"Summer Days in Europe" by Samantha G

The wheels touched down in Manchester, and a ripple of excitement buzzed through the team. It was the start of something new. A trip that had us, a group of soccer enthusiasts who were teammates, coming together to experience Summer days in Europe. While the purpose of the trip was to train, play, and win, it was difficult to ignore the fact that, for now, we were simply teammates here for this sole purpose. I didn’t know then that the girls around me would soon become my sisters.

The first few days flew by. We spent our time on the field, running drills and perfecting plays in the crisp English air, as we prepped for games against local teams. Gaining knowledge and tips from the academy coaches. We explored the streets of Manchester, taking in the historic sceneries, along with the atmosphere of a city that breathes fútbol, the proper way of saying Soccer. London was our next stop, with its iconic stadiums and vibrant streets, but it wasn’t until we touched down in Madrid that I felt the real magic of the trip beginning to unfold.

Madrid’s warmth and humidity hit me as soon as I stepped off the plane along with the sun, the energy of the city, and the buzzing language that allowed me to fit right in. I felt alive, after the gloomy days in England where we all had lost our Summer tan. This was the part of the trip I had been waiting for. We were all ready for the heat of real competition following the strict schedule of training and games we had endured in the UK.

The first morning in Madrid, we met down in the hotel lobby to make our way to the training grounds outside the city. Atletico Madrid’s facility stretched out in every direction, the dry Spanish heat radiating off the turf as we ran our warm-ups. For the first time, I noticed how we moved together as a team, no longer just a group of individual players, but a cohesive unit. Every pass, every sprint brought us closer, not just as teammates, but as sisters. After each day on the field, we’d explore the city, walking through the winding streets, marveling at the architecture of the Royal Palace and grabbing churros with hot melted chocolate from a local café. Our conversations shifted from soccer strategies to life stories. Late-night talks in the hotel rooms filled with endless laughter became a ritual. We all would pile into one room, collapsing into laughter over inside jokes that had grown in the few days we’d spent together. It wasn’t long before I realized that these girls had become more than just teammates I shared the field with. They were becoming family.

The moments that stuck with me weren’t only the goals we scored or the stadiums we toured. It was the quiet moments, when someone grabbed my hand to pull me up after a hard tackle, or when we huddled in the back of the bus, leaning on each other, too exhausted to speak but comfortable in each other’s presence. It was a bond that transcended through soccer.

Madrid brought something deeper than just the thrill of competition. After one of our last games there, as we all were about to board the bus, the cheers from our parents started to grow loud. As I entered the bus, I looked up and saw a tunnel forming. A familiar sight from my childhood days of rec league soccer. Back then, after every game, parents would line up, hands held high, creating a tunnel that we would sprint through, all laughter and joy. It was a tradition that marked the end of every game, a small celebration that turned ordinary matches into a core memory. This time, the once familiar tunnel appeared, made up of parents and loved ones cheering us on once again, their hands linked to form a path for us. At that moment, I had a flashback to those early days. The smell of the freshly cut grass, the feel of my oversized jersey, and the sound of my parents calling my name as I sprinted through the tunnel, grinning from ear to ear ready to get my goodie bag. Back then, soccer was pure joy, and not just competition or pressure. It was just a game, something that brought people together, and that feeling had found its way back to me, halfway across the world.

As I ran through the tunnel in Madrid, surrounded by my teammates, I realized that soccer had come back to me in a full circle moment. The tunnel wasn’t just about a game we had played that day. It was about the journey we had all been on, starting as just teammates, unsure of what this trip would hold, and ending as a family, united by a bond deeper than the sport we loved. Madrid wasn’t just another city on the map. It was the place where we became more than a team. It was where we laughed so hard in the hotel rooms that our sides would start to hurt profusely, where we pushed through exhaustion on the field and lifted each other up when one of us had dropped our heads. It was the place where we became one.

That tunnel was a reminder of where I started—those early days of running through tunnels after rec league games, with my family on the sidelines, and the simple joy of being part of something bigger. And now, years later, standing in Madrid, I have found a new family. These girls, who had once been strangers I nervously met at tryouts, were now people I knew I could rely on both on and off the field.

The lesson I learned from this trip is that soccer has always been more than just a game. It’s a bridge between people. It’s the shared sweat and determination on the field, but it’s also the laughs in hotel rooms and the conversations about life. It’s the tunnel of hands that reminds you of where you began and how far you’ve come. Strangers can become family when you open yourself to the shared experiences, the challenges, and the joys that bring you together. For me, soccer was the key that unlocked that connection, and this trip was where that transformation became real.

 

 

Europe Video Recap:

 

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1PzxpSIrj_gedod5SszPuvjiGphs0iXnB/view?usp=sharing

“Less Drama More Karma” by Lily H

This year, during the last two weeks of June, my family and I were fortunate enough to take a vacation to Bali, Indonesia. Upon arrival in Bali, I was pretty clueless about the adventures and lessons to come. We were greeted by our driver and his young son. The driver went to pull up the car and left his son to help us out. This little boy was around 10 years old and even though we had not learnt any Balinese and he did not speak english, he reminded me of the innocence me and my siblings used to once had. We talked through hand gestures we both were all able to understand, and connect even though we had barely met.  When we actually started driving to the house we were staying at, there were motorcycles everywhere on the road. Never in my life would I ever imagined being surrounded by motorcycle traffic. It was definitely a mind blowing sight to see. The driver however explained that there's a method to the madness and people respect each other enough to have an organized chaos. Anyways, we ended up getting lost, seeing some cows in a random green field, finally finding the right house, and that is where we met Sophia. Sophia was the name of our first AirBnB host. She seemed to be in her early thirties and she was absolutely amazing at making us all feel welcomed in the new environment. She said she moved to Bali when she was in her twenties and stayed for the people. I didn’t really know what she meant but I soon found out.

Throughout the trip, we met our tour guide Wayan who drove us to all of the sites and temples while sharing the stories of the land. On one of the drives, my mom pointed out how we didn’t see any homeless people during the duration of the trip. Wayan replied saying that it is because in Bali everyone cares for each other and their core values include helping their family and neighbors when needed. It was such a shock since here in California we have one of the biggest homeless populations. We also saw these values of caring for others in person when we went to various restaurants. Every single local we met had the warmest smile, took time to teach us their language, and shared genuine conversations. My brother got sick for a couple of days while we were staying in Ubud. We were all devastated because he had to stay back at the house with one of my parents while my sister and I went with the other into the village. However, the AirBnB staff was so kind and cared for my brother by picking up coconuts for him to hydrate, getting him medicine, and even decorating his room for his birthday since he could not go out. This was so heartwarming to us all because it was just so heartwarming of them to go out of their way to help us out and make his experience more enjoyable.

We also experienced kindness from locals whenever we said we were from California. In Bali, they have many tourists from Australia or Europe but not that many from the United States. However, whenever we said we were from California all their responses were “Oh like Hotel California”. One particular night, my family and I were walking down the dark streets lit up by the restaurants when we passed by this one outdoor restaurant with a live singer. There was nobody else eating at the restaurant and we had already ate but the music called us to go in for some drinks. There, the singer took time to ask us where we were from and sang “Hotel Bali-fornia” for us. This will forever be a core memory for me. Everyone we met was so genuinely curious about our stories as we were theirs. My family and I learned about their culture, offerings, and ceremonies. It was just an amazing two weeks of just appreciating human connection and taking the time to get to know other people.

            In all, my experience in Bali is best remembered by the people and stories I got to know. I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to talk to people who spend their lives helping each other out, giving to others, and just being kind. Wayan, the best tour guide in the world, summed it up best by saying “Less drama, more karma”.

"Hidden Compartment" by Saida C

 

Saida Cherradi (b. 2007)

Hidden Compartment, (2024)

Leather Diorama

The aspect of the literary work of the story “The Human Chair” by Edogawa Ranpo that had inspired me to make my piece was the man inside a chair. The reason as to why it inspired me was because of the way the story had transitioned from the person who had decided to hide in a chair in order to escape his insecurities. Into where he confessed this deep secret and crime through a letter to the woman he had grown obsessed with after hiding in her house for months. The author has constructed the story in a way that made the confession letter a shock to the audience. The relevance of the man’s experience in the chair seemed like a distant tale and irrelevant to the woman who was using the chair. The meaning of my artwork in comparison to the literary source is the representation of the chair that the man lived in. There’s trash around the chair in order to show the long period of time in which the man had lived in the chair. The materials used were leather, cardboard, memory foam, wrappers, paper, paint, masking tape, string, and a needle. The techniques I used were to create scaffolding with cardboard, and cover it with memory foam for the base. As for the arm parts of the chair, I had filled the leather with memory foam and sewed it shut, then attached it to the base. The message behind the artwork is to put out the ominous feeling as though someone had been there. Just as the looming presence of the man in the chair had in the story.

"Blindsided Justice: A review of Agatha Christie’s Appointment With Death" by RJ M

The book that I decided to review for this writing is Appointment With Death, by Agatha Christie. In this murder mystery, Dr. Sarah King encounters the Boynton family among a party of people during a vacation trip in Cairo, where she and her group tour around the city of Petra. The family, despite their reclusive nature, appears quite normal at first. That is until the sudden death of the Boynton matriarch, Old Lady Emily Boynton. It is only then that it comes to light that everyone within the Boynton family had resentments towards the old woman due to her controlling and abusive nature.

This launches into one of the key themes of the story: the nuance of justice. While the death of Mrs. Boynton is shocking to the family, they are essentially freed of her tyranny and able to pursue the future that they always wanted for themselves; however, justice demands that whoever murdered Mrs. Boynton is still subject to the law, regardless of their intentions, with the current suspect naturally lying within everyone in the tour group, namely those of the Boynton family. Conversely, one could argue that Mrs. Boynton’s cruel nature made her death deserved, leaving whoever killed Mrs. Boynton free of charge. It is through this position that Christie questions the validity of pursuing justice on an ethical scale, where the justification of ends and means dictates the ability of one to maintain their peace and conscience. The idea of moral justice and legal justice has been a long standing argument in terms of which one should precede the other, making this book an excellent portrayal of the dynamic overall. While the Boynton family is seen to be the group that could potentially lose their peace, the contender for justice is found to be Hercule Poirot, a character who famously appears throughout Christie’s works as the detective. He introduces a medium through which both moral and legal justice are appealed to, with him trying to identify the murderer while trying to cause as little damage to the family as possible.

Throughout this, the family as a whole continues to struggle under the influence of Mrs. Boynton’s oppression even after her death. This is another key theme that Christie imploys into her work: the concept of closure. Although it seems like the family is free following Mrs. Boynton’s death, the disconnect between the limited freedom they were able to enjoy when under Mrs. Boynton and the sudden liberty that the family is faced with leaves them at a loss. It is through this that Christie explores the active and resulting effects of psychological abuse, and how it cannot be simply cut off. This also serves as an underlying reiteration of the fact that every member of the Boynton family had some grounds to murder Mrs. Boynton.

When it comes to the story as a mystery, it excellently incorporates elements throughout the narrative such as red herrings, specifically in the context of unreliable narrators. This helps portray the humanity of the characters through the errors in their judgment along with the appeals they make to their internal biases. This maintains a level of wariness between the reader and characters, making it important for the validity of any and all statements to be scrutinized instead of simply accepting the information as fact.

One of Christie's strongest techniques is the use of omniscient narration and direct language in dialogue to allow the reader to observe several perspectives, and although one might assume solving the mystery becomes trivial with multiple perspectives, this is anything but the case. This narration style serves as a double edged sword since it helps flesh out the characters throughout the story, but it also buries a majority of the important information that leads to the solution. That being said, it goes without saying that a natural interest in mystery is somewhat in order for an individual to enjoy this story as with any mystery novel. A way that writers such as Christie often mitigate this requirement is by employing subplots that appeal to various readers such as romance and the previously mentioned psychological dynamics. However, if the story itself were only valued in terms of these secondhand elements rather than the overall story, enjoyment of the book would certainly wane. Even from the perspective of someone who enjoys mystery, the satisfaction of the solutions to a majority of Christie’s novels can sometimes be blindsided by how obscure the evidence connects together to reveal the culprit. Sometimes the hidden angle that Christie derives her mysteries from is refreshing and enjoyable, but in other cases it comes off as abrupt.

Overall, Appointment With Death is definitely a niche read when it comes to reader enjoyment. If you find yourself unable to sit down and analyze the story and characters, you may find yourself bored with this book. Otherwise, if you enjoy critical thinking and exploring ethical dilemmas then this book may be up your alley.

"It's Just Drums in a Gym" by Dakota S

 

When did I decide that this was the place I wanted to be, standing here outside the venue, preparing to perform in front of thousands of people? All coming together under the same set of circumstances. All preparing for the same heavy task that may change what our childhoods look like. Whether we like it or not we are all united by knowledge but separated by chance.

 

Now unpacking my drum out of its case, my mind tries it's hardest to focus on one thing, but no matter how hard I try, the stress floods in. Worries of 'What if I don’t do well?' and 'What if I fall and forget how to get up?' flood my mind, as if it naturally wants me to fail. Even then, I regroup myself and find myself with a green, tacky microfiber towel that sticks to my hand. “Thats right” I think as I grab the simple green and spray it on the now damp towel. I meticulously clean the surface of my five-year-old drum, ensuring every spot is free of dirt, before setting it on its stand to be tuned to perfection.

 

No more than 5 minutes later, I squeeze into the body tight mixed material costume that makes me look like everyone else. What was that word they said they were looking for? 'Uniformity,' or something like that, I thought, as I finally got the zipper to lock me into this mesh of material. The mixes or yellow, creams, and browns all stitched and collaged together to create what is to be the outfit I wear with pride. “This is the culmination of months of work” I repeat over and over in my head knowing the final result isn't the numbers we receive or the piece of metal we could wear around our necks but instead the experience itself.

 

            Soon after, we get called by our instructor for us to start moving to our zones. My heart starts to beat faster as I pick up my drum and join the line of people, as we fit in tight formation. We start moving together in one cohesive motion, all culminating at the same place in a parking lot. This time things feel different here, while I have competed here before, the air smelled different. The scent of incoming rain brought worry and newfound issues as we now rushed to get tarps to cover our electronics and drums. We eventually settled with the easy option and covered everything that was fragile in plastic trash bags to ensure that there would be no waterlogging. Unfortunately this meant that while we would be blessed still with a warm up area, the chance to have the proper warm up would be near impossible.

 

            We made do with the space we had and got through our warm-up sequence with minimal stress, but bigger issues lay ahead. Now that we are done warming up, here comes the dreaded time. The time where we all huddle together as a group, say our motivational speech, trying not to let our emotions overwhelm us as we still need a sense of self control. We say our final words before silently heading into the arena at the nearby college. As we walk I let the pressure of the year fade away. The pain, the hurt, the stress, the anxiety, it all happened to lead me to where I was then.

 

            We are now at the entrance of the tunnel leading into what will be the gymnasium. You can see glimpses of the arena, which is covered in blues, reds, and a slogan across the jumbotron stating ,”go yotes”. I put my drum down on the floor and as everyone else gathers together to listen to the group performing in front of us I separate myself. I find myself on the floor next to my drum with one focus, calm your nerves. I end up doing my pre competition ritual of meditation which helps me focus on our show and my nerves seemingly disappear. When I arose from this peaceful trance, the curtains opened and we rushed into the gym, putting our drums down in neat lines and then pulling out our show floor for all to see. This was our moment to display to the people and the judges what we have prepared for their eyes and ears.

 

            As the set starts, I hold myself in a fetal position on the floor and begin the choreography I've been given for this piece. Executed flawlessly with every move I find myself becoming more and more embedded in this show. Feeling the rhythmic alterations made by the front ensemble, the emotions of the show overtake me. I found myself not just performing the show but becoming part of it. Now it is my time to show everyone what I have been given. As my solo starts I feel the nerves kick in, and while some of our group jumble notes together trying to be coercive we find eachother again and push back into the normality we would have in rehearsals.

 

 After many seamless transitions between our many soloists and large ensemble impacts, we found the pressure back in my hands but now the stakes were much higher. My group was the closing solo before the great closing impact. While this provided stress and a large amount of nerves, I found myself on my own two feet lifting the music to the judges. Feeling the happiness that I've been a part of this great thing that shows not only the culmination of time and efforts but the culmination of humanity.

 

As the last notes play, we sit with tears in our eyes, smiles on our faces, and heavy hearts, knowing our efforts are fading away and the stress is now a distant memory. I run out of the gymnasium with excitement, criticism, and comradery as the group puts our drums down. We know not of the score or the judge’s opinions but to us, it doesn't matter. We were on top of the world and as a collective group didn't care about the scores as the friends we made along the way, the memories shared, and the goofy scenarios we have experienced have now meant much more to us than anything “some old people” had to say about us.

 

Awards came later that night with all of us in our costumes standing in lines by age and experience where the oldest people were in the front of the group leading us and protecting us from the impending anxiety of what the judges thought. As they called out “In fourth place, with a score of 90.525… Etiwanda High School” we applauded knowing that we were the forth best drumline in Southern California. What did this mean in reality though, that we worked hard and performed somewhat good? My takeaway was that the judges thought we were the fourth best not for the show or the music or the choreography but instead for the comradery and the ability to be so cohesive that we were undeniable.

 

This thought blossomed into a core memory and a worthwhile lesson that I never fully understood until now. So many have said that the moment is there until it's gone and then it's left in your memory forever. This has taught me that living in the moment is what truly has brought me closer to success than many others. The cohesiveness of friendship and the uplifting of spirits when times were rough, all lead to success, not the suffering of a group that only wanted the highest score of them all. Life is moments of a picture that you may never get back so while you may sit in them and stress about the future, that may never change the outcome, but blur the journey leading up to it.

"Arcidian: Lost in the Sunlight" by Nick O

Chapter 1: A Hopeful Capture

The sky was dark and corus. As fear ran through my body almost like a drug. Bullets pierced through the bodies of men who meant to protect the lives of their wives, just like my Father once did. I knew that if this was the way my Father died, I would suffer the same fate. As we were pushing through ISIS territory, to raid their base, the sun started to rise but then we were captured, outnumbered, killing some, taking the rest hostage.

 

Chapter 2: Razors disguised as Flowers

I woke up, the rest of my team strapped in chains to a chair, just like myself. The only thing I could think about was my Father, in the end I was just like him, a man who died with honor but at the same time with a forgotten presence. When the ISIS general walked into the room, he killed every single one but me. “I see the courage in you, almost like the strength of a man, who can’t die without seeing a sunrise.” I was then strapped to a chair, with needles struck through me, giving me electric charges. The pain was unbearable knowing I’d die alone, just like a man I’d once loved

 

Chapter 3: Resurgence

I awoke in a bed strapped down my chains, but I broke through. I left my cell, fighting every guard in sight with no problem. With other inmates begging me to let them free but I decided not to, I left them almost with a feeling of regret knowing my Father perished the same way. I kept fighting every guard in sight with ease until I saw the ISIS general in sight. The look of fear in his eyes and I walked towards him, stuck in the corner with fear in his eyes, knowing what he had created, as I

walked forward him, “you know how this ends” I said, and now I realized the man I’ve become. A man who kills for sport. Everything my father has said not to become, I have.

 

Chapter 4: A hopeful arc

I dropped to my knees, realizing I've become the man my Father never taught me to be. I realized now I can let go of my Father and become

the man he taught me to be, the embodiment of hope through these new abilities. A US helicopter landed and took all survivors and took the members

of ISIS in custody. As I got back to the US, blood samples were taken and I was told, “Mr Right, you're not human. Your cells are encoded with some type of enhancer never seen before. In theory, anything is possible for you.”

I was given a black and blue suit to enhance my powers. I knew there’s others out there. And I will find them. I now know my place in the world, as not only David Right but the name given to me, Arcidian.

 

Arcidian flew into the sky. Ready to be the embodiment of hope, just like one man taught him.

 

 

 

“Now, goodnight, I love you!” By Elijah T

                                         

“Emmett has a heart disease.”, I still remember where I was when my dad said these words to me on a seemingly bright July day back in 2022. How could that be? He must have been lying, as I sat on the arm of the couch in my living room, right in front of my eyes was a happy 13 year old chocolate lab lying on the ground with a newly adopted translucent purple cone around his neck. Dad had taken him to the vet to investigate a growth on his ear, we didn’t assume it to be life-threatening, just something that Emmet probably got from rolling around in the backyard. I suddenly looked away from Emmett to see my other dog, Emily, looking at us as if to say that she also understood what my dad had said. Here was the dog I had grew up with, the one that my mom said I used to sleep on as a pillow when I was little to watch TV, one of the two reasons I learned that I wanted to be a veterinarian, to be suddenly be ripped away from me in a mere couple of weeks due to an invisible disease we saw too late.

According to my phones recollection, Emmett’s final goodbyes to his favorite tree in front of our house was on August 1, 2022. I still remember filming that video, trying to be as far away from the camera as possible while still looking out my bedroom window so that you couldn’t hear the sniffles of my nose or the tears running down my cheeks. It was ultimately fruitless though as you can clearly hear these things as you watch Emmett circle and circle his favorite tree, sniffing it, then peeing on it for good measure, being the only one to not know he wasn’t coming back to his home again.

I remember asking what's for dinner, and my mom had said “Baked potatoes”. I had always hated the blandness of the dish and in a moment of childish ignorance for sympathy I protested. Then my mom said to me words that I can still hear to this day, and for the exact reason I can’t say why, “Dad saw it happen, Dad wanted baked potatoes, so we are having them for dinner”. I remember that dinner being in absolute silence, being even afraid to move as Emily was still looking around to see where Emmett was, in between forcing her head into our laps to beg for food she knew she had no chance of getting.

The next morning I woke up to a notification on my phone by a woman named Mrs.Marin, our band director for the MER. It was an ad for a pizza place we had a fundraiser for that night, blaze or MOD I don’t really remember. The one thing I do remember though was being mad at the notification, as if the notification was trying to get me back into the reality of death and how we must move on. Of course I have had people die in my family before this, but they were all great great aunts in their 80s or so who could only speak Spanish, something a 13 year old me could not do. In this moment on August 2nd, I realized that although death is a part of life, we cannot do anything but celebrate the life they led, the influence they had, and will continue to have after their passing (which, in all realness, was going to be “too soon”  no matter how long they might end up living for).

In November of that very same year, it must have been a few days after MER’s sad defeat at citrus college on the 18th, my dad went to have Emily checked by the vet for an overall checkup, as well as a swelling she had by her tail that she had developed. Whenever my dad brought the appointment up in the weeks prior, I would start crying with him comforting me saying, “We don’t know what's going to happen”, over and over again, “We don’t know what's going to happen” that's all he would ever say. We all knew what was going to happen, we just didn’t want to face the reality yet where we lost two important parts in our life around the same time. My father came back home with nothing but a collar that day, and I do not recall anything else about that other than the look on my dads face. This man who rarely shows negative emotions, especially sadness, had a face of somberness. He looked as if he was going to cry, something I had never seen him do before or after this event. Emily’s passing was somewhat easier since the blow had been softened by Emmett a few months prior. We also all thought she was going to go first, but ne
ver said that to her face. The one day I can remember about Emily’s death was when I went to go get the mail a week later. We had gotten a letter from the vet and I opened it up out of sheer curiosity. To my surprise, it was a poem. A poem about meeting your dog in the afterlife, playing with them and their new friends they made while they were waiting for you to come be with them again. I think that's the most I’ve ever cried in my life. I couldn’t even get a word out even an hour later. Eventually, as we all must do, I moved on from the passing of my childhood dogs, never forgetting who they were, what they did, and what they meant to me and my family. Even to this day, whenever I hear the song “Euthanasia” by Will Wood, it brings me right back to where I was on August 1st, even the title being a lyric from the song. A sunny day where I could do nothing but appreciate the sun coming back as it did the day before, and wishing loved ones could do the same. Thank you Emmett and Emily, you might have been trouble at times, but we could never stay mad at you for long because of all the joy you brought to us every single day.

         

                                        Emmett on july 30, 2022

“Over the rainbow, can I stop by and say hello?”        

- Euthanasia by Will Wood

Our Last Group of Writers!

 All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this group --April writers).  Everyone is required to comment on at least THREE different pieces of writing.  You must submit comments on Canvas (for each one, include the name of the author and the title of their piece, and then your positive, specific comment ) by Friday, May 10 on Canvas.

Remember, comments must be positive, original, personal, 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!

“Facing Regret” By Breanna C.

Ian Cox Speas states, “No pain is unbearable except that of regret.” What makes regret one of the most unshakable feelings individuals have? How is it so impactful?

            The dictionary definition of regret is a feeling of sorrow or remorse for a fault, act, loss, or disappointment. It is felt around the world, whether it is about education, romantic relationships, finance, health, etc. I strongly believe it stems from the possibilities of the “what if.” Endless scenarios, thoughts, and feelings go through your head when you ponder about how different the outcomes of your life could have been. It is something I have experienced and struggled with a lot more than I anticipated growing up, and I continue to battle these constant “what ifs.”

            Choosing between one thing over another, whether it is work or fun, a stable career or true passion, and a decline or acceptance all have one thing in common. Opportunity. Opportunity provides a variety of possibilities, and with many possibilities comes success and failure. This is where regret comes into play when you choose something over another, and it ends up not being as glorified or expected as it was in the moment. You begin to rethink your choice and how differently things would have turned out. Sometimes regret can come later in life, when you’ve gone through many ups and downs to know what you took for granted or overlooked. Due to the strong emotions connected to failure and disappointment, it is a reason why the feeling of sorrow can linger for longer periods of time, even when the situation has passed.

Although it is strictly seen with a negative connotation, the feeling of regret can be a significant eye-opener and a way to learn from past mistakes. Self-improvement and reflection can be derived from the overbearing sense of guilt one has due to personal decisions. I regret not being a better daughter and friend at some points in my life. I regret not making good educational choices when it came to procrastination and building discipline. I regret not being nicer to myself when I made mistakes or when something did not go as planned. So much regret but little I can do to change the past. With this being said, all that could be done is to stop dwelling on previous circumstances, but rather pinpoint what I could do better from now on so I can avoid feeling even more remorse in the future. It is unfortunately not a nice emotion to feel, especially when you know you could've done better or did more. However, like any other emotion, it won’t consume you if you don’t let it.

Everyone will face situations in their lifetime where they will feel regret, some more than others. Living in the past does not help overcome the guilt, but rather just replays it. Instead of trying to relieve it as a way to degrade yourself, it can be used as a way to self-reflect and move on with your life knowing what you could do for your future. Regret is not always bad, but not learning from it is even worse.

 

 

Work Cited

“REGRET Definition & Meaning.” Dictionary.com, https://www.dictionary.com/browse/regret. Accessed 19 April 2024.

 

"In a Good Way" by Hanry G

 

Love: strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties

 

The word Love can be interpreted as the stereotypical definition; their affection for their significant other. In other words, love can mean they find interest in a particular subject or tend to enjoy the matter to an elevated extent. But in my situation, the definition was expressed differently.

When asked about the term love, I referred to the relationship between me and my family. Of course, at a young age I believed that was the broad meaning of love but as time gradually progressed; the term began to broaden in definition. I realized that the emotion my parents portrayed and released was unconditional, almost artificial. I’m not saying their ways of expressing the emotion were negative. They are the best parents I can ask for in the world. However, it just felt like something was missing and the definition wasn’t completed. I went on with life and experienced new things, trying new food, and hobbies, and meeting new friends. I loved secluding myself in this environment and it felt nice but it still felt incomplete. Fast forward to the beginning of high school, I began to search for an interest and a passion. Experiencing these four years has led to the greatest memories in my life and the realization of the term love.

I encountered a variety of people, ranging from individuals who weren’t fit for my niche or classmates that I befriended because they made the time go by quicker than usual. But my whole perspective changed when I encountered this particular woman, “A”. Now this girl, was a bundle of what love is classified to be. Love finally felt evident and real for the first time. Usually, love is used in sentences but the way I felt was far more than words can describe. It felt ecstatic and surreal, every moment and time feeling so slow, yet so fast. Love felt comfortable and open, not narrow like a tunnel; but free and breathable like an open road. “A” showed me both sides of love, the negative and the positives. Yet, even if it came with the negatives; I still experienced the joy and emotion because it felt realistic. That’s what love is, realistic and unartificial. I finally felt the comfortability with another human being, whom isn’t related to me by blood but by soul. Love was no longer a confusing and misunderstood term, a term that I thought was the correct meaning growing up as a child. It’s interesting knowing the world and even school wasn’t able to teach me something so simple and minimal, yet brought a significant impact to my existence.

Now if someone currently asks me what the definition of the word Love means. I can finally give a precise and accurate definition. I not only would describe the word or saying of the phrase. But I would dissect and dive deep into the individual who gave me the feeling from the beginning. Love: The emotion we humans feel, when we finally receive acceptance and cherishment, despite what enfolds in our past and present.

 

 

Sources:

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/love

 

 

"Success" by Natalie G

 

Over time I have particularly recognized that my academic accomplishments do not quite bring me a sense of satisfaction when I thought they would since it is what I devote most of my time to. This is not to be taken in a depressing way, just a realistic realization of what brings me closer to defining my idea of “success”. I think this is because as soon as I achieve a certain goal of mine, I am always looking forward to the next without stopping to appreciate my hard work.

 

Now, evidently, success is identified for each individual in a unique way. Some may picture success through wealth, others in an educational form (like obtaining a doctorate), others through fame, and even others by forming a family; these are just some of plenty of other different examples. Essentially, the amazing part is that individuals can support whichever ideology they connect with the most, live with it, and respect others’ perspectives.

 

Oxford Languages defines success as, “The accomplishment of an aim or purpose.” Their definition of success is very generalized opposed to Maya Angelou’s definition upon which I agree with, “Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it.” I interpreted her definition to convey the idea that success falls within one’s character development in learning more about ourselves and shaping the life we idolize based on our understanding of our wants and needs.

 

A successful person is confident, joyful, and can uplift others; they do not feel like they need someone, they are satisfied with having themselves (this does not mean that they have to be alone, just that their emotional state does not depend on others). Therefore, people can begin to be successful by taking the time to spend quality time with themselves and contemplate different areas of their lives they want to improve or simply question how they feel about it. These can be emotional as to understanding what makes you mad and why that makes you mad. Why don’t you have patience? What has caused you to not have patience? (see, just prompting questions).

 

Self-awareness is key! I find frustration with not knowing what to do. I detest the feeling of being lost and disconnected from myself; it makes me feel as if I have abandoned my shell. Therefore, some practical activities that make me happy are watching sad movies (ironic), spending time with my cousins, creating vision boards, listening to podcasts, cleaning, and learning more about a new topic. These bring me a fondness for inspiration and can make me feel productive after a long day.

 

Nonetheless, if there is anything that this blog should highlight, let it be this: Never stop questioning yourself, it is the way to uncover many more characteristics within you. Take the time and patience to get to know more about yourself by practicing new activities that will bring out new feelings out of you that can hopefully cause you to get closer to being a successful person.

 

Works Cited

Adu-Wusu, Euegene. “The Meaning of Success and How to Define Success in Life.” LinkedIn, 3 February 2016, https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/meaning-success-how-define-life-eugene-adu-wusu/. Accessed 18 April 2024.

Catron, Jenni. “How Self-Awareness Will Make You Successful.” The Grit and Grace Project, https://thegritandgraceproject.org/purpose/how-self-awareness-will-make-you-successful. Accessed 18 April 2024.

Robak, Lucas J. “25 Definitions of Success from Very Accomplished People | by Lucas J. Robak | Thrive Global.” Medium, 3 December 2017, https://medium.com/thrive-global/25-definitions-of-success-from-very-accomplished-people-d3c43955e40e. Accessed 18 April 2024.

 

"The Challenging Journey" by Mark K

 

Eight years old-that is when my whole life was changed after my family decided to migrate from Egypt to the United States. At the time, I didn’t fully grasp the idea that I would be leaving my home and being thousands of miles away from all of my friends and the rest of my family.

 

As I was growing up in Egypt, family wasn’t merely a concept, it established my whole life. I would spend most of my time with my cousins that ranged from all ages. Some who were much older and wiser than me would teach me many lessons that I could never forget. Others who were much younger, would spend their time with me playing for countless hours. Relationships that were so similar to those of siblings. During special occasions such as birthdays or weddings, I would get to see my distant family such as my second cousins or my parents’ cousins. One would expect that the relationship between us would be awkward and uncomfortable.However, they would still treat me with unwavering love and shower me with gifts. These types of relationships can never be replaced by strangers that have not watched you grow up. Little did I know that being so far away from my family would be what I miss most from my old life. I still remember the sad looks and tears on everyone’s faces as they dropped us off at the airport.

 

It was now time to start my new life in a foreign country. My first memory of arriving here in the US is as soon as my family and I stepped outside of the airport. Everything in my new environment seemed brighter and the air smelled pungent. I felt a surge of excitement, longing for my cousins to share in this exciting new chapter of my life.

 

A month or so later, I started school. I dreaded my first few months as I was not able to communicate with any of my classmates or my teachers. Even though the teachers tried to be understanding, I couldn't help but feel like I didn't quite fit in. It was like I was on the outside looking in, as they'd often pull me aside for lessons that felt watered-down compared to what the rest of the class was learning. This only seemed to underline the differences between me and my classmates, making me feel even more isolated. This still led me to confusion as many of the assignments encouraged critical thinking. However, my education in Egypt was based on a structured affair, as it included memorization and strictly adhered to the curriculum. Aside from the confusion which was brought on, I enjoyed having the freedom of exploring my interests and expressing my newfound freedom.

 

Despite the language barrier between my classmates and I, many welcomed me and helped me with my school work and advancing my vocabulary of the English language. I encountered many differences in lifestyle as I got to know people who have lived their lives in the US and I tried to adapt to such differences in order to try and fit in. My parents would encourage me when I was feeling down due to my frustration of not being able to communicate with my new friends and feeling like they would always be better than me in that aspect. 

 

As the days went by, my life became more enjoyable as I made new friends and would spend time with them after school. I also would find myself to explore many new opportunities such as joining a swim club. Every day would bring on a new challenge in which I would triumph. Although my life was not pleasurable after being completely reconstructed, I was able to accept that the change was for me to live a life in which I could explore my freedom and effectively succeed as I will be able to choose my own career doing something that I enjoy.

 

To this day, I am still influenced by my old life in Egypt and have accepted that my differences don’t cause me to be an outcast, but they develop my character. One thing that I still miss is seeing my family almost every day and having countless memories made with them. Although I still see them almost every year, I realized that our relationship has immensely changed from what it once was. I see that they all still have that special bond as they all continued to grow up together. I still maintain a good relationship with my cousins and their unconditional love and support still inspire me to be the best version of myself.

"Exist As You Are " by Lorenzo R

 

“Hesitation is defeat” - Isshin Ashura

 

            As this is my fourth time restarting my writing, I’ve come to realize the true art of overthinking. At first I bounced around ideas of ambition or consciousness or existence, but I thought too hard about how to portray them in a way that wasn’t generic or lackluster. Now, as I’m sitting here, I find myself 30 minutes from 11:59 with almost nothing. Overthinking is not an activity or an action but I believe it is truly an art form. Merriam-Webster defines overthinking as, “putting too much time into thinking about or analyzing”, but I believe it is beyond this. Overthinking, as simple as it may seem, requires endless loops of creativity. It is like analyzing a chess game trying to find the best move, the detriment in this though is that your clock never stops ticking. Think too little and you’ll make the wrong move, but think too much, and you’ll have no time to make a move at all. This is why I believe overthinking is a fine art form. Like an abstract painting, overthinking throws conventions to the side to make room for splotches that can be interpreted, and reinterpreted and ultimately you are left realizing that it probably never meant anything in the first place.

The art of overthinking requires true sentience and complex thought, it requires human nature at its most nuanced form. It requires the true irrationality we all possess and a disregard for the obvious answer of “who cares”.  The concept of Occam’s Razor, otherwise known as the Law of Parsimony, best encapsulates this, asserting that the explanation or reasoning for something is often the simplest reasoning available. This is what makes overthinking such a uniquely human experience, and such a detrimental one at that. No lion has ever pondered over its next meal, it simply hunts, eats, and sleeps. The time wasted in overthinking is its most damaging factor, and overall time is the one thing we can’t afford to waste.

Another aspect of overthinking I find interesting is the social implications that I believe cause it. People often overthink about their relationships, or how they appear to others and fail to realize their own ego in doing so. The slightly sad truth is that most people don’t truly care as much as you think they do, and if they do, their opinions ultimately hold little weight. Wanting to be liked by others is natural but its important to differentiate when someone’s opinion matters and when it doesn’t. Overthinking takes all variables into consideration but fails to account for the fact that some of these variables don’t even matter in the first place. That is why I believe overthinking is such a profound artistic process because I believe it takes a truly creative person to imagine problems in places they don’t exist, and then find solutions to these nonexistent problems. At the end of the day, the art of overthinking is ultimately a hinderance, the lowest of art forms, and it is important to live in the moment; to exist as you are instead of as you will be. Living in the present allows you to be able to realize when you’re thinking too much and instead of thinking, doing. Instead of hesitating ultimately just go for it, whatever it may be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Eighteen, but long to be Ten" by Rebekah P

   

The word “adulthood” for me is a hard pill to swallow, it's the realization of transition. But transition also means change and one might argue that change also means growth. I am eighteen you see, but long to be ten. I want to worry about insignificant issues. I want to worry if I have enough money for the book fair, not if I have enough money to get a well-rounded education to pursue my goals. I want to worry about the weather and if it rains, so that I can put on my polka dot glitter rain boots and stomp onto the puddles and not worry about the seasonal sadness that comes with rain that I face every year. I want to worry about the monsters in the dark under my bed and the comfort it brings when my mom reassures me that there is none. I want to worry about hurting my stuffed animals' feelings when I pay more attention to one stuffed animal than the others. I want to worry about the imaginary tea being piping hot when playing with my tea set.  I want to worry about getting caught stealing my mom’s makeup that I used just to put on ridiculous amounts of eyeshadow all over my face. However, only to be faced with the realization that I am no longer 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10 years old. It's been challenging for me to understand that I will never experience all the things listed above until my kids experience it themselves. The harsh reality is that I'm closer to adulthood than I’ll ever be again to my childhood and oh how I will miss it. But transition is growth and growth is good but growing up isn't always so kind. It introduces goodbyes, uncertainty, expectations, responsibilities, and financial stresses which are all aspects of adulthood that make the transition process rather challenging. I believe growing up means outgrowing yourself, outgrowing the make-believe fantasy that once was created when you were ten. Outgrowing the fear of “cooties” and growing into the idea of intimacy. Outgrowing your polka dot glitter rain boots and growing into simple sneakers. It's outgrowing your bedroom which highlighted your love for pink and growing into the color black. Reminiscing to the kid I once was is all a part of maturing, accepting that I am in fact 18 and not 10.  I can't worry about the book fair, the muddy puddles, the monsters. Mainly because I like simple sneakers, the color black, the dark, and coffee instead of tea. I don't have it all figured out but that's the thing about being eighteen, you are expected to come of age and establish your own beliefs and values. Turning 18 is considered a milestone but the truth is navigating through new experiences is something that scares me but it's not so much the path but the idea that that final destination might be failure. When I was 10 I was quite competitive. I never liked to come last when running the mile. I never liked to be found first when playing hide and seek but I guess some things never change because now at 18 I still don't like to be last. I like to perform and to succeed in what I perform in. I do not like to fail nor do I want to fail in upcoming years because to me I have not only failed myself but I have failed my 10-year-old self who was only concerned for her own happiness. So for me, the word, “adulthood” means a journey of growth and new moments to learn that life is unpredictable but when challenges come and, that they will, the lessons will only bring you guidance and wisdom. Because with each new year brings a new age and in the 365 days that you live you will continuously outgrow yourself. So, accept the transition, adulthood is hard, you will fall but you will also heal, so yell and you will be heard, and experience to learn. Growing up is bittersweet but growing up doesn't end when you are eighteen, it continues, so grow and outgrow yourself and outgrow yourself some more to fully grasp that being eighteen is only the beginning so live life as if you were ten years old, embrace the joy and simplicity that life could bring. The freedom one experiences when they are no longer a kid is a wondrous feeling and where the real story of your journey of life starts. Because somewhere between then and now you will long to be eighteen again.

"No Job? No Problem" by Jorge R

 

 

            I stand skeptically in front of this unknown man, analyzing his every word and movement. His name is Ralph. I’ve never seen him prior to this meeting, yet he seems trustworthy enough. Nonetheless, I keep my guard up and continue inspecting the motorcycle for anything that mismatches Ralph’s story. The bike was clean. I had played my cards right the entire evening and came up with a deal that was almost too good to be true.

 

One of the most beneficial lessons I have learned is that time is the most valuable commodity. As a student-athlete and multi-club member, time of my own is rarely available. I started looking for a job as soon as I turned 15 years old, though due to my lack of availability, I was rejected everywhere I applied. While spending the days trying to figure out how else I could make money, I was reminded of the “side hustles” I ran during my elementary and middle school years.

 

 Reselling is the art of purchasing goods or services to sell them at a higher price to make a profit. During my 4th grade year, fidget spinners were going viral and rapidly gaining popularity among the students at my school. It was not long before I caught onto the trend and decided to take full advantage of it.  “Brand new fidget spinner, in the color of your choice, brought directly to you the very next day for only $5”. I offered a product and service deal that was too good for any elementary school student to turn down. Although my business did eventually blemish, (due to the district-wide ban on fidget spinners) I had learned that making money without a job was very much possible through enough creativity and dedication.

 

            As I grew older, I became more and more driven by curiosity into the world of business. I had started a variety of small businesses and “side hustles” to find out which was the most profitable. While studying the concept of reselling, I came up with a strategy that inevitably changed the whole game for me. Rather than selling unfamiliar products and services to consumers whom I did not understand, I decided to resell items that were part of a niche in which I was already an expert.

 

The concept of motorized vehicles has always been a passion of mine. I started riding motorcycles at 5 years old and quickly grew obsessed with the adrenaline it awarded me with. This was the perfect category for me to focus on because it is one I have had the most experience. At the age of 13, I purchased a non-running go-kart for $300 from my neighbor. I spent 3 straight weekends getting everything working right and looking pretty and I was beyond excited. At the end of it all, I listed my go-kart for sale online and successfully sold it for $1000.

 

During the following years, I spent my free time repeating the same process with different low-risk items. Today I continue expanding my reselling enterprise by experimenting with different motorcycles and cars to find the most profitable vehicle. Though it does take lots of knowledge and dedication to succeed, time itself is not a necessity for it can be done simply during your free time.