Category: Junior Literary

It’s about to be almost two months until summer and I am not ready!!! One, I’m gonna miss my senior (don’t tell her, though) and two, that means start of senior year!! I’m about to be a hella near-adult. It feels like just yesterday I was in third grade running around on that rickety, but comforting playground at recess. Now, I’m running around a campus at an arts school with no recess or time for that matter. It feels as if time is slipping out of reach and then I realize that I’ve never had it in my reach. That’s something really scary to think about, in my opinion. I always told my family that no matter what, I’d never grow up. No one on this round, green earth could tell me that I’d become an adult one day and once you’re almost there, it happens in a flash. It feels as if the years of my life are just patting me on the back for two seconds and then running away, rather than when they used to hug me for weeks as a kid. I know I’ve talked about this before, but it scares me so much. I’m practically afraid of what’s out there. Sure, my mom’s prepared me well and I’m in that mentality but the thought still throws me into an absolute panic. Let me tell you, I cannot fathom what my life’s going to be like once I leave this place. I honestly just want to be happy with my life and be able to do what I can in order to make that happen. It would just be so nice, though, to be able to go back and actually enjoy those moments of my childhood where I was wishing that I could hurry up and grow up. I regret saying that I couldn’t wait to be an adult because I can’t get those years back. This is so much in so little time.

As a person who writes their blogs during fifth block, I find myself thinking of one reoccuring topic. Food. Food is described as something one can physically touch, and use to get rid of hunger. Food is literal, rather than metaphorical.

I want fast food RIGHT NOW. As I am writing this, I am imagining the crisp shell of a chicken nugget, and the unhealthy amount of salt on a french fry. My hunger has never been more intense, except for like, every other day of the week.

 

10. I want some MCDONALDS

Mcdonalds is known for their awesome fries. I love fries. I want to eat them NOW. other than fries, their burgers are really good, especially without bread. I don’t like any sandwiches that have bread on them. The McChicken nuggets are another favorite of mine.

 

9. I dont mind having SONIC

I want fries NOW. I will take fries from Sonic. Sonic is a drive-in restaraunt that has nice ice cream. Their food is good, but usually not what you ordered. They have wonderful cheese fries. I want fries.

8. fries from WENDYS?

Wendy’s is similar to mcdonalds, especially in the sense that they have fries. you know what I’m really craving? FRIES.

7. CRACKER BARREL?

They might serve fries?

6. I actually got fries, I’m pretty content. I think I wrote this like last week, so theres no point in continuing on the locations from which I wish to eat fries. They were from Sonic, and they were pretty good. some stories really do have a happy ending. This is one of those stories. I’ve had many disappointments in my life. However, this was not a disappointment. This was a triumph. My life has really taken a turn for the better….

If I could describe my feeling, it would be happiness. I have a feeling of being happy. My salt intake is quite high right now. Maybe salt makes me happy? Most foods i eat make me happy. Food is very nice. Being happy is very nice. Lots of things in this world make me happy. Some things make me sad. Fries make me happy. Never has a fry made me sad.

A couple days a go I found out that a friend of mine, who had been fighting cancer for quite a while, had passed away at only seventeen. Another friend that will never know life without homework, or get to see something so spectacular that it changes everything. Another friend who will never get married, who will never grow old. I have lost five friends now, some I was closer to than others, but the pain still explodes in my chest at the thought of them. Three to depression. One to a rainy night and bad tires. Now, one to cancer.

The thing that is messing me up the most is that the last thing I said to her was “stay strong”. Are you kidding me? I’m a writer. I had every capability to type out something extraordinary, but instead, I chose to be generic. I chose to tell her something that hundreds of people had already told her. Granted, we hadn’t talked in a while, but this was the girl I used to face-time everyday for an entire summer. This was the sweetheart that just wanted to love and be loved. Just like that, she is gone. Knowing that I will never be able to randomly message her and talk about god only knows what is killing me. She was a beautiful soul, and I hate the world for taking another one of the few flowers left amongst all of this ash.

I’ve been trying to ignore it. Telling everyone that I’m tired because I’m still getting over being sick when really, I’ve spent the last couple nights staring around the room, crying, and trying to find that one memory that defines she and I’s relationship. I’m struggling, and I think that is why I don’t want to talk about it. The first thing people ask me when I lose someone is if we were close. They want to know about the person. Well, she and I weren’t the type of friends that didn’t talk about the personal things. There was this state of awareness that we had both been through a lot, but talking about it wasn’t our thing. Instead, we talked about gummy bears, boys, and music. We sought distractions in one another, and I think that might be why I’m trying to distract myself from the fact that she is dead.

Either way, I hope she knows that I am grieving, and that I’m screaming on the inside, because people like her don’t deserve to suffer like that. I wish I had said more to her, but once again, life, and the end of it, has left me speechless.

I started thoroughly enjoying music around the age of four, listening to Fantasia Barrino and Lee Williams. After listening to these artists for a while, I began mimicking the words and sounds in their songs. Four years later, I grew a strong interest in singing. So much so that I joined both my school and church choir. One afternoon, my school’s choir director heard my voice and encouraged me to perform a solo at the next school event. I did and I have been singing every day since then. Now, I occasionally perform at different venues. Audience members often say that I have a beautiful or soulful voice. That alone is all the motivation I need to keep going. Then, I was introduced to the band in the sixth grade. After taking the certification tests, I chose to study the saxophone. In the sixth grade, I could barely play the B-flat scale. By my middle school years, I had grown so much that I could play clarinet parts. Once I reached high school, I had become so well that my band director considered naming me the drum-major. Overall, music has been not only been influential, but an experience of growth. 

Dance has been more of an outlet for me. It all began with my cousins and I dancing in my living room, which lead to me joining the praise and mime ministry at church. Because of the rush I got from it, I explored different styles of dance and stumbled upon interpretive dance, hip-hop, and drill. From that point on, I spent day in and day out watching and attempting to execute the moves of those styles of dance. Now, I use those movements as an outlet for my emotions to flow through my body. For example, when I am under a lot of pressure, I use a more aggressive style of dance to release some steam. If I’m feeling down, I’ll use interpretive dance to release the energy. At school, people will stop in front of the gym and watch. Then, they will come in and say, “I just love how you dance.” Although it is a therapeutic mechanism, I am glad other people can enjoy it as much as I do.

My writing, however, comes naturally. Because I am a firm believer in “no one can tell your story better than you can”, I write from personal experience. There are times when I can pull out a sheet of paper, start writing, and not know one word that I am writing. But by the time I put my pen or pencil down, there is an entire story on the page. I cherish every syllable, word, paragraph, poem, essay, story, and play. My discipline teacher has even stated, “I enjoy that you have taken the initiative to start stepping out of your usual writing style. It is working for you. Keep it up.” So, this must have been one of the best decisions I could have made as a writer because I am growing every day. I aspire to one day write an autobiography about my journey and upbringing. I cherish my beloved pieces of work, for it is my passion.

Hello everyone! Me again. I don’t feel that I put myself personally on this blog, so I thought, what the heck, why not?

So, I had an intervention with a friend in which they told me that I read into things too deeply as if there is a hidden meaning in every little thing. I was shocked by this observation because after all, it is VERY true.

I guess I do this because I in fact do this. I almost always leave little hidden meanings in the things that I say. I don’t think I exactly mean to, and I wouldn’t exactly call it being passive. I think I just think differently.

I asked my friend if this is a bad thing. If hiding and looking for deeper meanings and hidden meanings in things is so bad. They then responded with something that completely changed my entire perspective of this: “Not everyone thinks the way that you do.”

I was taken back for a second because I guess I never really thought about this. Of course I didn’t think that everyone thought like me, but I also didn’t go around thinking that everyone thought completely different than me.

They also said, “Some people see things as black and white. You say something, and you mean it.”

This all ultimately led me to realize that it is okay for me to hide deeper meanings into the things I say, but to not expect other people to reciprocate or understand it.

 

everyday, i wake up
with a head-ache and a heart-ache 
now knowing what the day is going to bring
but still living with the same pain from yesterday
and the day before
and then the week before
and the month before
and then the year before 
because no one can see right through me
no one can see that this life in shambles
is it because i hide it so well?
with this perfectly shaped box
with these glistening eyes
with these glossy lips
with this heavy tone
with this bright smile 
with these dressy clothes
but who am i, really?
do you know?

The first man I ever loved was my grandfather. He was better than my father at the time. He loved me with every shred of his soul and my heart filled with joy every time he held my tiny hands. I remember being very young and seeing how much he loved my grandmother. He showed her in every way: words, actions, smiles, and the genuine amount of care he held in his strong hands.
My grandmother was very sick, so when I wanted to go out somewhere PawPaw was my
Go to. At least once a week we would go to Wards in the afternoon, where I always ordered popcorn chicken and greasy fries. He wouldn’t let me eat it until we got to a park called Coopers Ferry.
Cooper’s Ferry was a beautiful place when I was little. The bridges wrapped around the bank of a lake and there was an old water wheel that I loved to watch spin. Upon entrance to the park were sidewalks that let up to the pavillion where picnic tables were set up. There, I would eat my ketchup- drenched food while he ate a salad and either a chicken sandwich or a burger. After, we would walk on the bridges.
Above the bridges were Sweet Gum trees that dropped their seeds called Sweet Gum Balls. These Sweet Gum balls are spikey and usually brown once they’ve fallen. In the summer they covered the pathway of the bridge. I loved them, for whatever reason, and would lift the hem of my shirt to my belly button, creating a pouch to hold as many of them as possible.
My PawPaw would laugh at me for this, and crunch them under his raggedy brown sandals, just to see my aggravation. However, I could never stay frustrated with him long. I always broke out into a fit of giggles. We would stay at that park for hours. As a child, those hours felt like years. I loved those moments then as much as I do now. I didn’t know it, but i was feeling love at its purest.
Time went by and suddenly I was fifteen, searching through boys. I tested out a few, one of them I let hang on a little too long. He hurt me and broke me down, but my pawpaw was still there. His smile was still as bright as the sunny summer days, even with the deeper laugh lines. He told me, then, that God would give me someone who I needed, I just had to have faith. He told me that God gave him my grandmother, despite every hardship they encountered, and they ended up just fine. I realized in these moments I needed a love like that: one that was made in heaven.
And there you were. Always in the background, always encouraging me, always honest, always pushing me to be better. How could I have not known these past few years? Maybe I was afraid of it. Afraid to be truly loved.
Now, you are nothing like my grandfather. From the outside, you seem harsh. Beaten. But within you there is so much more. My grandfather is the opposite: soft and beaming on the outside, keeping his struggles within himself so that he could steady everyone else. But the intensity of the love is the same. It’s like fire, engulfing things completely.
You are what I always dreamed of, and I pray it never leaves. I pray that we can have faith to get through every hardship we encounter, and end up just fine.

I’ve had the weirdest week since last Wednesday. It started with getting the flu, so I haven’t been in class until today. Because I have not been in class, I also have not completed any assignments which sucks. That’s just added stress on my body and soul, so if I act funny or something happens, that’s likely the reason. I can work on small things, sure, but I have a packet to finish that will cost me at least three test grades if I don’t get it done in time. I can work on it in small increments, but I don’t think I have the time for that. I also have a literary assignment that I have to complete, but I haven’t been able to complete it because I know the plot calls for so much planning and depth. Which also sucks because I really want to finish it.

As for the especially weird thing, I have been in a strange romantic lovey-dovey mood for the whole week. I’ve been trying to plan trips to random places for myself. When I say plan, it’s more like budget because homegirl has no money to just jet off across the country. I enjoy planning things like that, and I have a date in mind for such excursion as well. I have it somewhat broken down to where I go to certain sites for help. Instead of looking for a hotel, I go on Airbnb to look for cheaper homes in the area to stay in. I found this one website that helps create an itinerary for your trip if you send all your confirmations, which I find really cool. I don’t know if I’ll actually do it though. My latest issue has been driving versus getting a plane ticket. I can’t drive yet, so it’s very unlikely for me to do a road trip, meaning I will have to get a plane ticket. I’ve never been on a plane before, so I wonder how that will go. Man, long-distance is such a strange thing too, but I won’t get into that.

Those who know me know that I am truly a very opinionated person. I’m perfectly okay with speaking my mind. However, a lot of my opinions tend to be those on the unpopular side – the side that society doesn’t really agree with. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not gonna shove my beliefs down a person’s throat just because they believe in the popular opinion; but, I’ve seen and been in so many situations where people with the popular opinion are somewhat upset because of the difference in beliefs. I mean, honestly, those with unpopular opinions do the same. Which makes me wonder, why won’t people just let people have their opinions. If it isn’t racism or prejudice opinions then what does it matter? So what a person likes chocolate and you like vanilla? They literally only stated, “Hey, I like chocolate.” not “If you don’t like chocolate, I’ll hurt you.” If a person says how they feel about something, that doesn’t necessarily mean they want to debate with you. A lot of problems with people today is that we can’t just learn how to deal and accept that we all have our likes and dislikes. It’s always ‘what I like is right and if you don’t agree, you suck!’ Like come on, get a grip. We were all made with different DNA to like different things. Does it really make us bad people if some of us don’t really like sweet or sour things or that we don’t really celebrate birthdays or that our birthdays are the biggest things we celebrate? No. Why? Well, because in the end, it’s how you feel about a certain thing – not another person. So what if your opinion is popular or uncommon? If it makes you happy or if someone else’s opinion makes them happy, then it should be respected. That’s my other TED talk. 

What is free will? Is free will all that it seems to be? Or is everything already set up for us, and we’re just being guided through it? Is someone controlling our actions down to what we eat for breakfast in the morning?

Black Mirror’s most recent installment, “Bandersnatch,” explores this concept with more depth than one would think that this concept would need. I first began watching this at 5:30 in the morning after getting no sleep. I can say with certainty that if you want to avoid having a complete existential crisis, then don’t repeat that mistake of mine. This hour and a half long episode of the Netflix series Black Mirror is interactive- it lets you choose the actions that the main character of the story, Stefan, takes as he tries to get his choose your own adventure game in the mid-80s.

It’s interesting to see all the choices that you can make, down to the more minute details of his life, and how they can affect the story in a drastic way. If you choose a certain cereal for Stefan to eat, you see the commercial later on a tape before the intended recording plays. If you choose a certain style of music, you hear music from that artist during the introduction and sprinkled throughout the rest of the film.

When you go to the gaming company for Stefan to pitch his game, you meet two new people: the sleazy owner of the company named Mohan Thakur, and a famous video game developer (who also enjoys getting high) named Collin. You can agree to work under the company to develop the game; however, this results in the game getting a lackluster review because of its poor quality. You can choose to start over, and when you go back to the company… Collin insists that you’ve met before. This is our first hint that not all is as it seems with this particular character.

Now, we know the correct choice: say no to working under the company- rather, have Stefan insist that he can get the game finished by himself, and the company can publish the game. Now, the story can continue properly.

As Stefan continues to work on his game, he begins to spiral more and more into a state of anxiety and stress. This comes to a breaking point, and his dad tries to take him to a therapist. However, you can choose to go with Collin instead. And this path brings us even more questions than we already had.

Collin tells us about everything that he seems to have learned everything about the meaning of existence. He reveals that he knows that nothing is truly his own choice: everything has already decided for him. The government is planning their lives, they put drugs in their food, they record you no matter what you do.

I won’t spoil anything else for you, but this show does make you start questioning your reality. It’s definitely a strange feeling, to be intervening with the life of a relatively normal person. This feeling of existentialism will cause people who watch this show to start viewing reality in an entirely new light. Overall, I highly recommend this episode, and the series Black Mirror as a whole. Maybe I’ll dedicate another blog post to this series… as long as someone doesn’t choose a different path for me.