Trapped

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All day I am stared down, laughed at and mimicked. Stuck behind bars, I try to say hello, but all they hear is a roar. I’m not as fierce as I appear, but they’re scared of me, and I’m not allowed to cuddle up to them, to show them who I truly am. I yearn to be free, to go on a long run and splash in a stream. But I can’t, for I am held captive. Day after day, it’s always the same. I wake up to see all of them laughing at me: at the way my mane blows in the wind, the way unwanted flies are always buzzing around me, and the way I carry myself as I try to escape the onlookers. To my left are the zebras, and to my right, the bears. All so different, we are placed together, for they think we relate. They believe that since we walk on the same ground and breathe the same air, we must be similar, when in reality, we couldn’t be more different. Not only do we look different, we come from different prides and we all communicate in different ways. The days continue, and I go to sleep again and again, signifying the next day where although they might move the sea lions, nothing more important than that will happen.

Photo Credit: http://www.magazinehive.com

Chocolate or Vanilla?

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“There comes a time in life when you have to make a choice. Of course, these times are not rare; however, some are far more difficult than others. Deciding what ice cream flavor to get becomes easier with time- it was a lot harder to decide when you were 6 than it probably is now. All choices become easier with time and a bit of perspective.”

That’s the last thing I wrote in my journal (if you call it a diary, I will find you, and I will typewriter you), and I’ve decided that instead of finishing it there, I’ll continue here. I’m trying to achieve a sort of trust between myself, my work, and you, the reader. Whoever you may be.

Writing about your own personal feelings is a gamble, especially at this school. Lately, I’ve felt like everything I say, not just around school officials, but also around friends, is judged and is unsafe. A lot of trust is being breached, and before almost everything I say, I have to make a choice, and sometimes it becomes extremely hard. The choice is whether or not I will share information with the friend, and how it will affect our relationship, and how it might hurt me if he/she told someone else.

Why do I have to be faced with this choice every single time I talk to someone? Is that the ideal community that was pitched to me when I applied here? I guess every big family comes with problems, but I never knew that I would have to feel so regulated. Everything said seems to have to go along with the rules, even in private conversation, and that’s honestly terrifying. Even writing this is a risk- will I get in trouble for expressing my feelings? I guess that’s a gamble I’m willing to take.

Now, I am faced with a really big choice. I’m not going to articulate what it is, because I know teachers read this, and I really don’t think they want to know about my personal life (assuming they’ve figured out who I am). But what I can say about it is that it will make or break me, if I let it. I’m stuck in a mind-set that it will break me, and I know that I need to get past that and find the strength inside of myself to say I’ll make it through no matter what I choose. But I guess that wouldn’t make it the hardest choice.

I’m trying to get some perspective on this choice, but every angle, every new piece of information just makes it harder. Maybe I have to stop over complicating it and just choose. Wish me luck, I guess. May the odds be ever in my favor?

Ignore that. One Hunger Games reference is too much.

Photo Credit: http://www.sodahead.com

Make It or Break It

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https://i0.wp.com/www.conejovalleyguide.com/storage/CalHeatVBClogo.jpgClub season is back again! Every year in October, each volleyball club holds a series of tryouts for the upcoming season. In the past I’ve played for California Heat Volleyball Club. I decided to return back to my club for yet another season.

Just because I am a returning player, does not mean tryouts are any easier. The moment you walk in the door you are handed a number to attach to your shirt, and your picture is taken. Tryouts are daunting for anyone; you’re competing against tons of other girls for the same spot, your spot. Every Coach at the club sits in chairs lined up along the court watching every move you make. That alone can throw you off your game; nonetheless the idea that another girl could potentially take your spot on the roster.

What you do in those two hours sums you up to every coach sitting there, and ultimately makes or breaks you. It’s easy to let one mistake throw off your entire game. The end of tryouts comes and the head coach reads off a set of numbers. If your number is called, you’re being offered a spot. Thankfully, my number was called yet another year, and I was offered a spot for a division one age 17’s team. No matter how good you are, or how long you’ve been playing, tryouts are nerve-racking. I think it’s extremely vital that you stay relaxed throughout the entire thing, but fight for what you want. Show them what you’ve got.

Adding some Magic

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When I decided to go to boarding school, I think I had some idea that it would be just like going to Hogwarts. In some ways, it is.

At OVS, we have prefects- just like the stuck up Percy Weasley, Gryffindor prefect. We also have all school games, just like Quidditch. The one thing we are missing? Houses.

In Harry Potter, there are four houses- Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. Students are sorted into these houses based on personality traits, and the houses compete throughout the year to win the House Cup. Points toward this goal are earned through good deeds and conduct. Points are deducted when students are insolent or insufficient.

I think that OVS should try having houses as well. It seems like a fun way to get involved with the school, as well as a good way to make friends. It would also promote good behavior without an overwhelming sense of discipline.

I also wouldn’t complain if OVS acquired some flying broomsticks or owls as well. Just saying.

Friends?

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Photo Credit: http://www.mynamenecklace.com

The need for true friends is becoming less relevant everyday due to the newfound possibility of online friends. Nowadays people are meeting over shared likes on Instagram, or mutual friends on Facebook. Although they will never meet and only talk online, they consider each other friends.

However nice that may be, it’s causing friendships to become less important, which makes an everyday social life sad. The concept of a genuine friend is changing. People can be less authentic in their conversations, and be more than acquaintances with people they don’t necessarily want to be friends with.

It’s important to make friends with relatable people, and if one befriends people knowing they have others to fall back on, it’s not an honest friendship.

Friends are an important aspect of life, and are usually needed to maintain a happy life. If one spends time with people they don’t truly like, it causes them to be unhappy and not live to their full potential.

The Week That Changed My Life

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This year, my club volleyball team California Heat had the opportunity to go to the Volleyball Festival, which is otherwise known as Nationals, in Phoenix, Arizona. We left on a Tuesday night at 12 a.m. so we could drive all night. The 4 teams took a gigantic tour bus that drove from state to state. With parents in tow behind us, it took us a total of eight hours to get there.

While sitting on a bus for that long is not super fun by any means, it created memories that I will never forget. The bus pulled up to our home for the next week and we all unloaded. After catching up on some much needed sleep, some girls from my team and I explored downtown Phoenix. The next day we had our first nine-hour set of playing volleyball in Arizona, which took a toll on all of us.

We as a team are used to long tournaments, but the thought that it was our life for the next week was daunting. After our long days of playing, the team and parents went out to dinner. Not only was playing nine to eleven-hour tournaments with my team a fear that we all conquered together, but also the time we had off the court was unforgettable. It is so interesting how experiences that a group shares together transform us all in the same way. Driving away from Arizona I felt like I did not only leave a 1st place champion, I left with memories I will take with me to my grave.

festival
Photo Credit To: http://www.volleyball-festival.com/

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Not to be Taken Lightly

kennyroo
credit to ebay for the photo
Photo Credit to: http://www.Ebay.com

Isn’t it weird how you can think yourself into a bad mood? You can spend all day talking about happy things, and putting off a “put together” front. But in reality, the way that you talk to yourself when you’re all alone is what counts.

People are on medication to get out of the very real and dark place that depression is. And on websites like Tumblr, every other post seems to be about how depression is cool and interesting. I think that as a society we should focus more of our attention on things that grow us as humans. Depression is a very real thing, not a trend.

As someone who has had the fortune of never being in that dark of a place, I sympathize with people who are, or have been. I think that these days depression is a trend. Why is that? Why are teenagers trying to act in a way that a lot of adults spend years trying to fix?

Take a Look at Me, an ASIT You Will See

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You don’t just pay to be an ASIT, you have to work to be an ASIT. You have to work to work. (Many of us ASIT’s have talked about the logic, but nobody has bothered to rebel yet.)

To be an ASIT, you have to have been a camper for at least one year beforehand. Not many ASIT’s are second years, so a few veteran ASIT’s were surprised that I was an ASIT on my second year.

I didn’t look like an ASIT. ASIT’s are like the equivalent to a high school senior, and as I am 5’2 and quite petite, many people assumed I was anywhere between 12 to 15 years old. I’m 17.

ASIT’s don’t only take care of a camel and emus — we get assigned to Junior Cabins (aged 7-11) and help with classes and courses throughout the day (equivalent to a TA in school). So not only did I get incredible hands-on experience with animals of all shapes and sizes, I was also (almost unwillingly) working with children (aged 7-17 but they’re all children to me) for hours and hours of the day.

Although we had ASIT training, new ASIT’s really have no idea what to do, and as most stay for only two weeks, they leave with a feeling of hesitant accomplishment. I (and just a few others) stayed for a solid 6 weeks, from the beginning of the two-week sessions to the end of camp.

I knew I was walking differently and I was talking differently. The way I looked at the (ordinary) campers was different than the way I’d look at a fellow ASIT or a Counselor. Six weeks was just not enough time to be an ASIT.

Grandma B

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At 90 years old, one can hope to still be alive, let alone completely mobile and thriving.

My 90-year-old neighbor at home, known as Grandma B, can be seen out every day, doing various errands and tending to her intricate garden.

Although inhibited by being nearly blind and hard of hearing, she has no physical troubles and is completely there mentally. Because of her eyesight, she sports thick, black rimmed glasses, causing her eyes to look gigantic.

No one in the neighborhood knows her real name, for she chooses to be known as Grandma B to everyone.

Grandma B owns a car, and is still legally allowed to drive – resulting in her doing all her grocery shopping, banking and other errands on her own. However, her enormous family is always there to assist if need be.

Always outside, Grandma B has an abundance of fruit trees, vegetables and flowers growing in her garden. Constantly hunched over to tend to her pride and joy, her yard thrives and is beautiful to look at.

Photo Credit: http://commons.wikimedia.org

Standing outside her quaint house, it always smells wonderful, for she can be found baking her personal recipe (chocolate chip cookies) at least once a day.

Grandma B is a favorite for the neighborhood children, for she has countless life stories to share, lots of food to pick from her garden, and a cozy house with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies to accompany everything.

Although she’s approaching the top of the age scale, Grandma B is a cute, lively woman who is a joyful addition to the neighborhood.

Roadtrip

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My Grandfather who lives in Illinois gave me his truck, so my Dad and I went back to his farm to pick it up. It is a three seat truck, and with three people, there’s a tight squeeze. We decided to bring him back with us on the trip. This was the third time we have all done this together .

 

You would expect it to be really fun. But it was really uncomfortable. We went to two baseball games because my Dad loves baseball so much. Then when we hit Colorado we had some problems. The truck broke down. We were stuck in a small town all day. I was actually kind of glad because it was an uncomfortable car ride. Plus, the situation could have been much worse. We could have been in Kansas. It’s the only place the whole way back that isn’t pretty.

Once everything was fixed we went back out on the road. Sadly we ended up back in the shop the next day. I was disappointed then because we needed to get home and we where going to have to skip the one place I wanted to go to, Bryce Canyon.

As we got closer to Bryce the weather was getting really bad. I haven’t seen that much rain in years, and we had to stop. We got the hotel closest to Bryce and I was able to go. The weather cleared up enough to go on trails and explore the amazing canyons. The rocks are bright red, and it looks different every time you go. The weather couldn’t have been better and the scenery was amazing. The wait to get there was definitely worth it.