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I’ve lived in the same place my whole life, but I’ve never realized how beautiful it is until recently.

Maybe I just didn’t notice it before or I wasn’t old enough to appreciate it, but lately I catch myself staring up at the mountains.

It has been raining a lot lately. On my drive home, I noticed that the north-facing slopes are so much greener than the south-facing ones.

But Dad says this isn’t supposed to happen. South and west-facing slopes are usually the greenest, at least where we are, because of sunlight and rainwater, he explained. The south-facing Topa Topas are just dry because of their rocky terrain.

I’m not sure why even still I think of the fire when I’m admiring the mountains. Maybe it made me appreciate them more.

The trees still seem like skeletons to me. They are black and withered and don’t really fit in with the bright grass that’s growing in. They used to be so much greener. But at least they are still standing. I’m thankful for that.

There isn’t really much to do in this sleepy town, especially after having been here for sixteen years. But despite that, I can’t think of a better place to have grown up.

Here’s to Strong Women

She’s strong, she’s talented, she’s smart. My friend is headed towards great things.

Soon we’ll be in college, I know I won’t be going to the same school as her anymore, but I know I’ll never forget her.

You know someone is extraordinary when they have so many amazing goals that they don’t know what to pursue.

Sometimes I think, what will she be doing in four years?

Will she be a influential member in race and resistance studies, standing up to oppression and persecution?

Will she be a rising scholar in gender and feminism studies, striving to create a more equal world?

Will she be a social justice worker?

Will she be a photo journalist, not only using her power with words to inspire, but her talent with captured memories, also?

Will she be filmmaker and editor, creating barrier-breaking and revolutionary films?

Will she be a gender sexuality savant, fighting for the LGBTQ+ community?

Will she be a sociologist, endeavoring  to generate social polyphony?

Will she be a lawyer fighting for human rights?

I don’t think she’s just going to chose one of these. I think she’s going to do all of them, because if she sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her.

I know sometimes you get nervous. You wonder how you’ll accomplish everything you hope to. You occasionally struggle to understand your identity, what path to take. You get down some times. You make wrong decisions and question your worth.

I know you are strong, but I know we all have our doubts and struggles. But never forget, I’m here for you. I’m rooting for you. I love you.

You are an inspiration, an amazing friend, and you are going to make such a big difference in the world.

Never forget your goals, for I know, you can and you will achieve them all.

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a letter i’ll never be able to send

you told us you hated your step-dad, but we didn’t know it was that bad.

you said your mom was being ridiculous, but i didn’t know what you meant.

you said you’d been sad, but you meant you’d been incredibly depressed.

you ran out of the car when your mom walked out.

where were you going?

what was your plan?

and why didn’t you call me?

the cops found you

and you took a video in the back of the cop car.

why’d you do that?

you waited in a cell for a few hours,

i had no idea when it was happening.

later, my mom told me and

we cried for you.

you moved away from our small town and are now somewhere you probably like lot more.

it’s bigger there and “cooler” too.

but you must miss us.

you say you hated it here and you say

you hated everyone here too,

but you didn’t.

if you did, why do you get upset when we all hangout still?

and why’d you send us letters spilling out your heart?

it hurts that you’re not here anymore

and it hurts more that you don’t mention us.

but i know it hurts you,

you miss us,

we miss you too.

i’m sorry, i wish i knew how bad it was.

i wish i wasn’t so awkward and could talk to you about it when you came over

and i wish i could hug you for longer and tell you all about what you mean to me.

i’m sorry, love.

we’re sorry, love.

we’ll always be here for you, in whatever form you need it.

you’re never alone.

it makes me sad to see you so sad.

i’d go with you anywhere. ❤

 

photo credit: pinterest.com

Short n’ Sweet

I’m five foot three inches.

People think I’m five five.

I usually tell people I’m five four.

I’ve been embarrassed of my height for a while. I wear platformed shoes, I sit up as straight as I can, and I do exercises that supposedly help me grow. But, no matter what I try, I’m not going to get any taller.

I’m short and I don’t like it, but I can’t do anything about it, so why not own it?

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I’m short, I have a lower risk of cancer.

I’m short, I can wear children’s sizes and save a bunch of money.

I’m short, I can wear heels without towering over my date.

I’m short, I don’t have to worry about hitting my head on doors.

I’m short, blankets will cover my body and my feet, so no cold toes for me.

I’m short, I can fit in small places.

I’m short, I can fit in my dog’s bed and cuddle with her.

I’m short, I can beat just about anyone in a limbo competition.

I’m short, I have a higher life expectancy than taller people.

I could go on and on about the pros of being vertically “challenged,”

but I’m going to keep it short n’ sweet.

The Worst Math Problem Yet

Never in my life would I have thought that a teacher could affect me so deeply. I’m not supposed to care that much, I’m supposed to feel more or less indifferent about my teachers, after all, they’re teachers, not my friends.

But today’s news stabbed me in the chest. I know I only have little less than a semester left at this school anyway, but I really hoped he would be here for that.

See, I hate math. And when I say hate, I mean I absolutely despise it. Ever since I was in fifth grade, I’ve been told that I’m bad at it. That’s not necessarily true; I’m not terrible, I just need some more time than others. None of my teachers ever gave me a chance to figure that out. Until last year, when I realized that I can do math, even if I’m not good at it. It sounds like such a small thing, but it made my days at school so much easier.

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Last week, we had a test in math and our teacher told us to write something nice about him for extra credit. I said that, if it wasn’t for him, I would have never even considered taking an AP math class, never in a million years. But here I am, passing the first semester with an A-. I said that I actually feel sort of confident about doing well on the AP test. But now I don’t know, I’m honestly scared.

Even if our new teacher will be great, amazing, perfect, anyone has ever wanted in a math teacher, it won’t be the same. I won’t be excited going into class anymore. I really shouldn’t be going into this with such expectations and I shouldn’t be so dramatic about this. But I am, that’s how I feel, and it makes me so sad.

It’s weird, this really shouldn’t be so important to me. But it is, I care a lot, maybe too much, but I care a lot.

I am happy, not sad

(follow up to I am not sad)

I didn’t need to assume.

I knew it was a date.

I am happy it was;

I am content.

 

I thought about my outfit for days.

I planned everything out, down to the perfume I was going to wear.

I am happy I put so much thought into it;

I am content.

 

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We went and got dinner, then went to the movies.

You picked me up too early, so we had so much extra time.

I am happy we had so much time to talk;

I am content.

 

We talked the whole way to Ventura.

There was never an awkward silence.

I am happy I was so comfortable.

I am content.

 

You were going to drop me off.

You asked me to be your girlfriend.

I am happy that question was finally asked.

I am content

 

I am happy that there is something between us.

I am happy she is gone.

I am content I called dibs.

Politics

Why is it such a big deal?

How does it tear families apart?

Yes, people have different opinions, but why does that make them a monster?

I am so tired of having people hate me for my beliefs.

I am tired of losing friends because of my political party.

I feel as though the side that is supposed to be the most accepting is the side I feel the most attacked by.

I want to be able to have civil conversations and hear other people’s ideas, but I feel as though those conversations are hard to have.  The last time I tried to have a conversation with a friend that had different beliefs than me, she started to become distant and our friendship started to fizzle away.

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The side that wants everyone to be comfortable and happy has made me scared to have a different opinion, but I am no longer going to keep my ideas hidden.  I am a young female Republican who is tired of acting like she isn’t.  I know some people won’t be happy about my beliefs, but I am tired of caring and it is something I want people to know now.

I know that I go to a liberal school and everyone in my journalism class is liberal and I am not trying to offend anyone, but I am just tired of keeping quiet.

Respect My Existence, Expect My Resistance.

It’s so sad that we live in time where we have to march for facts.

 Our democracy, planet, and justice are being eroded away.

Why are women’s bodies more regulated than guns?

Women’s rights are human rights.

Why are we destroying the one and only place we have to live?

There is no planet B.

How come people are persecuted and judged by their beliefs, place of origin, and skin color?

We are all immigrants. 

Why do people who are black have to constantly fear being arrested even if they are innocent?

Black lives matter.

Why can’t people love who they want?

How come six in ten LGBT+ students report feeling unsafe at school because of their sexual orientation?

People can love who they want.

How come one out of six women are sexually assaulted in their lifetime? How come women are paid less than men?

Pay me more, touch me less.

It’s time to ditch Putin’s bitch and stand up for what’s right.

Our democracy, planet, and justice are being eroded away, and we must stop this. 

Photo credit: Zazzle.com

 

 

 

Reflection

It’s a bad feeling. No, it’s an awful feeling. Yet I find myself facing it time and again. I’m currently sitting in the car feeling almost as shitty as how I performed today in practice. I could have gone harder… I should have gone harder. How can I strive to be the best if I’m not even giving my all?

The breakdown: the set was hard, I knew it would be a challenge, so I gave up. Looking back, the emotional pain now is far worse than the physical pain I would have experienced if I just kept trying. For me, muscle fatigue, not being able to breathe, the lactic acid burning in my throat, and the pain of pushing yourself to the limit is nothing compared to the pain I go through knowing I could have done better, knowing that I’m the one holding me back.  Because I didn’t want to suffer through eighty laps on a challenging interval, I am currently suffering through the disappointment and regret of knowing I am hindering my growth.

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You know that feeling when the teacher pulls out a test on the reading you were assigned last night but you didn’t do it, just because you didn’t want to. Not a great feeling. This got me wondering, if we know the effect of our actions, how come we still proceed in doing the easiest thing in the moment. Why not put in the ten minuets to read a chapter and feel confident when the teacher pulls out the test? Why not give your all in a work out, suffer through the pain and embrace it, to experience the rush of endorphins after and the confidence knowing you did your best?

After reflecting on my errors and embracing the sucky emotions I am feeling right now, I have a goal. Every time I feel like skipping a fifty, reading spark notes instead of the book, going easy instead of all out, not doing what I should just because I don’t want to, I am going to think. Think of how I will feel in the future, and ask: Is the emotional conflict that will take place in the future worth just doing whats right?

One Day Older

At 11:59 p.m., Friday, January 18th in Santa Barbara, I was still seventeen years old.

I spent the last sixty seconds of my childhood in a Lyft with all my best friends going back to my aunt’s house after just watching Escape Room and I was truly happy.

But, as the clock struck 12, I was no longer a minor. I was eighteen years old and officially an adult.

During every single birthday, my family always asks me if I feel older at all. Usually, I don’t, because there usually aren’t any changes that happen that make me feel older. I know that as a sixteen year old I was legally allowed to get a driver’s license, but I didn’t get one and I still don’t have one because I haven’t found any reason for it. At seventeen, I was able to go to a rated R movie, but I always went to those anyways.

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However, when I turned 18, I truly, finally felt older right away than ever before.

I know I’m a year older, but it happened only in a day. From 11:59 to 12:00, it suddenly hit me that I was a legal adult.

On my 18th birthday, I went and got a cartilage piercing and I didn’t need my parents to sign my release form. I was old enough to do it by myself. Then, I went and bought a scratcher ticket, and when they asked for my ID, I was able to satisfyingly show it to them and buy it. I didn’t win any money and I don’t plan on buying one again, but it was the experience that made me so happy because I finally can buy one if I wanted to. For the first time on my birthday, I finally felt older.

My birthday itself was amazing too. I remembered last year I was on a train up to Santa Barbara, breaking down because the mudslides kept me from having a birthday celebration with my friends. This year, I spent the whole weekend with my best friends in Santa Barbara and Santa Monica. My two worlds came together and my friends from OVS and my friend from my old school finally met for the first time. We were out until midnight laughing crazily on all the rides at Santa Monica Pier without a care in the world. My birthday weekend was also full of delicious meals, amazing desserts, and all my family and friends. My cousin was even able to come to the brunch celebration on the Sunday afterwards, she usually is never to come to those events because she’s so busy, but it was amazing.

I know my eighteenth birthday will always be one I remember and though I’m horrified about the fact that I’m no longer a minor and that I actually feel older, I’m happy about it.