A Journey Through the Halls

My 3rd person recount of my high school experience:

Synonyms Can Be Confusing

I got distracted. Train of thought? Looked up the word 'introvert' to get a real definition for my essay, not just the social construct and connotation of the word. Then I saw the word 'archetypal' in one of the search results which got me thinking about paradigm, paragon, and epitome (because of 'archetype'), and what the difference is between all 3 of them. So I looked it up and found that this link yielded the most helpful answer because they all seem to have the same definition to me.

http://www.quora.com/What-is-the-difference-between-the-words-epitome-paragon-paradigm-and-quintessential

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Just Wait a Minute

(Please excuse any mistakes or errors)

I just got home from work about 20 minutes ago after a long, flustering closing shift. I had a huge rush at the very end, people trying to come in after closing; I started cleaning up late. In addition, a man came in with his 3 young kids and ordered, which i and my coworker proceeded to fill. He pulled out a 50$ bill, which we don't accept (and have a note posted on the front window about said construct). And yet there he laid the crumpled Ulysses S. Grant on the counter top. I told him that unfortunately we do not accept those bills to which he replied that that was all he had to pay with. I started to panic because we already made his order and he had no other form of payment. I tried calling both my bosses, no of whom picked up nor ever contacted me back. Freaking geez, man! That's what cell phones were invented for. But besides the point. I spent about 5-10 minutes trying to figure out the situation while a line formed behind the incompetent, unprepared man with too many kids to handle at the moment. So I had no choice to accept his form of payment which was actually completely unacceptable. I then proceeded to get to all the other people waiting patiently behind him. People kept coming and wouldn't stop even though we close at 9. But apparetlny people don't check on the internet before they get out of the house about cloising time because they are dumb and inane and unable to get themselves to the screen to save themselves a wasted trip out to indulge when they probably don't need ot in the 1st place.

While I know this is a sorry excuse for a late essay, for I should have started earlier than procrastinnating to the last possible night to do this, I am flustered and angry and irritated because of people's stupidity. So I will definitely have the essay up by the early morning. Just have faith in me.

Senior Year of Waiting

   With senior year rapidly, scarily, and excitingly coming to a close, I take this time to put my thoughts into words on a digital screen. How do I feel? What are my thoughts exactly? I don't think senior year is all it's cracked up to be whether because of teachers or curriculum or administration. And I don't think I've made the most of it either, which I realize now and am starting to regret. My classes were... mediocre, unchallenging (which is the true shame), and for the most part, a disappoint- ment. I blame myself for some of this too: I didn't try hard enough, or put in enough effort, which is why this year turned out the way it did: an okay year to end a nice high school experience. But school should be more than this. Senior year should be more than this! We should be going out with a bang, having fun, doing something more than watching movies or playing games. Spring semester especially has turned into the waiting game. Tediously and slowly going through the motions every- day, counting the months, weeks, days until graduation, until the moment we turn our tassels to the left and we're finally rid of this place. That sounds harsh. But I know a whole platoon of people who feel the same way I do. We are ready to leave; we're waiting until the principal an- nounces our official graduation from Ernest Righetti High School, then the parties begin. Prepara- tions move forward with full steam, and our eyes leak with tears.
   I look forward to my time in college when I can finally focus on what I want to learn about, take fun classes, live in a new area. Adjusting to the harder and faster pace of university may be a strug- gle, but it's one I'll embrace and hug and smother and love. Or at least I hope I will. Sometimes I wonder why I'm so excited to leave, to graduate, to say goodbye to the people I love and know I will miss. That part, the leaving part and not seeing people part, makes me sad. But why does everything else excite me? I think it's the novelty of college, the upcoming restoration of my love for learning. The area, the new experiences, the new people! All so exciting and inviting. It's the expectations, the greatness of it all, the freedom, the status and maturity, and the overall newness. But for now, it's just sitting and waiting until that day comes.
   I know I'll miss my family, my friends, coaches, teachers, my new puppy. I relish the time I have left, take an extra second to look around and remember the moments I have with classmates that I may never see again. I try to appreciate more the days spent with the people around me, try to predict who I'll actually never see again until the 10 year reunion (I'm excited to see who will have become successful and who will have fallen off the boat and completely crashed and burned; I have a fair few in mind who will end up in the latter). But to conclude this extremely long string of words (I've always been bad at conclusions), I'm excited and prepared to end this waiting game of a senior year. I believe I have won, and I am more than ready to move onto the next game: college.

Words Paint A Picture

   "Ready?" he asks, looking at me.
   "Ready," I reply. And I am. Ready. Ready to jump into the unknown, take a leap of faith. Ready to face a new world, a world with him by my side.

   I wrote this little tidbit a while back on my phone. I don't remember what inspired it or prompted it; I just remember thinking it and liking it. I like the picture it paints in your head when you read it, the ambiguity. It leaves you to your imagination, let's you create the back story for the two nameless characters (I tend to do that when writing these kinds of pieces). My favorite part is the tone of optimism, how she's ready to head into the unknown with her companion who she trusts and loves. I enjoyed writing this super short story. Perhaps it offers some insight into the life I would like for myself one day: a life of happiness and excitement with someone. In any case, I was pleased with how it sounded and decided to share it.

I Want

  Humans are naturally selfish creatures. Yes they can also be generous, but they have a penchant for selfishness. Now where am I going with this? I'm not going to start going off on some deep, insightful rant about how we need to be more generous and giving. I am, however, going to discuss wants versus actions to achieve those desires.
  Whenever I talk about my future, I often start with the two words "I want". I want to become a vet. I want to travel the world. I want to marry a Brit and settle down in a nice house in the city with a cottage on the countryside. I want to own four dogs (golden retriever, Welsh corgi, dachshund, and Westie). I want to see the Northern Lights. But the question remains: what am I doing to realize these dreams? It seems like I am constantly waiting for my life to begin, to burst into life, like I can't help to jump start any of this right now. I look toward the future because it holds all of my hopes and dreams, but is there nothing I can do in the present? I feel powerless and glossed over (maybe that's the teenager in me talking). It seems like I can do nothing but wait. Wait for what? My freedom, time, money, opportunity, the liveliness of a young 20-something year old (or again, maybe my apathy is showing). But sometimes I genuinely feel like I can only sit and wait for my time to come when I can truly live my life (Rapunzel's song "When Will My Life Begin" constantly plays through my head during a time like this). I wonder what I can do to bring myself closer to achieving these goals. As an underage teenager still in high school with limited freedom, my circle of ability to transcend my current state of mediocrity extends no further than the boundaries of this town (or my apathy is showing again).
  But this brings me back to my original question: what can I do to achieve my goals? realize my dreams? I wonder what my life will be like, if I can actually do what I want to do, be what I want to be. Will I live up to my potential? Or will I wallow in mediocrity? Only time will tell, and my effort and actions will influence the outcome.

Literature Analysis

Far too long overdue, I know.

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

I Am Human, Really (?)

   It has come to my attention that I have been rejected under the pretense that I am not fully human. I would like to point out that this is false; I am in fact completely and 100% human. I have a human father and human mother who carried me inside her stomach for 9 months, or 8 (I came a bit early due to the fact that my mother was trying to move a couch by herself). You may take DNA samples, body scans, use metal/ technology detectors. But you will find no evidence that points to my being a partial robot. As someone who has a slight fear of robots herself (and the minute paranoia that they will find a way to take over the earth), I would not be part robot and apply for this scholarship. If I was, I would just be afraid of myself and defying the purpose of writing this essay.

The Fall

Another vignette:

As he was falling down, down, down, closer to his death, he reflected upon his life. The wind whooshed past him, and he was reminded of bicycle races down his neighborhood hill with his brother. He closed his eyes, picturing the spokes of his brother's bicycle turning around in a red blur. He was always jealous of his brother's candy apple red bike compared to his own pukey green bike. He could almost feel the too-tight helmet on his head. He opened his eyes, accepting his fate, accepting his inevitable and undeniable future of death just mere seconds away. Thirty seconds left. He took his remaining time to think about his family, his mom and dad, his frail grandmother and near-deaf grandfather. He thought about how much he loved them, how much he would miss them. He also thought about his brother and how much he missed him too. But he would see him again soon. In three, two, one. 

Standing in the Rain

The vignette I wrote in my journal, I really like it. Here it is:

The mist swirled around the young girl in a ruby red dress. Her bare toes curled around the dew covered grass. She lifted her face towards the sky, small droplets of water gently placing themselves on her rosy cheeks. She closed her eyes and slowly turned around in a circle with her arms slightly back as if she was ready to take flight. It seemed as if she was remembering something; the corners of her mouth hinted at the smallest of smiles. She opened her eyes and stood still, a single tear barely discernible among the rain drops on her gentle face. Her arms lowered, and she walked away uncertainly, uncertain of what she would do next.

Done

             

How everyone attending the quasi-educational institute of learning feels.

The Dark

   I start writing this on impulse. Despite how much I say I hate the darkness, I actually love it. I love its mysteriousness, how the moon faintly illuminates the earth below it, how it casts ominous shadows. I say I don't like the darkness, but whenever I look out the window late at night (more like the very wee hours in the morning, like 1 or 2 AM), I'm reminded of how much I actually find the night very enchanting.
   Now I don't find the dark and nighttime themselves to be all that frightening. However, like I've mentioned in a previous post, it's what lies in the shadows that scares me. As a paranoid person, I scare myself into thinking that some psycho man is going to jump out of the bushes at night and kidnap me, a thought that holds some merit. It has happened many a time in real life to a real person. And watching Criminal Minds certainly doesn't help those nagging, paranoid thoughts to subside.
   We live in a scary world, filled with insidious people who do terrible things. And children are (rightly) raised to be wary of those people. And they've learned that doing things or going out at night, especially alone, can be dangerous, as those predators lurk in the shadows. And this is what angers me, not just because they have- I have to interject here, stream of consciousness style, to say I just typed in the word 'insidious' in a different tab to find synonyms (because my limited vocabulary fails me; story of my life); and the movie titled as the same word instantly popped up; then of course the images came up too of the creepy little boy and some crazy lady with wild hair and bulging eyes. Let me tell you, it is not a very nice experience to be surprised by pictures of some demonic possessed boy and insane lady with wily hair at 1 o'clock in the morning when you're already writing about darkness and scary people!- disgusting motives but because of them, I can't take a nice moonlit stroll down the street because who the heck knows who's going to jump out at me and stab me with a knife. Call me crazy. But these stupid, treacherous, selfish, dangerous, disgusting, cowardly, embarrassing-to-the-human-race people prevent me from going out at night to enjoy the moon and its beauty. Sure, of course I can go out; it's not like these people are forcing me to stay inside. But I'd rather not risk getting kidnapped. Maybe I'm just too fearful, or perhaps too cautious. Call it what you will.
   I write to vent my frustrations with the world, to (stupidly, naively) hope that someday it will change. World peace, or something like that. I sound like a Miss America contestant answering the question, "What is the one thing our society needs?" And I sweetly answer, "World peace," *rolls my eyes* But hopefully in the future, kids won't have to be afraid of the night predators that hide in the dark corners and crevices. They can walk freely without the darting eyes, the nagging thought, the paranoid feeling that someone will jump out and throw them in a van. Again, call me crazy.

Lit Terms: List 3

List 3:

Literature Analysis #1 (2nd Semester)

Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller

Do It While I Still Can

   For a while now, I've been interested in fashion: fashion styling, designing, merchandising. And I always thought it would be so much fun to make a career out of it. However, I like to call myself a realist, and I know how extremely difficult it is to become successful in the fashion industry. So my other plan is to be a veterinarian, hopefully work overseas, make my way into rehabilitation, endangered animals. And I thought that my Big Project could revolve around fashion because I predict that this will be the last time in a long time that I can do something like this.