Read Our New Writers for a New Year!

Remember to read all of the selections for this month --   comments are for this latest group only (no earlier months/submissions, or last year's submissions)  NO ANONYMOUS COMMENTS.  Be sure your name is attached or included in the text book with your comment.

All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this group  (January writers).  Everyone is required to comment on at least three different pieces of writing.  You must post the comment here on the blog (below the post is the "comments" link to click) AND cut and paste your comments, complete with dates and times, on to a Word document and turn it in to me by February 8.  You must do both to get credit for comments this month.

Remember, comments must be positive, supportive, constructive, and SPECIFIC.  No "Good Job!" comments, unless you follow that with specific things you thought were done well in the piece.  Show them you actually took the time to read and enjoy their work!

"How to Eat Cereal" by Cedric P

I notice that our society completely eats cereal in the worst possible way and it’s
incredibly disappointing, in my opinion. If you treat cereal as a snack or a last resort, due to whining about how you have nothing else to eat for breakfast, then you are very wrong. It is a delicacy and an art form. 

The first step to a 10/10 experience is to pick your cereal. Honestly, I really don’t care what any of you choose, but the type depends completely on the type of person you are. Your preference should represent you, and you only. If you’re a very traditional and simple human being that always has a routine and obtains a strong work ethic for a successful future, you probably enjoy Cheerios. If you have a reserved and quiet personality, where you’re always to yourself and seem to have no desire for social interaction, yet you sneak out at 2 AM every night to go to a party, you probably eat Rice Krispies. If you have no idea what you’re going to become in life and you bundle yourself in a ball in your room for hours, thinking that you’ll live on the street as an adult, you’ll probably enjoy a nice and delicious bowl of Captain Crunch. 

Moreover, there isn’t a single difference between name brand and off brand cereals, except that some of you think just because a box has a popular brand name, it’s better. You probably choose to pick name brands because you don’t want your friends to know what kind of cheap human being you are, and that’s totally fine. 

The second step is to pour your cereal into a bowl. Again, you pour your cereal into the bowl FIRST. This step is very crucial, considering some simple-minded kids today choose to pour their cereal AFTER their milk. The fact that these sick individuals on this planet believe milk is poured in first gives me anxiety. If you or a loved one has the “Milk First” mindset, please make an appointment with their doctor as soon as possible. If you put the milk in first, your whole cereal portion will float to the very top of your bowl and your 10/10 experience is ruined for the whole meal and will only be decreased to about a 6. Especially for you Rice Krispies lovers out there, cereal goes in first to enjoy that Snap, Crackle, Pop! 

After successfully pouring the cereal first, you pour the milk AFTER. Again, you pour the milk AFTER. The emphasis on this step is very crucial to a healthy and happy planet to live on. Now when it comes to this step, everyone has a personal preference: Skimmed, Almond, Soy, Organic, Whole, 2%, Lowfat. However, if you are Lactose Intolerant, please proceed with caution. Then again, stores do offer Lactose-Free milk and yes, you can still have that 10/10 experience if you pour in Lactose-Free. If your milk is expired, DO NOT POUR. If your milk appears to be either clear or orange, DO NOT POUR, as it may be water or orange juice. Furthermore, do not attempt to pour any kind of soda or alcohol in your cereal, as your meal may be a little bland. 

After pouring the cereal FIRST, and the milk AFTER, you can consider adding toppings. No one will judge you if you do, as it is your personal meal and preference. Fruit, such as bananas or blueberries, are perfect add-ons to your experience and can make the meal even healthier. If by any chance you see yourself adding other toppings, such as sprinkles or chocolate

syrup, might as well throw the whole bowl away and travel as far away from the cereal community as possible, as you are not welcome here. 

While eating, make sure you eat at your own pace. You want to savor every flavor and every bite of your meal. Your cereal does not want to be rushed and wants to feel needed. Also, do not use other utensils other than a spoon; I can tell some of you tried using a knife or fork and it shows. Once you’re done eating, you may have extra milk left in your bowl. You have many options: you can drink the milk, or if you want to be that ungrateful hag that wastes food, you can throw it away. Do not think the extra milk at the bottom is an excuse to add more cereal, you will regret it. Again, adding cereal on top of the milk is the most shameful and embarrassing thing to do. I would rather you be the wasteful hag that pours the excess milk down the drain than you considering pouring more cereal over milk like a disgusting pig. 

Your cereal is not some bland and simple snack you can just mindlessly throw together in a minute or so. It requires your deep love and affection, your extreme focus and patience, and your desire to better our society. Construct your cereal as if you’re feeding it to a King or Queen or as if your life depends on it. The moment you lose sight of the beauty of your cereal is the moment you lose sight of yourself.

"I’m Ready " by Mason S

TODAY’S THE BIG DAY. It is the day I have been dreading about and waited for painstakingly for the past six weeks. It was FRIDAY. FRIDAY, December 14th, 2018. Saying the date itself gave me the chills, much like the day of bad luck, FRIDAY the 13th. Or it might as well have been February 14th (Valentine’s Day) to make my first rejection more dramatic. My heart was pounding. The results are announced 3 pm Eastern time, which is noon here. I waited for the bell to ring for fourth period, signifying lunch time. 

“What will I find in the end? Would I like the results? Was the hard work I put in enough? Will I be overjoyed, or will I be disappointed?” 

Pulling out my phone, I slowly typed in my email and password, my fingers trembling with every tap as my friends chatted out loud and betted on my fate. This is it. The moment that I, my friends, and family have been waiting for. I opened up the electronic mail, my eyes rapidly darting towards my name and the first word. I read it over and over almost a dozen times to make sure my eyes did not deceive me, knowing that everyone is watching and waiting for me to spill the beans. I can hardly believe it. “Congratulations!” The first word that met my eyes. I read a few more words. “You have been accepted into Johns Hopkins Class of 2023!” 

The next few moments were easy to remember but hard to recollect my thoughts, as all I was suddenly attacked by a torrent of cheers and shouts of congratulations that my friends screamed at me, to the astonishment and shrieks of awe my parents sputtered at the other end of the phone. I have done it-Johns Hopkins University-all those years of hard work, stress, and sleep deprivation have finally brought me the day of a bountiful harvest. One of my friends joked around that I will abandon the friend group, and I shrugged it off and laughed. Another told me that I looked to some extent dumbfounded, or maybe a little too stiff and serious. I laughed it off, saying I was just still shocked from what I just discovered and that I will feel more thrilled and beyond content during the weekend. I couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Although I received this wonderful news, I couldn’t help but feel an upsurge of other mixed feelings bouncing around in my train of thought. A new series of questions sprang up, ones that felt sharp and hard no matter which angle I asked myself. I will be facing a new, much more competitive learning environment with some of the most hard working and accomplished students from all states and other countries. Will my hard work be considered ‘enough’ there? Or a better question is, will I still excell in my major there, just as well as I am doing in high school now? Moreover, Johns Hopkins University is at Baltimore, Maryland. Will I be able to survive the very different climate of Maryland? I will be leaving California, the state that I have lived in my 17 years of existence. I will be leaving the realm that I understood too much all these years. I will be leaving my warm family and close friends. I will be leaving everything behind except memories of the laughter, fun times, and support that I had with them. Although a dream became a reality, I can’t help but notice how bittersweet this moment would become. Although I won’t

be graduating in for a couple of months, these thoughts made me fancy as if I will leave in a few weeks. 

Thinking about these questions and uncertainties has made me realize that I am going through molting. As I look back, I realize that this marks a new stage of my life, and that I will eventually overcome these challenges, just as I did before in high school. Even though the reality of leaving is bitter but temporary, the memories I keep are sweet and lasting. I’ve realized that new beginnings are not all that frightening so long as I stay positive and true towards myself. Whether I’m anxious or not, I am going to have to face my new horizon and set my goals/achievements at Johns Hopkins. I am not afraid. I will embrace this opportunity. Johns Hopkins, I am ready for you. I’ll see you this fall of 2019.

"Effort" by Jacob R

Of all the group projects that were assigned as a class grade that I was apart of, the most interesting one had to be in my sophomore year when Exploravision was assigned for honors chemistry. It was one of the few group projects that involved competition from all over the United States with a grand prize for the top three groups that participated. The goal was to come up with the best innovative idea that could better improve the world envisioned in the next twenty years. Necessary subjects that were required to be mentioned included research in technology and describing the steps it would take for it to become a reality along with the pros and cons and the obstacles that came with it. This was certainly a competitive project, but my group and I did not take it as seriously as the teachers intended it to be.
On September of 2016, the assignment was given to us. My group consisted of me and three other friends who at first felt like the assignment could have care towards it. There was a Saturday Talon that followed the first day it was assigned and my group and I felt like putting some effort into it. The effort is taking time to brainstorm an idea that seemed very much impossible and trying to force it to be possible. The first idea involved the use of perpetual motion, a concept of an everlasting motion that somehow didn’t require energy or a force to keep a device in motion. The idea started out like a light that led us to believe that it was the idea that should be accepted and any rejections towards it should be wrong. My friend who originally brought it up became the most excited as this theory had the capability to revolutionize how we use energy by using a source that is capable of providing endless generated power. Unfortunately, it was completely shot down by others who felt like it was physically impossible for such a device to exist, and the internet sources that we found strongly supports their argument. The likelihood of that concept being a reality is the same as “...dumping a bucket of

water onto a pit of fire and the water freezing as an outcome.” From that point on, we felt like it was better to careless towards the assignment and place more care into other classes assignments and other activities that we felt that mattered more to us. Some upperclassmen who have completed it gave us life-changing advice when doing such tasks. They said, “The amount of effort that should be put into something should be proportionate to how much you care about that something.” With this in mind, we came to a better idea for the topic of our project. We all agreed it was better, more functional, more realistic, and also most likely already accomplished by some company or a man in engineering. It was just a masterpiece that only high intellectuals could think of. The new and improved idea was to attach a couple of floaties to buildings when there’s a flood to make them float somehow.
It was brilliant. It required thought-provoking intelligence that only a person who takes over thirty-minute showers or lays in bed staring at the ceiling for at least two hours could think of. The concept originated from the idea of tossing a jumper house into a pool and seeing it float. Although this used the maximum amount of brain cells to even think of such an innovation, we put the least amount of effort into it. For every deadline, we started and completed each task five minutes before it was due. For every explanation that was required for the pros and cons, we typed a page of something within a minute. For every picture that was needed to be drawn, we sketched a simple two-dimensional house sinking in water. If we felt like we shouldn’t care about the assignment or at least care enough to get that A, then we should give it the same amount of effort. That’s when I learned how to manage and distribute my effort into a variety of tasks.

When the results did eventually come back to us, we were notified that our team actually got an award for it. It wasn’t the top three, but it was an honorable mention from the program. When we received the award, we all looked at each other in absolute shock since we had very little care towards this project. We knew there were ideas that were more complex, had more utilization, and contained actual care towards the project. Others who knew about our idea were also surprised. With the assignment, we learned that certain tasks should require certain amounts of effort depending on our will to care for it. Too much effort may not be worth it in the end, and putting too little effort is just careless. Instead, it should be distributed based on the number of tasks at hand and how much each one matters to the individual.

"Untitled, 2019 " by Angelina L

Everyone changes, it’s only natural for this to occur. From the growth of maturity to just liking something different we have seen it all. The experiences we have dealing with change can be frightening but can also lead us to a new chapter in our lives. In the span of four short high school years, each year being different, I have evolved into a newer version of myself. But I can’t say that each version is good.
The start of high school, freshman year proved to be the year that I had a bubbly personality and was also naive and lazy. Not the best version of myself I’d say. Coming out of middle school with straight A’s left me a bit arrogant. With the idea that I was “too good” for prep classes I took on the challenge of all honors classes. This is where the naivete kicks in. I thought that I could get by just paying attention in class and not practicing and doing the homework, gosh I was wrong. My laziness crept in like a ghost when it came to academics. During this time I had no care in the world.
Sophomore year was not much a change from the previous year except that I now knew that school was a priority. One year older and one year wiser this is where fifteen-year-old Angelina became a more diligent worker. Compared to the previous year it was an obvious change in work ethic and determination that led me to earn a 4.0 GPA at the end of the second semester of sophomore year.
Junior year was the year of change. I became a realist and a hypocrite. I became a hypocrite by starting to play the game called League of Legends, which I used to call “League of Losers.” Not my finest moment in life but hey it’s actually a fun game. The past two years I felt like I was still a kid but the realization of college coming soon hit me like a wrecking ball. As opposed to the earlier years, my overall outlooks on life changed drastically. Here I acted like an adult, thinking “What would mom and dad do?” instead of jumping the gun which I normally would have done. Maturity sprouted from this year. 2018 was the start of a year that left an emotional mark on my heart. February two of my closest friends were hit by a car and in June my great grandfather passed away. This caused me to close myself off from the world. I was not as opened as I used to be and I kept to myself most of the time. Faking a smile became easier and lying was just another pastime.
Oh, senior year... This I’d say has been quite an experience so far. For starters, I never in a million years would have thought that I would get into KPOP but the world has a way of surprising you. Once more I am a hypocrite because I made fun of it only a few months ago. My obsession with KPOP got to the point where I learned how to read the language... And again not my finest moment but what can you do. I still have the maturity I developed junior year and I also still keep to myself. Despite being around many friends I still don’t have the ability to talk about how I’m feeling. At this point, it’s easier to keep quiet and listen as opposed to expressing how I feel. What new changes that aren’t so new that I have developed is senioritis, which is basically my laziness coming back to bite me. I find it hard to pay attention in class these days and give up when something is at the level of “good enough.”
One thing that still hasn’t changed from freshman year is my bubbly personality. I’m pretty sure this will stick with me for the rest of my life knowing that I’m a person who enjoys being happy and making others happy. I want to say that for the most part, I think I’ve developed into a mesh of both good and bad traits. I guess this just leaves room for more growth.

"Choosing and Cooking Instant Ramen" by Alex L

Instant ramen. It’s a food that too many of us are intimately familiar with. Maybe it's because we have too little time to eat other food, too tired and hungry to care, or maybe just because you like it, almost everyone eats it. As an instant ramen connoisseur, I felt it within my duty to document an instructional guide on making instant ramen and helping impoverished souls with enhancing their experience.
First and foremost is deciding the ramen. This is the most important part since some brands are better than others. This is highly dependent on personal preference though so you may or may not agree with me. Priorities include pricing, flavor and taste, convenience as well as amount. For pricing, nothing beats Top Ramen. 



The king of price in the world of instant ramen, Top Ramen is notorious for the pennies it costs. A quick google search finds that a single pack costs as little as $0.30. When calculating the per unit cost from a 48 pack, each one costs only $0.18. And yet, for its price, these noodles practically set the baseline for all other instant noodles in the world. Not too chewy or soft, as

well as still providing good enough broth and flavor, these ramen are perfect for those can’t afford better.
Convenience is next on the list. These instant ramen brands are characterized by their containers and/or apparatus that allows them to be easily cooked with either boiling water or a microwave. Unlike other ramens, these do not require the use of a pot and separate bowl to eat in; instead they come in their own. Brands that sell these include the ever popular Cup Noodle, Bowl Noodles from Nongshim, and Maruchan. 

What these noodles make up in convenience though, they lack in agreeable pricing and size. Using Cup Noodles as the baseline, a single unit costs $0.89, almost triple the price of Top Ramen. Additionally, these cup/bowl contraptions leave little room for extra additions such as eggs, vegetables, or other toppings.
We now reach the the mid-tier and high-tier ramen. While these instant ramens are still within anyone’s price range, they are significantly better in taste and texture and occasionally come with a significant selling point. Most popularly, these include the Samyang ramen, known for their extreme spiciness levels. 

Apart from unique selling points, this tier also features ramen such as Nongshim Shin Ramyun Black, Gookmul Knight Of Ribs, Sapporo Ichiban Tonkotsu Ramen Artificially Flavored Tonkotsu White Chicken Broth. All these ramen are high tier and can easily be enjoyed alone. 

The Actual Cooking
The actual instructional portion of this blog post, and quite probably the shortest. The cooking process is dependent on the type of noodles as stated above; some only require a microwave or boiling water, while others require a pot and stove. 

Cup/Bowl

Cooking these types of instant ramens are the easiest, only requiring a microwave and boiling water. Simply fill either boiling water or room temperature water to the indicated line as directed: 

If boiling water is used, place an object on the opened flap to ensure steam doesn’t escape and the noodles can cook properly. Otherwise, if a microwave is used, microwaving for 2:30 minutes will ensure an al-dente texture while microwaving for 3:30-4:00 will create soft noodles. This is heavily dependent on the microwave used and personal preference so cook them to the consistency you prefer.
Packs
Instant ramen that comes in packs must instead be cooked using a pot and stove. These require extra prep work but almost always provide greater choice and flavor. Firstly, grab a pot and fill it up with water. If you want to the noodles to be as flavorful as possible, use WAY less water than you’d imagine as the noodles will soak in the broth. Then, simply place on the stove and leave it on high until the water comes to a boil. 

Once the water begins boiling we can start adding the ramen. Open the pack and find the seasoning packet it comes with, dumping it all into the pot. Afterwards, drop in the noodles. 

At this point, further additions can be made to upgrade your noodle experience. My personal list includes different vegetables such as tomatoes and bok choy as well as an egg, but feel free to add anything you think would go well. I personally like adding some sesame oil and chicken bouillon(no there isn’t enough salt) into mine to make the broth taste even better while others have tried even crazier combinations like cheese, peanut butter, or Tajin. 

And that’s the end to my guide. Hopefully you’ve learned to more thoroughly appreciate the gift of the heavens that is instant ramen as well as the possibilities with it. An easy dish to make, upgrading your ramen with Spam or some romaine lettuce makes it taste even better. I hope my instructional guide has open a new chapter in your instant ramen journey and, if not, here are some pictures of instant ramen for you to salivate over.

"Untitled" by Sandra S

Five, six, seven, breathe! 

The morning sky was cloudy, and the air was cold, reading 52 degrees fahrenheit. As gloomy as the day appeared, the events following the day would be ingrained in my head as some of the happiest memories I have ever experienced. 

I arrived at Ben’s house at 7:30 A.M. with increasing concern that he was not picking up after several phone calls or answering the front door after knocking hundreds of times. Following a series of panicked text messages and additional phone calls with the other members of our group in regards to his whereabouts, a sleepy Ben looked outside the window, to which I responded by yelling at him to hurry up and get his things. Chuckling to myself with amusement, I messaged our group, “He overslept!” 

Despite the error of Ben’s ways, I was relieved to find that we still arrived at the Redlands University Chapel quite early --- about fifteen minutes before 9:00. Entering the chapel, the room was darkened, yet still dimly lit from the few rays of sunlight hitting the glass. By the time our conductor motioned the downbeat at 9:00, where everyone was situated in their seats and warmed up, bright and warm rays of sunlight hit the black and white notes through the colorful stained glass from the windows, and the massive portrait of Jesus Christ and his apostles behind the ensemble came to life with vivid colors of red, blue, yellow and green. 

To say that I loved the concert repertoire is an understatement. These were some of the best and most challenging pieces I ever got to rehearse and eventually perform. For the last time before the concert that was to follow five hours later, I basked in the exciting fast sixteenth-note runs of “Vanity Fair” by Percy Fletcher, the slow intensity of “Sheltering Sky” by John Mackey, the mysteriousness of “Eternal Memoir: Saga of the Lucky Dragon” by Hirokazu Fukushima, and the regality of “The White Rose March” by John Philip Sousa. 

After our final rehearsal, my friends Ben and Ryan, who I have known since middle school and met through music, walked the grassy courtyard in front of the chapel. Us three walked side-by-side down the leaf-carpeted sidewalks lined with large and grand trees, reminiscing and laughing about past middle school memories. I recall looking at them and marvelling at how much they have grown since sixth grade. We unknowingly walked a long distance, and we each looked back behind us to see the chapel way behind us and shrunken in size. We walked back to my parents’ car when they arrived to pick us up, innocently counting how many cemented squares that were placed on the sidewalks we strolled over. 

The sun had set and the sky was streaked with pink clouds amidst a blue and purple sky. Our group of Etiwanda musicians arrived back to the chapel and we transformed from casual

street clothes to sleek, black and elegant tuxedos and concert gowns. Taking our seats in the audience, the high school honor ensemble watched and listened to the elementary and middle school ensembles, and the students from my old middle school amongst the group of etiwanda students were hit with a wave of nostalgia to hear the younger ensembles play pieces from when we were beginner musicians.
When it was finally time for the high school ensemble to perform, I felt the familiar sensation of adrenaline running through my body that always came before any performance. The stage lights shined bright on our faces, the air felt heavier, and the audience seemed far away as they were shadowed in the darkness. As I brought my instrument to my lips, I geared to perform my best, and I savored every moment of every piece we played through. Looking back at recordings of our performance, each and every member moved with certain body language that communicated unison soul and passion for music. 

My experience in the 2018 San Bernardino County Honor Band with the other thirteen students from Etiwanda High School is, to this day, one of the most prominent experiences of where I can remember why I love playing and performing music so much. Not only has music led me to create wonderful memories and friends that have lasted me for years, but it has also granted me the opportunity to illustrate and communicate my heartfelt emotions for music towards others, who I hope were able to feel the same way about music the way I do.

"New View" by Joshua P

Continuing on through the struggles is harder than just leaving it to fate, but then again
what is the point of life if one doesn’t persevere even through the hardest of times. These were my thoughts when one of the most tragic things in my life ever happened. I feel the need to warn some of the readers about what I’m about to say because it might bring back some unpleasant memories of the day, but know that I have the purest of intentions when I tell this story. It was an odd and heavy thursday morning when I had woken up from a restless night due to a jam packed night of homework. The air seemed gentle and warm, but the atmosphere didn’t feel right, but me thinking it was nothing went about my daily routine of getting ready for school. When I had arrived at school I noticed that my usual friend group wasn’t were they always hung out so once again in this instant I felt the warmth of the wind, but also a very heavy pressure on mind much like the one, one would Imagine if they had started swimming to the bottom of the sea to scuba dive and the pressure just began to slowly build up. I had arrived entered my first period class and didn’t see my partner in front of me anywhere so I took it as he might have been sick. A couple minutes later he arrived and his faced seemed really red and there was something in the way he walked and sat down and completely ignored my initial try at a hello that made me feel really uneasy due to the previous feelings in the morning. I see him walk to our teacher and explain something to her and she gets somewhat serious, but not to the extent where the whole

class notices but enough for me to see a change in her features. After a while he returns to his seat and puts his head down and our teacher goes on with the lesson. After first period had ended i tried asking him what was bothering him but he refused to give me an answer but instead apologized for not saying hi back and gave me a handshake. In that moment where we were exchanging handshakes i felt his hands tremble as if he had a fever and were stuck in bed because of it. After that I walked to my second period where I still felt fine but weirded out by that transaction between him. Towards the end of class our teacher gives us our homework and sometime to do a bit of it in order to receive help from her on questions we need clarification on. During that time our teacher receives an email and goes to check, but with her I couldn’t see a change in her facial expression so it was much harder to tell if something serious had happened or if it was just something that she needed to read. As she finished reading she told the whole class that there would be a morning announcement during third period and that no other information was given to her in regards to what the news could be so as I left her class my worries began to expand due to the multiple possibilities of something bad happening because of the vibes I had been receiving all day. When arriving to third period, everything seemed fine until ssr was over, after that my reality became a complete disbelief in the world. Mr.Jaramillo had begun his morning announcements, but as opposed to the cheerful and somewhat monotone voice, he began with a heavy inhale of breath and began to tell us that Julius Gallardo had died. My initial reaction was total disbelief and I immediately looked around at my peers to see if any of them had similar thoughts to me and to my reassurance they were all dumb struck. The rest of the period we were left to do nothing because of the news, but to me I just couldn’t register the thought of it. I went over various scenarios in which he could have died, but none were helping

my cause that he had died peacefully. The following period I just sat in my chair absent minded listening to music. I’m glad no one tried to talk to me during that time because I would have either snapped at them or cried for no reason. Then, my last period had arrived and it was AP Physics. I still thinking that none of this was real, expected him to be there sitting at his desk that was one person ahead of me and two to the left and due to their being not enough people in the class I always had a good view of him. It was at this moment that all my built up feelings came out and began crying and not that light cry when your parents used to scold you when you were little, but that cry when you lose someone close to you and the sudden realization that that person will never be able to conversate with you even if it is about how communism should be our government's plan of action. All those sudden memories of how he had helped me in honors history and how he was able to help me barely pass it with a C+ because of a last minute test study session. My mind had shut down and was only open to sadness and weeping, my body slumped in my chair almost all of that period until I remembered that there were others in that class that knew him even more than I did and I immediately got up and went to go comfort them as if we were a family. After that period the school was holding a section of the gym open for anyone looking for mental help and they also had multiple posters in which we could write our last messages to him. After the day was over I went to the car were my dad was awaiting, yes I’m a senior with no car and still get picked up by mama and papa, and once again I wept and explained to him what had happened. He comforted me as best he could, but he only made me cry more because of the things he was saying and he also helped me realize something that at the moment I didn’t. You see that was only the story that changed my perspective on life, but in reality it was bad for me. In my own head I was beginning to feel as though things were piling up

on me at school, work, and my social life which clearly wasn’t good for my mental health. I was beginning to imagine a life were I didn’t exist only because I thought I was a burden to others. I was beginning to have a set up mind on whether or not it really meant anything that I was on this earth. I had seriously and most disappointingly thought about killing myself in order to alleviate the burden of trying to be good in a world that is evil at times it needs not to be. I decided to not tell anyone because if I did they would make a commotion and I really don’t like getting unwanted attention. When it was revealed to me that Julius had done what I had been planning on doing sometime in the future, I instantaneously got rid of that thought for various reasons. One is because I saw all the pain and suffering that it had brought on other students and friends of his and me so I would never wish that upon anyone even my worst enemies. Secondly, I dreaded the thought of leaving my parents to deal with the constant reminder that their son died on their watch, and that they were responsible for it when in reality they had no control over it because of my discreteness with my feelings. Lastly, I felt like there was more to life than just giving up the moment my life became hard, because I am pretty sure that Julius was going through a lot more than anyone of us could have imagined and he probably couldn’t support it any longer and he caved in. He taught me a lesson before, the day of, and after his suicide that I must continue to move on in life because I now know that whatever hardship I am going through, it can’t amount to others who are going through it even more rough in life than I am and that if they can keep going then so can I!

"Untitled" by Bill N

Phở is widely known across the world as the most popular and national dish of Vietnam, their multiple variants of the dish as with any other dish. Phở to me is home, it is a reminder of my childhood when I was still living in Ho Chi Minh City and only a small part of the vast cultural heritage of Vietnam as a whole. In its purest form, Phở is a bowl of rice noodles with different cuts of beef (sometimes chicken) in hot broth made from the biggest bones you could find at the supermarket. Originally, phở was created in the northern capital of Hanoi from the remnants of the French take over of Vietnam but was widespread to the southern city of Ho Chi Minh City. During the rise in popularity in the south, the dish went to a drastic change separating the dish into a northern style which is less flavorful, simple, and completely inferior in every way. The style that all of us are used to in the U.S. is of course the over the top southern style of phở, which packs flavor in every spoon and flooded with meat. The southern style will always have a place in my heart as I grew up eating it everyday before school for breakfast, after school lunch, and for dinner. Most of you reading have probably had phở before at a restaurant but let me tell you when I say what you had is definitely nothing like the real authentic version of it so here I am presenting my own family’s take on the dish and don’t be afraid to make mistakes, the dish requires a lot of labor and is much harder than it looks. 

Ingredients:

• -  6 Big beef bones
  
• -  1 and a half Ginger , cut into halves
  
• -  1 White onion , peeled and cut into halves
  
• -  Salt (add to taste)
  
• -  2 Star anise (put them into a cheesecloth or herb bag)
  
• -  10 cups of Water
  
• -  2 tblspoons of Fish sauce (add to taste)
  
• -  Rice noodles
  
• -  1 pound of Flank, Brisket, Oxtail, Steak (any of these will work)
  Garnishes:
  

• -  Cilantro
  
• -  Bean Sprouts
  
• -  Lime wedges
  
• -  Hoisin sauce
  
• -  Sriracha
  
• -  Green onions
  
• -  Basil
  Cooking instructions:
  

1. In a large pot, place all your bones and meat into it and fill the pot with water, bring the pot to a boil (around 15-20 mins)
   
2. Drain out the pot and rinse the bones and meat of any scum and impurities (this step is especially important to not having a cloudy phở broth by the end and don’t worry about losing flavor because the bones haven’t gotten to the stage of breaking down)
   

3. Take your onions, star anise and ginger, roast them on a saucepan until the star anise and ginger are nicely roasted, while the onion is browned and soft to the touch. (By doing this, they add umami and flavor to the broth, while also making it extremely aromatic, THIS STEP IS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT)
   
4. Place your bones, meat, onions, ginger, star anise, fish sauce, and water all back into the cooking pot and bring it to a boil.
   
5. After the pot is boiling, turn the heat down so that the bones can cook low and slow for maximum flavor (Keep it cooking for about 8 hours at a minimum and 12 hours at a maximum, the longer it is cooking the deeper the flavor)
   
6. Occasionally check on your pot, mixing it around every time and taste the broth. (Salt to taste)
   

Prepping the Bowl:
1. Remove the meat from the pot and slice it into manageable bite sized pieces
2. In another smaller pot, bring water to a boil and cook the noodles to your liking then
place it into a big bowl
3. Place your slices of meat down and pour the boiling hot broth into the bowl
4. Garnish your bowl of delicious phở with bean sprouts, cilantro, basil, lime, hoisin and
sriracha sauce, and green onions (this step is completely optional, it is to your
preference)
5. There’s nothing left to do but to enjoy a delicious bowl of your hard work.
P.S. - Personally I like to eat my phở in its purest form without anything else other than how it is served, you shouldn’t ruin 8 hours of hard work by pouring sriracha and hoisin into it without even tasting the original broth but everyone likes different things so this is just how I prefer to eat.
That concludes my recipe for arguably one of the best dishes in the entire world, I hope you guys enjoy making it and finally getting to have an authentic eating experience.

"Broken Glass" by Joshua K

The day is November 9th of 2018. Bright, luming rays of sunshine come through my
windows as I lie in bed, not yet awoken to begin the day. For a brief moment, when I open my eyes, the bliss of such a beautiful day overshadows the journey ahead. In that moment, I merely acknowledge my surroundings and feel the blessings of another day. 

Following a long and contemplative shower, I embark on my journey. Phone calls are coming in left and right. I, myself, take the liberty of answering every single one so that my sister does not endure the hardships of such conversation. “What happened?” , “I can’t believe it!” , “Just a week ago we had a conversation...”. Disbelief and misunderstanding fills my ears for hours as I call aunts, cousins, friends. All these people without a clue of what had just happened or why. The day before, my mother, April Kidwell, had lost her life to the effects of poor decisions. 

These people did not see nor hear any of the hardship I had endured. They merely “sympathize” and move on. These people were not around when the mountain lions were on the roof. These people were not around when there were ghosts in the house. These people were not around when we almost drove off of the freeway because she was so heavily intoxicated. These people did not live the life I had. If they had just known or seen the pain and suffering she had endured, we all may have made a difference. If I could’ve been the son she needed, maybe she would’ve stopped living so fast. 
 Although, then again, one must not live off of what-ifs. 

From birth to the moment my mom’s heart no longer beat, I was there. Feeling the heat leave from the body of somebody you once loved is undescribable. All the moments and memories ever created with that person remain but the toll of the loss is immense. Unfortunately, as I have begun to find out, even the memories do not always reside positively. Frequent nightmares of the breathing machines and heart monitors continue to haunt me. Once during class I had even heard a noise similar to the machines which led me closely towards a panic attack. They say “bad memories fade”, but they are still, to this day, prevalent. 

Growing up, Mom was the one who taught me habits for school that I still use to this day. I remember her quizzing me with flashcards for multiplication. Cigarette in one hand and flash card in the other. To many, the thought of cigarettes around children is horrendous, but my mom was always avoiding when she could. After all, a nicotine addiction does need its fill regardless of situation. Among the use of cigarettes throughout my life, Mom fell upon many other substances for a crutch. 

Methamphetamine, vicodin, and alcohol all played a role in her declining state. Although beating both the meth and the vicodin with rehabilitation, alcohol became her eventual demise. Of all her poisonous habits, she still had the biggest heart of anybody you would ever know. I recall once her giving a new friend $600 to borrow for a “head start”. Although I warned her of bad intentions, her heart and willingness to believe in others overshadowed her fear of loss. As I feared, my mother never saw that money again. 

Today and everyday forward, I think of my mom. From time to time I look at a picture of me and my parents before the divorce and downward spiral. My mom has her arms around her little boy, protecting him as she always had. I smile and think of the good times we both shared. The jokes, cooking, even the TV shows we shared in watching all fill my mind. I am grateful she

gave the time to her children and gave all she could for her children. The harsh reality I had to face occurred to me in a church at the hospital. My uncle, Mom’s brother Wade, said to me “she hasn’t been happy for a long time”. In that moment above all else, the reality of the situation set in. I knew it was time. 

My sister, the next of kin to my mother, was the sole bearer of the decision to metaphorically “pull the plug”. Me, Brianna (my sister), and my Mom’s boyfriend at the time (Jason), all decided it was the right thing to do. Mom had been on what they call “all means necessary” treatment. She was maxed out on medication, breathing tube treatment, everything. The doctor, whom I disliked very much, had given us one alternative which would be a temporary fix with an extremely high risk of bleeding out. Even if she had survived, she would’ve been disabled for the rest of her life. With disability in mind and the ass-kicking that would ensue if she were to survive in such a manner, we knew Mom’s decision and took action. They removed the medication and turned off the heart monitor noise so as not to cause more trauma. We all watched her rate drop. From 100, to 70, to 50, the process was depressing and very extensive. There was by no means a rush for Mom to pass but the slow decline was by far much worse than any movie has ever depicted. There is no mere plug pull. There is no immediate death. There is just a long, solemn line that gets closer, and closer to flattening. When the nurse came in and declared Mom dead, tears rang out from almost all whom encompassed the room. The only two not crying were me and Brianna. Not because we were not sad or because we did not care, but rather we were relieved for Mom to finally be at peace. We knew that the declaration of death meant Mom had begun her new chapter in Heaven. Regardless of what religion you may believe

in, a hope for something greater is a necessity in my eyes. Without hope, there is no reason to push forward. Without moving forward, there is no hope.

"Memories" by Alicia K

It was seven o’clock when we got to our destination, the familiar broken roads, reckless driving, and small apartment complexes welcomed us as usual. Everything was the same except the time we would usually go to San Gabriel, it was way too early for our arrival, but every family member was required to be present by 7:30. 

As we piled out of the car, it was strange, no one was running to bear hug our favorite great aunt at the front door, or formally greet our great-grandparents. Maybe it was because we weren’t at the house where I grew up at instead, we were at a small white building ten minutes away from the place that held so many memories. 

As each of us slowly walked towards the brown double doors from oldest to youngest, suddenly I heard sniffling behind me, I turned to see each of my three siblings having tears running down their faces, I didn’t understand why. I turned back around and continued walking through the doors and into the building. On both sides were rows of brown pews, I ignored everything and walked towards the front where our great grandmother was sitting, hugging a packet of tissues. Still knowing my manners, I acknowledged her as traditionally, and all my siblings followed in pursuit. 

Yet my mother did not follow the custom, she sat right in the empty seat next to our great grandmother and hugged her tightly, tears streaming down her face as well. At that moment I couldn’t comprehend the scene that was occurring, my mother and my great grandmother were never on the best terms, nor were they very fond of each other, and they both knew that. But then I realized why we were there in the first place, and why the seat next to great grandmother was empty. I looked away from the scene and towards the front of the room, and found our great grandfather. But it wasn’t actually him, it was just a picture of him in a black suit with a blank

face decorated with flowers. Behind the frame was an open casket, I didn’t need to look to know where great grandfather was really. 

Throughout the service, as the sniffling slowing went away, I still couldn’t figure out why everyone was crying. The only logical explanation I figured out was that despite all the bad blood within the family, at the end of the day they were still all considered family and made years of memories they would always cherish, especially with great grandfather.

"Almost" by Melody L

Barely

There were a lot of things that came to mind when I think about the things I barely have finished.
I barely finish my homework on time, I barely made it on time to the plane when I was moving, and I barely sorted my affairs before I moved. 

Almost

A word so similar to the word “barely” but both words are used in different instances. “Almost,”
a word so connected to “barely” but it implies a negative consequence. Almost getting a job, almost rejecting love, almost making it in life. But, I know that almost achieving love is the worst.
I guess in the end, whose fault is it if love never existed in the first place? “... Therefore, we can’t be together anymore.” 

He blinked at me twice. I checked my phone for the time; I had five hours before my flight. I stared back at him. The atmosphere stayed the same. It was as if he expected me to say that to him a day before I left. I guess barely made it. He didn’t say anything, instead, all he did was nod and leave my apartment. After he walked out of my red door and I heard the familiar click of the door closing, I got up straight away to prepare for my flight to my new home. I hop into the shower, feeling a sensation of relief as the lukewarm water hit my head. Regretfully, a million new thoughts flooded my head as my shower dragged on. 

What’s his family like?
What does he do for a living nowadays?
What is his favorite color?
I know we’ve been together for long, but how many years has it been? When did we become strangers? 

We barely talked at night this year, but some time last year we almost talked everyday. Or was it last year we barely talked? Or was it two years before we almost talked everyday? I guess we have grown so apart until we both turned cold. 

I quickly hop out of the shower and change into comfortable clothes. To keep myself busy, I folded and folded the clothes in my luggage. I checked my phone for the time and I noticed a notification from him that read:
“Thank you for the past 7 years” 

The time told me that I had half an hour before my driver was here to pick me up. I just played on my phone until my driver texted me:
“Here, black toyota convertible.”
I looked outside and responded with “Okay.” 

After I situated myself in the backseat of the car, the driver turns around with a smile and offers me a can of soda. I accept it and drink it with gratitude. After his kind gesture he created small-talk until we got to the airport. I found out his name was Frederick and he absolutely adored talking about his wife and kids.
After checking in, I waited for my flight patiently. I listened to music and browsed social media. When my mind began to numb from looking at the screen for too long, I looked around. As I observed the empty spaces next to me, I wondered when the warmth of his presence ended. I guess the answer was that I can live well without him. 

I shake my thoughts away and realize that I needed to board the plane. After a rush of time, chaos and turbulence, I start to head to my new home. I almost never made it. I sit closely to the window and look out. My vision began to become unfocused as I began to think about him again. 

A million of empty memories filled my mind while I sat comfortably in the silence of the plane. Were we really smiling? Were we really in love? Why did we stay if scars get deeper over time? What did I give to you and what did I take from you? Was breaking up really a lost? 

I blinked twice and tears flooded down my face. Whose fault is it if love never existed in the first place?