Find the shape and tell it!
All Students: Be sure to read the entries for this group --December 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 Tuesday, January 16 on Canvas.
When asked about my ideal family vacation, I envision bustling fish markets, exotic fruit stalls, and the exhilaration of navigating overfilled parking lots. However, my everyday life in Fontana drastically contrasts my fantasies. I often resented the city for its limitations and seemingly ordinary suburban tranquility, which didn't align with my desire for dynamic experiences. Nevertheless, amidst these sentiments, I couldn't help but appreciate the sense of camaraderie that my neighbors graciously provided. The distinctive sounds of the honks signaling the arrival of elote carts on certain street corners and the enticing aroma of carne asada tacos from street vendors slowly became nostalgic to me.
Besides a tiny section in the “ethnic foods” aisle of our local Stater Bros., my family of Vietnamese immigrants discovered a piece of their homeland at Little Saigon in Orange County, California. In my household, ABC Supermarket and Thuận Phát Supermarket were our equivalent of “Trader Joe’s” or “Vons” in others. Despite the monthly fifty-mile drive to the largest Vietnamese enclave in America, it was the most convenient means of accessing Vietnamese ingredients for home-cooked meals. Our day trips to Little Saigon were the only consistent family outings, almost becoming a tradition. On the one day when everyone wasn’t busy, Sunday, we had to allocate time and resources to productive tasks like grocery shopping. These day trips weren't just about acquiring groceries; they were a sensory journey, a way to infuse our home with the essence of Vietnam.
Instead of screaming to my heart’s desire at Disneyland, I was twenty-five minutes away staring at the fresh cuts of red and pink meats behind the glass counter as the butcher expertly sliced my mother’s picks with the most grating saw. Nevertheless, it wasn't my primary concern, as I cherished the rare moments I could spend with my parents. I didn't frequently dwell on financial challenges like these until middle school when I attended parties hosted by my uncle's in-laws. The walls of the lavish homes I visited had shelves adorned with arrays of glistening trophies and medals, ranging in size and material from violin recitals to soccer games. The awards I received for my academic performance and perfect attendance were a few saplings to an entire orchard compared to what the children of those houses achieved. As a result, I often wondered, "What if my parents’ circumstances could have been different? Could I have become a child prodigy? Would being able to afford lessons help me to excel as a professional pianist or ballet dancer?”
My presumed lack of recreational talents was compensated for when I ignited my spark of curiosity through conducting experiments in my high school laboratory, rather than performing in a concert hall or competing in a sports stadium. Engaging in hands-on experimentation allowed me to delve into the intricate realm of scientific reasoning, fostering my deep adoration with the principles that govern the natural world. Moreover, I uncovered my artistic abilities, which I thought would remain dormant, when I joined the yearbook staff. In the yearbook production process, I could finally translate my imagination into designing vivid spreads and crafting dynamic stories, discovering a newfound passion for visual storytelling. My accomplishments in these areas helped me realize that my identity wasn't solely defined by accolades; it was shaped by the activities that brought me the greatest sense of fulfillment.
Amid life's imperfections, I found solace in the enveloping embrace of gratitude. As I embarked on a journey through unfamiliar terrain and oddly familiar landscapes, gratitude mirrored the ever-constant presence of the moon, a companion to whom I instinctively sought comfort. I was grateful for those who assumed fixed roles in life so I could explore a myriad of them. In school, I appreciated the classes that allowed me to discover which fields suited me best and revealed my hidden talents. Moreover, I was thankful for my upbringing granting me the privilege to explore my native culture and the ones that surrounded me, creating memories such as culinary trips to Little Saigon and conversing in broken Spanish with merchants. My gratitude manifests itself into hope as I long for the return of the abundant joy I once knew. While hope can be a lethal virtue, for our desires may never materialize and could lead to despair, it gives me anticipation for the future every day. During the nights of my greatest anguish, I would gaze at the ever-changing moon residing in the inky blankets of the sky. Its phases, shifting throughout the month, serve as a testament that even during moments of discontent, one can rediscover oneself with time.
In the muddy trenches, where shadows linger like ghosts, Private William felt the weight of the world in every step he took. The war had turned his youth into a distant memory, and the horrors of combat etched fine lines into his young face that spoke of a lifetime of suffering. William huddled in a corner, his breath visible in the cold, dense air. Days were always much easier for William. Days brought no time to think, except for the thoughts of survival. Night, on the other hand, was a different story. Night brought about hard reflection and bitter sweet memories. This particular night seemed like Satan himself encircled him in a deep black, starless sky with no morning light in sight. As the blanket of darkness encompassed him so did the thoughts that waged a war inside his head. He began to reflect on his two different lives, the two different individuals who shared his face.
He traced his fingers around the edges of a dirty, crumpled letter from home, its edges worn from countless readings. A piece of paper that reminded him of whom he once was, and of the fond memories of his youth, family, and loved ones. The touch of the letter brought memories of being a young man full of hopes and dreams. Hopes of living a full life filled with adventure, joy, and dreams of being a hero who fought for the freedom of his country. The words of love and peace on the page offered solace and longing, but it couldn’t erase the images that were now forever imprinted on his soul. The image of the young man he once saw who stared back at him in his reflection with a vibrant sparkle in his eye has now changed to a different reflection of a somber man that he is now forced to come to know. The war had stolen his innocence, crushed his dreams, and left only the hollow, empty shell of a man who had seen too much. He no longer felt himself the hero he once dreamed he would be and no longer recognized the boy he once was. Could he ever find this young man in the mirror again? If he did, could he even look him in the eyes? He lives a different life now, one of violence and death. Would his family and friends even recognize this new man? Would they love him the way they used to? Where once William’s story used to be told of carefree days full of outside adventures and nights full of laughter with his friends, it now speaks of days full of desperation, struggle, and lifeless bodies of comrades he considered brothers.
William stood, his rifle ready in his hands, and saw in the distant ruble a sign of the approaching dawn. In that quiet moment before the beautiful chaos resumed that released all the painful memories from his mind, he tightened his grip on the ragged letter and felt a flicker of resilience and felt an ember of humanity he once held dear. The light brought no warmth but it did bring hope. Hope of another day, hope of one day returning home. William felt a tear escape from the corner of his eye. Not a tear of weakness, but a tear acknowledging what coming home would mean. He would return to a home that he remembered, but it will never be the same. He would never be the same. He may return home to a country full of freedom, a freedom that he fought for, but he himself will never be free. He will always be at war with his thoughts and memories, and will never know peace again. Home may never give William the chance to view that person he hopes to see once again looking back at him, no matter how hard he fights, but home has to be the hopefulness to fight for another day.
An emotional pain no one is ever ready for is when the world seems to crash on you we know as grief. Grief is a state of sadness caused by a loss of someone that comes in a cycle of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. As we all lose someone and have different ways we deal with things, we are never prepared mentally and physically. I never felt this pain or even really touched on the subject of grief until I was living through it. Losing someone who was dear to my heart I never thought they would ever leave my life till years and years later was unfortunately cut short. It began in my favorite month, August. It has sunny weather, my birthday and it was special to me until 2021.
On August 7th, 2021 three days before the start of my sophomore year, my world was turned upside down. As I will not speak on the tragedy, I will explain my grief and how everyone goes through it differently. Starting sophomore year I was different because I was lost. The crazy thing was in English class we had a grief assignment which is where I learned everything about my journey. There was nothing going on in my mind and neither my emotions. The student I am did not let me slip, but going through a day of school was hard. I would cry for no reason or I would not show up to school because I could not figure out how to be around people. My biggest issue was acting “normal”. I could not figure out how to pick myself back up from this space and go through life like how I used to. Physically I would overeat and not eat at all because I was not able to comprehend anything and that had an even greater effect on my mind. I thought my grief had begun because I was depressed. I was in a state where nobody was home and I lived like that and believed it was going to be like this forever.
As a family grief was never spoken about but the signs are easy to notice. I realized we were all in different stages or not in any stage at all. I did not get to take a break off of school like my family did so I was losing my mind. Learning that there is no order to grieve gave me a better sense of mind as I did not feel rushed. The beginning months I was depressed, I had no energy and I felt like my purpose in life was nothing because I was not being successful. As I reflect on my emotions I do not think I went through denial because of how everything happened. I always knew the loss was the end and I never thought a light would switch on and it was a dream. I went straight to acceptance and had to learn to not reflect. I would not allow myself to relive the moments which I think were detrimental in my healing journey as I shut a lot of memories out from my mind to stop my flood of emotions. Anger did not hit until my birthday because I did not get that text or see that person but that is also when my acceptance happened because I knew it was the end. I was angry with God and could not forgive him for the pain he caused me and my family but I am working on that and building my relationship with him again. Now I feel my relationship with him has grown so much through this journey.
Grief has no timeline and it took me a while to figure out that. I think I hit the premature stages of grief but I do not think I am ok and ready to move on from the situation. What I do know is I am stronger from this, nothing has had a bigger effect on me than this and I learned to be the person I am today. I have a better understanding of how emotions work when dealing with a new emotion. I do not ever think I will “complete” the grieving cycle because I think this pain I will carry forever and I think instead of hating that pain, I have learned to live with it. I have found ways to make it through my days without bursting. The takeaway from this is yes grieving and feeling a whirlwind of emotions is new and difficult but it gets easier to manage as you learn how to adjust your life to this new experience and state of being.
These things are itchy, do I have to wear them the whole time?
Alright, well when you lovingly shoved me into the van, then the train, then another bus, then the plane, then another van ride, thanks for at least giving me water. If you guys wanted me to not know where this buildings at, you could’ve just knocked me out, I’d have almost preferred it, I hate flying. You guys have treated about as nice as you seem capable of doing so far, but I think we can all agree that we find myself in extraordinary circumstances. I mean, I was in like a 4-minute conversation with that guard outside and I didn’t even open my mouth once. What can I say? Some things you just can’t teach. Some things you are gifted by something else, though. I expect that’s what you guys wanna hear the most.
I guess this all started when I met Malcom and Chris. Two crazy idiots who got lucky in their chosen craft. They were grave robbers that got too ahead of themselves and set their sights on older scores than business men from the 19th century. Somehow they got word of some ritualistic stuff in rural Ireland, I dont know how, this was all before I met them. They said they never met him in person, never even heard his voice. All they had to go off of was that he lived in rural Dublin and had some kind of impressive job since he was apparently rich in some way. So they fly out there and get all the stuff they need from the guy that tipped them off. They drive way out to some old fortress in the middle of nowhere (mind you I’m just telling you what they told me) and start poking around the place, not really knowing what they’re looking for. All they were promised was old antique alchemy, occult stuff. They go down some stairs that they described as a 4-minute walk, and walk into this huge, like vertical room. They said it looked like a big, empty dungeon surrounding a huge hole in the floor, almost like a well. Chris told me that once they were in this room, he noticed something weird was up, it faintly smelled like something was burning, their hair stood up like when you’re about to be struck by lightning, and their phones start to “warm up”. Malcolm said his was actually charging while he was holding it in that room. While they’re there the guys texting them with cryptic-ass messages and vague warnings. Apparently he had never really acted weird like that before, so they were starting to lose their nerve and were considering bailing after not finding jack. At about that point, they said, they were super bored and were waiting for their truck guy, me, to get back to the access road, so Malcolm started reading some of the stuff Mr. Mysterious was sending them out loud, as a joke he said. According to him, the texts were in understandable English and were mostly legible, but as they went on they started to get “all weird and spasticated”. After the last string of random words, the show kicked off. The whole place starts to shake and it sounds like some huge storm in brewing in the hall they’re in. According to them, it starts to smell like rotting flesh too, that sickly sweet smell y’know? While this is going on, all the electronic stuff they had on them starts going ballistic, Malcolm’s phone fries out in his hand, he never got that back, Chris’s phone burned a hole through his pants, and the camera he had on him started spazzing out. Eventually the shaking gets so bad it knocks them off of their feet and crashing to the ground, which knock out Chris but Malcom stays awake to see the rest. According to his recollection, the walls started to ‘move away from the well’ and the roof of the chamber started to ‘morph and get all distorted, like when you disrupt the surface of water and the reflections get all wavy’, and a horrible, metal screeching-like sound started to play. Then he described a blindnging white flash of light, and a small popping noise, and then it was over. He got up, walked over to Chris to see if he was alright, and that’s when he noticed her. At some point during all the commotion, she had either crawled out of the hole or just appeared somewhere close to it, but she was there now, just sitting on the ground looking at them. I can go ahead and describe her now, but it’s real hard to do. She was naked so I could see that she was lanky, thin, and pale, she looked like someone who wasn’t starving, but didn’t eat a lot. She had long hair that was always changing color, but it was usually blonde. I noticed that she didn’t have a belly button, nails, or nipples, I’m not sure if the openings for her ears and nose actually went anywhere either. She kind of glowed faintly. Anyways, she was just studying them as Chris regained consciousness, like a animal, and as Malcom helped him up she got up too, and when they started towards the stairwell to get the hell out of there, she followed. They got freaked out by this, so they start booking it up the stairwell, yelling at her to stop and such, and she’s clambering up the stairs as well, silent as a stone, just keeping her eyes on them. I had been waiting at the access road for about half an hour, which I realize now means that the whole shaking must have gone on for at least that amount of time but Malcolm and Chris described it like it was 2 minutes.
Sorry, can I get some water, I think this whole ‘writing with my mind’ thing kinda tires out my body. Thanks.
So I see the two guys I’m supposed to take back to the airport come barreling out of the fortress, out through the gate, and through the like mile-wide plain of grass that separates the road and the fortress, and they’re getting tailed by this tall white figure, which freaks me out too. I put the truck into gear and ride over to the guys to pick them up, and in the process I almost hit the girl. In fact, I would have hit her, had she not disabled my truck. I don’t know what she did, she just kinda glared at me through the windshield and the engine died. Just like that, one second it was running the next, total silence. The scariest part is that the truck just lost all of its momentum, like it’s parked. My head’s ringing like a ball at this point and Malcolm and Chris get knocked on their asses. This is where you might get frustrated with me, because this is where I get frustrated with my own memory, or what’s left of it. When Miss Meretseger, or whatever she is, killed the car, something ran through my body and scrambled it up pretty good. I lost some things, like huge chunks of my memory and my sense of smell, but I gained some things, some very peculiar and incredible abilities. I remember the last week or so, past that, it’s like sailing through a huge body of water during a storm, and these huge, bright lighthouses come drifting into view every once in a while, but they’re my memories. Comforting, warm, memories in the sea of cold, hostile, waters. My christening, my sister’s graduation, my brother’s rehab graduation. My dads face.
Sorry, got in my own head. I don’t like the feeling when you're thinking of heavy stuff. Anyways, yeah she basically gave me and evolutionary remix. Makes me more thirsty too, like my body is using a lot more water than it used to power it all. Weird. My phone was the only that survived, so I call some authorities, I don’t remeber who specifically or what that conversation was like. All I remember from then on is deciding that the best course of action was to twalk back to the nearest town, get to an airpot, and fly back to America. According to the guys, everytime I spoke the ground would shake. On our walk, I leaned on a tree and turned it to glass, which caused it overheat and explode. That was cool. After a couple more edits in my brain, your guards seize us at the terminal, and I’ve been in the loving care of C.A.C.H.E ever since.
So yeah, that about summarizes it. I heard that your guys are tring to catch the girl out in the woods, and that she took down two of your helis. Yeah, good luck with that. Just assign me a number like that zombie virus or the rock that makes you not exist, I’m tired.
The cold air hitting my skin burned, and the headband around my ears was doing little to help. My cheeks were flushed from the chill while my legs were burning both from the temperature and from the effort of the pace I was running at.
I felt as if I was moving through jello. My legs felt like each step would make them give out, and the hill I had just hit was not helping. As I ran past my coach, he shouted something. I couldn’t quite hear what he said, but I knew he was probably screaming the time I was at and the distance from the finish like he usually did. As I went from concrete to grass again on the course, the poorly kept grass made me trip slightly and I felt my ankle roll, but I didn’t care.
I was about to win.
Just don’t let them catch you, I kept saying over and over as I moved closer to the end.
Once I hit the more crowded area, my teammates who were not racing began screaming at me and cheering for me as I came into sight of the finishing shoot. Suddenly I didn’t feel cold or tired anymore.
My teammates were the only thing that could motivate me to sprint. I started pumping my arms faster, my legs still feeling like they weren’t moving as I tried to force them to speed up with my arms. Just as I crossed the finish line, I raised my arms in triumph.
I had just won.
I grabbed my medal and immediately turned to watch my teammates who were running with me finish. As the girls started coming in after me, I congratulated them. I felt the best I ever had after a meet, but it wasn’t just because I had won. Of course, I was incredibly excited about winning, but what really made me feel so great was that all of my teammates had all ran well. I felt more happy over our group’s successes rather than my own victory. Our team finished third in that race, which I proudly led us to, and hearing their improvements and personal wins during the race made me feel even more proud. I didn’t care if I had won that day, what really mattered to me was the wins of my teammates.
I love running, and I love running well even more, but something I learned about myself when I joined my team was that my team’s goals and happiness meant so much more to me than my own goals. I love when I run a good race or have a good workout, as it is exciting and motivating, but it is so much better when my team wins a meet or qualifies to the next round of CIF. When we didn’t make it to state, I cried with the team. When we made it to CIF finals, I celebrated with them. When I was having a bad day and wanting to give up during practice, I told myself to fight through it because they needed me to run well for them so we could win our next meet.
The girls from my cross country team my freshman through junior year were some of my best friends, my biggest motivators and my personal cheerleaders. Their excitement when we won, their smiles when we succeeded as a team or I ran a good race, it motivated me more than any words from my coach ever could. The love I had for these girls inspired me to be my best every day. It inspired me to continue in the sport even when there were days I didn’t want to; I ran for them.
This sport taught me so much more than how to run fast. Of course, it taught me important life skills like how to be disciplined and how to work hard, but also, and more importantly, it taught me how to be a good friend. The sport and my teammates showed me that love is sacrifice, it’s hard work, it’s dedication to being the best version of yourself for your people every day, and it’s doing the best for them. The team also taught me about the importance of having good role models around you to motivate, mentor you, and the importance of having good friends to inspire you.
The lessons I learned from my time with my team will be with me throughout my life. As I turn the page on my time with my high school teammates, I will take the values I gained from my experience with my girls into my time with my new college team. I am so excited for a new chapter of my life with running, but I am even more excited to build a similar bond with the team I will be with for the next four years. I am so happy I get to continue growing as a person in college the same way I did in high school: as an athlete alongside my teammates.
Looking at the word fear, you might think of your own terrors like spiders, ghosts, snakes, isolation, heights, etc. Everyone has a fear of their own. It is almost inevitable not to have one growing up throughout your life. The formal definition of fear is an unpleasant, often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger.
As terrifying as that sounds, when I see the word fear, I think of it as playing a role in blocking us from achieving goals/desires we want to pursue. It is a concept that amazes me when thinking of how a word, or mindset, can be the factor that prevents us from doing the things that we want in our lives.
I can recall the times I let fear get in the way of the things I wanted to do which placed me in a what-if type of world. My biggest regret would be letting fear get in the way of opportunities that could have been beneficial for my education and personal life. All I would do is look back and think about what could have gone differently if I had just pushed myself out of my comfort zone and gone for what I wanted. Moments when I was too scared to participate in performances because of the possibility of messing up. Moments when I missed out on job opportunities because I was afraid it would be too stressful. Or, even moments when I was afraid to make new friendships or connections with others. Moreover, these life experiences were altered specifically because of my worries. I allowed myself to live in fear of the unknown and continuously thought about how it could affect myself and my life if I went after it. Having a mindset filled with overthinking thoughts and anxiety makes you take a step back because of that fear overtaking your capabilities.
However, growing up, I realized that allowing yourself to stay stuck in the past of what you could have done prevents you from progressing forward. As difficult as it may seem, do not let fear be your deciding factor in reaching for what you aspire to have or whatever is best for you. We are only human and will encounter events or obstacles that will put us in fear for quite some time. Nevertheless, we should not stay stuck in that fear but instead work through it to move forward.
Understand and reason with your fears to overcome them because the more you don't come to terms with what's stopping you from your goals, the more those blockages will come into play. A quote from Deepak Chopra that I viewed as significant stated, "If you try to get rid of fear and anger without knowing their meaning, they will grow stronger and return." Every fear has an underlying meaning, so realizing what's causing it can be another component for overcoming fear.
In conclusion, awareness regarding how much fear can take over your life has been one of my biggest realizations for self-fulfillment. It can be a burden on your achievements to allow that mindset the right to control you will only make your blockages worse. Start by digging into your beginning causes of fear, and practice learning how to ease your state of mind instead of overthinking or thinking negatively. With constant practice, you can trail yourself onto an optimistic pathway to new opportunities and experiences for your lifetime.
Works Cited
https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/fear
https://www.audible.com/blog/quotes-fear
1:45 a.m.—that was the time my lola (grandmother) from my dad’s side passed away. I woke up around 6:30 a.m. and started studying for a quiz I had later in the day. At around 7:06 a.m., there was some noisy disturbance coming from outside my room. This was usually the time when everyone was awake and getting ready for the day, so instinctively, I kept studying for the quiz. Twenty minutes later, I still heard the loud commotion of what sounded like a crying, laughing baka (cow). Then, I heard another person crying but also laughing with the other person. I assumed they were my sister and dad’s cries of laughter and thought my dad had shown my sister a funny Instagram reel. Curious, I walked out of my room and into the sounds of cries and laughter that were coming from inside the bathroom. “Well, I’ll be damned,” I said to myself. I was completely wrong; both my sister and dad were grieving over his mom passing away unexpectedly.
I stood there in complete shock, trying to understand the unfortunate situation, and I made sure not to say anything stupid that would further amplify their feelings of sorrow. They both looked at me, terribly hurt. Their shirts were soaked in tears, along with snot dripping down. Their faces were so red, I thought they were drunk. That is, when my sister told me, “Mommy 2 (my dad’s mom) is gone,” there was a short pause. My dad and sister kept crying as they walked out of the bathroom to pray for Mommy 2 at our altar. Initially, my whole emotional state was in shock; I was trying to perceive what I was just told. My face was turning pale as I started reminiscing about the memories I had made with Mommy 2. For example, there was a time when I disliked her habits of snoring too much at night and having little to no morals when we would eat during the day. In context, Mommy 2 had come to visit us and brought many gifts from the Philippines. At the time, I was in the 3rd grade with a lot of social anxiety, but at the same time, I was extremely childish. I found Mommy 2 hard to look at and nicknamed her Mrs. Lizard Skin, though I made sure to be careful if I were to be caught. It was completely normal for me to talk behind other people’s backs and say rude things about them quietly. I never once thought of how teachers always said, "There are consequences to your actions,” and often paid less attention in class than during recess. Stupid enough, I would say those negative things quietly when I thought Mommy 2 was sound asleep, snoring the night away. She must have heard what I had said about her because the next morning, I witnessed her breaking down in tears beside my dad and mom. Both my parents looked extremely disappointed at me. I felt guilty and went up to her to apologize for what I had said about her earlier. It was at that moment that I learned a valuable lesson about how our actions have consequences. She stopped crying and looked at me. I gave her a warm hug and broke down, confessing everything bad I had said previously about her. We both started crying together and began talking, understanding one another. Another valuable lesson I learned from her was to “not judge a book by its cover." At first, I thought her snoring and lack of morals were meant to purposely irritate and annoy us; however, I later learned how honest she was, explaining to me that in the Philippines, it was completely normal, and she apologized for her actions. That memory holds dearly to me because this was the first time I felt I had done anything correct in my life as a 3rd grader.
Back to the present, my whole family and I were praying for the loss of Mommy 2. We all cried and hugged each other, expressing our condolences and feelings of love for Mommy 2. She was a beautiful and wise woman who I very much loved and respected ever since I was a little kid. She was the reason why I and my other siblings exist. She was nothing short of a miracle for her contagious humor, and I hope I’ll see her once again and meet her up in heavens with everyone there who awaits my arrival.
This story began recently this past weekend at my volleyball tournament. This was my first tournament with this new team, and it was a qualifier that would determine what division we would have to play in the whole season. We had barely little time together and only had three practices in preparation for this tournament, so there were a few doubts we would be in the higher division. It was 7:30 in the morning when I got to the gym and I was freezing cold despite having three layers on. I was excited to play as my mindset was to just enjoy my final season and I had no worries because I was not stressed out in recruiting unlike my previous year. Thankfully, we did not play first as I was still freezing cold along with my other teammates. Before our first game, my coach decided to make me and my teammate I have been playing with for three years, captains. This was very exciting because I had never been captain before as some of my previous coaches had chosen captains by voting, just like a popularity contest or just by pure favoritism (the captain had kissed up to the coach!). My coach decided to choose me and my teammate because he saw leadership qualities in us during the practices we had, and he knew us as we had both been returners to the club and knew a lot about us based on our previous coaches. The first day I thought was a great start to the season, we won 2 games and lost 1, but it did not make us upset that we lost because we still qualified for the upper division. The loss was also a close loss that led to a third set to break the tie, so none of us were upset that we did not win all of the games. The second day was extremely good as we won all 3 of our games! We definitely all were a lot tired from yesterday, but we still pulled off the wins. I was definitely tired as I was barely on the bench the first day, but I powered through it and definitely learned the lesson to eat something if we were playing back to back games haha. On a better note, my team and I placed in division 3 (subdivision) in the power division (highest division) and I could not be any more proud. My team had only just met but it felt like we had been playing together for years just by the performance on this tournament alone which determined where we would be for the rest of the season.
The lessons I learned in this volleyball tournament was to take more leadership and stand out on the court. I previously was more of a quieter person, and let my actions speak for me. But, I have learned that I can be even louder with my actions and communicating more. I learned leadership as I am one of the oldest on my team, so I should lead by example, but also be encouraging and lift others up along with myself. I encouraged my teammates and always talked to them on the court which led to more of my teammates talking on the court besides myself. I noticed when I was not on the court (my coach was testing the lineups), my team was less talkative and more errors would occur because the team was not talking unlike when I was on the court I made sure to communicate before every play. Lastly, the most important lesson I learned those two days was to just relax and have fun. I felt like I played one of my best I have in a while, and it is closely linked to the fact I was more laid back and played the game like I had nothing to lose, which was true, as I was no longer stressed about playing good and collecting highlights. However, being this relaxed certainly could not have been possible if it weren't for my coaches. Regardless of mistakes I made, my coach simply just told me to fix it and trusted me, and allowed me to stay on the court. This allowed me to play not stressed out because I have had my fair share of coaches who would take me out if I made mistakes which made me afraid to make mistakes and played more stiff rather than relaxed, but this was not the case for my coach. Overall, this tournament feels like it taught me more about character in volleyball in a span of two days than I had ever been taught in all my years of playing volleyball and the sad thing is, I learned it in my final season.
In a dark and distant reality, there exists an academy where alchemy and the arcane reign supreme. Bearing the mark of an eagle, this school stood far above those around it. Within that school was a professor, whose name was lost to the cogs of time. They were the keeper of a magical archive which carried the collective wisdom of all pupils who had entered the academy. One student, however, had created an evil manual detailing the steps by which one might attain ultimate power. Ashamed of what their pupil had concocted, the professor locked away the work, vowing to never again allow another student to produce a tutorial, lest they give birth to such a terrible creation once again.
Some thousand years later, a curious student named Gordon arose in the dead of night. Nervously, Gordon descended down the stairs leading to the deepest depths of his school’s archives. To Gordon, every next step cemented his current predicament. The further he traveled down the stone steps, the more sure he became that there was no going back. He would not be the first to descend this path, and he would be far from the last. The gray steps were endless, and Gordon began to doubt whether his actions were a mistake. Still, he persisted. After what seemed like centuries of walking, Gordon finally reached the archives. Before him remained a large wooden door, its planks splintered and its handle caked with rust. Notably, the door carried faded text ominously declaring that “Everything is a Story”. This was it.
Setting his candle down, Gordon reached for the ring of keys attached to his belt. With shaking hands, Gordon began his search. The ring contained a seemingly innumerable quantity of keys, ranging from the most pristine golds to heavily corroded bronzes. After a frantic scramble, Gordon finally managed to slip the correct key into the door’s rusty lock, the excess keys jangling about. As the clangs of the keys grew more frequent, so did Gordon’s heartbeats. He had come too far to be caught now. Cautiously, Gordon picked his candle back up and pulled the door handle, the keys still in the lock.
The door creaked open, its hinges seeming to fall off the frame at any moment. Wearily, Gordon took a step into the archives, neglecting to shut the door after he had entered. Inside the archives stood hundreds of shelves, each containing books ranging from small pamphlets to gargantuan tomes. The towering columns of books casted heavy shadows, undermining what little light the candle had produced. Gordon wandered the shelves, scouring for one particular work. The candle’s light began to fade. Gordon was running out of time. Hurriedly, Gordon snatched several ancient texts off the shelf, hoping they would be the one he was looking for. No dice.
Just when all seemed lost, however, Gordon had finally found what he had been searching for. With no time to lose, Gordon swiftly exited the archive, leaving the door open on his way out. The candle had long since blown out, but Gordon didn’t care. His mission was far more important than any consequences he might face now. His success was so close that he could taste it. It tasted somewhat sweet, he thought to himself.
Elated, Gordon carried his book up the spire of stairs, finding his way to the small academy’s scullery. After lighting another candle, Gordon dropped the crumbling tome onto the table, a cloud of dust exploding into the air as he did so. Wiping the cover off, he smiled to himself. This was the Terrible Tome of Taboo Tutorials. A book which carried forbidden knowledge, with its reader sure to gain infinite power. The power to bend the will of others. The power to drive masses to drop to their knees, begging for a taste of it. Gordon salivated at the thought.
Gordon’s previous research attempts informed him that page 182 of the tome was paramount to his success. Eagerly, Gordon flipped through the pages. His eyes widened, his smirk following suit. Immediately, he got to work. Gordon sprinted all across the room, seizing the instruments necessary for the ritual. The devices seemed almost foreign to Gordon, with some being akin to small scooping devices. For gouging, Gordon assumed. Crucibles and small spiral apparatuses all met at the center table. Finally, Gordon lit the furnace, hell flames jumping out from within it. All preparations had been made. Gordon’s ecstatic anticipation had grown into a ravenous animosity which consumed him, corrupting his mind. He was utterly sucked into his work, and could wait no longer.
First, Gordon added two and one-fourth cups of powder, likely made from crushed wheat, into a crucible. He then mixed in one scoop of a different white powder, this one marked as necessary for the powers to fully develop. The final scoop was of salt, and half as much as the previous powder. Gordon believed this might be for putting in his enemies’ wounds, of course. They were merged thoroughly, then set aside. For usage later in the ceremony, most likely.
Gordon then prepared a block of smushy, yellow substance measured to exactly one cup. A fourth white powder, this time being sweet, was added in a quantity of one-fourth cup. A fifth powder was added, this one being brown and with a similar taste. An egg of hen was then added at the end, surely a mark of the dark powers that rest within the amalgam. A scoop of sweet liquid was added last, with the bottle from which he poured bearing the insignia of a white flower. Gordon laughed to himself. Something so sweet makes for something so easily corrupted. The amalgamation before him was then unified using the spiral apparatus, forming a sort of brown paste. A herald of things to come.
The original powder fusion was then added to this glob of vile, and two cups of brown globes were thrown in as well. The book denoted these orbs as one of the most important steps of the ritual, exciting Gordon. These would clearly be the artifacts which awoke the demons sleeping within the blend.
After the reactants had melded once more, Gordon placed a sheet of parchment onto a metal slate, tossing balls of the demonic mixture onto it. The spherules were spaced two inches apart, just as the paintings within the tome had described. The demons would need space to incubate, Gordon figured. What seemed like millennia had passed as Gordon beamed, admiring his work. The observance was soon to be completed. Only one step remained. Grasping the metal sheet, Gordon slid the orbs into the furnace which jumped to life, releasing fumes all throughout the scullery.
The fumes smelled pleasant, Gordon thought. Soon, he became entranced by the scent, almost as if he were hypnotized. Stuck in a stupor, Gordon waited for approximately eight-to-ten minutes, or until the clumps seemed to be light brown. As soon as the time had passed, Gordon sprung up and pulled the sheet out of the furnace, placing the now-flattened orbs onto a wire rack. Gordon was charmed by the disks, losing all consciousness. Minutes turned into seconds as Gordon stared at his creations, bewitched by the sights, smells, and airborne taste they produced. The weapon Gordon had created soon turned against him, manipulating him and reducing his thoughts to nothingness. After about thirty minutes of cooling, Gordon had collapsed, overwhelmed by the psychic force his work gave off. The rite was complete. The chocolate-chip cookies are now ready to serve or could be stored in an airtight container. Thanks, Betty Crocker!
Jurassic Park is a familiar trilogy to many with a good amount of arcade games and spin-offs that have been released since its conception. However,some people may not know its origins actually lie within the book by Michael Crichton, Jurassic Park. The book is very similar to the movies in some respects but the book goes more in depth into the story of how Jurassic Park came to be and the events that unfold within the jungle of the island. In my opinion, the book is better than the movie, even though it may seem a bit slower considering its length and detail.
Jurassic Park was published on November 20,1990 by publisher Alfred Knopf, only a few years before the release of the movie. The initial success of the book was the cause of the rights to the book being purchased and made into a movie directed by Steven Spielberg.
The story follows the development of an island in Costa Rica filled with dinosaurs created by the millionaire John Hammond. These dinosaurs are developed from genetic material obtained from the time when dinosaurs were first alive, millions of years ago. Their goal is to create a place where people can interact and see dinosaurs of all kinds in a sort of theme park that is meant to be completely safe and full of precautions to keep visitors safe. Of course we know that things never go as planned and there are many problems that occur with the basic functions of the island. Therefore, the book is quite long and some parts may feel slow but everything is always important to the story and foreshadows future possibly dark events.
The story’s content is very well developed in terms of its entertaining plot and its realistic scientific backing. The way the story progresses is very captivating and there are many unexpected twists included along with some seemingly obvious things that occur. Especially for those who have already watched the movies, it may sometimes be obvious what is going to happen in the story. But even those who have watched it before reading it (like I did) will still be surprised by all of the extra details that are in the book. On top of that, throughout the book, the details are very scientifically accurate and seemingly possible for the future. All of the concepts within the book are real scientific ideas that are definitely possible at some point in time.
The common theme in the book is the advancement of technology, science, and the possible negative consequences that can occur when we as humans try to interfere with and control the natural course of things. Or even simply the unforeseen effects that come with huge leaps in technology. For instance, the development of AI serves as a great example of its effects in school and workplace environments. These factors were most likely unforeseen when AI was first being introduced to the public. But now we are constantly hearing about how it is changing the world. The same way in the book how the advancements made were affecting the course of the island along with other parts of the plot. The main events in the novel are generally all related to this theme and set examples for the message Crichton desires to convey.
Crichton uses a lot of scientific language throughout the book to appeal to science fiction enjoyers and to give the book an increased sense of reality. It almost feels like the events in the book could happen or have happened already in the past and this is just a recounting of those events. Moreover, his writing style and his ideas that he has about science and possibilities for the future make his books, especially this one, very believable and easy to imagine as a reader.
Although this book may not exactly be a world famous novel known far and wide, for science fiction enjoyers and really anyone who loves to read and is interested in a book they may not have known about, this is a great read. Even though it may be hard to pick up behind all the action and the intense plot of the story, Crichton’s message is important to us especially now as we continue to move forward in the world with new technology and new developments in life sciences. It is a warning hidden in excitement about the scary consequences that can come from being overly ambitious and trifling in things we are not in control of.
Jun 1, 2023,
Teenagers bear two big problems: peer pressure and their brains. Ultimately, these two issues either turn teenagers into rolling stones or mature adults. Entering the final free summer before we graduate, let's make it big! Summer will be filled with parties, hangouts, and more parties; that's what I thought.
*Ding Ding*, My phone was buzzed by two people wondering if we should do something before we watch “Spiderman Into the Spider-verse.” My response was, “Let's go to an escape room.” I am always a last-minute plot person, but they all didn’t mind and could go. That sounds like a plan. I could pick them up at around 6 in the evening.
Current time (2:30 pm): During this time, I was doing an oil change on my car and checking the balance of my tires. My car had a negative camber, where the wheels flared out like the sides of a triangle, so the tire usage also needed to be checked. I thought of this car as a prized possession because I instantly fell in love with how it turned out after adding only a few modifications.
It was 5:00 pm when I finished working on my car. The sun began to fall, which was when I headed back home to get dressed for today's eventful night. After getting all prepared, I headed out. One by one, picking them up, we invited one more person, which I didn’t mind since they were around the area.
We arrived at Victora Gardens at 6:23 pm, and we were able to make it to our reservation for the escape room. The environment is themed with an immersive atmosphere, like an elementary school, which is when we completed the time very close to the timer and received a sticker as a sign of our accomplishment. After all this hard work, we decided to head to raising canes for dinner.
On the way there, we decided that the night should end with something fun. My friend says, “There is a famous view that apparently everyone goes to, and that we should go.” Being able to go through with every plan, I happily agreed as we continued to eat. After leaving, I thought about doing something only seen in the movies that would surely end the night wild.
The day I just switched to June 2nd at midnight. The layout of the viewpoint is where you enter one way and leave out another way if you keep following the path. There are a bunch of twists and turns that I did get comfortable with each time I went there. I decided to tell my friends that I would have a stupid teenage idea of trying to get a new time going down the mountain, but my friends trusted me enough to want to be in the car and record. With each turn, I could hear my tires slowly losing grip. The night was foggy, and the roads were slippery. There were a lot of cautions I should’ve taken before starting this idea in my head that I would later regret. The windows were down, the music was blasting, and I had no other thought but just driving. With the last turn before we headed home, I turned the left corner too fast and felt my car slowly lose grip, and finally, I could not correct myself. The vehicle was heading into the left side, so in my instincts, I yanked the wheel right, steering the car towards the edge, and finally turned my wheel back again left. I heard the sounds of scrappage coming from the bottom of my car after it hit the dirt, and eventually, on top of rocks, my car was totaled.
Everything in this instance felt blank. I couldn’t believe it. After realizing that it was over, tears ran down my face. Everyone was good. No one was hurt, at least. There was a moment when we all did not know what to do in this situation. We crashed on decoration rocks in front of a gated mansion. The family in the house came out concerned, worried that we were hurt, and gave us water. My mind was spinning, and my heart felt shattered. I decided to make the decision and call my mom for help. My mom and uncle came through and were concerned for me. All my friends needed to go home, so one of their siblings picked them up and headed home, sending regards to me in the process. We called the tow truck while I got a lecture about safety and how the future would go.
4:12 am, The tow truck company finally arrived and was having a sales presentation, almost to savor any energy I had left in my body. I wanted to go home. I tried to wake up from this nightmare. When we got home, I tried to go to sleep; all I could hear in my head was screeching and a loud crack. There were no tears left to be shed then. I finally slept.
When I woke up, I realized it wasn't a dream as I raced outside my house to see my car in the damaged state it was in by the sidewalk. My phone was blown up by people asking if I was okay, but I just wanted to sink in my bed forever. Upon waking, the harsh reality of the damaged car confronted me. The summer that followed was a haze of depression, spent indoors, reliving the events repeatedly. The ruined car became a constant reminder of my teenage impulsiveness. My ignorant brain gave me a big wake-up call that would resonate with me for my entire life.
Before school started, I decided I needed to wake up and stop slugging. I got a job and saved overtime to get a new car. I now see these events as a learning experience, not just life attacking me and thinking the world is against me. I needed to develop habits I could learn from this, so I decided to take up reading books, spend at least one day at a park, and enjoy life outside my room. In every experience I go through in life, I always have the same scene repeating through the back of my head. The time was almost near for our senior year, and I needed to prepare for our final year in high school. I got my bag ready and charged every electronic device before sleeping. I scrolled through photos of the crash, seeing how I became a better person afterward. Approaching senior year, I prepared for the inevitable question echoing in every classroom:
“How was your summer?”
