They race through my mind, keeping me up at night and clouding my mind during the day.
I can’t shut off my brain, no matter how hard I try to find the “off switch” I can’t. It’s like searching for a face in a crowded subway station or an insomniac trying to fall asleep.
I lay in bed at night, with a constant stream of thoughts flowing through my mind, understanding some, but confused by most. Sometimes it is a memory, thought or emotion; but often times I can’t identify it. My thoughts are all muddled together, keeping me from the things that I need to focus on.
I feel like I am being sucked into this dark tunnel with no way out. My mind is always alive and buzzing. It doesn’t matter how tired I am or how much I try to just not think, the constant and endless stream of thoughts never stop.
It’s sad to me how the concept of the holidays have gone from doing nice things for people, to spending copious amounts of money on trying to impress someone. The misconception that the more expensive a gift is, the happier a person will be, has been ingrained so deeply in today’s society that people have no recollection of what the holiday spirit of giving used to mean.
Time and time again I hear people stressing over whether a person will like the gift and when they finally give up, defeated at trying to figure out what to get they say, ” oh well, it’s the thought that counts”. This phrase wasn’t meant to be a cop-out.
Unaware that I had fallen guilt of this, I found myself stressing over what to get, what they will like and how much I want to spend for the “special” people in my life. I didn’t realize how much the holiday season had become so much about buying gifts and pleasing people until I was strolling through the halls, looking for my secret santa present, with my hands full of gifts, simultaneously counting how much the total would be and if the person I was shopping for would like the presents they were about to receive.
We are all guilty of getting swept up in the glam and glitz of gift giving,it’s inevitable. When it comes down to it, we all want to please the people we care about. However, just because we want to please them, it doesn’t mean that we have to forget about the real meaning of the holiday season.
An eight night procession, filled with candles, presents, prayers, and good food that you later regret eating; also known as Hanukah. This tradition dating back hundreds of years is one representing the struggle for survival and the prevalence of hope. Families all over the world celebrate this eight night holiday tradition in remembrance of their ancestors. For most families, they either celebrate Hanukah or Christmas, but not both. I however, am lucky enough to be able to celebrate both.
I’ve grown up in a diverse family that has given me the opportunity to experience different types of religions and cultures. Some would say that I am a “bad Jew” for celebrating Christmas, but I don’t agree with that at all. I believe that celebrating Christmas does not make me a bad Jew, but a cultured Jew. Knowing more about different religions and traditions can only be beneficial. If people have a better understanding of others customs there will be more compassion, empathy and understanding in our world.
Tuesday morning I woke up, brushed my teeth, got dressed, and prepared myself for another day in the life of a high school senior. However, that morning was slightly different than all of the other ones I’ve had since my senior year started.
As I was stood in front of my closet, trying to decide what I was going to wear for yet another Tuesday, my mom ran into my room holding a big package. She said the words I had been waiting to hear, for what felt like an eternity, “It’s here, it’s here!!” I turned around to see my mom holding a big envelope, with the words, University of Massachusetts, Lowell. For those of you who don’t know, a big envelope means accepted and a small envelope means denial.
My stomach flip-flopped and I was overcome with excitement and nervousness. My heart began to pound as I crossed the small distance from my closet to where my mom was standing. I took the envelope from my mom, preparing my self for the exciting news that would impact my future immensely.
I couldn’t get the envelope open fast enough. I ripped it open, pulling its contents out, looking for the words ” Congratulations!”, saying that I had been accepted.
As I scanned the letter, looking for the words that would make or break my day I realized that this letter was not what I though it was. My stomach dropped as I realized that this was simply just another news letter, outlining the programs that the school has to offer.
Ever since I became involved in sports I had always thought of CIF as the place where the best of the best go to compete. I never thought in a million years I would make it there, especially for cross country.
Photo Credit: MomoeTakamatsu
This past weekend, my high school girls’ cross country team (only consisting of five members), our two coaches and a few key members of our support group, made the long haul to Riverside, California. It was an all day event, starting from the early hours of the morning and not returning until well after the sun had gone down. The traffic was horrendous, the dust was suffocating (leaving us with the worst “runner’s cough,”) and the pain felt never ending.
I would do it all over again.
This is a memory I will cherish and I will always be grateful for being given this opportunity. The traffic, coughing and eternal pain, pale in comparison to the memories we made that day. The girls, some I knew from years before and some I just met this year, are now like sisters to me. All the long practices, blisters, sweat, tears and countless times of feeling like our chests were going to explode or we were going to lose our lunches, brought us together in an unexplainable bond.
Photo Credit: Momoe Takamatsu
Running has changed me and made me into the person I am. It has taught me so much more than just how to breathe or use my arms to make it up a hill. It has done more than just help me get into shape. It has been tough and very painful but it has taught me a sense of commitment, strength, and family.
I would have never experianced any of this if it wasn’t for my coach.
Our coach shared with us after the race that we were the first team he’s ever taken to CIF. When he told us how proud he was and how much growth he’s seen in us, it brought tears to my eyes. I have been running for him since my freshman year. I am now a senior and this past race was my final one. This man that I call a coach, teacher, advisor, and friend is the most generous and inspiring man I know. He has been there cheering me on and encouraging me more times than I can count. He is like a second father to me, pushing me to the point that I want to yell back, but always knowing what’s best for me, supporting me to no end. Turning my jersey in means so much more than just an end to a sports season. It is an end to that chapter in my life, but not an end to the friendship that was made. I know that will always be there and he will always be there, cheering me on at the finish line.
If you’re a real athlete, then you’ve definitely had a run in with this situation once or twice.
For those of you who don’t know (the non-athletes), the P.G.P. is no joking matter.
It doesn’t happen during just one certain sport, it is all, it doesn’t affect just one type of athlete, it is all. The athletes who experience this range from inexperienced high school athletes to professional athletes.
It is a stomach-wrenching sensation that plagues many athletes right before they set out for competition. It can hit at anytime, but the most common time for it to set in is about five minutes before starting something that won’t allow any stopping to use the bathroom. This sensation will hit and you will make a mad dash for the bathroom at the last minute. However, once you actually get through the long line (due to other people that are experiencing P.G.P) you realize that you actually don’t have to go to the bathroom and it is really just your nerves acting up.
Friendships are a funny thing. They are something that needs work and energy spent on them but can also be something that just spring up and develop all on their own.
I am a senior in high school, getting ready to leave my hometown and small high school to venture out into the world and find my path.
At my school it is rare to not really know every person in your grade, considering the small size. However, there was one person that I for some reason, until this year didn’t really ever speak to.
The funny thing is, is that I’d known this person for the past 3 years of my life. But it wasn’t until this very last year we have together that we finally became close.
Teachers have said this over and over again since I started high school.
They constantly tell me to not focus on the end result, but to focus on the material, to develop an interest and study it out of enjoyment, not because I want to get a passing grade.
I don’t understand that at all. Why am I being told not to care so much about my grades or to not study only because I want a good grade, when in reality everything comes down to “intelligence” being perceived from a grade.
They say that the grade you get isn’t the important part, so why do we get grades at all?
For a teacher to tell me to calm down and relax and not concentrate or obsess so much over what my grade will be, is hands down the most frustrating thing a teacher can ever say.
OVS Journalism Blog 
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