Sometimes I hate everything about myself. I sit in my room and I think about all of the things I’ve done wrong. All of the things I wish I hadn’t said or done and all of the things I regret. I take so much time looking in the mirror and picking out all of the things I hate about my face and my body. I think about how I’m going to change it and how I’m going to eat healthy and be cleaner and workout more. I think about how I’m going to change my brain and begin to grow and talk less and take up less space with unimportant things. But it never changes. I never really make the effort even though I want to be different so bad. I really am trying to be better and have better self-talk, but it’s so hard when I want to change everything about my personality. Everyone wants what they don’t have, I guess. Im learning to love myself even if its hard
I used to play softball. I started playing t ball on a team with my sibling when I was 4. That’s when my dad started coaching me. From there, I kept playing on youth teams every year. Softball for me was always the fun sport. My dad always found a way to make practice amusing. We’d play games such as sunflower seed spitting contests and home-run derby’s. At every game there was a never ending variety of crazy snacks in the dugout and continuous scream of obnoxious cheers that were the best. Even when I played on All-Star teams there was a positive energy. Once I started playing volleyball, I truly appreciated softball because it was an outlet without all the pressure.
I’ve always loved travel tournaments for both volleyball and softball. The difference is that for softball we’d be out in the pool eating whatever we wanted, till whatever time, and setting off fireworks in the middle of nowhere while the parents were out drinking at a bar. For volleyball, we had a schedule, people commenting on our diets, a curfew, and my mom making sure I was in bed by ten while we dissected the contents of how I played; everything was more intense. In softball, it didn’t ruin my day when I didn’t play as well as I wanted to because I never had any crazy expectations and didn’t hold myself to a crazy standard. With all that being said, softball was never my sport like volleyball was, I never had the same type of love. What made it so worthwhile was the team and the players. I ended up playing through my freshman year in high-school but at that point I was burnt out and had hit a wall. I wasn’t having the same fun I used to have when I was younger and it was exhausting driving 45 minutes straight from softball to volleyball and then getting home at 10. At that point it had lost the purpose it originally served. I played softball for as long as I did because it was something my dad and I always bonded over. We’ve never been as close as when I was playing softball. Volleyball for mom, softball for dad. I’ll always love softball and it will always be a big part of my childhood.
When I write a blog every week, I feel like I spend more time wondering what to write about than I do writing. I am already wondering what I will write about next week.
But that aside, this week I would like to write a little about my past. Every time I write this blog I am reminded of my elementary school. Because I kept a one-page notebook diary every day from the first grade to the sixth grade. I cried when I was little because I was chased by farm animals, and I started washing my own hair at the age of 1.5 years old because I wanted to imitate my older sister in everything. I grew up with a lot of love from my teachers in kindergarten. I attended an all-girls school from elementary school until the summer after my freshman year of high school. My memories of elementary school were about trying different things. I did many things at school, such as being a member of the class council and student body president. My favorite class was physical education. I took first place in physical fitness two years in a row. The thing I looked forward to most on weekends was going on the trapeze with my friends. In junior high school, I gave up ballet, which I had been doing since I was two and a half years old, and started playing soccer. This was a big change for me, as every weekend and every vacation was filled with soccer. However, soccer was my youth, and I can’t count the number of things I gained from it. Also, the short-term study abroad program I mentioned in middle school was a big reason why I am here in the U.S. now, and it has changed my life. I lead a rather mundane life, but the people I have met have been wonderful and have enriched my life.
I am very much looking forward to the people and environments I will meet in the future. To be honest, I am dreading the preparation for college. lol
I don’t think that there is a stronger connection between a mother and her kids. Recently me and my roommate stayed up late discussing how much we love our moms. It ended with us sobbing because we genuinely don’t know what we would do without our moms once they die. I know it is a dark thought, but I know that one day I will need to find a way to live without her. Moms get so little credit for all that they sacrifice. My mom allows me to release any anger or sadness onto her, draining her, and then she still has the energy to make me feel better. My mom has to listen to so many complaints from me, and even if she doesn’t care about whatever stupid thing I’m ranting about, she pretends to. Whenever I need any type of advice she is always here to help, even if I don’t listen. There is no one I could love or appreciate more.
I went into this year believing I was going to be an academic weapon, but little did I know I would be an academic victim. My friends always get annoyed when after I test, I say, “Omg, I definitely just failed that.” They get annoyed because I usually don’t actually fail; I generally score between an A and a high b, but recently, I actually have been failing. This year, here are some test/quiz scores.
ALG 2 8/30 26%
ALG 2 7/20 35%
Spanish 2 12/21 60%
Spanish 2 7/20 35%
English 7/13 53%
These are just some of the humbling scores I have received this year. Grades came out for the quarter, and I know how this sounds, but I got my first-ever c, which was humbling. The moral of this blog is that this year is hugely humbling, and I would love to make the honor roll and go on the honors trip, but I am trying to be realistic, and I just don’t think that’s happening.
Just putting it out there, this is not me trying to be emo. However, recently, I have been thinking about the purpose of a lot of things that we as humans do. Like, what is the point? Why, in my case, am I stressing myself out so much this year by taking hard classes? I can still have a future with a simpler Moodle home page, but I so intensely crave the academic validation I get through seeing a good grade next to a hard class. But, at the same time, there is genuinely no point to a lot of any of it. Such a philosophy can also be applied to other aspects of life. It can even go as far as what is the meaning of life, which is a whole separate rant. I don’t know, I just have been feeling lately, with everything I do, that I theoretically have no reason to be doing it. I guess I always just revert back to “do everything to live my life to the fullest doing things that make me happy.” It’s not a horrible place to be, but I just can’t shake the feeling that there is more for me out there than simply graduating high school, going to college, starting to work for the next 50 years of my life, retiring, and that’s it. I don’t know, I always ask myself why that seems to be the trajectory of life that a lot of people fall into. Just seems a little monotonous to me. But, if not that, then what?
If you were to tell me even a few years ago that I would no longer be living with my family in my childhood house, I would simply not believe you. I never even knew I was going to be attending boarding school until the very start of my eighth-grade year. For the longest time, I had the preconceived notion that I would follow the path of most of the kids my age; make the transition from middle to high school seamlessly by attending the high school in the area. However, as the time came closer and closer for me to make a decision, I had a sudden shift in my mindset. For my entire life, I had been stagnant. I lived in the same house I grew up in my entire childhood in the same small town, attended the same school I had since I was three in Pre-K 3, and pretty much had the same life with the same friends, family, hobbies, etc. Something my eigth grade year clicked in me, and I wanted change.
Now, I am normally the type of person who strongly dislikes change, as it is often uncomfortable for me. This probably has something to do with my childhood before attending OVS. Regardless, I interestingly felt a strong urge nearing the end of my elementary and middle school career to get out. So, I research schools in Southern Califronia, as I had always loved the area from the few vacations my family took when I was younger. You probably know the rest. I applied, got in, and now I am here.
Now this being my third year living on campus, I have overcome some of the major struggles in adjusting to such a drastically different way of life. At the start, it was quite challenging for me to adapt to a lot of what it takes to live in a dorm setting. Everything from my day-to-day interactions to my morning and night routines went through drastic changes. I also don’t constantly have my mom, who is the most important person in my life, physically there to support me. Such circumstances have taught me to be drastically more independent and hold my ground as an individual person.
I’m not saying I have learnt everything, as that is simply impossible being my age. Still, I do believe I have grown as a person in ways I wouldn’t have if I was still at home attending high school in my childhood town. I have learnt how to share my space better (something I needed being an only child), work better with others, respect people’s space, and overall be more independent. I think that will hopefully give me a head start in college, as I am already accustomed to dorm life. Regardless, I am still incredibly grateful for the experience and am excited to see where it can help me in the future.
I don’t like the idea of growing up. I always listened when people told me not to grow up so fast because I figured they knew something I didn’t. I still feel like I grew up too fast. I want to be the age I am forever. I understand why people have kids so they can relive their childhood but it’s not the same as really being a kid. I want my creativity back and the way I used to think. If I already want to go back then how am I gonna feel about it as an adult? I guess it’s a good thing and I really should look at it on the bright side. There’s a new day after day and year after year with so much opportunity. I might as well take advantage of it as best I can. My goal is never to become someone who does not appreciate the life I have.
To clear up some confusion, I did not get pink eye by engaging in unholy activities. My current hypothesis is that I got it at the motel I was staying at when I went to play volleyball or at the tournament and when I shook hands with the other team and then wiped my forehead, which caused the bacteria to get in my eye. I’m not a doctor, so I don’t know all the symptoms, but I can share the ones I was experiencing. The main few things were redness in my eyes, which made people a bit suspicious that I was doing some corrupt activities, itchiness in both my eyes (since I had it in both eyes), and the most interesting one was I was my eyes were sensitive to light so things look either really blurry or really bright I would go outside and just get blinded, and if I look at a lightbulb, I would see rainbows around it in a circle. Honestly, it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve experienced before. I would definitely rather have it than pink eye than a fever, so my rating is 4.5/10.
Surfing is thrilling. Especially when you do not know how to swim. This morning marked the second time I gave myself to the waves without a way to escape their grip if things went south. After forcing myself out of a warm bed at 5:00 a.m. and immersing myself in the cold of the dawn once, I became addicted. The perfect peace and clarity of mind that I experienced is what gets me out there in spite of my inability to swim. Still, every time I enter the tide, it seems as if I am playing with my fortune. Could this time be my last one? In my case, a mistake can be fatal. Although so far, things have been smooth, I am certain there is yet to be a moment when I will stand on the edge. Nonetheless, the calm and happiness I experience on the waves will draw me in again and again
OVS Journalism Blog 
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