Everything’s been a little different since the fire.
The drive back home is darker now. The trees seem angrier, defeated.
Even now, when the breeze picks up it stirs around the ashes that had settled into the dirt, the ashes that first arrived over six months ago.
I can still remember it so vividly. I can still smell the smoke, I can feel the ashes burning my eyes. I remember how hard it was to breathe. The air was thick and the world was sluggish and grey. For awhile I forgot that the sky wasn’t normally orange. The wind was hot. Everything felt dirty.
I can still picture seeing what was left of my uncle’s house for the first time. The home and business that he had spent so long building was reduced to a pile of black dust and scrap metal and crumbling rocks. I wonder how long it took.
My brother found a metal garden sign buried in the rubble. It read one word. Simplify.
How ironic can the world be? The fire had already taken everything from my uncle, so why, at the last second, did it feel the need to cough up a message telling him to simplify?
I was angry for a long time. I was sad. Our little town doesn’t deserve this, I thought.
But slowly, I’m starting to think maybe there are some good things that have come out of this, scattered all around.
The hills were black for a long time. And then it finally rained. So the grass started to grow, and trees that I’d assumed to be dead starting sprouting leaves again.
And now, there are hundreds of wildflowers blooming all over the ground. I’ve never seen some of these flowers before in my fifteen years of living here.
Credit: wildnatureimages.com
Before the fire the hills were dark green and brown, earthy. During the fire they were red. After, they were black, scorched. But now, they’re speckled with blues, yellows, purples, light greens, and covered with orange California poppies.
The only way that they are able to bloom is because the brush above them was burned away.
Maybe there’s some irony in that too. But I think it’s also very beautiful in a way.
And it’s the little things like these that we have to be thankful for.
Finals week starts tomorrow, and I already know it’s gonna be extremely mentally exhausting. So, here is a list of unimportant things that make me feel better/calm down:
the smell of the ground after rain
running your hand across smooth wood
fingers sliding down guitar strings
watching the sun set through the leaves of a tree
cat purrs
freshly washed sheets
pressing flowers in a heavy book
braiding your hair
the smell of saddle soap
watching horses eat
drawing in black pen
painting your nails
the sound of shoes crunching in the sand
the sound of shoes crunching in the snow (though this seems pretty unlikely to happen anytime soon)
I can’t wait for this summer. You know, in the past, people have always told me that junior year is gonna be harder than all the other years. But I had no idea that they were actually right about that!
I’m mentally and now even physically so exhausted that I don’t want to do anything but sleep. But guess what! I can’t!
That’s why I can’t wait for summer. I can actually sleep then. I won’t have anything to do but read, ride horses, go for runs with my dog, probably study for the SAT, go to my summer journalism program, and travel. I’m so excited to travel!
via static.tumblr.com
In the US everything seems to be so far apart. If you go on a two hour train ride here, you get to another city in the state. But if I go on a two hour train ride from my hometown, I end up in another country. I can’t wait to go to Paris, to Amsterdam, Berlin, to Greece.
I also really can’t wait to ride my horse again. I am so glad that I get to ride at my school here, I am so thankful for that, but it’s so different from my barn at home. I can go there whenever I want, I can stay there as long as I want, go on trail rides through the fields and forests, and I can actually get lessons. So, obviously, I can’t wait.
Of course I’ll miss all my friends here, as always. I’ll miss the amazing weather in California, and the amazing avocados and oranges, that simply don’t taste the same in Germany. But I can’t even tell you just how excited I am for this summer!
The three words we have all (hopefully) heard since our early childhoods. Anytime you go to throw something away, they spin in a constant loop in your mind reminding you what to do with plastic and waste.
Unfortunately, these words have lost their meaning. I like to think that we are starting to become more environmentally aware, but the truth is that not much is changing; or at least, change isn’t happening quickly enough.
Here’s the thing: while we might all be aware of our incredible impact on the environment, we’re not actually doing anything about it.
After watching a TEDx Talk about this subject, I learned some frightening facts.
It is predicted that by 2050, there will be more plastic in the ocean than there are fish.
For many manufacturers in the world, the United States especially, it is less expensive to use new plastic to produce items than it is to use recycled plastic. In 2012, only 9 percent of post-consumer plastic was recycled. The remaining plastic was discarded.
“Without a profitable market in which to sell used plastic, many recyclers export it, in a process known as outsourcing waste. In 2011, America’s primary export to China was used plastic.”
Plastic does not biodegrade. Over time, it breaks down into smaller and smaller pieces called micro-plastic. These microscopic pieces of plastic are eaten by organisms, which are then eaten by tiny fish, which then are eaten by bigger fish, and so on. Eventually, the plastics that have been eaten by marine life will work their way up the food chain to humans. Even though we might not be physically eating it, the chemicals from plastic have been shown to be linked to obesity and cancer.
While it might not be our fault that the oceans are filling up with plastic, it is our responsibility as human beings to resolve this problem.
Photo credit: plasticsoupnews.blogspot.com
Oftentimes we are desensitized to the harsh reality of just how damaged the planet is becoming. Sure, we know that we’re not treating the environment as well as we could be, but maybe we think that it won’t really become a problem until we’re not around anymore. Maybe that’s right, maybe we won’t start seeing the real effects until our generation is long gone.
But if we don’t correct past mistakes, there will come a time when there is no land on Earth that is untouched by plastic. There will come a time when there is no more fresh water available, or when it is impossible to stay outside for longer than three minutes without being sunburned due to the ozone layer dissolving. There will come a time when our planet’s resources have all been used up so that it will no longer be able to sustain human life.
Photo credit: Ticotimes.net
So we have to start now. There are so many simple things that we can implement in our daily lives that can contribute to bettering the environment. The next time you get a drink at a restaurant, don’t take a plastic lid and spoon. Pack your lunch in a bandana or reusable containers instead of in a paper or plastic bag. Do everything in your power to end single-use and stop using unnecessary plastics.
Simply put, we need to stop teaching our children the words “reduce, reuse, recycle,” because they just aren’t working anymore.
Over the weekend, I went with my school to a Pony Club mega rally for the first show of 2018. I was so excited. I’ve been riding my horse, Time, for weeks in preparation, and every single time I jumped he had been a saint.
This weekend was different. It shattered any self confidence I had in my riding skills when Time threw me off over a simple cross rail in the warm up arena and bruised my back so much that it currently hurts to breathe as I’m sitting here trying to do my homework after waking up at four am every morning this weekend to get to the show grounds.
I had fallen off just the day before when my horse stopped right in front of a jump. Now, I have to admit that it was my fault that I was in two-point way too early, but that’s besides the point. Not a single scratch was on me, and I shook off the dirt from my helmet, got back on, and finished the course I was set out to do.
Photo Credit: Jerry Mohme Photography
However, that was not the case on Saturday. When I hit the ground, I was certain that if I moved even just an inch my body would shatter into pieces and I’d be sent to the hospital in an ambulance. I couldn’t get up for minutes, until I was rolled onto my back, then I stood up, and I slowly walked foot by foot back to my stall without even getting to do that course.
I almost thought I wouldn’t be able to ride the next day either, and that weeks of training would’ve gone to waste. But the next day I ended up getting back on my horse and started jumping, and though my entire body was shaking every time I thought my horse would refuse a jump, we ended up clearing both courses.
But I guess there’s both pain and pleasure in horseback riding. There’s the sense of accomplishment when you jump a new height or when your horse comes to say hi to you and nuzzles his nose into the palm of your hand when he thinks you have treats. But there’s also the hours of pain whenever you fall off or when a horse steps on your foot. There’s the moments of self-degradation whenever you see a person with better position or better clothes, and the constant thoughts that plague your mind thinking that you’ll never be as good as them.
I’m not going to lie and say that my confidence in my jumping is back, because it’s not, and I don’t think it will be anytime soon (or, at least, until all the bruises go away), but it was a learning experience to some extent.
I’m going to fall off, and probably more times than I wish, and I’ll get back up, and fall and get back up, and that’ll keep happening, but I’ll still continue riding until I no longer can.
Truly, take a moment to think about this, I’m not rushing you. I really want you to think about it.
Have you ever thought about those in other countries who carry barrels of water up to their communities that are engufled in deep or even extreme poverty?
Or have you ever thought about how some parents wake up at four in the morning, dress in their culturally traditional clothes, and walk miles, barefoot, to try and sell their country’s knick-knacks in the hot, crowded streets just to make enough to put the bare minimum amount of food in their children’s mouths?
Photo Credit: borgenproject.org
Well, on the trip that I took to Peru last week there were many of these women, these strong women, who dealt with the hardships of living in poverty, working ruthless jobs, and supporting a family most likely larger than yours.
When people think of Peru, what comes to their mind is almost definitely Machu Picchu, this is what came to my mind too, before I was able to experience what it was really like and how much I had gone my whole life without knowing.
Though the culture and history of every single city in that unique country is beyond stunning, and the intelligence of the Incans in incomprehensible, there is so much more to the country than meets the eye.
The levels of poverty in the city make Peru the third poorest country in South America, as poverty consumes up to a fifth of the country that hosts up to almost 32 million people.
Women sell handicrafts on the street, while men leave their families to work in the mines, in order to help support the ones they love. The houses are made out of makeshift materials all leaning up against each other, and the children bake in the hot sun and swim in puddles when the rainy seasons come, without even a pair of rubber boots to help them.
Though many people struggle to live like this, they are okay. They are happy. Their smiles grace their aged faces as they accept you into their community. The meaning of family extends to anyone in the community, and everyone takes care of each other.
The happiness is far greater than that you see in the United States, with spoiled children presenting their parents with scowls signifying them not receiving the gift they had wanted.
These Peruvians live off of barely enough to get by, but they are happy, while we are here wallowing in our own pity with enough money to share.
So I ask myself, “Why are we not helping them and others in the world?” “Why are we not putting more effort into decreasing the levels of poverty throughout the world?”
A few weeks ago I compiled a list of 25 things that make me happy. I’m not in the happiest of moods currently, so I’m creating a sequel in an effort to cheer myself up.
Music – the only thing that I know absolutely makes the world a better place.
The sore dents I get on my fingertips after playing guitar for too long.
Singing harmonies.
Hugs – good, wholesome, all-encompassing hugs.
Seeing my friends succeed.
Having good hair days.
Being proud of something.
Going a week without biting my nails.
Eating passion fruit.
Being able to sleep in, for once.
Having my driver’s permit (and the bragging rights that come with it).
The times when I feel pretty.
How silence isn’t uncomfortable with my closest friends.
Tea tree oil.
Getting buried in sand at the beach with only my head sticking out, and the sand that covers my body being carved into a mermaid.
Image via elephantjournal.com
Laughing until tears come out of my eyes.
Finding the perfect tree for climbing.
Climbing said tree.
Being barefoot.
The satisfaction of overlooking a valley after hiking all the way up it.
How my nose gets red when it’s really cold out, and I can see my breath in the air.
Being so hot that I can feel the sweat evaporating off of my skin.
The comfort of a cool breeze in the summertime (the best feeling in the world).
The day before yesterday, we arrived at school after the weekend and were all drearily ready to start the day. The kind of smiles were flashed to each other saying “Hey, I don’t really know you but I don’t want to come off as rude,” as everyone walked to their first period.
I sat down in Spanish class on the cold plastic seats and wished I had worn jeans that day. I pulled out my binder and homework, and began to listen to the Spanish words that came out of Mr. Risser’s mouth, talking about how our weekends were, and giving us the “Refran of the week.”
The day continued as normal and finally, it came to an end, ending in a hardy soccer practice in the cold, and as night snuck up on us over the mountaintops, engulfing the players in the immense darkness.
I rode the bus home as normal and we were laughing and talking more than normal, but finally, sleep caught up to us and the bus went silent.
I returned home and started on my Chemistry homework. I started getting calls from some of the dormers, as well as, day students. I first declined them all thinking they just were asking homework questions, but this was not the case.
I finally figured out about the fire when my friend, messaged me saying “THERE IS A FIRE.” I immediately responded, and my heart dropped as the words, “It’s at school” appeared on my screen.
The whole night phone calls were made and I could not stop constantly checking up on the status of the fire.
The power went out around nine that night and even though it suddenly became dead quiet I heard voices dancing around in my head reminding me of the worst, which turned this deafening silence into the loudest noise I have ever heard.
I was driving myself mad, and I couldn’t handle it anymore so I shut my phone off and tried to sleep, but the noises continued and I laid awake for a long period of time thinking about the future of the school.
The next day, the fire had reached Ventura, my hometown, and the air became heavy and filled with dense black smoke. The water became contaminated, and the entire town seemed as if a zombie apocalypse had started.
Masks were being worn everywhere, and no sounds were being made. Inhaling the air was the same level of toxicity as smoking cigarettes, so every crack where the air could have crept into my home was plugged up with towels and plastic.
I went to my friend’s house to seek refuge, while my home was full of the co-workers of both of my parents and my brother’s friends. We called many of the dormers and alerted everyone still on campus at the Lower School that our houses were open to them.
Photo Credit: twitter.com
Ojai was on fire; the hills were blazing and lit up like a Christmas tree. The sky was filled one way with giant puffs of blindingly red smoke, and the other with jet-black smoke, converging in the middle and creating a great divide. More than half of Ojai fled to relative’s houses and the small town felt emptier than ever.
My heart wouldn’t stop beating out of my chest because no words of the fire affecting the school had been said until around one in the afternoon when a heartbreaking, mouth quaking, tear-bringing picture was released.
It showed the science and technology building burned to the ground with flames rising up over the remains. When this picture was sent to me and my friend, we sat in silence not sure what to say or do because now we knew that the fire was right on top of our school, our home.
The next day, I went to the barn to get out of the smoke. Looking in the direction of Ventura all you could see was a thick cloud of black smoke covering the town like a baby with a blanket.
The air was so static and dry, and the wind blew fiercely through the canyon, knocking the jumps down and blowing huge ashes through the air and landing on the ground making a sort of white snow upon the ground.
The day went by quickly, the only thing that was slowing it down was the consistent check-ups from my mother and my friends about the school and the towns.
The fire had blown through Ventura bringing down hundreds of structures including houses of very close family friends and was still burning up top the “Two Trees Hill” and making its way to the beautiful town of Santa Barbara.
Photo Credit: CNN.com
That night I laid in bed, thinking about what happened and how quickly things can change. Experiences like this make one think about how much you take for granted, and how little you think about natural disasters like this affecting your home and your life.
I have always seen natural disasters and tradgedies happening around the world from watching the news, but never did I think that I would be stuck in the middle of one of them.
2017 has been a year of disasters, deaths, and controversy all over the world, this fire was just another thing on the list that if someone outside of the lstate saw on the news would probably pay attention to but wouldn’t really care about, or go on thinking about, or wouldn’t have it racing through the back of their mind for the rest of the year and probably the next year as well.
It would have little to zero effect on them because it doesn’t affect them personally, but that would also be me if I had seen an incident such as this on the news happening in a far-off state such as Oklahoma or Texas.
But one thing, and probably the most important thing I have learned from the fire, which was just contained two days ago, after spreading over more than 440 square miles, is to not take anything for granted anymore; because at least once in your life something will be happening to you and it won’t be just be something you saw in the news, it will be something you saw with your own eyes and something that you felt with your own heart.
It will leave you thinking about it for the rest of your years on this planet. That is what life is, a bunch of things that you would never expect to happen, and things you never thought could happen to you because you feel safe as though you are in a glass box, safe from everything, but one day that will not be the case. And that is the day that everything changes and, hopefully, for the better.
Here’s a list of the things I lost to the Thomas Fire:
My guitar, my ukulele, my first drum sticks. My symbols of creativity, my many memories of favorite songs and being so frustrated about my definite lack of talent!
The tapestry I bought last summer at my first music festival, that for some reason smelled like lavender and blown out candles.
My stuffed animals that I’ve had for years, that (call me a child if you want) are so much more than just “things.”
All my drawings. Those hours of concentration and enthusiasm I’ve spent throughout the past years. They probably burned the fastest.
credit: @MattHjourno on twitter
The girl’s dorm lounge, where I remember making my first friendship at this school, where I’ve spent so many hours watching Riverdale, or eating Oreos during the weekends, or working on my horrible piano skills, or watching Finding Nemo for the very first time. Now it looks like none of that has ever happened and for some reason it tears me apart.
I lost my poetry books.
My first love letter.
My band posters and shirts and bracelets and guitar picks and stickers and
my favorite dress.
My window. With my perfect view.
My door key, which now I won’t need cause my door is gone too.
My friends’ rooms with their baby pictures and yearbooks and paintings and Christmas presents and their favorite pair of sandals.
It is hard to believe that this place, the home of so many people I love so dearly, is gone without warning and without mercy.
Here’s a list of what I took with me that day:
The clothes I was wearing, and my favorite necklace. A baby picture of my siblings and me (just in case). My laptop and my backpack.
But I had no idea that everything that was left back would go up in flames within a couple hours. I thought I would come back the next day to my room with my guitar and my tapestry and my window and my posters and that everything would be fine and that our biggest problem would be the final exams we were going to have to take the next week. I wish I would’ve taken more, I wish I could’ve taken the entire dorm.
credit: ovs.org
But here’s another thing that all of OVS brought.
We brought our strength and our community and care and love amongst us. We didn’t forget our incredible OVS spirit, and to be honest I don’t think we would ever be able to forget that.
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