Sometimes I like to be humbled. In Ms. Whipple’s AP Lit class, everyone had to go around and read their thesis to the class. In essence, everyone’s thesis was the same thing with slight variations. It’s crazy to me how all 17 or so of us had the same exact thesis. I think different things about everyone in that class.  I view them differently academically, as friends, athletically, yet in the end everyone ended up producing the same exact thing. Despite what I had previously thought about everyone’s writing skills it turned out that no one was actually better than anyone else. In some ways, it felt like one of those crazy things that people say about how the US school system is there to make the kids the same and like robots. At the end Ms. Whipple read her thesis, sharing that she had written it with less than half the time the class was given. I’m telling you that it was literally a work of art. It’s crazy how much better she could be than the entire class. This experience led me to think about how small my scope of the word gets sometimes. The best person at whatever subject or sport or anything here at OVS isn’t even close to being the actual best. It humbled me in a refreshing way. I realized even what I would attribute as some of my best skills or subjects, that I’m not even close to actually being good at them. After Ms.Whipple read just one thesis statement I remembered that I’m just one student in AP Lit who is nothing special, yet it’s in an inspiring way. I’m reminded that if I want to be good at writing, it’s going to take a lot more work. I’m reminded that it’s going to take a lot more work to be good at essentially anything. I realized that compared to other experienced people I’m really bad at most things. It’s astonishing how talented and gifted some people can be. To me, it’s a freeing thought.

Lately, I have just been so done with people. There are so many people in my life currently who just need to be put in their place. Recently, I have had an issue with one of my friends that I have known since I was three. I consider her my sister and we have been there for each other through our lowest lows. A few weeks ago when I went home for the weekend from boarding school, I planned to see my friend that Saturday. We made that plan a month in advance because we barely get to see each other anymore. That Friday, she called me saying that she wasn’t going to be able to hang out because she had unofficial plans to hang out with a group of people. The people she was going to hang out with all hated me so why would she choose to hang out with them instead of me? I told her that it was fine but it was obvious that I was upset about it. A few weeks later, she texted me asking if I was mad at her and I said yes. She dared to ask me why. In the nicest way possible, I told her that I felt like she ditched me. She tried to tell me that I was her priority and started making up excuses. If someone cancels plans with me last minute to hang out with someone else, it’s obvious I’m not their priority. She ended up apologizing but actions speak louder than words and I won’t believe that I’m her priority until she acts like it.

I like to leave my window open when I go to sleep. It makes me excited to wake up in the morning to the air, the sunshine, and all the morning sounds. I like to write in my journal. I like it because it lets me express things that I could never express otherwise. I want everyone to start to appreciate the smaller things in their life more often like the sounds coming through their windows in the mornings and writing in a journal before going to bed. I want us to be more conscious of what’s happening in our environment from the moment we wake up to the sunshine all the way until we write in our journals at night.

PC: https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/j1Kg56OC18Bw5IdaLSYZTxpt94uZ7FGCEuT_sDTAtKHCjimJANWqSUpkQ5b6Nygk1VxaovgjrKcL5DbXx5WOvbSSIRfrWzx3bUtlR89M2qvoIoulY5QqA8iMQG434n0hy_yg0eekquUEQ44f8VbXFa0

Throughout my life, I have been relatively healthy, with the occasional times when I get out of shape or have some other health issue. In recent years, I have prioritized staying physically fit by doing things like weight lifting, running, and volleyball. However, there have been some repercussions for my lifestyle. One of these is that my tendons and bones often hurt daily. Now, this doesn’t make my life impossible to navigate; however, the little things bother me the most. For example, when walking down the stairs, one of the bones on my left knee will pop now and then, which throws me off balance just a tiny bit, making me take a moment to regain my balance. Also, my tendons hurt quite a lot, making it hard to do things like squat down without feeling my knees. My main issue is my finger joints, which are always uncomfortable throughout the day and hard to move if the weather becomes too cold. This causes me to warm up my hands in my pocket constantly. Not to mention, I crack my knuckles such an absurd amount that I feel it makes the problem worse, although I continue to do it because it provides slight relief of the pain in my fingers for about 5 seconds, then it comes back just as bad. My fingers experience this, and my wrists and knuckles hands pretty much have arthritis. In short, I’m an old man in a young person’s body. 

PC: https://cdn3.vectorstock.com/i/1000×1000/89/82/arthritis-doodle-icon-hand-drawn-vector-37698982.jpg

I didn’t know what to write about so I asked Mieke and she told me to write about Matcha. 

The first time I ever had a Matcha was in the early morning before another volleyball tournament just like any other. Just as always the sky was still dark and foggy and we had about an hour of driving ahead of us before arriving at the convention center. It was our turn to drive the carpool. As usual, before we picked up our carpool, my mom and I stopped at Starbucks to pick up the whole group’s Starbucks order. After three years of carpooling every day and just about every other weekend with the same people, I already knew their early morning orders by heart. It was a routine of the best kind. At this point, we were old enough to drive but there was something so innocent and pure about waking up early for a tournament and having our moms drive so we could sleep sprawled across each other in the car’s back seat. It was a part of our childhood we could hold onto for a little longer. 

Recently my mom had begun to start drinking Matcha. Watching her drink, I was never compelled to try it. For some reason that one random morning as we waited for the rest of the order she kept insisting on “taking a sip” until I gave in. It didn’t take her much effort to convince me considering that I would do anything she said. After that moment the rest is history. 

Soon matcha started showing up all around my life. Matcha arrived in between volleyball games at tournaments, before doctors’ appointments, and early mornings on important days. To this day, every time my mom and I go to the airport she carves out a little time to make sure I can get my matcha just because she knows how much I love it. I quickly started loving matcha more than she ever did. 

Just like anything else, Matcha became a part of me growing up. I would go to Starbucks to get matcha and study, before the start of any road trip or drive that surpasses an hour when ditching and leaving school with friends just cause, when going to the beach, and on the days after sleepovers looking homeless with my friends. Matcha has become the drink of every season. 

Although I live at boarding school now, and I can’t bring my mom along with me, the one thing that I’ll always have with me (unless I get really sick of it) is Matcha. Throughout different chapters of life, different friends, different places, different problems, and feelings, one thing that has stayed with me is the Matcha. 

I love you and thank you, Mom.

(Listen to your mom, she’s usually right)

(also if you haven’t tried Matcha yet you should bc it’s really god)