandpa so much she would do anything for them.When she turned fourteen, mom decided to go to Bangkok; which is the name of the capital city of Thailand. She started working as a waitress in a small restaurant. She was pushed and made fun of because she was just a poor country girl. However, she never gave up. She was so patient and saved up all her money and sent it home. All she thought about was wanting to make her parents happy and have food on their table. She was a very beautiful woman inside and out so there were some other waitresses who did not like her and told lies to the manager until she got fired. Mom wasso sad, but she started looking for a new job immediately. It was so hard to find a job, especially with no education. One day she met an old friend walking down the street. They talked for a long time and her friend asked if she wanted to come work with her. Mom knew that the job was to be a prostitute. Mom didn’t like that at all, but her friend said a young pretty girl like mom would definitely make a lot of money; it made her think about her family back home. She told her friend that she would think about it. She couldn’t sleep all night because she was thinking about how to make everybody's life better.
She finally remembered what grandma used to tell her “What goes around comes around, if you do good things you will get good things back”. Mom realized she was really looking down on herself if she was thinking about being a prostitute. She got up and talked to herself “I am going to get a job today or I will go home”. That day, she walked around without even having any money to buy a piece of bread because she had already sent it all to the family.She thought to herself maybe she’s not meant to be here, she would just go home. But, as soon as she looked up, she saw a paper on a building saying that they were looking for hard workers to work in a jewelries factory. She ran in right away and she got the job!
She got a job as a maid, but she was really interested in those people cutting gemstone and shaping beautiful gems. Everyday she would look at them and tried to remember how they did it while she was cleaning the floors. One day she decided to walk to the main office and talk to the manager, she told him that she would love to learn to do that type of work. He didn’t like that because she was only eighteen and it was men’s job, but he gave her a try because he had a crush on my mom. He taught her how to cut gems and shape them. He was shocked to find out that she was very good at cutting gems. Mom practiced everyday with her manager and she knew that she was in love with him. Days went by until roughly a year had passed, he then asked her to marry him and mom was very happy. They worked there together and saved up some money to start their own business making jewelries. They had to start from ground zero. Mom helped him as much as she could, even though she could not read.
The business grew quickly because they were hard-working and honest. She believed in what goes around comes around. All her positive thoughts and actions were coming back to her. From a poor country girl who never had everything like other children, she now had whatever she wanted. My mom grew up not have an education, but she has still been able to send me to America to study. When other educated people can’t send their own children abroad to be schooled. I have never been embarrassed by my mother, but I feel so lucky to be her daughter and she is my hero. Whatever I do I would always think about her and hopefully get successful like her
Wisaphorn Inatarchueajan
The story that I am going to share is not my own story, it happened to my mom and I have been told when I was a little by my grandma. She seemed to be so proud of my mom every time she told me the story. Mom has always been my idol and inspired me to be a tough person.
It started in a little hut made from coconut leaves and wood. It's where grandma and grandpa lived when they decided to spend their whole life together as a couple. The hut located in a middle of nowhere in the rural country side of Thailand. They grew rice and vegetablesfor a living.
They were very poor and didn't even have enough money to buy food and stuff so they ate the vegetables or potatoes or whatever they could find around the area. They would trade the high quality rice they grew in for more rice of lesser quality so that they could have food throughout the year.
One day, Grandma found out that she was pregnant. There wasn't any hospital or clinic around that poor country side. Grandma pretty much took care of herself until she gave birth to my mom. An old lady in the village who was the midwife helped give birth to my mom. Mom was a healthy baby and adorable. Grandma named her "Nuy" it means pretty eyes in Thai, because mom had the most striking eyes grandma had ever seen.
Mom was a very sweet girl. Grandma never had any problems raising her. When she turned five, grandma taught her how to cook rice and it has become her duty to cook rice every day. Everyday grandpa would go take care of buffalos and cows, grandma would grow rice and my little mom would go help. Grandma never heard the word "tired" come out of my mom or cry like a baby for normal five year old girls nowadays.
As time went by, grandma gave birth to twin babies when mom turned six. Mom had to take care of her two little sisters as well as the duties she had to do every day, and again she never complained, because she loved grandma and grandpa so much. She wanted to help as much as she could so her parents wouldn't be so tired all the time. Men in Thailand in the old days would not care much about the kids or housework. They would only do outdoor works. So there were mom and grandma to raise the kids. Since then grandma had been getting pregnant and giving birth to a baby girl every year…until the seventh girl. Mom and her sisters grew up together and they were so close. All the girls didn't get to play or run around a whole lot like other children. They had to do chores and help grandma grow rice and vegetables. They never had any money to buy candy or toys. Fruits from trees around the house were the only candy they could find. Sometimes there was no rice at all, they would go dig potatoes in the woods or look for crabs in the fishing holes or helped grandpa fish.
My mom was like a second mother for all of my aunts because grandma was getting old and she wasn't very healthy. When anybody in the family got sick, they were pretty much helping take care of each other and there was no medicine at all. Hospital was very far away. However life was not that unfair, my mother and my aunts they were able to go to school, even if they did not have any uniforms to wear like other children. Then my mom got a second hand uniform from some neighbors. When it was time for her little sisters to go to school, grandmother didn't have enough money for all of the other siblings. She decided to go talk to the teacher and took mom out of her fourth grade class to help work and earn money for the family.
Mom was so sad but she didn't get angry at grandma at all for doing that. She understood and handled it well. Grandma taught her how to cook and she became the cook of the house and even started carrying food around to sell when she was ten. Everyday she would go sell food at school and watched other kids study or playing on the school grounds. Mom never got mad at her tough life, she loved grandma and grandpa so much she would do anything for them.When she turned fourteen, mom decided to go to Bangkok; which is the name of the capital city of Thailand. She started working as a waitress in a small restaurant. She was pushed and made fun of because she was just a poor country girl. However, she never gave up. She was so patient and saved up all her money and sent it home. All she thought about was wanting to make her parents happy and have food on their table. She was a very beautiful woman inside and out so there were some other waitresses who did not like her and told lies to the manager until she got fired. Mom wasso sad, but she started looking for a new job immediately. It was so hard to find a job, especially with no education. One day she met an old friend walking down the street. They talked for a long time and her friend asked if she wanted to come work with her. Mom knew that the job was to be a prostitute. Mom didn’t like that at all, but her friend said a young pretty girl like mom would definitely make a lot of money; it made her think about her family back home. She told her friend that she would think about it. She couldn’t sleep all night because she was thinking about how to make everybody's life better.
She finally remembered what grandma used to tell her “What goes around comes around, if you do good things you will get good things back”. Mom realized she was really looking down on herself if she was thinking about being a prostitute. She got up and talked to herself “I am going to get a job today or I will go home”. That day, she walked around without even having any money to buy a piece of bread because she had already sent it all to the family.She thought to herself maybe she’s not meant to be here, she would just go home. But, as soon as she looked up, she saw a paper on a building saying that they were looking for hard workers to work in a jewelries factory. She ran in right away and she got the job!
She got a job as a maid, but she was really interested in those people cutting gemstone and shaping beautiful gems. Everyday she would look at them and tried to remember how they did it while she was cleaning the floors. One day she decided to walk to the main office and talk to the manager, she told him that she would love to learn to do that type of work. He didn’t like that because she was only eighteen and it was men’s job, but he gave her a try because he had a crush on my mom. He taught her how to cut gems and shape them. He was shocked to find out that she was very good at cutting gems. Mom practiced everyday with her manager and she knew that she was in love with him. Days went by until roughly a year had passed, he then asked her to marry him and mom was very happy. They worked there together and saved up some money to start their own business making jewelries. They had to start from ground zero. Mom helped him as much as she could, even though she could not read.
The business grew quickly because they were hard-working and honest. She believed in what goes around comes around. All her positive thoughts and actions were coming back to her. From a poor country girl who never had everything like other children, she now had whatever she wanted. My mom grew up not have an education, but she has still been able to send me to America to study. When other educated people can’t send their own children abroad to be schooled. I have never been embarrassed by my mother, but I feel so lucky to be her daughter and she is my hero. Whatever I do I would always think about her and hopefully get successful like her
Lunken Airport
Part A: Positive 1. Every Sunday evening, a little before dusk when it is cool and breezy outside, I leave home with my dog, Grace to go to Lunken Airport to take her on a walking trail. The drive is brief and when we arrive I see other people anxious and ready to walk and forget about their long day at work. Some are unpacking their bikes, some are walking their dogs, and a few are just walking by themselves. The parking lot has plenty of spaces open for me to park, so I choose the closest one to the trail. Like a mesh of the rainbow plastered on the sky Grace and I see the sunset as we begin to walk up the hill. People walking past Grace and me politely say 'hello' and often say Grace bears an unlikely resemblance to Tramp from Lady and the Tramp. When we are walking there is so much happening, the world is spinning around us, yet it is still peaceful. The leaves on the trees are arrays of different colors, some of them crisp, have fallen on the trail making quiet crackling noises when they are stepped on. On the left side of the trail is a small lake where geese are at. Grace and I occasionally hear their funny squawks. To the left of us, planes are going down the runway as the sun continues to go down and the lights on the runway become brighter almost looking like a festive party for just Grace and me, making it a beautiful, serene scene. Negative 2. Every Sunday evening, when the pests of the night come on duty I take my dog, Grace to Lunken Airport to a walking trail. When we arrive to the teeny tiny parking lot made out of bumpy gravel I look for a parking spot. Grace, excited is barking into my ear like a thousand fire alarms ringing at once as I am trying to navigate around the other walkers walking in front of my car for no apparent reason. We manage to get out of the car and begin to walk up the hill. I feel a striking cold breeze and begin to get goose bumps just starting out the treacherous walk. As we begin to enter the wooded areas I hear all kinds of creepy craw-lies bustling around chirping every millisecond and I am pretty sure that some went up my nose. At the airport, the planes are thundering loud and often give me quite a scare when the starts suddenly like a gun, shot off at a random moment. A while into the walk, a squirrel with auburn hair and a tail that sticks up like a rock stars hair runs across the trail which causes a scene of absolute chaos. My dog begins to whine and cry out. I am then forced to drag her away for a good minute. People passing by stare at me as if I am the parent whose kid starts screaming in the grocery store over a wanted bag of candy that they refused to buy. When we head back to the car I am exhausted and ready to go home and vedge in my pajamas. As I sluggishly put in my car keys and sit down in the car I look on my legs and see that I have three new mosquito bites. Part B Reflection: This particular writing exercise of writing a scene at both a negative and positive outlook proved to be difficult to me. It was definitely difficult for me to write a negative look on the airport since I love it. At the end of the week it is so nice for me to have something that I can go do and just enjoy nature. When I was writing the negative point of view I essentially took the little small things that could be negative and tried to exaggerate them to an extreme. Basically, it showed me that a story can have two sides or more. It just depends on whose point of view it is from and their specific outlook on life. I also found that when one exaggerates their points it helps with their argument and persuasion. When I changed my description from positive to negative I found out that what one mentions can make out a scene to sounds appeasing or not. Also using certain writing mechanisms such as metaphors or similes can help get a writers opinion on the subject across to the readers. As an example, in my first description (the positive) I described the pureness of nature and peaceful scenery. While in the second description (the negative) I described the airport and being loud and annoying. This all depends on personal outlook and opinions. One certain person could find the airport annoying and the cold and another could just focus on the beautiful lights and the sweetness of fall weather. Perception is the key difference in the two types of views. Perhaps how a person grew up or their values could have influenced their particular way of looking at things. As an example, many people that have grown up in the area feel the airport is a nuisance and have rallied in order to stop it from getting more flights since it is in a residential area. Other people may think it is neat to see the different planes taking off so close to them. This all refers back to the idea of angle of vision. Numerous things ultimately cause a certain angle of vision, whether it is beliefs, culture differences, prior knowledge on a certain subject, or even just a person’s likes or what they are more apt to in life. I would say that it is a challenge to write a story from two differing points of view. Most people are already going to have a certain set of opinions that causes them to perceive things in certain ways.
Society, slaves to television and school
According to John Gatto in “Why Schools Don’t Educate”, today’s generation is ruled by two things, television and school. Gatto believes that children’s lives, full of being constantly busy are causing the degradation of our people. He adds that these things are leading to an even bigger problem, a social crisis. Gatto states that when children are not spending half of their days at school they are sitting in front of the television watching shows. When children have no time to go on adventures and explore using their imagination it hinders their individuality. Gatto argues that children spend more time learning about subjects in school than actually learning about the real practicality of the world. Frankly, they are not getting the chance to grow as a unique individual. Gatto a former teacher speaks briefly about the aspirations of his students; they have none! He states that children today “have almost no curiosity” and are “indifferent to the adult world.” Gatto later describes the classic American family as being “destroyed”. With the quick hustle and bustle of today; the number of families that eat at the dinner table has immensely decreased. This in turn has also caused a negative effect on a children’s growth, perhaps they will not grow up with good mentors in their house. Which can later lead to bad decisions in one’s life…whether it be drugs, violence, recreational sex, or whatever. Gatto appeals to common values with readers when he uses pathos, or emotional persuasion. He idolizes the good ole days in the past when children actually went out and had their own adventures instead of watching someone elses on the television. Gatto did not mention cold hard facts as a backbone for his argument, however one must remember that this is a speech and in speeches pure facts would not be appreciated. Also yes, Gatto is generalizing the children population however, if one simply looks around Gatto’s argument can be seen as true in a majority of cases. In the speech Gatto presents many strong opinions that may come off as a bit harsh. At the same time, all of his opinions still contain a slight taste of reality to readers. If readers compare themselves to the article, they will more than likely find it relatable. Many readers will find themselves agreeing that their days are consumed by work/school and going home to watch television in the evening. After a long, tiring day at work people greatly enjoy coming home, relaxing, and living another life through a favorite television show or football game. School already takes up at least eight hours of one’s day. When doing homework is put on top of that time, it can equal out to about 12 hours of “school” per day. This leaves little time for one to explore one’s hobbies in the day. However, one could definitely present a strong argument that school actually increases ones individuality and gives one a want to strive to learn more in life. Gatto believes that between school and television are the “pathologies” of this generation. Children are not able to be individuals. Instead they are spending hours upon hours watching television and wasting their days in classrooms. Gatto brings to light that there is a big problem with today’s generation. Today’s generation rarely gets the chance to explore one’s own niche. One cannot possibly emphasize enough that change needs to come to these children’s lives. There needs to be less time spent watching television and more time outside exploring learning about the world. On the other hand, the world is quickly evolving into a fast paced keep moving mentality. Perhaps the today’s children are just adapting to this kind of lifestyle. However, one should still maintain their bearings and limit their television watching and do something that will help them grow as a person instead. Also when one thinks back to past generations, the generations before said have always disagreed with the current way of things and found it to be causing a downfall in society. As an example, when teenagers in the late fifties listened to Elvis Presley’s music, parents thought his music was ludicrous and thought he was going to ruin society. That generation ended up turning out just fine. So perhaps Gatto’s argument can just be seen as a difference between generations. Overall, Gatto argues a good point in claiming that America has “lost [it’s] identity” showing that when children spend too much time in front of the television it impairs their ability to become their own unique individual with their own stories and experiences.
Why school don’t educate
Why school don’t educate
Wisaphorn Intarachueajan
I have been reading John Taylor Gatto's point of view against television and school. I agreed with him that some kids need to cut down spending too much time on television, but I don't think that the kids spend too much time in school. Gatto made it sound like school and television takes over a "whole" lot of time for kids to grow up, time with family and their private time. "My children attend school thirty hours a week; use about eight hours getting ready, going and coming home; and spend an average of seven hours a week in home work"(John Taylor Gatto). He makes us think that the children study too much. A matter of fact; he overlooked the fact that our kids don't really go to school all year long. They have winter break, spring break and a whole three months for summer vacation, not counting other holidays and weekends that they get to take off. They sure have enough time. I never heard of any teacher complain about kids spend too much time in school before. And he was "The best teacher of the year" "Think of the things that are killing us as a nation: drugs, brainless competition, recreational sex, the pornography of violence, gambling, alcohol, and the worst pornography of all – lives devoted to buying things- accumulation as a philosophy – all of them are addictions of dependent personalities, and that is what our brand of schooling must inevitably produce"(Gatto) That is pretty true that school inevitably produce but I don't think that in the communities don't have these problems, they are everywhere. What are actually teacher's duties? Do they only come to school seven or eight hours a day to teach and go home? Why can't the kids grow up with teachers at school as well as with their parents at home? I do believe that children need guidance. The problem is not school and television, but the current education system doesn't know how to show the students the usefulness of the skills. What's the point of having a lot of time with themselves but they don't know how to it worthily? Many kids might be agreed with Gatto, because most of them don't like school. Maybe he should focus on what teachers are going to teach and interest the students to use the skills they learn more than giving them time that they don't know how to spend worthily.
When I was in high school, many times I questioned my teacher. Why do I have to learn this and that, Am I really going to need it in the future? My teacher would always say "This is what everybody does, and you have to as well." Until now I still don't get it. It seems like it really doesn't matter how they are taught, as long as the students pass the exams. Which is kind of support Gatto that schools don't educate but I don't think school is a waste of time if we have a better system.
When I went to high school in Thailand, everything was way different than in the US. All the kids did the same things. I went to school from eight to four every day, but that's not enough; I had to go to tutoring school until nine at night because everybody else did, in order to get in a good university. I came home at nine-thirty, did my homework and went to bed. On Saturday I went to tutoring school from nine in the morning to four in the afternoon. Sunday was left for studying and doing homework. I didn't see my parents all day sometimes. This fact happens to many kids in Asia. I think this is called too much, but I grew up fine never had any problems. I think keeping yourself busy on school is better than having too much free time to curious about drugs and sex.
When I came over to American's high school, I was surprised that they didn't have any tutoring school at all. Kids got to play or do something for themselves after school, like watching television, sports, playing games etc. And I thought it was good enough. How much more time do they need? I also wanted to clarify that Gatto got it wrong with the television. "My children watch fifty-five hours of television a week" Gatto said. Do they really watch television like 7-8 hours a day? I mean that is kind of exaggerating. He is the parent, why would he let them watch that much. But anyhow did he mean what they watch are nonsensical or something? He didn't say what they are watching. If it is nonsensical, maybe he should guide them what is good for them and actually watch it with them. Is television the real problem that wrecks the kids?
They banned all bad words, sexual scene, drug, cruelty etc. on television anyways. No, television is not really the real problem that ruins kid's life, but what's on it. Depends on what parents guide them to watch and how long they should be watching. I personally think that television is a very good entertainment. It interests kids more than listening to teacher talk the whole class. Many teachers use television as an instruction media, which is a great idea. It would be a better situation for the individual child.
should we just have every child do home school and smash all the televisions?
Wisaphorn Intarachueajan
I have been reading John Taylor Gatto's point of view against television and school. I agreed with him that some kids need to cut down spending too much time on television, but I don't think that the kids spend too much time in school. Gatto made it sound like school and television takes over a "whole" lot of time for kids to grow up, time with family and their private time. "My children attend school thirty hours a week; use about eight hours getting ready, going and coming home; and spend an average of seven hours a week in home work"(John Taylor Gatto). He makes us think that the children study too much. A matter of fact; he overlooked the fact that our kids don't really go to school all year long. They have winter break, spring break and a whole three months for summer vacation, not counting other holidays and weekends that they get to take off. They sure have enough time. I never heard of any teacher complain about kids spend too much time in school before. And he was "The best teacher of the year" "Think of the things that are killing us as a nation: drugs, brainless competition, recreational sex, the pornography of violence, gambling, alcohol, and the worst pornography of all – lives devoted to buying things- accumulation as a philosophy – all of them are addictions of dependent personalities, and that is what our brand of schooling must inevitably produce"(Gatto) That is pretty true that school inevitably produce but I don't think that in the communities don't have these problems, they are everywhere. What are actually teacher's duties? Do they only come to school seven or eight hours a day to teach and go home? Why can't the kids grow up with teachers at school as well as with their parents at home? I do believe that children need guidance. The problem is not school and television, but the current education system doesn't know how to show the students the usefulness of the skills. What's the point of having a lot of time with themselves but they don't know how to it worthily? Many kids might be agreed with Gatto, because most of them don't like school. Maybe he should focus on what teachers are going to teach and interest the students to use the skills they learn more than giving them time that they don't know how to spend worthily.
When I was in high school, many times I questioned my teacher. Why do I have to learn this and that, Am I really going to need it in the future? My teacher would always say "This is what everybody does, and you have to as well." Until now I still don't get it. It seems like it really doesn't matter how they are taught, as long as the students pass the exams. Which is kind of support Gatto that schools don't educate but I don't think school is a waste of time if we have a better system.
When I went to high school in Thailand, everything was way different than in the US. All the kids did the same things. I went to school from eight to four every day, but that's not enough; I had to go to tutoring school until nine at night because everybody else did, in order to get in a good university. I came home at nine-thirty, did my homework and went to bed. On Saturday I went to tutoring school from nine in the morning to four in the afternoon. Sunday was left for studying and doing homework. I didn't see my parents all day sometimes. This fact happens to many kids in Asia. I think this is called too much, but I grew up fine never had any problems. I think keeping yourself busy on school is better than having too much free time to curious about drugs and sex.
When I came over to American's high school, I was surprised that they didn't have any tutoring school at all. Kids got to play or do something for themselves after school, like watching television, sports, playing games etc. And I thought it was good enough. How much more time do they need? I also wanted to clarify that Gatto got it wrong with the television. "My children watch fifty-five hours of television a week" Gatto said. Do they really watch television like 7-8 hours a day? I mean that is kind of exaggerating. He is the parent, why would he let them watch that much. But anyhow did he mean what they watch are nonsensical or something? He didn't say what they are watching. If it is nonsensical, maybe he should guide them what is good for them and actually watch it with them. Is television the real problem that wrecks the kids?
They banned all bad words, sexual scene, drug, cruelty etc. on television anyways. No, television is not really the real problem that ruins kid's life, but what's on it. Depends on what parents guide them to watch and how long they should be watching. I personally think that television is a very good entertainment. It interests kids more than listening to teacher talk the whole class. Many teachers use television as an instruction media, which is a great idea. It would be a better situation for the individual child.
should we just have every child do home school and smash all the televisions?
A friend who changed me
A friend who changed me
Wisaphorn Intarachueajan
When I was about six year old, I always thought that I was a boy because I had been growing up with my cousins. All we played was shooting guns and playing with car toys. If I was lucky, they would play family with me. I loved to be a mommy, so I could yell at my boys and told them what to do. Sometimes We had a cheating daddy with his other girlfriend, I would get to play as a mean wife and slapped the other girlfriend of my husband (fake slaps) because we learned it from Soap Opera on the television at night. It makes me laugh every time I think about how funny my cousin acted like a girl to be the other girlfriend of my husband. Anyhow, that was the only time I get to play like a girl. Other than that, I was a boy soldier. Oh! I could be a wrestler too, I always beat my skinny cousins because I was fat and bigger than them. That's how I got accepted from the boys.
I actually had girlfriends also. They lived not very far from my house, but they were teenagers. All they did was talking about boys and making themselves look pretty. I was only six year old, who cared if I walked around barefoot or picked my nose and wiped it on my shirt. Those girls thought I was too fat and gross to be around "too cool girls" like them.I would have exploded to be around them anyway. All I had to do was listening to them talking about boys. Why? Boys were not that fun! Except for getting them beaten.
One day, a new neighbor just moved in. I was seven at the time and was still a tomboy. God might have felt sorry for me or something so he sent me a daughter of the new neighbor next door to play with me and she was my age. We became good friends and played together everyday. We also opened our own restaurants and took turns going to each other's restaurant because the boys wouldn't like to buy our food that made of leaves and dirt. She also invented Barbie dolls to my life. I forgot how much loved to beat the boys on wrestling! I turned to be real girl because of her.
If I did not know her, I would have been a tom boy until now. I have not seen her since I started going to high school. She has moved to another town with her parents. I still haven't heard about her since then but I never forgot about her. She was one of the most important persons in my life. I am a girl until now because of her :)
Wisaphorn Intarachueajan
When I was about six year old, I always thought that I was a boy because I had been growing up with my cousins. All we played was shooting guns and playing with car toys. If I was lucky, they would play family with me. I loved to be a mommy, so I could yell at my boys and told them what to do. Sometimes We had a cheating daddy with his other girlfriend, I would get to play as a mean wife and slapped the other girlfriend of my husband (fake slaps) because we learned it from Soap Opera on the television at night. It makes me laugh every time I think about how funny my cousin acted like a girl to be the other girlfriend of my husband. Anyhow, that was the only time I get to play like a girl. Other than that, I was a boy soldier. Oh! I could be a wrestler too, I always beat my skinny cousins because I was fat and bigger than them. That's how I got accepted from the boys.
I actually had girlfriends also. They lived not very far from my house, but they were teenagers. All they did was talking about boys and making themselves look pretty. I was only six year old, who cared if I walked around barefoot or picked my nose and wiped it on my shirt. Those girls thought I was too fat and gross to be around "too cool girls" like them.I would have exploded to be around them anyway. All I had to do was listening to them talking about boys. Why? Boys were not that fun! Except for getting them beaten.
One day, a new neighbor just moved in. I was seven at the time and was still a tomboy. God might have felt sorry for me or something so he sent me a daughter of the new neighbor next door to play with me and she was my age. We became good friends and played together everyday. We also opened our own restaurants and took turns going to each other's restaurant because the boys wouldn't like to buy our food that made of leaves and dirt. She also invented Barbie dolls to my life. I forgot how much loved to beat the boys on wrestling! I turned to be real girl because of her.
If I did not know her, I would have been a tom boy until now. I have not seen her since I started going to high school. She has moved to another town with her parents. I still haven't heard about her since then but I never forgot about her. She was one of the most important persons in my life. I am a girl until now because of her :)
When I was negative
When I was negative
Wisaphorn Intarachueajan
One of the best thing on earth ever created called Karaoke machine. I have always been loving to sing and I have to say that I have an amazing voice. But life isn't fair, my talent came with a shyness. My singing could only be heard in the bathroom. My mom and dad had always been pushing me to sing for the competitions or any party we went. My answer was always a "NO".
One time dad told his friends that I was the most talented singer. He seemed to be so proud of me. His friends were so excited to hear me sing. I was a little upset inside because what did dad put me through. I was pushed and pushed to go sing but I was too shy. I felt like the whole world was on my shoulder, I told dad couldn't do it. Then he offered to give me 20 bucks for singing one song, but I thought I would rather pay 30 bucks with the money my piggy bank to him to stop asking me to do it. I could tell dad was very embarrassed for flattering his own daugther in front of his friends too much.
That night on the way home, I realized that I embarrassed my dad a lot. He was so quiet in the car. I felt so guilty for embarrassing my dad. I lost 20 bucks and made him mad. I wondered how pround I would have been if I went up on the stage and sang for my dad. Also I would have been rich for having 50 bucks saving in my piggy bank. Later on that night I told him sorry for not doing what he wanted me to. He said he was so tired of my shyness and told me to get out of my shell.
I felt even more guilty, so I told him to sit down and I would sing for him. He smiled and said "Yeah! That's my girl." I used all my bravery to sing for him, I was very nervous and my heart was beating so fast. After the singing, I realized that it wasn't that hard. Dad said I was the best and gave me 2o bucks and then he took the 10 bucks back because he thought I was silly for being too shy. He also sent me to a singing academy and I knew that singing was what I love to do the mostI became more brave after that night.
Now I never refuse to sing for anyone and it seems so hard for me to get off the stage because I love it so much. Now dad is the one to tell me to shut up.
Wisaphorn Intarachueajan
One of the best thing on earth ever created called Karaoke machine. I have always been loving to sing and I have to say that I have an amazing voice. But life isn't fair, my talent came with a shyness. My singing could only be heard in the bathroom. My mom and dad had always been pushing me to sing for the competitions or any party we went. My answer was always a "NO".
One time dad told his friends that I was the most talented singer. He seemed to be so proud of me. His friends were so excited to hear me sing. I was a little upset inside because what did dad put me through. I was pushed and pushed to go sing but I was too shy. I felt like the whole world was on my shoulder, I told dad couldn't do it. Then he offered to give me 20 bucks for singing one song, but I thought I would rather pay 30 bucks with the money my piggy bank to him to stop asking me to do it. I could tell dad was very embarrassed for flattering his own daugther in front of his friends too much.
That night on the way home, I realized that I embarrassed my dad a lot. He was so quiet in the car. I felt so guilty for embarrassing my dad. I lost 20 bucks and made him mad. I wondered how pround I would have been if I went up on the stage and sang for my dad. Also I would have been rich for having 50 bucks saving in my piggy bank. Later on that night I told him sorry for not doing what he wanted me to. He said he was so tired of my shyness and told me to get out of my shell.
I felt even more guilty, so I told him to sit down and I would sing for him. He smiled and said "Yeah! That's my girl." I used all my bravery to sing for him, I was very nervous and my heart was beating so fast. After the singing, I realized that it wasn't that hard. Dad said I was the best and gave me 2o bucks and then he took the 10 bucks back because he thought I was silly for being too shy. He also sent me to a singing academy and I knew that singing was what I love to do the mostI became more brave after that night.
Now I never refuse to sing for anyone and it seems so hard for me to get off the stage because I love it so much. Now dad is the one to tell me to shut up.
Journal:Annie Dillard & Living life
Journal:
Annie Dillard makes it extremely clear how she believes that life should be lived in her short yet sweet passage. Even though short, it conveys an idea that one needs to live each day to the fullest. Stressing the carpe diem idea Dillard says that one should not stick to a certain "boring schedule" but take chances on plans. One cannot just go through life going through the motions taking up air. One needs to explore and make some sort of impact to leave their mark. If one follows every which rule then they will never truly "live". Dillard suggests that her readers live messily because that is the only real way to live it. I believe that Dillard was aiming her passage at people who just live at home. They need to get out of their shell and be adventerous. They need to tear up their schedules and do the unexpected. I greatly agree with Dillard but there are some gaps in her persuasion. One should definitely do what they want when making decisions but they should be cautious and not do something if it is going to hurt another. If everyone did exactly what they wanted society would be a whole different world, there could maybe not even be a society. Also, ione just lives life constantly in the moment then eventually the consequences of said will add up and can become highly overwhelming. I would suggest that ones balances the two extremes. Live life with both one's heart and mind.
Annie Dillard makes it extremely clear how she believes that life should be lived in her short yet sweet passage. Even though short, it conveys an idea that one needs to live each day to the fullest. Stressing the carpe diem idea Dillard says that one should not stick to a certain "boring schedule" but take chances on plans. One cannot just go through life going through the motions taking up air. One needs to explore and make some sort of impact to leave their mark. If one follows every which rule then they will never truly "live". Dillard suggests that her readers live messily because that is the only real way to live it. I believe that Dillard was aiming her passage at people who just live at home. They need to get out of their shell and be adventerous. They need to tear up their schedules and do the unexpected. I greatly agree with Dillard but there are some gaps in her persuasion. One should definitely do what they want when making decisions but they should be cautious and not do something if it is going to hurt another. If everyone did exactly what they wanted society would be a whole different world, there could maybe not even be a society. Also, ione just lives life constantly in the moment then eventually the consequences of said will add up and can become highly overwhelming. I would suggest that ones balances the two extremes. Live life with both one's heart and mind.
Many Expressions, but All are of Love
Cierra Isner
This is a narrative I wrote about in which I felt extreme emotions and learned lasting lessons, as well as had a change of opinion on views I had held before.
Many Expressions, but All are of Love
I learned a lot about love last winter. It wasn't a "lesson in love" where a boyfriend broke my heart, or even pieced it back together. It was a deeper understanding of the workings of family, something very difficult to adjust to on my father's side. One of the most insightful things I have, and ever will grasp, is that not all people express their love the same way. My father makes it a verbal statement, he shows it with actions, through the way that he talks, the way that he worries, his concerns, and by reminding me that he's proud of me. His mother on the other hand, was not that way. To this day I'm not sure what ways she let it be known on a general basis. We were never really close until it was too late. What's important is that I know that she did care.
I was at a marching band competition one Saturday afternoon. We had just finished our so called performance, which must have been more like torture for the audience. As I made a bee-line for the concession stand, I hurried to turn my phone on. Cell phones were forbidden during a performance and the time we had to warm up prior to it. My directors, both of whom were die-hard in the band scene, enforced this rule strictly, so I expected a couple of notifications. After sorting through texts from the friends I had been talking to, and a missed call from my mom, I got to a missed call I hadn't been expecting. My estranged half sister had left a trite voice mail.
"Hey Sis, it’s Chelsey. Call me... It's about Grandma."
Chelsey and I had never been the picture perfect example of big and little sister. She grew up living with her mom and step-dad; and me with our dad and my mom. Our dad would pick her up to come visit every weekend when she was young, and when she was 3 I was born. After I was a few months old, I'm told Chelsey wasn’t around much until I turned 3. Then she began coming over a few times now and then, around holidays, her birthday, whenever it was convenient for her.
I remember being a very little girl, curly headed and petite, lying on my bedroom floor with my mom, playing pretend. I lied there staring at the ceiling while telling her that I wished I had a real big sister. My jaw must have dislocated when she told me I did. I looked at her like she had 3 eyes while she told me about Chelsey. Chelsey came and went. She was around sometimes more than others and she liked our family more some visits than others. She was interesting. Being older than me, we would try and play together but she played with the mind of a tween, and myself with the mind of a kid. These visits would leave me confused and feeling like I had done something wrong. My Barbies didn't have boyfriends, they didn't kiss, and they certainly didn't curse, except when Chelsey was visiting.
As she got older she got more difficult to interact with. She had boyfriends much older than her, and she found herself in difficult situations. She played mother to one boyfriend who was a few years older than her, had a baby, a crazy ex-girlfriend, and was handicapped from his last job. He walked with a cane and no longer worked. At 15, Chelsey didn't need that. It was difficult to watch her go from one harmful relationship to the next, but our father, having almost no custody of her, felt like there was little he could do to make a difference.
There were times she would call and leave awful, hateful messages on our answering machine, and eventually my dad stopped calling her back. We began screening our calls regularly, and I started to resent my dad for ignoring his daughter. I would cry and harass him about why he couldn’t just talk to her. It put a major a strain on our relationship. If I accidentally answered her call, I was either told to lie (which was horrid for me because it went against the morals I'd been raised on) or I was scolded and given a nasty look for giving him the phone. He would take it from me like one would take a used tissue, disgusted.
I didn't like this part of my him. I knew him as a loving, family man. A blue collar worker, he's big, weathered, with calloused hands and bags under his eyes. He stands taller in the morning than he does in the evening, and one day I expect his raven hair to become a shocking shade of white in a matter of seconds. He always claims I give him grays, but you can't see them. He has a stern appearance, and talks with authority. As a foreman for an electric company, his men respect him for this. However, they like him for the respect he gives them, his no nonsense way of running a job, and the way that he can laugh with them while he works beside them. I like him because when I do see him smile or hear him laugh, you can feel his emotions. The years of pain and hardship come through his eyes, but the love and pride he has make them burn brighter than the sun. The way that his face blanked and the feeling left his voice when I would tell him she was on the phone crushed me.
So after she left one extremely nasty message, I grew a spine. I got the cell phone number from the caller I.D. and sent her a text. I couldn't call her because I wasn't quite sure what I was going to say, but I had to say something. I reminded her about the other people in the house that she neglected to acknowledge, and told her that I care, even if he doesn’t seem interested. I had no idea what a can of worms I was opening. She began texting me occasionally, feeding my hope that we might finally have a relationship. However, our dad always became the topic.
So when she called me that Saturday I just had to call her back. I had no idea what it could be about. A problem arose though, when I soon found out that it was too noisy to talk. Between the sounds of the current band, the fans, a chilly wind blowing, and general disruptions, I ended up having to have this very important conversation in the girl's bathroom. The first thing she told me after giving me grief for the ruckus was that they found a tumor on Grandma's liver the size of baseball. Knowing her habit of exaggerating, I questioned it, but let her go on. She then explained that they would have found it sooner but Grandma’s arthritis medicine was masking the pain. When she started turning yellow though, they assumed she was jaundice and took her to the hospital. The doctors assumed either pancreatic or liver cancer, maybe both. Chelsey then proceeded to turn the conversation from Grandma, to Dad, just like always.
“Someone needs to tell Dad. Why hasn't anyone told you yet?" she asks, almost accusingly.
"Well, he's not home," again I was stretching the truth for him. He had been running a job site doing the electrical wiring for a hospital in Wyoming and was coming back that day, but wasn't home yet. "But I'll let Mom know, I'll call her now. I’m not sure if anyone else has tried to call though, I'm not home, remember?"
"Whatever," she says. "What's Dad's number?" Just like that she's back to him.
"I don't have it." Lie. "You know the way they change it when he's gone. Just try whatever number you have."
"He never answers." True. "But I gotta go, I'll talk to you later," and she hangs up. I mumble goodbye as I close my phone.
She didn't text me for a while. I did call my mom though, and she said she'd try and get a hold of my elusive father. Later that night, as we were boarding the bus, Chelsey called back. She began to then try and guilt trip me into connecting her to our father. I just tried to avoid it. I lied and told her I didn’t know exactly when he was coming home. I told her mom was trying to get a hold of him though. Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I got off the phone with her and called my mom, who proceeded to tell me that if I'd have listened in the first place, I wouldn't be in this mess. To top it off, I was sharing a seat with my insensitive then boyfriend who asked me, "Why are you crying?"
I spent a long bus ride home watching trees and painted lines blur past out the window. My life was slowly beginning to tumble in around me.
When I got home I cried and argued with my dad (who had ironically made it home at this point), yet again, over my sister. Welcome home, Daddy. The next night Chelsey called me again. The conversation quickly followed it's usual path, straight to Dad.
"Why didn't you tell me he was home?" she demanded.
"I didn't know he would be!" I Lied.
"I bet you never tell him when I call. Some sister you are!"
"I do too tell him, every time!" and it was the truth. "I don't know why he doesn't call!" that was a lie.
"You're supposed to be my sister. He's my dad too; can't you bear to share him? You live with him!"
"Why don't you believe me? He'll do what he wants; I can't force him to call!" For once, I was telling the whole truth. My head was spinning. Why doesn’t she believe me? Why don't I matter to her? Isn't it enough that I call her? "Why don't I matter to you Chelsey?"
"You do matter, it just hurts! You know, you have other family. Why don't you ever call Grandma? She's dying and you don't care!" She was trying to make it my fault. "I care! How can you say I don't care? Why is this my fault?"
She went on and on. It was my fault I didn't call Grandma. Well why didn't Grandma call me? I was barely 15; she was the adult, not me. It's a two way street, Chelsey told me. Yes, it was a two way street, and Grandma wasn’t doing anything either. She didn’t even call on my birthday! She asked me if I call on her birthday. She asks me if I LOVE her. Do I love Grandma? I stop to think about this. Well of course I do, but if that's how Chelsey thinks love works, does Grandma love me? Why was this suddenly my fault? I didn't do anything!
"All I do is ask you to tell him I call! Is that too much? You're my sister!" She won't, and can't, let this go, as she makes it about Dad again.
"I tell him! I can't help that he doesn't call back! I'm sorry! I can't do anything! It's not my fault!" I’m on the verge of tears. My mom stops me. She warns me not to apologize. Chelsey is resentful, and that night the only thing I an imagine is that she wanted me to feel pain along with her. The years of her not having her father, made it difficult for her to see that it I did what I could. She didn't, and still doesn't, know all the times I've fought her battle. All she knows is that she feels cheated out of something. She'd been hurt and wanted me to hurt so the playing field would be evened out. It'd become a game, a twisted game, and I struggled to grasp the rules.
"Chelsey, I can't help it, I just can't." I tell her, meaning every word.
"I'm not asking too much of you. It’s the least you can do.” As she persists, I tell myself not to fall for it.
"Chelsey, I can't help that he doesn't care, but I do." I gasped, then exhaled slowly. I had acknowledged the elephant in the room. Standing in my kitchen, I said it. Then, I lost reception. I ran out of the kitchen and called her back.
"I'm sorry, I lost service."
"Whatever." I could tell she wasn’t happy about the turn of events.
"I really can't help it. I'm so sorry, but I'd love to have a relationship with you. Why is he all that you're interested in? You invited me to your son's birthday party but never told me when or where it was. You say we'll hang out but don't. You're all talk but no action."
"I do care. It's just so difficult to think that my dad doesn't care."
"Well, we can't have anything unless you can put him aside. If you can't leave him out of us, then I can't do this. I'm not a middle man." I'm realizing that all the pain I've gone through to have something with her, all the times I've brushed off my parents cynical comments, it was all in vain. It got me nowhere with her.
"I can't. I'm sorry, I'm just bitter." and with that she closes the case.
"Well, call me when you can. I love you."
Our phone rang off the hook that night. Chelsey called, her mom called, her step-dad called, all for my father who refused to answer. My best guess is that they wannted to talk about why he couldn't have told her himself. My mother and I got tired of it. We changed our answering machine, and for 3 weeks it said, "Hi. You've reached the Isner's. If you're calling for Cecilia, Cierra, or Isabella, please leave a message after the tone. If you're calling for Karl, he doesn't return calls, so please stop trying." They eventually got the hint.
I felt awful that I had told my own sister that our father didn't care. It made me feel so dirty, betraying. If she was too much for him to deal with, and couldn't handle her downer mood, he needed to tell her, not me. Along with that I realized that his choices were not mine to make. He will be the one that lives with the outcome, not me.
I also felt lost, alone. Was it really my fault that my Grandmother was dying and we had no relationship? Did she love me? She loved my uncle's family. She was always there for them, but not us. It wasn't bad that my parents left Dayton, where my father's family is centered. They didn’t want to raise a family there and I'm grateful. As I thought about it I realized that we didn't associate with his family much because they weren’t good influences and didn't live in a pleasant environment. Many of them were wrapped up in drugs, they drank like fish. There's a prison record, and tons of stories that I've been kept from. We didn't leave because Dad didn't care about them, but because he cared about his new family. So if those were his reasons in leaving, what were their reasons for not calling or visiting us?
I found myself alone in our hot tub, holding back tears one night, contemplating it all as I hit a low point in my life. All this time I had thought that it was his fault. He neglected them, he didn't care. I never took a lot of time to see why he might do what he did. I just couldn't see why Grandma didn't care. When he came outside and talked to me the flood gates broke. Between sobs I managed to ask him, "Why doesn't Grandma love me Daddy? It's not fair!" I was 15 years old, and suddenly, after never having stooped to that level, I was playing the fair card.
"It's not, baby. I know." His hard shell was cracking. I felt a pain, softness in his voice. "I talked to her a couple days ago. She had a lot to say. She does love you baby. She has never, not loved you. She feels absolutely awful for not having been there for us, and she knows she's wrong for this, but we didn't need her. Uncle Willy and his family need her, so she focuses her energy on them. We don't live up in that area; I left and have tried to give you what you need. Your mom and I have raised you just fine, and we're doing okay. She's always loved you."
"It's too late Daddy! What good does it do now? She's dying!"
Slowly, though, I came out of the funk I’d been trapped in. We went to visit her a lot over the next few months, and she did love me. I could tell she was proud of me, and nothing else mattered. We made the best of the time we had, and when she passed in July, I didn't feel like there was a void I'd never filled. It's upsetting that we could have been closer, but I cherish the time we had.
I don't know that I've ever formally apologized to my father for all of the arguments, but I know I should never jump to conclusions about things again. His failure to make contact didn't mean he didn't care. My grandmother's lack of concern wasn't her way of expressing no interest. You can love someone and express it in many ways. As far as Chelsey is concerned, we don't talk much now. I realized that my parents weren't kidding when they said that she lies, and was desperate for attention.
Some things would be better if you took people's word for things. However, you learn more from experience than hear say, and experience has taught me a lot. Not everyone shows their love the same way, it doesn't mean that they don't care. Sometimes you just have to look beyond the surface, and understand their motives.
This is a narrative I wrote about in which I felt extreme emotions and learned lasting lessons, as well as had a change of opinion on views I had held before.
Many Expressions, but All are of Love
I learned a lot about love last winter. It wasn't a "lesson in love" where a boyfriend broke my heart, or even pieced it back together. It was a deeper understanding of the workings of family, something very difficult to adjust to on my father's side. One of the most insightful things I have, and ever will grasp, is that not all people express their love the same way. My father makes it a verbal statement, he shows it with actions, through the way that he talks, the way that he worries, his concerns, and by reminding me that he's proud of me. His mother on the other hand, was not that way. To this day I'm not sure what ways she let it be known on a general basis. We were never really close until it was too late. What's important is that I know that she did care.
I was at a marching band competition one Saturday afternoon. We had just finished our so called performance, which must have been more like torture for the audience. As I made a bee-line for the concession stand, I hurried to turn my phone on. Cell phones were forbidden during a performance and the time we had to warm up prior to it. My directors, both of whom were die-hard in the band scene, enforced this rule strictly, so I expected a couple of notifications. After sorting through texts from the friends I had been talking to, and a missed call from my mom, I got to a missed call I hadn't been expecting. My estranged half sister had left a trite voice mail.
"Hey Sis, it’s Chelsey. Call me... It's about Grandma."
Chelsey and I had never been the picture perfect example of big and little sister. She grew up living with her mom and step-dad; and me with our dad and my mom. Our dad would pick her up to come visit every weekend when she was young, and when she was 3 I was born. After I was a few months old, I'm told Chelsey wasn’t around much until I turned 3. Then she began coming over a few times now and then, around holidays, her birthday, whenever it was convenient for her.
I remember being a very little girl, curly headed and petite, lying on my bedroom floor with my mom, playing pretend. I lied there staring at the ceiling while telling her that I wished I had a real big sister. My jaw must have dislocated when she told me I did. I looked at her like she had 3 eyes while she told me about Chelsey. Chelsey came and went. She was around sometimes more than others and she liked our family more some visits than others. She was interesting. Being older than me, we would try and play together but she played with the mind of a tween, and myself with the mind of a kid. These visits would leave me confused and feeling like I had done something wrong. My Barbies didn't have boyfriends, they didn't kiss, and they certainly didn't curse, except when Chelsey was visiting.
As she got older she got more difficult to interact with. She had boyfriends much older than her, and she found herself in difficult situations. She played mother to one boyfriend who was a few years older than her, had a baby, a crazy ex-girlfriend, and was handicapped from his last job. He walked with a cane and no longer worked. At 15, Chelsey didn't need that. It was difficult to watch her go from one harmful relationship to the next, but our father, having almost no custody of her, felt like there was little he could do to make a difference.
There were times she would call and leave awful, hateful messages on our answering machine, and eventually my dad stopped calling her back. We began screening our calls regularly, and I started to resent my dad for ignoring his daughter. I would cry and harass him about why he couldn’t just talk to her. It put a major a strain on our relationship. If I accidentally answered her call, I was either told to lie (which was horrid for me because it went against the morals I'd been raised on) or I was scolded and given a nasty look for giving him the phone. He would take it from me like one would take a used tissue, disgusted.
I didn't like this part of my him. I knew him as a loving, family man. A blue collar worker, he's big, weathered, with calloused hands and bags under his eyes. He stands taller in the morning than he does in the evening, and one day I expect his raven hair to become a shocking shade of white in a matter of seconds. He always claims I give him grays, but you can't see them. He has a stern appearance, and talks with authority. As a foreman for an electric company, his men respect him for this. However, they like him for the respect he gives them, his no nonsense way of running a job, and the way that he can laugh with them while he works beside them. I like him because when I do see him smile or hear him laugh, you can feel his emotions. The years of pain and hardship come through his eyes, but the love and pride he has make them burn brighter than the sun. The way that his face blanked and the feeling left his voice when I would tell him she was on the phone crushed me.
So after she left one extremely nasty message, I grew a spine. I got the cell phone number from the caller I.D. and sent her a text. I couldn't call her because I wasn't quite sure what I was going to say, but I had to say something. I reminded her about the other people in the house that she neglected to acknowledge, and told her that I care, even if he doesn’t seem interested. I had no idea what a can of worms I was opening. She began texting me occasionally, feeding my hope that we might finally have a relationship. However, our dad always became the topic.
So when she called me that Saturday I just had to call her back. I had no idea what it could be about. A problem arose though, when I soon found out that it was too noisy to talk. Between the sounds of the current band, the fans, a chilly wind blowing, and general disruptions, I ended up having to have this very important conversation in the girl's bathroom. The first thing she told me after giving me grief for the ruckus was that they found a tumor on Grandma's liver the size of baseball. Knowing her habit of exaggerating, I questioned it, but let her go on. She then explained that they would have found it sooner but Grandma’s arthritis medicine was masking the pain. When she started turning yellow though, they assumed she was jaundice and took her to the hospital. The doctors assumed either pancreatic or liver cancer, maybe both. Chelsey then proceeded to turn the conversation from Grandma, to Dad, just like always.
“Someone needs to tell Dad. Why hasn't anyone told you yet?" she asks, almost accusingly.
"Well, he's not home," again I was stretching the truth for him. He had been running a job site doing the electrical wiring for a hospital in Wyoming and was coming back that day, but wasn't home yet. "But I'll let Mom know, I'll call her now. I’m not sure if anyone else has tried to call though, I'm not home, remember?"
"Whatever," she says. "What's Dad's number?" Just like that she's back to him.
"I don't have it." Lie. "You know the way they change it when he's gone. Just try whatever number you have."
"He never answers." True. "But I gotta go, I'll talk to you later," and she hangs up. I mumble goodbye as I close my phone.
She didn't text me for a while. I did call my mom though, and she said she'd try and get a hold of my elusive father. Later that night, as we were boarding the bus, Chelsey called back. She began to then try and guilt trip me into connecting her to our father. I just tried to avoid it. I lied and told her I didn’t know exactly when he was coming home. I told her mom was trying to get a hold of him though. Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I got off the phone with her and called my mom, who proceeded to tell me that if I'd have listened in the first place, I wouldn't be in this mess. To top it off, I was sharing a seat with my insensitive then boyfriend who asked me, "Why are you crying?"
I spent a long bus ride home watching trees and painted lines blur past out the window. My life was slowly beginning to tumble in around me.
When I got home I cried and argued with my dad (who had ironically made it home at this point), yet again, over my sister. Welcome home, Daddy. The next night Chelsey called me again. The conversation quickly followed it's usual path, straight to Dad.
"Why didn't you tell me he was home?" she demanded.
"I didn't know he would be!" I Lied.
"I bet you never tell him when I call. Some sister you are!"
"I do too tell him, every time!" and it was the truth. "I don't know why he doesn't call!" that was a lie.
"You're supposed to be my sister. He's my dad too; can't you bear to share him? You live with him!"
"Why don't you believe me? He'll do what he wants; I can't force him to call!" For once, I was telling the whole truth. My head was spinning. Why doesn’t she believe me? Why don't I matter to her? Isn't it enough that I call her? "Why don't I matter to you Chelsey?"
"You do matter, it just hurts! You know, you have other family. Why don't you ever call Grandma? She's dying and you don't care!" She was trying to make it my fault. "I care! How can you say I don't care? Why is this my fault?"
She went on and on. It was my fault I didn't call Grandma. Well why didn't Grandma call me? I was barely 15; she was the adult, not me. It's a two way street, Chelsey told me. Yes, it was a two way street, and Grandma wasn’t doing anything either. She didn’t even call on my birthday! She asked me if I call on her birthday. She asks me if I LOVE her. Do I love Grandma? I stop to think about this. Well of course I do, but if that's how Chelsey thinks love works, does Grandma love me? Why was this suddenly my fault? I didn't do anything!
"All I do is ask you to tell him I call! Is that too much? You're my sister!" She won't, and can't, let this go, as she makes it about Dad again.
"I tell him! I can't help that he doesn't call back! I'm sorry! I can't do anything! It's not my fault!" I’m on the verge of tears. My mom stops me. She warns me not to apologize. Chelsey is resentful, and that night the only thing I an imagine is that she wanted me to feel pain along with her. The years of her not having her father, made it difficult for her to see that it I did what I could. She didn't, and still doesn't, know all the times I've fought her battle. All she knows is that she feels cheated out of something. She'd been hurt and wanted me to hurt so the playing field would be evened out. It'd become a game, a twisted game, and I struggled to grasp the rules.
"Chelsey, I can't help it, I just can't." I tell her, meaning every word.
"I'm not asking too much of you. It’s the least you can do.” As she persists, I tell myself not to fall for it.
"Chelsey, I can't help that he doesn't care, but I do." I gasped, then exhaled slowly. I had acknowledged the elephant in the room. Standing in my kitchen, I said it. Then, I lost reception. I ran out of the kitchen and called her back.
"I'm sorry, I lost service."
"Whatever." I could tell she wasn’t happy about the turn of events.
"I really can't help it. I'm so sorry, but I'd love to have a relationship with you. Why is he all that you're interested in? You invited me to your son's birthday party but never told me when or where it was. You say we'll hang out but don't. You're all talk but no action."
"I do care. It's just so difficult to think that my dad doesn't care."
"Well, we can't have anything unless you can put him aside. If you can't leave him out of us, then I can't do this. I'm not a middle man." I'm realizing that all the pain I've gone through to have something with her, all the times I've brushed off my parents cynical comments, it was all in vain. It got me nowhere with her.
"I can't. I'm sorry, I'm just bitter." and with that she closes the case.
"Well, call me when you can. I love you."
Our phone rang off the hook that night. Chelsey called, her mom called, her step-dad called, all for my father who refused to answer. My best guess is that they wannted to talk about why he couldn't have told her himself. My mother and I got tired of it. We changed our answering machine, and for 3 weeks it said, "Hi. You've reached the Isner's. If you're calling for Cecilia, Cierra, or Isabella, please leave a message after the tone. If you're calling for Karl, he doesn't return calls, so please stop trying." They eventually got the hint.
I felt awful that I had told my own sister that our father didn't care. It made me feel so dirty, betraying. If she was too much for him to deal with, and couldn't handle her downer mood, he needed to tell her, not me. Along with that I realized that his choices were not mine to make. He will be the one that lives with the outcome, not me.
I also felt lost, alone. Was it really my fault that my Grandmother was dying and we had no relationship? Did she love me? She loved my uncle's family. She was always there for them, but not us. It wasn't bad that my parents left Dayton, where my father's family is centered. They didn’t want to raise a family there and I'm grateful. As I thought about it I realized that we didn't associate with his family much because they weren’t good influences and didn't live in a pleasant environment. Many of them were wrapped up in drugs, they drank like fish. There's a prison record, and tons of stories that I've been kept from. We didn't leave because Dad didn't care about them, but because he cared about his new family. So if those were his reasons in leaving, what were their reasons for not calling or visiting us?
I found myself alone in our hot tub, holding back tears one night, contemplating it all as I hit a low point in my life. All this time I had thought that it was his fault. He neglected them, he didn't care. I never took a lot of time to see why he might do what he did. I just couldn't see why Grandma didn't care. When he came outside and talked to me the flood gates broke. Between sobs I managed to ask him, "Why doesn't Grandma love me Daddy? It's not fair!" I was 15 years old, and suddenly, after never having stooped to that level, I was playing the fair card.
"It's not, baby. I know." His hard shell was cracking. I felt a pain, softness in his voice. "I talked to her a couple days ago. She had a lot to say. She does love you baby. She has never, not loved you. She feels absolutely awful for not having been there for us, and she knows she's wrong for this, but we didn't need her. Uncle Willy and his family need her, so she focuses her energy on them. We don't live up in that area; I left and have tried to give you what you need. Your mom and I have raised you just fine, and we're doing okay. She's always loved you."
"It's too late Daddy! What good does it do now? She's dying!"
Slowly, though, I came out of the funk I’d been trapped in. We went to visit her a lot over the next few months, and she did love me. I could tell she was proud of me, and nothing else mattered. We made the best of the time we had, and when she passed in July, I didn't feel like there was a void I'd never filled. It's upsetting that we could have been closer, but I cherish the time we had.
I don't know that I've ever formally apologized to my father for all of the arguments, but I know I should never jump to conclusions about things again. His failure to make contact didn't mean he didn't care. My grandmother's lack of concern wasn't her way of expressing no interest. You can love someone and express it in many ways. As far as Chelsey is concerned, we don't talk much now. I realized that my parents weren't kidding when they said that she lies, and was desperate for attention.
Some things would be better if you took people's word for things. However, you learn more from experience than hear say, and experience has taught me a lot. Not everyone shows their love the same way, it doesn't mean that they don't care. Sometimes you just have to look beyond the surface, and understand their motives.
America
Cierra Isner
I wrote this piece as in class journal that asked us to write a poem in response to Walt Whitman’s poem “I hear America Singing”, describing how we saw America.
America
I see Americans hiding, feeling that ignorance is bliss.
The news stations control the information,
sparing the threatening scenes;
The children are sheltered,
cruely kept from reality, protected from this crueler world;
The adults ignore the truth,
accepting the facts that are given to them;
The elderly hide in their homes,
afraid for the future of their families.
I feel America slipping, sliding through the cracks.
The government is scheming;
The economy failing,
The people are blind, following the blind.
I hear America wailing, the cries and complaints are clear.
The laborers grumble as they sweat,
their pay has been docked yet again;
The accountants and middlemen whimper,
another day drags on at their nine-to-five jobs;
The CEOs are shouting,
more money is what they demand;
The children are becoming beggars,
the future of this country is a shrill whine for more;
The politicians are silent,
the voice of our people is lost. They hide their schemes, plotting behind closed doors;
But when least expected, at the top of their lungs they exclaim to the crowds,
“Me! I’m your only hope!”Then they fall silent once more.
Everyday is greeted with more complaints,
all have something else gone awry.
Not one is spared from this negative predicament.
All are free in ways taken for granted,
but each hums his sad song about life gone wrong.
Some days I imagine that I hear a soft violin,
sending its heartrending tune floating quietly on a breeze across the world.
Crying for what’s not there, these lost souls forget to give thanks for what they have.
I have hope for America’s tomorrow, that the sun may soon shine through.
Neighbors will once again become neighbors;
Friends will be forever,
because fair-weather will be day to day;
Strangers will share a smile;
the passerby a sweet hello;
Things will start looking up, if we let them.
This much, I know is true.
I wrote this piece as in class journal that asked us to write a poem in response to Walt Whitman’s poem “I hear America Singing”, describing how we saw America.
America
I see Americans hiding, feeling that ignorance is bliss.
The news stations control the information,
sparing the threatening scenes;
The children are sheltered,
cruely kept from reality, protected from this crueler world;
The adults ignore the truth,
accepting the facts that are given to them;
The elderly hide in their homes,
afraid for the future of their families.
I feel America slipping, sliding through the cracks.
The government is scheming;
The economy failing,
The people are blind, following the blind.
I hear America wailing, the cries and complaints are clear.
The laborers grumble as they sweat,
their pay has been docked yet again;
The accountants and middlemen whimper,
another day drags on at their nine-to-five jobs;
The CEOs are shouting,
more money is what they demand;
The children are becoming beggars,
the future of this country is a shrill whine for more;
The politicians are silent,
the voice of our people is lost. They hide their schemes, plotting behind closed doors;
But when least expected, at the top of their lungs they exclaim to the crowds,
“Me! I’m your only hope!”Then they fall silent once more.
Everyday is greeted with more complaints,
all have something else gone awry.
Not one is spared from this negative predicament.
All are free in ways taken for granted,
but each hums his sad song about life gone wrong.
Some days I imagine that I hear a soft violin,
sending its heartrending tune floating quietly on a breeze across the world.
Crying for what’s not there, these lost souls forget to give thanks for what they have.
I have hope for America’s tomorrow, that the sun may soon shine through.
Neighbors will once again become neighbors;
Friends will be forever,
because fair-weather will be day to day;
Strangers will share a smile;
the passerby a sweet hello;
Things will start looking up, if we let them.
This much, I know is true.
The Life of a Fourteen Year Old
She’s an accomplished artist, a history buff, has a particular and unique taste in music, a style all her own, and she can burp the alphabet. She chopped off ten inches of her hair last year on a whim, and has friends in four states. She likes manga and Cosplaying, and knows the entire Canadian national anthem. She took up bass lessons and is likely to be found running around the house like a child. She loves her dog, Dixie, and will often yell “I LOVE YOU!” in an angry voice, which seems contradicting.
She’s Julia, and she’s fourteen. She’s a freshman at Turpin High School and a new resident of Ohio. She’s 5 feet, 4 inches tall. Her hair is not quite shoulder-length, dark blonde, and up (as much as it can be) in a short ponytail with a ribbon tied around it. She’s wearing dark skinny jeans, Target-brand Converse with a music note drawn on the left shoe and piano keys on the right in smeared purple ink, and a blue graphic T-shirt that says Italia across the Italian flag.
Today she’s listening to the Beatles. Yesterday it was the Killers. She’s always begging me to take her shopping, but I’ve learned to refuse since she ends up letting me buy everything. On the ride home from school today she tells me stories from her Latin class. She made her teacher a Roman hat out of duct tape and red tissue paper for his birthday.
We get home and she takes forever to get her massive book bag from the car, in addition to her Death Cab for Cutie tote bag. “He’s so beautiful…” she breathes, gazing at the insert of a Motion City Soundtrack CD. Justin Pierre is one of the great loves of her life, along with Brandon Flowers, Elvis Presley, and Julius Caesar. She used to love Patrick Stump, but he’s no longer the coolest thing ever, apparently.
Cosplaying, which is when you dress up like your favorite anime character at an anime convention, is a hobby of Julia’s. She likes to dress up like characters from Hetalia, which are all countries with their own personalities and stories. This ties into her interest in history, since she relates it all to the anime. She’s also really good at drawing, and can often be found doodling faces on napkins. She took private painting lessons last year, and some of her work actually looks professional.
At Warped Tour a few months ago she signed a petition for animal rights and vowed to never go to a circus again. PETA just sent her a reminder postcard, causing her to exclaim, “Come to think of it… I’ve never been to a circus to begin with! Oh god! I’m depriving myself of something that could be amazing… IT COULD BE AMAZING! Ahh!” She giggles, sniffs, wipes her wrist across her nose, and continues, “Anyways. Whatever. It probably just smells like elephant crap anyway.”
These outbursts are typical of Julia, who often spits out comments that, if taken out of context, sound completely inappropriate. She slips on her red headphones, turns on her matching red Zune, makes a face at me, and then says, “Megan. Why are you so ugly? Just kidding! I love you! Do you hear me? I LOVE YOU! Ohh... I love my dog… I LOVE her. Do you hear me? I LOVE HER.” She stares directly at me, burps so loud it would make a 3rd grade boy proud, smiles, and says, “Wow, that was a good one!”
After a two-minute pause, she continues with, “What’s that thing called where you think some other country is better than yours? Well anyway. It’s true. America sucks. I want to give up my citizenship and move to Italy, but my mom won’t let me. Hey guess what: I’M GOING TO ITALY! Ahh!” She’s going on a trip with her Latin club next summer.
She leaves, practices playing her bass guitar for a while, and returns half an hour later wearing her brand new Roman hat purchased from the Halloween store, yelling, “Argh! I’m going to pillage you!” as she takes some cereal bowls from the counter.
She doesn’t feel the need to take life so seriously. She can occasionally get moody, like when her brother is late to pick her up from school and she refuses to let it go, or when her mother slips the dog some unhealthy food from the dinner table. Her conflicts seem to be quickly resolved for the most part though.
It’s tough on her being the new kid. She’s been at the same tiny private school with the same kids her whole life, and now she has to start all over. She sees it as an adventure though, because how often in life does one get this opportunity? Her optimism is contagious, which is likely how she’s been making new friends here. It’s tough to resist a Julia hug… usually because it involves brute force and a bear-like grip.
She’s a genuinely kind person who, yes, has her off days, but everyone who knows her knows they can count on her for a smile. Her erratic behavior is sometimes a mask for how she’s really feeling. She wants to make people happy, and so she gives them a happy person. When she’s alone though, it’s just her and the headphones (if we’re lucky), blaring with all the emotions she keeps bottled inside.
She’s been missing her dad a lot lately, since he’s still working in Missouri. She loves to bond with him when he comes to visit. The two of them watch Monty Python’s Flying Circus for hours on end; she always hates to see him go.
“Daddy-Monster,” she whines, crawling into his arms, “Don’t go.”
“I have to, Jules; I’ve gotta go to work. But I’ll be back in two weeks, I promise.”
“Stupid humans,” she says as her way of resolving the issue.
That seems to be how Julia makes peace with the world. She calmly (okay, not usually so calmly) just accepts things for the way they are.
She’s Julia, and she’s fourteen. She’s a freshman at Turpin High School and a new resident of Ohio. She’s 5 feet, 4 inches tall. Her hair is not quite shoulder-length, dark blonde, and up (as much as it can be) in a short ponytail with a ribbon tied around it. She’s wearing dark skinny jeans, Target-brand Converse with a music note drawn on the left shoe and piano keys on the right in smeared purple ink, and a blue graphic T-shirt that says Italia across the Italian flag.
Today she’s listening to the Beatles. Yesterday it was the Killers. She’s always begging me to take her shopping, but I’ve learned to refuse since she ends up letting me buy everything. On the ride home from school today she tells me stories from her Latin class. She made her teacher a Roman hat out of duct tape and red tissue paper for his birthday.
We get home and she takes forever to get her massive book bag from the car, in addition to her Death Cab for Cutie tote bag. “He’s so beautiful…” she breathes, gazing at the insert of a Motion City Soundtrack CD. Justin Pierre is one of the great loves of her life, along with Brandon Flowers, Elvis Presley, and Julius Caesar. She used to love Patrick Stump, but he’s no longer the coolest thing ever, apparently.
Cosplaying, which is when you dress up like your favorite anime character at an anime convention, is a hobby of Julia’s. She likes to dress up like characters from Hetalia, which are all countries with their own personalities and stories. This ties into her interest in history, since she relates it all to the anime. She’s also really good at drawing, and can often be found doodling faces on napkins. She took private painting lessons last year, and some of her work actually looks professional.
At Warped Tour a few months ago she signed a petition for animal rights and vowed to never go to a circus again. PETA just sent her a reminder postcard, causing her to exclaim, “Come to think of it… I’ve never been to a circus to begin with! Oh god! I’m depriving myself of something that could be amazing… IT COULD BE AMAZING! Ahh!” She giggles, sniffs, wipes her wrist across her nose, and continues, “Anyways. Whatever. It probably just smells like elephant crap anyway.”
These outbursts are typical of Julia, who often spits out comments that, if taken out of context, sound completely inappropriate. She slips on her red headphones, turns on her matching red Zune, makes a face at me, and then says, “Megan. Why are you so ugly? Just kidding! I love you! Do you hear me? I LOVE YOU! Ohh... I love my dog… I LOVE her. Do you hear me? I LOVE HER.” She stares directly at me, burps so loud it would make a 3rd grade boy proud, smiles, and says, “Wow, that was a good one!”
After a two-minute pause, she continues with, “What’s that thing called where you think some other country is better than yours? Well anyway. It’s true. America sucks. I want to give up my citizenship and move to Italy, but my mom won’t let me. Hey guess what: I’M GOING TO ITALY! Ahh!” She’s going on a trip with her Latin club next summer.
She leaves, practices playing her bass guitar for a while, and returns half an hour later wearing her brand new Roman hat purchased from the Halloween store, yelling, “Argh! I’m going to pillage you!” as she takes some cereal bowls from the counter.
She doesn’t feel the need to take life so seriously. She can occasionally get moody, like when her brother is late to pick her up from school and she refuses to let it go, or when her mother slips the dog some unhealthy food from the dinner table. Her conflicts seem to be quickly resolved for the most part though.
It’s tough on her being the new kid. She’s been at the same tiny private school with the same kids her whole life, and now she has to start all over. She sees it as an adventure though, because how often in life does one get this opportunity? Her optimism is contagious, which is likely how she’s been making new friends here. It’s tough to resist a Julia hug… usually because it involves brute force and a bear-like grip.
She’s a genuinely kind person who, yes, has her off days, but everyone who knows her knows they can count on her for a smile. Her erratic behavior is sometimes a mask for how she’s really feeling. She wants to make people happy, and so she gives them a happy person. When she’s alone though, it’s just her and the headphones (if we’re lucky), blaring with all the emotions she keeps bottled inside.
She’s been missing her dad a lot lately, since he’s still working in Missouri. She loves to bond with him when he comes to visit. The two of them watch Monty Python’s Flying Circus for hours on end; she always hates to see him go.
“Daddy-Monster,” she whines, crawling into his arms, “Don’t go.”
“I have to, Jules; I’ve gotta go to work. But I’ll be back in two weeks, I promise.”
“Stupid humans,” she says as her way of resolving the issue.
That seems to be how Julia makes peace with the world. She calmly (okay, not usually so calmly) just accepts things for the way they are.
Miracle Boy
An extremely special baby boy was born on November 5, 1987: Robert William Murvine. In saying special, by no means do I mean handicapped or mentally challenged. On the contrary, I imply brilliant, unique, and matchless. Growing up he was interested in quite the same things that interested most young boys: power rangers, bikes, skateboards, playing outside and video games. Sports like baseball, basketball and soccer consumed his time. As well as learning whatever it is that cub scouts learned. All in all, Rob had a normal childhood. No one knew that Rob would wrestle with a brain tumor and overcome it.
Moving onto Rob’s teenage years he moved out of the “girl’s have cooties stage” and into the “I like girl’s” stage. Middle school was extremely awkward for him but he managed to get his first girlfriend during this time. He then joined the choir and enjoyed it immensely. Another talent that Rob discovered was his knack for writing. But above all else this is where his love affair with wrestling began. This sport began consuming all of Rob’s thoughts and time. Throughout high school this was all that he could concentrate on. Wrestling was life. The reason that he liked it so much was because it gave him a chance to set goals for himself. He loved to compete, so this was right up his alley. All of his hard work paid off and he won two awards: Coaches’ award and Mr. Muscle’s award. During his senior year he wanted to be state champion so badly, but unfortunately he didn’t make it. He beat up on himself after this happened but eventually let it go.
Now, at almost 23 years of age, Robert is 170 pounds of pure muscle. He has gotten into the hard habit of eating healthy and, unlike most people, doesn’t give into temptation. He works out on a daily basis. Rob’s sarcasm is what makes him one of the funniest people. He has such a humor about life and he barely ever let’s anything get him down. Such a caring and gentle spirit is refreshing to the world. Rob lives by a firm set of morals: Don’t do drugs, don’t drink to get drunk on purpose and trust in God to be the best person he can be.
Robert has evolved into the man most men strive to be. He is a man after God’s own heart and has been through many trials and tribulations in his life. Although he was only two years old, his dad died. He is always reminded that he acts just like his father. Around the age of ten his mother remarried, though, and he has a great relationship with his stepfather.
The unexpected happened when, on September 11, 2007, Rob learned that he had a brain tumor. It wasn’t a normal brain tumor; (although a normal brain tumor isn’t good either) it was an extremely rare tumor that only one in ten million people get. If that isn’t shocking, nothing is. Because it was so rare, doctors and surgeons from all over the world came to watch his surgery take place. When wheeled into the operating room Rob saw that all eyes were on him and got extremely nervous, but it had to be done so he took it like a man. (As well as any man could have taken it) It was a fourteen hour surgery. The tumor was in an awkward spot so they had to go up thru the roof of his mouth and excise the tumor that way. They only got 90% of the tumor out during surgery.
After Rob’s operation he was supposed to stay in intensive care for three to five days, but ended up getting out in thirty hours. Also, the estimated time in the hospital after his surgery was ten days to two weeks, but he was able to leave after five days. Needless to say it was a fast recovery process for our miracle boy. Since they were only able to extract 90% of the tumor, Rob had to go to radiation therapy for thirty-eight sessions. To do this he had to drive one hour every morning, get his radiation and then drive back to go to college every weekday. The radiation didn’t put him through any side effects like hair loss, vomiting or hearing loss; however, it did breakdown some of the tumor. Now he is to the point of going back every six months for a scan to see how things are progressing. The outlook the doctor gave him for surviving this brain tumor was not good at all, but he looked on the bright side of things and kept looking to God for healing and assurance. He has been in remission for three years now and proved the doctors wrong. That is something that can only be explained by God.
One reason why many believe this was a miracle was because of God’s mighty power. Nothing is too big for God to handle and He showed everyone that by healing Rob. The funny thing is, Rob didn’t go to church for a very long time. About a week before his surgery, a family friend, Pastor John from Eastgate Community Church invited Rob to attend church. Hesitantly, Rob went and they prayed over him while he was there. They didn’t just stop praying when church was over that day. They prayed, and they prayed, and they prayed until the surgery was over. And most believe, including me, that Rob was healed because of the almighty power of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Who knows if Rob would have been alive today if he wouldn’t have taken that uncomfortable step and gone to church.
Rob still attends Eastgate Community Church today. He learned that you can’t take life for granted, and to live life to the fullest. Ever since his surgery his faith has been growing tremendously. He became a youth leader at church and loves helping youth with their problems. He has been through so much that he feels that God has put him in younger men and women’s lives as an example. God has given him a lot of experiences to help him relate to youth. Learning more about God is a passion that Rob holds dear to his heart.
Another passion of Rob’s is teaching history. He has been in school for five years now to become a history teacher. What made him want to teach was wrestling. He used to teach little kids wrestling moves and he loved it. It was something he was good at. Also he decided to become a history teacher because it was a subject he enjoyed. Putting two things he loved together, his goal is to teach history while being a wrestling coach on the side.
From power rangers, to sports, to wrestling, to God, to teaching, Rob has always had something he has been passionate about. His life has always been centered on something that he loves, whether it is a hobby or a lifestyle. Even through his most life-threatening experience while he was dealing with cancer, he never lost sight of what really mattered. Robert Murvine is an exceptional man of God and with His help he overcame the biggest challenge of his life. He is a role model to many, whether he knows it or not, and he is loved by the King. Rob Murvine is a miracle if I’ve ever seen one.
Moving onto Rob’s teenage years he moved out of the “girl’s have cooties stage” and into the “I like girl’s” stage. Middle school was extremely awkward for him but he managed to get his first girlfriend during this time. He then joined the choir and enjoyed it immensely. Another talent that Rob discovered was his knack for writing. But above all else this is where his love affair with wrestling began. This sport began consuming all of Rob’s thoughts and time. Throughout high school this was all that he could concentrate on. Wrestling was life. The reason that he liked it so much was because it gave him a chance to set goals for himself. He loved to compete, so this was right up his alley. All of his hard work paid off and he won two awards: Coaches’ award and Mr. Muscle’s award. During his senior year he wanted to be state champion so badly, but unfortunately he didn’t make it. He beat up on himself after this happened but eventually let it go.
Now, at almost 23 years of age, Robert is 170 pounds of pure muscle. He has gotten into the hard habit of eating healthy and, unlike most people, doesn’t give into temptation. He works out on a daily basis. Rob’s sarcasm is what makes him one of the funniest people. He has such a humor about life and he barely ever let’s anything get him down. Such a caring and gentle spirit is refreshing to the world. Rob lives by a firm set of morals: Don’t do drugs, don’t drink to get drunk on purpose and trust in God to be the best person he can be.
Robert has evolved into the man most men strive to be. He is a man after God’s own heart and has been through many trials and tribulations in his life. Although he was only two years old, his dad died. He is always reminded that he acts just like his father. Around the age of ten his mother remarried, though, and he has a great relationship with his stepfather.
The unexpected happened when, on September 11, 2007, Rob learned that he had a brain tumor. It wasn’t a normal brain tumor; (although a normal brain tumor isn’t good either) it was an extremely rare tumor that only one in ten million people get. If that isn’t shocking, nothing is. Because it was so rare, doctors and surgeons from all over the world came to watch his surgery take place. When wheeled into the operating room Rob saw that all eyes were on him and got extremely nervous, but it had to be done so he took it like a man. (As well as any man could have taken it) It was a fourteen hour surgery. The tumor was in an awkward spot so they had to go up thru the roof of his mouth and excise the tumor that way. They only got 90% of the tumor out during surgery.
After Rob’s operation he was supposed to stay in intensive care for three to five days, but ended up getting out in thirty hours. Also, the estimated time in the hospital after his surgery was ten days to two weeks, but he was able to leave after five days. Needless to say it was a fast recovery process for our miracle boy. Since they were only able to extract 90% of the tumor, Rob had to go to radiation therapy for thirty-eight sessions. To do this he had to drive one hour every morning, get his radiation and then drive back to go to college every weekday. The radiation didn’t put him through any side effects like hair loss, vomiting or hearing loss; however, it did breakdown some of the tumor. Now he is to the point of going back every six months for a scan to see how things are progressing. The outlook the doctor gave him for surviving this brain tumor was not good at all, but he looked on the bright side of things and kept looking to God for healing and assurance. He has been in remission for three years now and proved the doctors wrong. That is something that can only be explained by God.
One reason why many believe this was a miracle was because of God’s mighty power. Nothing is too big for God to handle and He showed everyone that by healing Rob. The funny thing is, Rob didn’t go to church for a very long time. About a week before his surgery, a family friend, Pastor John from Eastgate Community Church invited Rob to attend church. Hesitantly, Rob went and they prayed over him while he was there. They didn’t just stop praying when church was over that day. They prayed, and they prayed, and they prayed until the surgery was over. And most believe, including me, that Rob was healed because of the almighty power of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Who knows if Rob would have been alive today if he wouldn’t have taken that uncomfortable step and gone to church.
Rob still attends Eastgate Community Church today. He learned that you can’t take life for granted, and to live life to the fullest. Ever since his surgery his faith has been growing tremendously. He became a youth leader at church and loves helping youth with their problems. He has been through so much that he feels that God has put him in younger men and women’s lives as an example. God has given him a lot of experiences to help him relate to youth. Learning more about God is a passion that Rob holds dear to his heart.
Another passion of Rob’s is teaching history. He has been in school for five years now to become a history teacher. What made him want to teach was wrestling. He used to teach little kids wrestling moves and he loved it. It was something he was good at. Also he decided to become a history teacher because it was a subject he enjoyed. Putting two things he loved together, his goal is to teach history while being a wrestling coach on the side.
From power rangers, to sports, to wrestling, to God, to teaching, Rob has always had something he has been passionate about. His life has always been centered on something that he loves, whether it is a hobby or a lifestyle. Even through his most life-threatening experience while he was dealing with cancer, he never lost sight of what really mattered. Robert Murvine is an exceptional man of God and with His help he overcame the biggest challenge of his life. He is a role model to many, whether he knows it or not, and he is loved by the King. Rob Murvine is a miracle if I’ve ever seen one.
A Mistake Turned into a Lesson
I should have never dated Kyle Jacob Tarvin. We always did everything together. I would have sworn to anyone that we were going to get married. But I was wrong, so very wrong.
It was about a week before Valentine’s Day and my friend Michael wanted me to meet his friend Kyle. I met him at McDonald’s for the first time. He was nice but I didn’t think anything would happen between the two of us. Then one thing led to another and we were going on our first date on Valentine’s Day. I really liked him at this point and was excited to see where our relationship was going to go. By the end of the night my relationship status was changed from single to in a relationship on Facebook. I was dating Kyle Jacob Tarvin.
From that moment on all I could think about was Kyle. We barely went a day without seeing each other and when we did it was like torture. When we weren’t together we were texting or calling each other. Kyle was the most respectful guy I had ever met. He held doors open for me, left me notes, brought me flowers and candy, took me on surprise adventures and many more romantic things that any girl would be ecstatic about. To me Kyle was the ultimate prize and I was the luckiest girl in the world.
Of course there is never a perfect guy and never will be. Every guy has his faults. They all have ghosts in their closets that are just waiting to pop out and ruin a girl’s fairy tale. Kyle was going to take me somewhere and surprise me one night so I drove over to his house to meet him. He got in my car and started to cry. “Sarah, I know that you are going to be really upset but I have to tell you something. Please don’t break up with me.” Oh great, I thought to myself. I knew he was too good to be true. “Torii and I had sex when we were dating.” Silence fell over the car. I was speechless. I was hurt because he lied to me and angry because tonight was going to be such a special night and he ruined it. I had never felt so low in my life. He tried to get me to say something for almost an hour but I couldn’t say anything. My heart was in too much pain. It may not seem like a big deal to a lot of people but he knew that saving sex until marriage was a huge deal to me. I tried to hold them back but the tears just came rushing down my burning red cheeks. I decided I couldn’t even hang out with him that night because I was so furious. This was the first stepping stone in our relationship.
Although this made me angry I got over it. Forgiveness is key in a good relationship. We went back to our normal, happy routine. We fought sometimes, but it was always stupid, nagging one another about useless things. Let’s get back to the ex-girlfriend: Torii Thomas. Oh how I absolutely loathed that name. She was the one thing that was keeping us from reaching our full potential in the relationship. She never got over him and she didn’t let him forget it either. She texted him all the time and this made me livid. Kyle portrayed Torii are being insane: 100% mentally ill. I believed him and so did everyone else. What happened next, as a result, shocked me and all of his friends.
I was at my friend Lizzie’s house working on a project when I got a call from Kyle telling me that he needed to talk to me. He was freaking out so I went to meet him. The rest of the night was a blur of emotions all bundled together. As I sat there Kyle proceeded to tell me that he was still in love with Torii. (Keep in mind we had been dating for over six months) This was the second lowest point in my life. I told him how much I loved him and reminded him of how crazy she was and how we were meant to be together. The night ended by me thinking it was just a phase. He was going to sleep on it and realize that he was just freaking out and everything would go back to normal. The next day at his work I sat in my car and begged him not to leave me for her. But it didn’t work and he broke up with me. The first two lowest points in my life had been bumped down a notch and this one moment was front and center on the list. I honestly felt like my world was crashing down. I planned on marrying this guy. I don’t care how crazy that sounds, it was true. When I am set on something there isn’t much of anything I will let stand in my way. But this was something that was out of my control.
Fast forward a few weeks and guess who changed his mind? You guessed it, Kyle Jacob Tarvin. The small stepping stone in our relationship had evolved into a medium sized rock, but I could handle rocks. I forgave him right away because he was my “soul mate.” Things went back to normal for a few months but not for long. His romantic gestures stopped. We got into a fight almost every night. Things were different but I didn’t give up. I knew it was just a phase. Guess who was wrong again? You guessed it, me. The next excuse Kyle gave me was that he didn’t know what he wanted and he needed some time to think things through. But another ghost slipped out of his closet and I found out that he had cheated on me with Torii in the first two months that we had been dating and he never told me. He hid that from me for almost a year. I used to always say, “If a guy ever cheats on me I am out of there! No one can treat me like that and get away with it!” Easier said than done. At that moment in my life I didn’t care what it took, I wasn’t going to let him slip thru my fingers again. But I did and we broke up for the second time. At this time the small stepping stone had already evolved into a medium sized rock and now was slowly shaping into a boulder.
I wonder if anyone ever learns their lesson once or if it takes them as many tries as it took me? You already know that we ended up going out again. Once again, it was good for a few months but then gradually got bad again. This time it was a week before my senior prom and Kyle decided that he didn’t want to go out anymore. So we broke up and I didn’t have a date for my own prom. But I found one last minute and made the most out of it. This time it was over. I was done with being treated like crap when all I did was give to the relationship. We didn’t speak for the whole summer.
My life was good until something major happened in my family. Kyle was still my friend and I used to tell him everything so he was the only one I felt like I could go to for advice. We met up for lunch. One thing led to another and all of our feelings for one another came rushing back. He promised that it wouldn’t happen again and that he loved me. I fell for it and that was the last time I fell for his lies and will ever fall for them.
It is now October of 2010. I have officially, 100% gotten over Kyle Jacob Tarvin. Torii and I have become good friends and discovered that he is self centered and immature and we deserve way better than a guy like him. I could go on for days about what I have learned from this experience, but I won’t. I have grown from it and I know now that there are numerous good guys out there who will treat me the way I deserve to be treated. But there is a catch. The catch is that I cannot jump at the first guy who makes a move on me. I need to be self disciplined and set boundaries. Once I do this I will find the perfect guy for me it just requires a lot of patience. I will never settle for second best again because I am a princess and princesses deserve nothing less than royalty. I might be good enough for every guy, but not every guy is good enough for me.
It was about a week before Valentine’s Day and my friend Michael wanted me to meet his friend Kyle. I met him at McDonald’s for the first time. He was nice but I didn’t think anything would happen between the two of us. Then one thing led to another and we were going on our first date on Valentine’s Day. I really liked him at this point and was excited to see where our relationship was going to go. By the end of the night my relationship status was changed from single to in a relationship on Facebook. I was dating Kyle Jacob Tarvin.
From that moment on all I could think about was Kyle. We barely went a day without seeing each other and when we did it was like torture. When we weren’t together we were texting or calling each other. Kyle was the most respectful guy I had ever met. He held doors open for me, left me notes, brought me flowers and candy, took me on surprise adventures and many more romantic things that any girl would be ecstatic about. To me Kyle was the ultimate prize and I was the luckiest girl in the world.
Of course there is never a perfect guy and never will be. Every guy has his faults. They all have ghosts in their closets that are just waiting to pop out and ruin a girl’s fairy tale. Kyle was going to take me somewhere and surprise me one night so I drove over to his house to meet him. He got in my car and started to cry. “Sarah, I know that you are going to be really upset but I have to tell you something. Please don’t break up with me.” Oh great, I thought to myself. I knew he was too good to be true. “Torii and I had sex when we were dating.” Silence fell over the car. I was speechless. I was hurt because he lied to me and angry because tonight was going to be such a special night and he ruined it. I had never felt so low in my life. He tried to get me to say something for almost an hour but I couldn’t say anything. My heart was in too much pain. It may not seem like a big deal to a lot of people but he knew that saving sex until marriage was a huge deal to me. I tried to hold them back but the tears just came rushing down my burning red cheeks. I decided I couldn’t even hang out with him that night because I was so furious. This was the first stepping stone in our relationship.
Although this made me angry I got over it. Forgiveness is key in a good relationship. We went back to our normal, happy routine. We fought sometimes, but it was always stupid, nagging one another about useless things. Let’s get back to the ex-girlfriend: Torii Thomas. Oh how I absolutely loathed that name. She was the one thing that was keeping us from reaching our full potential in the relationship. She never got over him and she didn’t let him forget it either. She texted him all the time and this made me livid. Kyle portrayed Torii are being insane: 100% mentally ill. I believed him and so did everyone else. What happened next, as a result, shocked me and all of his friends.
I was at my friend Lizzie’s house working on a project when I got a call from Kyle telling me that he needed to talk to me. He was freaking out so I went to meet him. The rest of the night was a blur of emotions all bundled together. As I sat there Kyle proceeded to tell me that he was still in love with Torii. (Keep in mind we had been dating for over six months) This was the second lowest point in my life. I told him how much I loved him and reminded him of how crazy she was and how we were meant to be together. The night ended by me thinking it was just a phase. He was going to sleep on it and realize that he was just freaking out and everything would go back to normal. The next day at his work I sat in my car and begged him not to leave me for her. But it didn’t work and he broke up with me. The first two lowest points in my life had been bumped down a notch and this one moment was front and center on the list. I honestly felt like my world was crashing down. I planned on marrying this guy. I don’t care how crazy that sounds, it was true. When I am set on something there isn’t much of anything I will let stand in my way. But this was something that was out of my control.
Fast forward a few weeks and guess who changed his mind? You guessed it, Kyle Jacob Tarvin. The small stepping stone in our relationship had evolved into a medium sized rock, but I could handle rocks. I forgave him right away because he was my “soul mate.” Things went back to normal for a few months but not for long. His romantic gestures stopped. We got into a fight almost every night. Things were different but I didn’t give up. I knew it was just a phase. Guess who was wrong again? You guessed it, me. The next excuse Kyle gave me was that he didn’t know what he wanted and he needed some time to think things through. But another ghost slipped out of his closet and I found out that he had cheated on me with Torii in the first two months that we had been dating and he never told me. He hid that from me for almost a year. I used to always say, “If a guy ever cheats on me I am out of there! No one can treat me like that and get away with it!” Easier said than done. At that moment in my life I didn’t care what it took, I wasn’t going to let him slip thru my fingers again. But I did and we broke up for the second time. At this time the small stepping stone had already evolved into a medium sized rock and now was slowly shaping into a boulder.
I wonder if anyone ever learns their lesson once or if it takes them as many tries as it took me? You already know that we ended up going out again. Once again, it was good for a few months but then gradually got bad again. This time it was a week before my senior prom and Kyle decided that he didn’t want to go out anymore. So we broke up and I didn’t have a date for my own prom. But I found one last minute and made the most out of it. This time it was over. I was done with being treated like crap when all I did was give to the relationship. We didn’t speak for the whole summer.
My life was good until something major happened in my family. Kyle was still my friend and I used to tell him everything so he was the only one I felt like I could go to for advice. We met up for lunch. One thing led to another and all of our feelings for one another came rushing back. He promised that it wouldn’t happen again and that he loved me. I fell for it and that was the last time I fell for his lies and will ever fall for them.
It is now October of 2010. I have officially, 100% gotten over Kyle Jacob Tarvin. Torii and I have become good friends and discovered that he is self centered and immature and we deserve way better than a guy like him. I could go on for days about what I have learned from this experience, but I won’t. I have grown from it and I know now that there are numerous good guys out there who will treat me the way I deserve to be treated. But there is a catch. The catch is that I cannot jump at the first guy who makes a move on me. I need to be self disciplined and set boundaries. Once I do this I will find the perfect guy for me it just requires a lot of patience. I will never settle for second best again because I am a princess and princesses deserve nothing less than royalty. I might be good enough for every guy, but not every guy is good enough for me.
Journal- Voice of a Child
At my daycare there is a boy I like. He likes me, too, he just doesn’t know it yet. But he has to be my boyfriend so I can be a grown-up. Grown-ups have boyfriends. I can’t remember his name, but that’s okay because boys like nicknames. I’ll call him Buster.
Buster says to leave him alone, but I know that’s code for “I like you”. He runs, and I chase him around the playground, through the tunnels and in between the swings.
“I’m going to catch you!” I yell. I can barely breathe because I’ve been running so much. My mom always wonders why I come home so dirty every day. She doesn’t understand how much work I have to do, and I only have half a day to do it! Kindergarten is rough. Last year in preschool, playtime was learning time. It’s not any fun when I know I have to try to keep some of the dirt on the ground. Plus, I’m the unlucky one who has afternoon school, which makes staying clean even tougher. It’s not fair. I’m lucky Buster is there to play with.
He won’t sit by my on the kindergarten bus, but that’s okay. I know he would if his friends wouldn’t tease him. Boys are weird like that. When we ride to school, I look at him, and sometimes I sing him songs I make up. I asked one of the teachers why Buster won’t be nicer to me, and she said I should maybe let him play by himself for a while. How is that supposed to make him realize he likes me? Obviously this teacher doesn’t know as much as me. You see what I put up with!
I’m so grown-up because I understand boys. None of my friends know half as much as I do, which makes sense since I’m five and they’re all still four. Sometimes it’s tough being the smartest, but somebody’s got to explain everything about life to them. We usually walk around the railroad ties along the playground fence when we’re all worn out from chasing. Whenever they question me, I always respond with, “Well, I should know, because I’m in kindergarten.” The teachers like me enough to let me sit by them. I told you I was a grown-up.
Buster says to leave him alone, but I know that’s code for “I like you”. He runs, and I chase him around the playground, through the tunnels and in between the swings.
“I’m going to catch you!” I yell. I can barely breathe because I’ve been running so much. My mom always wonders why I come home so dirty every day. She doesn’t understand how much work I have to do, and I only have half a day to do it! Kindergarten is rough. Last year in preschool, playtime was learning time. It’s not any fun when I know I have to try to keep some of the dirt on the ground. Plus, I’m the unlucky one who has afternoon school, which makes staying clean even tougher. It’s not fair. I’m lucky Buster is there to play with.
He won’t sit by my on the kindergarten bus, but that’s okay. I know he would if his friends wouldn’t tease him. Boys are weird like that. When we ride to school, I look at him, and sometimes I sing him songs I make up. I asked one of the teachers why Buster won’t be nicer to me, and she said I should maybe let him play by himself for a while. How is that supposed to make him realize he likes me? Obviously this teacher doesn’t know as much as me. You see what I put up with!
I’m so grown-up because I understand boys. None of my friends know half as much as I do, which makes sense since I’m five and they’re all still four. Sometimes it’s tough being the smartest, but somebody’s got to explain everything about life to them. We usually walk around the railroad ties along the playground fence when we’re all worn out from chasing. Whenever they question me, I always respond with, “Well, I should know, because I’m in kindergarten.” The teachers like me enough to let me sit by them. I told you I was a grown-up.
Passion
The word passion holds a lot of meaning in my life. When I like something I usually become passionate about it in some way. I have a lot of strong emotions about many things and my passions overwhelm my life.
One big passion of mine is singing. I absolutely love to sing. I have a pretty good ear for hearing different harmonies in songs when they aren’t being sung. What I like to do is sing those harmonies along with the melody because I love the way it sounds. I am so grateful that God gifted me with such a beautiful voice. Since singing is a big passion of mine I can’t help but share my gift with the world.
Although singing is a big part of my life, I have a passion that overrides it and that is getting married. Ever since I was a little girl I have fantasized about my wedding: the venue, the food, my gorgeous wedding gown, but most of all, my mystery man. I can’t wait to get married and walk down the aisle, all eyes on me. To see my husband look at me and smile the biggest smile of his life. I will cry tears of joy as we exchange our vows.
It is a major challenge going about my day being so close to the age of twenty and not knowing who I am going to marry. I look at every guy as if he could be my potential husband. Even though this is unhealthy it has its positives. I use my better judgment to determine if I should date someone. If I can’t see myself marrying the man then there is no point in dating him. I know my prince charming is out there somewhere and I can’t wait to meet him, get to know him and love him for the rest of my life.
One big passion of mine is singing. I absolutely love to sing. I have a pretty good ear for hearing different harmonies in songs when they aren’t being sung. What I like to do is sing those harmonies along with the melody because I love the way it sounds. I am so grateful that God gifted me with such a beautiful voice. Since singing is a big passion of mine I can’t help but share my gift with the world.
Although singing is a big part of my life, I have a passion that overrides it and that is getting married. Ever since I was a little girl I have fantasized about my wedding: the venue, the food, my gorgeous wedding gown, but most of all, my mystery man. I can’t wait to get married and walk down the aisle, all eyes on me. To see my husband look at me and smile the biggest smile of his life. I will cry tears of joy as we exchange our vows.
It is a major challenge going about my day being so close to the age of twenty and not knowing who I am going to marry. I look at every guy as if he could be my potential husband. Even though this is unhealthy it has its positives. I use my better judgment to determine if I should date someone. If I can’t see myself marrying the man then there is no point in dating him. I know my prince charming is out there somewhere and I can’t wait to meet him, get to know him and love him for the rest of my life.
Journal- What My Parents Expected
My family always expected me to go to college. I was just never interested. My mother always wanted to take me on college visits and make me take the ACT. I finally let her take me on a college visit to a school I had zero interest in, but it was only so I could sneak out of the hotel room at 1 a.m. with a guy I knew.
I finally signed up for the ACT, but I never studied for it. I stayed up really late the night before, and when it came time for me to actually go, I instead chose to go to my boyfriend’s house and eat pancakes. I was at the stoplight at the intersection of MidRivers and Mexico considering my options. Turning right would get me to school in three minutes flat. It was 7:55, and the test was at 8. Instead I went straight, giving me no time to change my mind.
During the twenty-minute drive to his house, I thought about all the different ways my mother was going to kill me. The test was supposed to take a few hours, so I used this to my advantage since she was expecting me not to call her. After we ate pancakes, we decided to go to a state park that was about two hours away, near the Lake of the Ozarks. I realized my phone was going to lose signal, so I quickly sent a text to my sister that I hadn’t taken the test.
The next time I saw my mother was at my sister’s school play that night. She never mentioned the test to me, not then, and still not to this day. It was like we silently acknowledged the fact that we just weren’t going to agree on this issue. She never mentioned college to me until a few months later, when she asked me where I thought my life was going. I told her simply: I didn’t know. I knew I was breaking my mom’s heart.
I never applied to any school besides this one, even though I knew it was probably a poor choice. My family just wanted the best for me. I felt like I shouldn’t go to school for them; I should go to school for me. A big reason I chose to move away from home was so that it could be my decision, and not my family’s.
I know my family and I may not always see eye-to-eye, but they really are looking out for me. In the end, I’m glad I made this decision to go to school, because I know it will benefit me in the long run, but it’s also nice to know I’m making my family happy.
Looking back, I can see that it was selfish of me not to take advantage of all the opportunities presented to me. This situation ended up being a wake-up call to me not to let opportunities pass me by.
I finally signed up for the ACT, but I never studied for it. I stayed up really late the night before, and when it came time for me to actually go, I instead chose to go to my boyfriend’s house and eat pancakes. I was at the stoplight at the intersection of MidRivers and Mexico considering my options. Turning right would get me to school in three minutes flat. It was 7:55, and the test was at 8. Instead I went straight, giving me no time to change my mind.
During the twenty-minute drive to his house, I thought about all the different ways my mother was going to kill me. The test was supposed to take a few hours, so I used this to my advantage since she was expecting me not to call her. After we ate pancakes, we decided to go to a state park that was about two hours away, near the Lake of the Ozarks. I realized my phone was going to lose signal, so I quickly sent a text to my sister that I hadn’t taken the test.
The next time I saw my mother was at my sister’s school play that night. She never mentioned the test to me, not then, and still not to this day. It was like we silently acknowledged the fact that we just weren’t going to agree on this issue. She never mentioned college to me until a few months later, when she asked me where I thought my life was going. I told her simply: I didn’t know. I knew I was breaking my mom’s heart.
I never applied to any school besides this one, even though I knew it was probably a poor choice. My family just wanted the best for me. I felt like I shouldn’t go to school for them; I should go to school for me. A big reason I chose to move away from home was so that it could be my decision, and not my family’s.
I know my family and I may not always see eye-to-eye, but they really are looking out for me. In the end, I’m glad I made this decision to go to school, because I know it will benefit me in the long run, but it’s also nice to know I’m making my family happy.
Looking back, I can see that it was selfish of me not to take advantage of all the opportunities presented to me. This situation ended up being a wake-up call to me not to let opportunities pass me by.
This Is For Real
My junior year in high school I was taking German 1 and Algebra 2. That’s where we met. We’d been on the edge of the same social circle, but we’d never hung out or even really acknowledged each other’s existence. We initially bonded over making fun of our ancient German teacher and commiserating over Algebra concepts we could not grasp.
I remember constantly being asked to face the front in Algebra class, since I was always turned around talking to him. I was in a long-term relationship at the time, and my boyfriend was very jealous, so my social life was almost nonexistent. It didn’t occur to me at the time that this wasn’t a good thing. I was living in a bubble and I didn’t even realize it.
Talking to this guy was my own little secret. We were only friends when class was in session, and neither of us ever made any effort to change this. When the second semester started, the only class we had together was Literature. A couple of our mutual friends were in this class, and so was my boyfriend. By this point I’d started toying with the idea in my head that maybe I liked him as more than a friend. To me it seemed like he’d been thinking along the same lines, but I told myself it was just my imagination.
We were both taking Astronomy (in different hours), and our teacher had Observation Nights where students could come to look out of a telescope for extra credit. We were lying on a blanket (with space between us, obviously) staring into the sky.
“This is really cool,” he said. And I had to agree.
I never took the risk or put myself out there. By the time the school year ended, I had a full-on crush on him. My boyfriend knew it. He thought it was hilarious, since this guy wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular. In May of junior year I went to the mall with a girl I was sort-of friends with. I told her I liked him and I wanted to go out with him. I told her that my boyfriend even said I should go out with him. “Go for it!” he’d say, laughing. So I would just laugh along and pretend I wasn’t serious.
My boyfriend was the kind of guy who needed everyone to love him. He buzzed his hair and talked almost exclusively about guns and the military. He had one close friend, but he was popular with just about everyone. He told crude jokes and flirted with every girl he came into contact with. He liked to go out and spend my money, and all he ever wanted to do was go shooting or do outdoorsy things.
The guy I liked was almost the opposite of my boyfriend. His group of friends consisted of the nerdy guys that nobody else wanted to be friends with. He was into archery and anime, which I thought was kind of unique and interesting. He always wore t-shirts with stupid funny sayings on them, and he had a really bad bowl cut for a while. But he was nice to me.
Once school was out I was kicking myself for never getting his phone number. That summer my boyfriend went to Army boot camp, and I tried to convince myself that everything was perfect. I had just gotten my first job, and for the first time since freshman year, my boyfriend was gone and I had to figure things out for myself.
I began to see how much better my life was without him, but at the same time I was hooked on the idea of staying together forever. During the summer I started talking to a guy I’d known for years, but in a way that was way beyond just friendship. I was beginning to realize that if I could feel strongly for guys besides my boyfriend and be happier without him than I was with him, something was probably wrong.
Our relationship had always been filled with drama. We argued about everything, usually the same things over and over. He got in the way of every friendship I tried to have, and then made me feel guilty for calling him out on the fact that he could go out whenever he wanted and with whomever he wanted, while I always had to stay home.
When he came back from boot camp, we tried to pretend like everything was normal, when we both sort of knew it wasn’t. Senior year started, and we kept trying to keep everything the same. We started this cycle of breaking up and getting back together basically once a month for three months. We knew it wasn’t working.
The guy I spent all summer convincing myself I didn’t really like turned out to be in my English class. The sparks were still there. He had signed up for early dismissal, and after two days of school, he’d convinced me to sign up for it too, so we could hang out.
It ended up being me, him, and one of our friends. We usually just wandered around outside the building and played stupid games on the softball field. The two of us were both secretly glad our friend was there, so it wouldn’t be so awkward with just us. We spent most of our time pretending we weren’t both dying to just touch, kiss, hold hands, anything.
The three of us would go on walks, and he would notice my hip popping every time I took a step. Under the guise of wanting to feel the pop, we started walking with our arms around each other’s waists. At one point on one of these walks, he pushed me into a pile of leaves and ran away. I was so mad! Another time, he picked me up, walked to the edge of the bridge over the creek, and asked “How’d you feel about taking a swim today?”
“No!” I laughed and kicked my feet, trying to get away even though I was thoroughly enjoying being that close to him. We were best friends. We talked about anything and everything, even though most of it was really, really stupid.
I was still hanging out with my boyfriend, but it started to be more out of obligation than an actual desire to be with him. I had a major, major crush on this guy. I told myself the biggest reason we didn’t make any movement with our relationship was because he was moving to Ohio in a few months. What were we supposed to do? Make a move, fall in love, and end up heartbroken by July? We both acknowledged the mutual decision to keep all of this unspoken.
Over Christmas break, I was surprised by how much I missed him. We would text each other, but I always worried I was texting him too much. I didn’t want to seem too excited. On my birthday, which was during the break, he stopped by my work unexpectedly and brought me cookies to cheer up my day. Whenever anything would seem to get too serious between us, however, he’d claim it was all a game. I didn’t know what to believe.
Once school started up again, I started ditching him because I felt like I was going to burst from all the tension. All I wanted to do was just touch him. But my boyfriend and I were still trying to pretend that everything was good between us, even though we’d had a “real” breakup and weren’t even technically going out anymore. We were trying to fix our relationship.
I kept asking this guy to hang out with me outside of school. To be honest, I was trying to have both. I know it was selfish, but I was really afraid of permanently losing my boyfriend, and also of missing out on something amazing with the guy I’d wanted for so long. The guy finally caved and we went to the mall after school one day. It sounds insignificant, but it was a step in the direction I wanted. At the same time, however, it was even more frustrating than before, because we still wouldn’t admit we liked each other.
We started driving around to nowhere in particular together almost every day after school, just so we could sit next to each other. We bought clearance priced Valentine’s Day candy for each other at Walgreens in lieu of real presents. Later in February, we were finally, finally, going to hang out outside of school. A group of our friends were going to Dairy Queen. He agreed to pick me up. I was excited. We stayed out until 3 a.m. at our friend’s house.
Two days later, the two of us and two of our friends were going out again. This time, however, I was seriously tired of this “just friends” charade. We watched a movie, and I pretended I was tired so I could lie on his lap. Sometime during the movie I took hold of his hand. He looked at me all confused, but he didn’t let go.
Later that night when he drove me home, I decided to be bold. He pulled up in front of my house. I mumbled something incoherent, and put my lips on his. After a minute I pulled away. His eyes met mine, his whole face grinned, and he softly sang along with the music, “This is the best thing that I’ve ever had for real.” I was smiling like a fool for the rest of the night.
This is what finally gave me the confidence I needed to break up with my boyfriend for good. I told him what happened and we just gradually went our separate ways.
It took a little while before I was completely comfortable with the new direction my life was taking. It finally occurred to me that I had a say in my life, and that I didn’t have to just sit by idly and accept what was in front of me.
This was what gave me the greatest feeling of freedom, satisfaction, and independence that I’d ever felt. To this day, whenever I feel like I’m losing control of my life, I remember this night and remind myself that I can do it; all I need is the confidence.
I remember constantly being asked to face the front in Algebra class, since I was always turned around talking to him. I was in a long-term relationship at the time, and my boyfriend was very jealous, so my social life was almost nonexistent. It didn’t occur to me at the time that this wasn’t a good thing. I was living in a bubble and I didn’t even realize it.
Talking to this guy was my own little secret. We were only friends when class was in session, and neither of us ever made any effort to change this. When the second semester started, the only class we had together was Literature. A couple of our mutual friends were in this class, and so was my boyfriend. By this point I’d started toying with the idea in my head that maybe I liked him as more than a friend. To me it seemed like he’d been thinking along the same lines, but I told myself it was just my imagination.
We were both taking Astronomy (in different hours), and our teacher had Observation Nights where students could come to look out of a telescope for extra credit. We were lying on a blanket (with space between us, obviously) staring into the sky.
“This is really cool,” he said. And I had to agree.
I never took the risk or put myself out there. By the time the school year ended, I had a full-on crush on him. My boyfriend knew it. He thought it was hilarious, since this guy wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular. In May of junior year I went to the mall with a girl I was sort-of friends with. I told her I liked him and I wanted to go out with him. I told her that my boyfriend even said I should go out with him. “Go for it!” he’d say, laughing. So I would just laugh along and pretend I wasn’t serious.
My boyfriend was the kind of guy who needed everyone to love him. He buzzed his hair and talked almost exclusively about guns and the military. He had one close friend, but he was popular with just about everyone. He told crude jokes and flirted with every girl he came into contact with. He liked to go out and spend my money, and all he ever wanted to do was go shooting or do outdoorsy things.
The guy I liked was almost the opposite of my boyfriend. His group of friends consisted of the nerdy guys that nobody else wanted to be friends with. He was into archery and anime, which I thought was kind of unique and interesting. He always wore t-shirts with stupid funny sayings on them, and he had a really bad bowl cut for a while. But he was nice to me.
Once school was out I was kicking myself for never getting his phone number. That summer my boyfriend went to Army boot camp, and I tried to convince myself that everything was perfect. I had just gotten my first job, and for the first time since freshman year, my boyfriend was gone and I had to figure things out for myself.
I began to see how much better my life was without him, but at the same time I was hooked on the idea of staying together forever. During the summer I started talking to a guy I’d known for years, but in a way that was way beyond just friendship. I was beginning to realize that if I could feel strongly for guys besides my boyfriend and be happier without him than I was with him, something was probably wrong.
Our relationship had always been filled with drama. We argued about everything, usually the same things over and over. He got in the way of every friendship I tried to have, and then made me feel guilty for calling him out on the fact that he could go out whenever he wanted and with whomever he wanted, while I always had to stay home.
When he came back from boot camp, we tried to pretend like everything was normal, when we both sort of knew it wasn’t. Senior year started, and we kept trying to keep everything the same. We started this cycle of breaking up and getting back together basically once a month for three months. We knew it wasn’t working.
The guy I spent all summer convincing myself I didn’t really like turned out to be in my English class. The sparks were still there. He had signed up for early dismissal, and after two days of school, he’d convinced me to sign up for it too, so we could hang out.
It ended up being me, him, and one of our friends. We usually just wandered around outside the building and played stupid games on the softball field. The two of us were both secretly glad our friend was there, so it wouldn’t be so awkward with just us. We spent most of our time pretending we weren’t both dying to just touch, kiss, hold hands, anything.
The three of us would go on walks, and he would notice my hip popping every time I took a step. Under the guise of wanting to feel the pop, we started walking with our arms around each other’s waists. At one point on one of these walks, he pushed me into a pile of leaves and ran away. I was so mad! Another time, he picked me up, walked to the edge of the bridge over the creek, and asked “How’d you feel about taking a swim today?”
“No!” I laughed and kicked my feet, trying to get away even though I was thoroughly enjoying being that close to him. We were best friends. We talked about anything and everything, even though most of it was really, really stupid.
I was still hanging out with my boyfriend, but it started to be more out of obligation than an actual desire to be with him. I had a major, major crush on this guy. I told myself the biggest reason we didn’t make any movement with our relationship was because he was moving to Ohio in a few months. What were we supposed to do? Make a move, fall in love, and end up heartbroken by July? We both acknowledged the mutual decision to keep all of this unspoken.
Over Christmas break, I was surprised by how much I missed him. We would text each other, but I always worried I was texting him too much. I didn’t want to seem too excited. On my birthday, which was during the break, he stopped by my work unexpectedly and brought me cookies to cheer up my day. Whenever anything would seem to get too serious between us, however, he’d claim it was all a game. I didn’t know what to believe.
Once school started up again, I started ditching him because I felt like I was going to burst from all the tension. All I wanted to do was just touch him. But my boyfriend and I were still trying to pretend that everything was good between us, even though we’d had a “real” breakup and weren’t even technically going out anymore. We were trying to fix our relationship.
I kept asking this guy to hang out with me outside of school. To be honest, I was trying to have both. I know it was selfish, but I was really afraid of permanently losing my boyfriend, and also of missing out on something amazing with the guy I’d wanted for so long. The guy finally caved and we went to the mall after school one day. It sounds insignificant, but it was a step in the direction I wanted. At the same time, however, it was even more frustrating than before, because we still wouldn’t admit we liked each other.
We started driving around to nowhere in particular together almost every day after school, just so we could sit next to each other. We bought clearance priced Valentine’s Day candy for each other at Walgreens in lieu of real presents. Later in February, we were finally, finally, going to hang out outside of school. A group of our friends were going to Dairy Queen. He agreed to pick me up. I was excited. We stayed out until 3 a.m. at our friend’s house.
Two days later, the two of us and two of our friends were going out again. This time, however, I was seriously tired of this “just friends” charade. We watched a movie, and I pretended I was tired so I could lie on his lap. Sometime during the movie I took hold of his hand. He looked at me all confused, but he didn’t let go.
Later that night when he drove me home, I decided to be bold. He pulled up in front of my house. I mumbled something incoherent, and put my lips on his. After a minute I pulled away. His eyes met mine, his whole face grinned, and he softly sang along with the music, “This is the best thing that I’ve ever had for real.” I was smiling like a fool for the rest of the night.
This is what finally gave me the confidence I needed to break up with my boyfriend for good. I told him what happened and we just gradually went our separate ways.
It took a little while before I was completely comfortable with the new direction my life was taking. It finally occurred to me that I had a say in my life, and that I didn’t have to just sit by idly and accept what was in front of me.
This was what gave me the greatest feeling of freedom, satisfaction, and independence that I’d ever felt. To this day, whenever I feel like I’m losing control of my life, I remember this night and remind myself that I can do it; all I need is the confidence.
Make Believe
Every day at school I would sit impatiently at my desk waiting for the end of the school day. The bell would ring and I would stuff everything into my backpack and race for the bus. I heard the voices of older people yell “no running in the halls”, but nothing could stop me. I was a woman on a mission. It was time to set aside work and rules for the day let my imagination take a hold of the reins.
The time had finally arrived. I stepped off of the bus, waited for my bus driver to give me the sign that it was safe to cross the road and rushed into my house. I was greeted with a big hug and kiss from my mommy and the same old boring questions. “How was your day?” she asked. “Fine.” I replied. “What did you do?” “Nothing.” The only reason I never went into any details about my day was because I was too busy thinking about what I was going to do for the rest of my night.
After a long and treacherous few hours of doing homework and eating I was finally able to escape to my getaway car: my banana seat bicycle. I hopped on my bicycle and raced down the street as fast as I could to where my friends and I would meet every night. For the next few hours I wasn’t Sarah Rae Potts anymore. I was anything my imagination wanted me to be. This ranged from animals, princesses, a baby or anything else because my imagination had no limit. The list goes on and on of the different adventures I got myself into. My friends and I played tag and hide & seek. We raced on our bikes and climbed trees. Doing all of this made these the best days of my life.
Another thing that I did was play with Bratz and Barbie’s. I would set up their rooms and houses with anything I could find sitting around the house. I dressed them in their prettiest outfits and no one had a better boyfriend or a prettier girl than me. I spent hours acting like I was older with my Barbie’s and Bratz until it was time to go home, put away my imagination and bring back Sarah Rae Potts until the next night.
The time had finally arrived. I stepped off of the bus, waited for my bus driver to give me the sign that it was safe to cross the road and rushed into my house. I was greeted with a big hug and kiss from my mommy and the same old boring questions. “How was your day?” she asked. “Fine.” I replied. “What did you do?” “Nothing.” The only reason I never went into any details about my day was because I was too busy thinking about what I was going to do for the rest of my night.
After a long and treacherous few hours of doing homework and eating I was finally able to escape to my getaway car: my banana seat bicycle. I hopped on my bicycle and raced down the street as fast as I could to where my friends and I would meet every night. For the next few hours I wasn’t Sarah Rae Potts anymore. I was anything my imagination wanted me to be. This ranged from animals, princesses, a baby or anything else because my imagination had no limit. The list goes on and on of the different adventures I got myself into. My friends and I played tag and hide & seek. We raced on our bikes and climbed trees. Doing all of this made these the best days of my life.
Another thing that I did was play with Bratz and Barbie’s. I would set up their rooms and houses with anything I could find sitting around the house. I dressed them in their prettiest outfits and no one had a better boyfriend or a prettier girl than me. I spent hours acting like I was older with my Barbie’s and Bratz until it was time to go home, put away my imagination and bring back Sarah Rae Potts until the next night.
The Harm Principle and Class Review (Final Journal)
John Morris
Professor Shepherd
English Composition I
One who allows everyone and everything around him to have a major influence on himself will have no means of living except for conforming to what others want him to be. Those who are not affected by what other people think will be creative, able to shape their own life, and able to form their own ideas and opinions. There may be good influences in the world one lives in, but even specifically following each and every idea or piece of advice from any influence, good or bad, will not make one an individual when all is said and done. Also, if one chooses to do good, he must not just be doing it for personal gain; there must be a heartfelt purpose of helping others.
I have read over John Stuart Mill's quote many times now, and it has become one of my favorite quotes of all time. I know from experience that what he has stated is true. At one time I tried to conform to what everyone around me wanted me to be because I wanted to be accepted, but this did not make me feel any better about myself. It was only when I decided to be only the person that I am and want to be that I began to feel a great amount of self-esteem. As a bonus, I also gained more friends than I did when I tried to fit everyone's visions of me. One can find true joy as long as they act like the person they were created to be, expressing their own ideas, acting the way they are meant to act as long as it doesn't have a negative effect on the world around them.
This class has been very helpful to myself as a writer. All criticism, both through peer review and final essay grades, has helped me to develop my skills and become a more competent writer. I really don't know what I would change about this class; I have really enjoyed this last quarter, and I have set up my schedule to be in English Composition II with Professor Shepherd again during the Winter Quarter.
Professor Shepherd
English Composition I
One who allows everyone and everything around him to have a major influence on himself will have no means of living except for conforming to what others want him to be. Those who are not affected by what other people think will be creative, able to shape their own life, and able to form their own ideas and opinions. There may be good influences in the world one lives in, but even specifically following each and every idea or piece of advice from any influence, good or bad, will not make one an individual when all is said and done. Also, if one chooses to do good, he must not just be doing it for personal gain; there must be a heartfelt purpose of helping others.
I have read over John Stuart Mill's quote many times now, and it has become one of my favorite quotes of all time. I know from experience that what he has stated is true. At one time I tried to conform to what everyone around me wanted me to be because I wanted to be accepted, but this did not make me feel any better about myself. It was only when I decided to be only the person that I am and want to be that I began to feel a great amount of self-esteem. As a bonus, I also gained more friends than I did when I tried to fit everyone's visions of me. One can find true joy as long as they act like the person they were created to be, expressing their own ideas, acting the way they are meant to act as long as it doesn't have a negative effect on the world around them.
This class has been very helpful to myself as a writer. All criticism, both through peer review and final essay grades, has helped me to develop my skills and become a more competent writer. I really don't know what I would change about this class; I have really enjoyed this last quarter, and I have set up my schedule to be in English Composition II with Professor Shepherd again during the Winter Quarter.
Journal: violence in video games and affect of children...
Journal:
Arguement: Violent Video games cause behavior problems in children
Violent Video games can be seen as a major source of violent or disturbed thinking in children. When one thinks of what kind of video games a child finds most addicting, they tend to be the video games that include killing others, sexual scenes, and bad language. Studies have shown that the more a person is exposed to a certain thing the more sort of to say acclimated they become to it. So, with video games bad language perhaps the kid will start using it in their daily vocabulary. When one sees a character on a certain game punching another character to get to the next level it can cause a feeling that punching people is normal. Instead of working through ones problems with a fellow student at school with words they may now choose to use their fists. If a child is exposed to a certain violent or sex scene to early in life then they can be traumatizd and be altered. After seeing horrific images on the television they lose a part of their childhood-like innocence which they can never get back. There is a certain point in life when a person is ready for such images but this varies with different individuals and has to be carfully decided. When children play video games they are cut off from the rest of the world outside of the television. If a child gets too engulfed in a video game they will lose social skills and maybe even never gain them. Social skills are vitally important in life; to meet other people, to have a job, and basically in just every aspect that one can think of. One can argue that this is an unfair assumption, a generalization. Even if it is a generalization video games can be seen in a vast majority of children changing them in one way or the other.
Arguement: Violent Video games cause behavior problems in children
Violent Video games can be seen as a major source of violent or disturbed thinking in children. When one thinks of what kind of video games a child finds most addicting, they tend to be the video games that include killing others, sexual scenes, and bad language. Studies have shown that the more a person is exposed to a certain thing the more sort of to say acclimated they become to it. So, with video games bad language perhaps the kid will start using it in their daily vocabulary. When one sees a character on a certain game punching another character to get to the next level it can cause a feeling that punching people is normal. Instead of working through ones problems with a fellow student at school with words they may now choose to use their fists. If a child is exposed to a certain violent or sex scene to early in life then they can be traumatizd and be altered. After seeing horrific images on the television they lose a part of their childhood-like innocence which they can never get back. There is a certain point in life when a person is ready for such images but this varies with different individuals and has to be carfully decided. When children play video games they are cut off from the rest of the world outside of the television. If a child gets too engulfed in a video game they will lose social skills and maybe even never gain them. Social skills are vitally important in life; to meet other people, to have a job, and basically in just every aspect that one can think of. One can argue that this is an unfair assumption, a generalization. Even if it is a generalization video games can be seen in a vast majority of children changing them in one way or the other.
Bittersweet Birthday
Ciera Isner
This piece was written as an in class journal. We were asked to tell about an incident from childhood that we remembered, and write it through our perspective as a child.
Bittersweet Birthday
It was late September, the 28th to be exact, and school had started again. I had gotten the hang of who my teachers were and what my classes would be like and thing were finally starting to look up. Most importantly, it was finally my birthday! I had the last birthday in my class, so it was exciting that I was finally turning 12!
As any sixth grader would be, I was on top of the world. Soon I would get presents, and my family would go out to eat (wherever I chose of course) and the whole day would be all about me. Al of my friends told me happy birthday, we had a little party in one of my classes, and I brought in home-made rice krispy treats. The only thing missing was my daddy, who was working out of town in Mount Sterling, Kentucky.
I had made him an out of sight, out of mind, kind of thing. I didn’t let it get to me that he wasn’t home for my first day of sixth grade, or that he missed my mom’s birthday, and now mine. I just had fun with my mom during the time we had, and was excited when he came home.
This method worked good, until the secretary brought me something at lunch that day. All the way from his job site, my daddy had remembered me! He had taken time out of his busy day to call the flower shop and order me a candy bouquet. When the secretary dropped it off, I cried, right there in the cafeteria. I missed him a lot, and it made me really happy that he had been so thoughtful.
For a minute, my birthday was bigger than just me and my presents with pretty wrapping paper and big bows. Then everyone noticed I was crying and as they began asking what was wrong, it became all about me again.
This piece was written as an in class journal. We were asked to tell about an incident from childhood that we remembered, and write it through our perspective as a child.
Bittersweet Birthday
It was late September, the 28th to be exact, and school had started again. I had gotten the hang of who my teachers were and what my classes would be like and thing were finally starting to look up. Most importantly, it was finally my birthday! I had the last birthday in my class, so it was exciting that I was finally turning 12!
As any sixth grader would be, I was on top of the world. Soon I would get presents, and my family would go out to eat (wherever I chose of course) and the whole day would be all about me. Al of my friends told me happy birthday, we had a little party in one of my classes, and I brought in home-made rice krispy treats. The only thing missing was my daddy, who was working out of town in Mount Sterling, Kentucky.
I had made him an out of sight, out of mind, kind of thing. I didn’t let it get to me that he wasn’t home for my first day of sixth grade, or that he missed my mom’s birthday, and now mine. I just had fun with my mom during the time we had, and was excited when he came home.
This method worked good, until the secretary brought me something at lunch that day. All the way from his job site, my daddy had remembered me! He had taken time out of his busy day to call the flower shop and order me a candy bouquet. When the secretary dropped it off, I cried, right there in the cafeteria. I missed him a lot, and it made me really happy that he had been so thoughtful.
For a minute, my birthday was bigger than just me and my presents with pretty wrapping paper and big bows. Then everyone noticed I was crying and as they began asking what was wrong, it became all about me again.
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