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.
I hate being the bigger person. It’s so frustrating trying to be a better person when you’re arguing with children. No, not literal children I’m talking about children who physically grew up but mentally well let’s just say adult conversations aren’t their thing. Yes being the bigger person is the right way to go but I would love to just lose my mind and scream like the children on the other side of the conversation.
You’re probably thinking why not just stop don’t be the bigger person if it annoys you so much. Well, I’ve tried that it doesn’t work either. Once you’re known that way all of a sudden standing your ground is frowned upon. You’re moody, you’re overreacting, you’re a for lack of better words a B***H. It’s not fair. I want to be able to fight fire with fire instead of letting people walk all over me. I could easily drag your name through the dirt trust me, I have the information to do so but I choose not to. I’m done being the bigger person.
It’s been happening a lot recently with a special person in my life.
if you haven’t gotten it yet… that was sarcasm.
I don’t understand the allure of talking trash about someone. Can’t we all just be like grown men and agree not to like each other, punch it out, or something. It’s so time-consuming for what? and the lying don’t even get me started on the lying. If you have been caught and multiple people have come up to me saying the same stuff who’s the one lying? All those people came up with that on their own??? No. I’m pretty sure you’re closest friends aren’t trying to ruin your life.
Also mad respect for those best friends who still defend the person being talked bad about or at least tell them. I respect you guys so much.
being the bigger person is probably something done by 1 out of 1 million people, and those people don’t get a choice to change. So if I have a bit of wisdom to share…
BE A CHILD.
the rest of the world already acts like one don’t give them the power to trash your name to your friends. If someone is talking about you the bigger person won’t do the same, even if they have the information they won’t state specifics they will get angry, yes but that’s it. Children continue the gossip circle so CUT IT OUT we’re in high school for god sake GROW UP.
Since most people can’t I’m telling all those REAL bigger people, not the ones who act like they are. Let them have it release that anger and show them what you’ve been holding back because I know it’s enough to make them cry. please humble them they need it.
Since before I can remember I have been drinking milk at an almost concerning pace. I have no idea when why or how it started but I have always loved milk much more than the majority of the population so much so that in my house there were always at least 4 cartons of milk. For many years I would wake up ready to take on another day and just as some have their morning coffee I would have my morning warm milk. My mom would always bring me a glass of warm milk in the morning cooked for exactly (add time) seconds every morning. The milk would be delivered to me in this glass mug every day. Once lunchtime came around at the lower campus I would grab this small red cup and walk my way over from my seat to the milk dispenser. Once I arrived I would fill up the cup to the absolute limit walk on my red carpet walkway of past milk spills and sit back down in my seat. Once night rolled around it was another glass of warm milk, and on top of everything I had random glasses throughout the day. After doing this strict routine for many years I stopped drinking it as much for some reason. recently I decided to pick up a glass or two throughout the day. As I continued the day all was jolly until I got home where I had an emergency. As I struggled to make it through said emergency the thought crossed my mind “Why was I experiencing this?” that’s when one of my great fears crossed my mind. I could be lactose intolerant. Truly my life wouldn’t ever be the same as milk and milk-based products are some of my favorite. I have no true evidence that I am truly lactose intolerant however but I pray to any gods that are willing to listen in hopes that I’m not.
The thing I have been most passionate about is soccer. I started playing soccer in Junior high school with my friends, and it has helped me grow in many ways. One of them is to have a goal and never give up until the end. I was very clumsy in kicking, lifting, and everything else I did for the first year. However, I went out to the field and practiced from 8:00 in the morning with the goal of lifting more than 100 times during the year, and I was able to lift more than 700 times in a row. The other thing is leadership skills. I became the captain of the soccer team and took on the role of organizing everyone. At first, I was unfamiliar with many things and had a hard time talking to people, but now I can talk to people on my own. Soccer has given me not only a sense of fun and maintenance, but it has also helped me grow as a person. I am not sure now if I will play soccer this winter season, but soccer is my youth and I would like to continue to play it.
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)
Photo by Anna Tukhfatullina Food Photographer/Stylist on Pexels.com
I know junior year is supposed to be hard and all, but this is really my tipping point. Between three other AP classes, precalc, journalism, and being a yearbook editor, as well as other extracurriculars like being in Student Council, a dorm prefect, and in varsity sports, I have taken on a lot this year. All of these things are in addition to keeping up with my friends and family and also keeping myself in check.
Even though it’s a lot, honestly, I could do it. That is, if it weren’t for the class that could commonly go by the name of the course of satan himself.
Now, I have nothing against Mr. Driscoll; I love him. He’s super sweet, helpful, and knows what he is talking about. However, I don’t think the best teacher in the entire world could get me through that class. Again, this is not due to Mr. Driscoll, but as soon as I walk through the door of the chem lab, I am flooded with an immediate sense of grief. If I hear one more person talk about mass spectroscopy, thermodynamics, or stoichiometry, I don’t think I will make it to next week. I genuinely think everyone still in that class is some sort of superhero.
This past week, I have been pursuing other options for classes to take if I drop out of AP Chem. After much thought, I have decided to transfer to AP Bio. Now, I know AP Bio doesn’t sound all that different from AP Chem, but it is for me. I just have this deep-rooted and indescribable hatred for chemistry that cannot be applied to anything else. I’m not exactly sure what ionic compound demon possessed me when I was choosing my classes last year.
Anyhow, it doesn’t matter anymore, as I am out of that class forever. I will never be haunted by intermolecular forces and chemical reactions again. I am free.
I have not been getting any sleep this year and I feel like a bot. The only thing me and my roommate do is drink energy drinks, do homework, and cry. We have serious moments of hysteria every night where we slap ourselves in the face, bang our heads against the wall, and start aggressively laughing which turns into crying. We have no time to go on our phones or watch TV. We get between five to zero hours of sleep every school night. Last year I wasn’t taking actual classes but I would stay up just as late watching movies and dancing with my current roommate. Now, we barely have enough time to even take a five-minute break. We feel as if we are doing something wrong because everyone else that we have talked to finishes their homework way earlier. Whenever I feel like giving up, my roommate screams that I need to be a bot. Over the last month of rooming together, I have gained the bot mentality.
First, ducks have small brains. I think it would be nice to just hang out in the water all day thinking about nothing but food. Actually not all day, like your whole life.
Secondly, ducks are cute.
Third: ducks can fly. I think it would be so nice to fly, so just be above everything and look at it from afar. Also, being high up is scary to me, to the point where it’s kind of exciting so I think flying would be cool.
Fourth of all, ducks are all-terrain. They can go in the air, land, or water. I think the water would be the best part, if not the sky. To just float in the cool water for your whole life would be so nice. No college applications. No class, no grades, no tests, no SATs. No worries, no stress, no hurt, no tears, no disgust, no listening to people cry and not being able to do anything about it.
Fifth of all, ducks look very soft. I just want to pet one so bad, but they don’t sound like very good pets because they poop everywhere. A duck would probably be happier in the wild anyway. Also, I have a cat that would definitely attack the duck.
She was one of the brightest souls I had ever met. Everyone knew her as someone who was always smiling, and howling with laughter at any moment. She simply just entirely enjoyed life, even the small moments. She raised my cousins, as their father was not always in their lives, and she made countless sacrifices for our family. She survived a heart attack, beat breast cancer, and would not give up. Never. For the past few years, at least since I really started growing up, she had been suffering from dementia. As a child, this confused me in a way, but I honestly did not think much of it. To me, it was who she was, and I loved her even though this illness began to grow worse.
I had always acknowledged the dementia, but I really began to realize that it was a problem once her memory reset went from every 10 minutes to 5 minutes, to about 20 seconds.
Even through these difficult moments, she always would make me and others have the biggest smiles on our faces. I miss always hearing her call me “ducky” (darling in English slang), and hearing her laugh, which you could quite literally hear from two doors down. She embodied joy.
The thing about my aunt is that she had a fear of missing out, of sorts. My family as well as the doctors were surprised she kept going despite being severely ill towards the end. She just simply did not want to go. She always wanted to be a part of the party, and she did so in every aspect of life. She did all sorts of crazy and adventurous things in her 82 years of life. She rode Harley’s, got tattoos in her 50s (one of many being Betty Boop), flew hot air balloons, owned an absolute zoo of animals, and had many more stories that she would tell if reminded of them.
I had never lost someone so close to me before. Seeing her for the first time in a while, in such a different state really made me reflect on life. I would sit with her in her hospital room, watching her sleep, unable to speak at all to me at times. It was only her and I. I began to realize that there are so many insignificant things that tend to bother us greatly in our everyday life, that simply just should not bother us at all. I realized the importance of the phrase “life is short.” It really is. Here in front of me was a woman who had done so many incredible things throughout her life, and she could not even remember any of them at this point. It was like all of her memories had been locked away, never to be touched again.
Looking back on these times, I realize this experience has changed me so much. My perspective has changed a lot. It’s very difficult to explain. My first time experiencing grief was so strange for me as well. I had never felt it. I heard someone say somewhere that grief is love with nowhere to go, which I can relate to. I still cannot totally comprehend that she is gone. She was there, and now only memories remain. Everyone should try to live every day to the fullest. To lead your life with genuine kindness and non-judgment, especially to yourself, is what she did, and that is truly a beautiful way to live.
All I have to say to start this off is ugh people… I have no idea why, but everyone I put in my life creates issues. I can never do anything without feeling severely watched or judged. Any moment I do something I have to stop and think. Will this trigger anyone? Will anyone be mad? People in the world we live in are never satisfied. Can I be friends with this person or will someone think I am weird for that? To be honest I have no answers… And the closest I can get to the truth is you and I will always be judged. Someone will always be mad. And no one will ever be happy with the decisions that are made in life. Many people just get mad for no reason whatsoever. While others will continuously stand by and be happy because they want others to be happy as well. To be happy in this modern age we live to make others happy. Most of the time that is a lot of work. I will try my best to make the others around me happy but at some point, in time, I realize… they will never be happy with me or the decisions made. Even if it is for their benefit. People always will have something to say. And it does not matter if you asked them or not. Some people just can never mind their own business. People crave to create, hear, and see drama. Which every person can be guilty of. But at an indefinite time, does that not get old? Friends, relationships, judgment, and anger always circle back around. All of those things circle back. And that’s what life does. Life circles back. The reality of the world is no one will ever be 100% happy. No one can change my mind or my opinion. The world is imperfect. I am imperfect. And people are imperfect. So take this as my apology to all of the people in the world. I am sorry for the mistakes I have made. I am sorry for the mistakes other people have made. And I am sorry for those of you who can not see through the imperfections of life.
OVS Journalism Blog 
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