Greek Food

Daphne Psaledakis2 Comments

I am part Greek, and I have grown up knowing that hummus, pita, tzatziki, and spanakopita are only a small portion of a wide array of Greek food, and that they are all delicious. Strangely enough, most of my friends don’t seem to know what Greek food actually is.

I even had a friend argue with me that hummus was in fact Jewish.

So for those of you who don’t know, Greek food is absolutely delicious. The appetizers, which could arguably be the best part, are amazing. Spanakopita, one of  the most famous ones, consists of fill dough wrapped around spinach and feta cheese. Similarly, and if not even better, tiropita is spanakopita without the spinach. My family has been eating dolmades since we were real little, which are stuffed grape leaves. Often they are stuffed with a rice of sorts, but sometimes a bit of ground lamb is added in as well.

And then, of course, there is the famous pita bread and dips. You can’t go wrong with pita bread, especially when it is fresh out of the oven and perfectly seasoned. But when you dip it in hummus, or tzatziki, yogurt mixed with cucumber, garlic, and other herbs, the pita becomes even more heavenly.

As for the entrees, the Greeks cook with a lot of seafood, octopus in particular, and lamb. My favorite dish is lamb souvlaki, skewers of lamb often accompanied by potatoes or vegetables. Contrary to the more American way of cooking lamb, which tastes rather gamey, the Greeks smother the tender meat in lemon and garlic, making it irresistibly delicious.

And then the desserts. Baklava is my favorite. It’s wonderfully messy, and is made of chopped nuts wrapped in fill dough, and coated in either honey or syrup. Another all time favorite are kourabiedes, which are similar to what we most often know as mexican wedding cookies. They are butter cookies with walnuts in them, and disguised by a generous coating of powdered sugar.

Caution: when eating, do not inhale.

Greek food is possibly one of the most hidden and underrated forms of cooking in America. I have decided to drag my friends to try Greek food, and I encourage you to find a local Greek restaurant near you and give it a try. It’s definitely worth it, and I can promise you won’t leave without feeling like you need to unbutton the top button of your pants, it’s that good.

RIP the Man

frog3

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Nation divided white and black.

Will the freedom ever come back?

One man rises and leads the way.

Confined to a room for thousands of days.

Spirit holds and so does resolve.

He emerges from chains standing tall.

Arguing and breaking down the destructive rule.

His people had suffered like diseased mules.

Cocoon broken he comes alive

He sees freedom for which he has always strived.

The fight over, it is time to rest.

His nation has not seen its final test.

The little Dolphin that couldn’t

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The little dolphin that couldn’t. When he was born his mother was ripped apart by a Great White Shark. Mr. Dolphin now had brain damage. Furthermore, his fins where shredded to pieces he could barely swim, he was slow.

While swimming in the seas of Japan Mr.Dolphin encountered some cold hearted fishermen. Mr. Dolphin was not smart so he approached their vessel slowly and foolishly. The fishermen viciously harpooned Mr. Dolphin inflicting life threating wounds to him. Close to death Mr. Dolphin decided to let the currents carry him westward.

Mr. Dolphin found the coast of Hawaii, where he met an average looking dolphiness, looking for a mate. Mr.Dolphin approached her, Mr.dolphin was instantly rejected by the Dolphiness. The dolphiness would have a child with another dolphin. Mr. Dolphin would swim far out to sea where he would die alone and forgotten.

(this was  experiment made with my friend infamousdolphin to test the power of cooperative creativity.)

Gingerbread Houses

Daphne Psaledakis1 Comment

One of my all time favorite things to do in the Holiday season is to make a gingerbread house. This weekend, I made my first gingerbread house in years. It was so much fun.

Making gingerbread houses is a good way to celebrate the Holidays. It’s creative, fun, and delicious. You can do the simple out of the box gingerbread houses, or go way over the top and make your own crazy creation.

Gingerbread houses are a fun group activity to do with kids of any age. Young kids, especially, love it, but even older kids will enjoy the activity and take the chance to be creative.

It’s also a not-so-healthy way of snacking. When I was little we would always eat our gingerbread houses after making them. I’m proud to say that wasn’t the case this year.

So if you’re looking for a fun activity to do this Holiday season, I highly recommend decorating a gingerbread house.

Rest in Peace Nelson Mandela

infamousdolphinLeave a comment

This week we said goodbye to one of the most influential people of all time. Nelson Mandela, who fought to eliminate racism and the apartheid in South Africa has died.

For decades, Nelson struggled to tear down racial segregation and died as a hero.

Imprisoned by an oppressive regime for 27 years, Nelson Mandela was able to become South Africa‘s first black president.

Nelson was loved by all the people in South Africa and most of the world for fighting for equality.

So, thank you Nelson Mandela, for showing us to never stop fighting against oppression, you will be remembered.

The little dolphin that could

infamousdolphinLeave a comment

When the little dolphin was born, his mother gently lifted him to the surface to take his first breath.  He had a gifted mind. Furthermore, he was a strong and capable swimmer. He was fast.

While swimming in the seas of Japan, Mr. Dolphin encountered some gracious fishermen. Mr. Dolphin approached them slowly and carefully. The fishermen fed him some of their leftover fish. Having regained all of his strength, Mr. Dolphin decided to swim eastward.

Mr. Dolphin found the coast of Hawaii, where he met a beautiful dolphiness, looking for a mate, Mr. Dolphin approached her. Mr. Dolphin and the dolphiness fell deeply in love and had a child.

Mr. Dolphin carried his newborn gently to the surface, where he would take its first breath.

This was an experiment made with my friend frog3 to test the power of cooperative creativity.

War

indigoshellLeave a comment

The air was cold. The wind, a warning. As we unloaded the bus nervous jawing could be heard among the new recruits. “We are so gonna die.” Veterans could only hide their agreement with a snark grin. “You’ll be fine, it’ll only hurt for a little bit.”

The soldiers unconsciously split into herds, discussing amongst themselves their past experiences or worries. Our troop leader, donned in a large gray hoodie, talks to the general, who is gathering our gear.

Guns, masks, and bullet holders are lined up against a stall. “E’ery one grab a gun, grab a helmet, and grab a holder.” A young child, no doubt the offspring of the general, hurries about getting the gear for our new recruits.

“Make sure the safety is on, right here! Make sure you keep your barrel plug on! And when you’re on the field, do NOT take off your mask!”

Introductions pass by quickly as nervous energy rises. Recruits want to take their first breaths of the battlefield, veterans want to sink into familiarity.

“Split yourself up into two teams! Here.” I am handed a pink ribbon. Guess I’m joining their team. “Here, let me help you with that,” he continues, reaching back for the ribbon. “I can do it myself,” I almost scoff, turning away and carefully looping the bright ribbon onto my left arm.

To my dismay our leader was on the blank side, as well as many of the rookies. Bins of bright orange bullets are dropped onto our table and everyone rushes to fit as many as they can into their bullet holders, tied around the waist, and into their guns.

Weapons loaded, masks on, we are led to our first battlefield by another general. “Your objective here is to take the flag, set in the middle here, and bring it to the base of the opposite team.” Everyone nods in agreement. “Blanks, you’ll stay here. Ribbons, take a walk.”

Self-designated captain of our small group of seven quickly knits together a loose plan. “You two take the right side, you two on the left, two of you stay here and guard the base, and I’ll charge for the flag.”

The whistle blows, and I dive for the nearest hay bale. Shots are fired, and I already feel glass-like shells of bullets spraying my neck. Hay flies everywhere, and I’m already breathing heavy.

Without firing a shot, I weave between hay bales, watching the enemy and my comrades alike. Once I looked up – our leader was facing away from me! I shoot once, twice, thrice, curse these horrible guns and their horrible aiming, then I hit him on the head. He spins around, trying to catch a glimpse of his attacker. I turn, concealing myself behind the hay again. He raises his gun and walks out.

Up ahead I can see a good friend of mine, someone who roughhouses with me but is actually soft as a puppy, charging two young rookies desperately hiding behind their hay base. He stands square, pointing his gun. Although I can’t see his mouth, I can imagine him yelling “surrender! Surrender!”

I look away and leap for the next bale of hay – and almost collide with person. I see a flash of pink and assume he’s a ribbon, but upon closer inspection I realized he was actually a blank. He raised his gun at me and I feel a flash of fear rise within, causing me to draw my own gun up. We stare each other down for a moment before simultaneously lowering our guns. “Shoot each other already!” The general’s voice comes at us from somewhere above. We don’t, and simply ignore each other for whatever reason.

Bodies of three, four pile along the edges of the field. Though before I know it, the match is over. “Yeah!” Captain shouts, “we kicked a**!”

I finally got shot in the second round while stalking behind large electrical wiring wheels. The bullet hit me directly on the inner side of my right knee, a sensitive spot for a person with knee problems like me. I raise my gun and breath deeply to ease the pain as I quickly limp out. Gotta watch your left side, I remind myself, watch your left side.

Somewhere in round three I got shot three times in a row. I had ducked, but was not close enough to the poorly constructed building to hide my body. I was hit on my left elbow first, followed by the left side of my chest, followed by my left hip.

The pain didn’t come until I walked out of the battlefield. Breathing shallow, I put my hands on my knees to wait the pain out. “Don’t worry,” our captain says, patting my back with paint-stained hands, “it’s ok.”

The worst battle by far was the last. Ammo had run low, and our three rookiest rookies had decided to flee. The teams were now six to five, with odds in neither of our favors.

Our shields were large, colourful, and dripping with paint. They were inflatable and grew out of the ground, rounded at the edges, making it poor cover.

At the whistle I ducked and weaved, rounded orange bullets whizzing around me at alarming speeds. There’s our leader again, in his conspicuous gray hoodie! I kneel down and take a dozen shots, all of which go in a comical arc around his body. These freaking guns, I swear.

Pink team won again. Celebratory shots were fired, leftover ammo used up, and tired and injured troops saunter out of the battlefield. They talk amongst themselves as if the war never happened. How can they?
On my thigh is a perfect imprint of the accursed paintball, a full moon of purple bruising growing thick around it.

This is the pain of paintball.

Mirror Reflection

indigoshellLeave a comment

It’s dark.

No. It’s a soft dark. It’s dark where everything looks painted in black, but not dark where forms would be invisible.

My watch says 3:00. Why must I wake up at 3 in the morning? My roomate is sleeping soundly, turned away from me.

Sleep. The thought forms in my mind. Sleep. Sleep. My body instinctively curls into the fetal position as I begin to drift.

It’s dark.

No, it’s brighter now, and my watch says 4:00. Something really doesn’t want me to sleep, I think, uncurling from my sleep position. The moonlight still shone slightly, but the moon was sinking to make way for the sun.

The blankets fall off me as I slide off the bed, treading on cold, bare feet towards the shared bathroom outside our room.

The lights are quiet. The room is yellowed, giving the white stalls an old and stained look.

I resist the urge to look up as I wash my hands. Don’t look at the mirror. Don’t look at the mirror.

The urge to glance up is far too great. My reflection’s staring right at me. I don’t blink and I back away carefully, reaching behind me to open the door. My reflection blinks. I rush out.

Back in the darkness of my room. Now it’s really dark. I stand by the door to wait for my eyes to adjust and for my heart to slow.

Click.

The flower-petal light in my closet turns on and I collapse to the floor, avoiding my own reflective gaze in the mirror. Don’t look at the mirror. Don’t look at the mirror.

I can’t help it, I really can’t. I want to know why she watches me. I need to know what’s behind.

There she is, standing there perfectly like a picture frame. She’s me, but I’m not her.

Behind me is another closet, with another light, and another mirror. Click. The light turns on.

My reflection looks scared, she knows there’s something behind her. I try to look but she moves with me, blocking my view. Always blocking my view.

Move, I think, move.

No, I hear, no.

I begin to back away, and she does too. Slowly, one step at a time, back to the darkness of my room.

My breath halted in agitation as I whip around to look at the other mirror. My reflection isn’t there, only the reflection of the mirror in my closet. The reflection goes on and on, like an infinitely long hallway that will never end. A hallway that reflects eternity.

I look back into my closet. She’s standing in the hallway, her quiet features stretches in terror of what hides behind her.

One more step back. One more step back. I step into the other closet, and my reflection starts screaming. Not screaming out loud. But she’s screaming very loud. She’s very small now. The figure hiding behind her is getting larger, overpowering her. It’s swooping in front of her, cutting her off from me.

I keep stepping back. I touch the other mirror. My reflection is gone, swallowed by the black figure crowding the mirror in my closet. I look behind me into the mirror in the other closet.

There’s nothing there?

I look towards the mirror in my closet.

Is it getting farther away? Get out, get out. Her screams are bloodcurdling, I feel her fear rising with every breath I take. GET OUT.

I run, run towards the scratched mirror in my closet. GET OUT.

I’m still running. I can see her, I can see my reflection. She’s getting closer, she’s running with me. Don’t look back, don’t look back. Her movements are swift, like she had been running all her life.

Behind me is the mirror abyss, the hallway that leads to nothing. The dark figure rises up behind me.

I hit something hard. It’s a wall, but I can’t see it. I can feel it. It’s a wall.

I can see my reflection. She’s screaming, pounding at the wall, pounding at it but it won’t break. Her body is bloody, scratched by a million shards of glass. Her figure is torn, is that bone and marrow I spot?

The darkness is rising behind her.

It’s not darkness. It’s a creature. A beast. A beast with no form, a beast that was once human. Trapped in an eternity of mirror reflections, the human turned to beast and beast turned to darkness.

The glass breaks, I fall to the ground. The room is dark, I can’t see my reflection. The lights are off. The moonlight is bright.

Bright enough for me to see my reflection. The lights are on, giving the white stalls an old and yellowed look.

I see her, I see my reflection washing her hands. She doesn’t look up. Look up, look up.

She looks up. Why do you look scared of me? Where are you going? She’s backing up into the bathroom door. She doesn’t dare tear her eyes away from mine.

The room’s dark again. I don’t want the darkness. The darkness is where the beast lies. I turn on the flower-petal light in my closet.

There she is. She’s scared. Don’t be scared. You’re not the one with the best lurking behind.

Admissions

enternity1030Leave a comment

As far as our college applications go, I’m pretty sure that everyone is now stressed out and curious about how the college counselors would review our apps. It reminds me of a great movie I watched this summer – “Admission.”

“Admission” is a comedy directed by Academy Award nominee Paul Weitz, starring  Tina Fey and Paul Rudd.
Every spring, high school seniors anxiously await offers from college admissions. At Princeton University, admissions officer Portia Nathan is one of the counselors who evaluate thousands of applicants.

On her visit to New Quest, an alternative high school, she then meets with her former college classmate, idealistic teacher John Pressman – who has recently surmised that Jeremiah, a gifted yet very unconventional New Quest student, might well be the son that Portia secretly gave up for adoption years ago while at school. More importantly, Jeremiah is about to apply to Princeton.

Now Portia must re-evaluate her personal and professional existences, as she finds herself bending the admissions rules for Jeremiah. She recommends Jeremiah to all the officers who refuse to admit him. And the result does not change – he gets rejected. In the end, in order to get her son into Princeton, Portia steals Jeremiah’s folder and changes the decision into a “Yes.” Portia quits her job and starts a new life.

Even though the movie is mainly about love and family, I personal find it is also a fairly helpful movie for high school students to get more knowledge about the process of applying to college and more closely, about how the officers review our materials and make the final decisions.

If you haven’r watched it yet, I strongly recommend you to do so!
And also, good luck to all the seniors!

“There is no formula to get in. Just be yourself.”   – Portia

Turbines

enternity1030Leave a comment

In our APES class, we are doing a research project on renewable energies. “Wind” came up across my mind immediately.

Since the first time I saw a huge turbine on TV, I’ve been curious about how the turbines work and how important they are.

Wind exists because the sun unevenly heats the surface of the Earth. As hot air rises, cooler air moves in to fill the void. Therefore, wind will blow as long as the sun shines.

The use of wind power originated back to the ancient mariners who used sails to capture the wind and explore the world. Later, farmers used windmills to grind their grains and pump water. Nowadays, more and more people are using wind turbines to wring electricity from the breeze.

Wind turbines have various sizes. The biggest wind turbines can generate enough electricity to supply about 600 U.S. homes, and farms sometimes have hundreds of these turbines lined up together in particularly windy spots such as ridges. Smaller turbines are mostly settled in the backyards to produce electricity that is enough for a single home or small business.

However, wind power also has disadvantages.
Wind turbine can be a threat to wildlife such as birds and bats. Wind, sun, and rain are not always consistent and are often hard to predict, which cannot always make for a reliable energy source unless the energy can be stored. In addition, wind turbines make plenty of noise which is regularly reported as a problem in the neighborhood.

The only thing I don’t really understand when I was doing research on the turbines was that many people think the turbines look ugly.

For me, I see nothing wrong with such clean and grand inventions. They work in the wind, they are brave!