How come we can’t remember memories from 5 years old and younger. Is it because it went by too fast?
Why does our memory go away? Where does it go?
I hate forgetting things, I never truly forget everything. I just forget what happened but never forget how it made me feel. It is more frustrating because people ask me what they specifically said or did to me and unless there’s a powerful emotion connected to the words I only remember the feeling.
I remember the feeling of starting school in elementary. I remember the feeling of the cold wind nipping at my skin as I ran around the playground. I remember the feeling of dancing with my dad and the frustration of forgetting a word in English or Spanish. I remember the feeling of listening and singing Bruno Mars songs at the top of my lungs.
I remember the first day of freshman year, but that seems so long ago. Sophomore and junior year went by too fast. Now I’m at the end of my senior year last sports season. I might have just had my final basketball game and ended it with a buzzer beater. This month was long and this week was even longer, but something tells me it won’t stay this way.
I am so stressed. I have so much homework. I need a week to wind down and relax. I need, at the most 3, hours to get cozy and watch a movie without the ongoing stress and headache caused by school. I want to enjoy hanging out with my friends, but in the back of my mind, homework is lurking. Tears jolt down the faces of students like me. The winter weather, mixed with the massive amount of work, creates the feeling of sickness. The headaches caused by stress just make fewer chances of doing the work that is necessary. Do I get the work done? Yes. But in the end, I got 3 hours of sleep, woke up late, had no breakfast, less social life, and less time to work on self goals and interests. While I write this, I do have a headache. And I do want to go to sleep because it is 10:10 PM. But I still have notes, essays, and readings. Everyone says it’s a part of growing up, but if that’s the case, then I would rather stay the age I get to enjoy my time with friends, playing games, and running around outside.
I could talk about romance for hours. The idea of teenage love, unexpected love, enemies to lovers, and so many more. I honestly could not pick my favorite romance movie. There are also so many different types of romance movies. There are rom coms, cheesy movies, and ones that crush your whole idea of falling in love as a whole. If I had to choose between movies like The Notebook, Dear John, 10 things I Hate About You, How to Loose a guy in 10 days, Anyone but You, Titanic, Mamma Mia, and Where the Crawdads Sing I could not pick what one was my favorite. The amount of money I would pay to rewatch any of those movies again for the first time. The feeling of watching a new romantic movie that is actually good for the first time is like the best feelings of mixed emotions. I wish there were newer movies that matched the feeling the older romance movies give. Also watching a romantic movie on a rainy day gives so much comfort.
Yesterday was my birthday. While I always look forward to my birthday, I was not as excited this year. I thought it was just the same feeling I get during all of the holidays. As I grow up my excitement parishes little by little. I didn’t ask for anything this year. I wanted a surprise. So I woke up not expecting much but my day was amazing. I walked down the stairs to leave for school. Balloons, flowers, and presents sit on the counter waiting for me! The love I have for getting flowers is unmatched. I had a combination of all my favorite flowers in 4 separate vases. I opened up my gifts fast, and then I left for Starbucks. Music blares as I drive to Starbucks; it’s a fairly nice day, which makes me happy, too. When I get to school, a special someone waits for me. He walks over to my car and hands me a bouquet he put together himself with a note and a handmade card. The simplest gifts I realized make me the happiest. Then one of my friends walks up to me with another flower bouquet! I walk up the hill with messages flowing into my phone. Once I get to lunch, I am shocked to find my mom and her coworker walking up to my table with balloons and a whole box of donuts. To say I was shocked is an understatement. I go home and relax before my birthday dinner with my friends. My dinner was perfect and not awkward which I was worried about. The simplest birthday I have had, in the end, was the best birthday I have had. My birthday still isn’t completely over. I still have a few family birthday dinners to go to!
When you turn 18, 90-96 percent of the time you will ever spend with your parents is over.
When I read that, I was pretty shocked. Logically, it makes sense. Your parents care for you as a child, and then you leave home to lead your individual life. You make your own way and surround yourself with the people you choose. At times, visiting home seems to be an onerous chore.
However, I’ve gotten closer to my family in the past few years. As a little kid, your parents are the people who tell you what you have to do and what you can’t do. The other day, my mother, at the dining table, said she saw me as a friend.
What’s interesting is my sister looked at me, gloating. “A friend? Like, you’re not even a part of the family anymore!”
I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but I think this meets the word count requirement and this blog is already late.
Once upon a time, there was a man named Bill. He sat at the bus stop, and it was raining. He held of bouquet. It was a bouquet of roses. They were very pretty at one point, but he had been sitting and waiting at the bus stop for a while, and they were wilting. It was wet and cold outside, but he knew that it would be better when he got on the bus. He wore a dress shirt and pants that were not warm enough to shield him from the cold, wet, weather. Bill shivered.
He stared out at the supermarket across the street. It would be dry and warm in the supermarket, but he was waiting for the bus.
Bill looked out at the damp scenery, doing and thinking nothing. He was simply waiting in a cold, trance-like stupor.
A woman walked along the sidewalk, holding an umbrella. She was walking her dog, and the dog was wearing a little raincoat. As she approached the bus stop, she could see a man sitting on the bench. She wondered if he was waiting for the bus, and she wondered if he knew that the bus had been decommissioned earlier that month. The woman hesitated. Should she tell him that the bus would not come? He looked quite still and content, waiting, and she did not want to intrude. And perhaps the bus was back in order. She was afraid to interrupt his day and afraid to be wrong, so she walked past the bus stop and said nothing.
Bill waited for the bus, but the bus never came. It continued to rain for years, and for years, the bus never came. Bill sat a the bus stop, waiting for the bus. Every year that passed watered the seedling of despair that Bill nurtured in him. His bouquet of roses died, and his clothes faded. With this despair, Bill clung to the hope that the bus was almost here and that when the bus came, it would restore the delicate life in his bouquet and the robust color of his clothes, and everything would be right again. Sometimes he thought he heard the hiss of an engine or the grumble of the wheels, but it was an illusion brought on by the rain.
Eventually, Bill grew old and died at the bus stop, waiting in the rain.
I have probably spent an hour a day this whole week trying to write my blog post. And it is still late… I never realized how bad I get writer’s block until I must turn it in. I am getting writer’s block right now. I deleted everything I wrote periodically throughout the week too. So I could not even turn any of those rough drafts in. Its not that I can’t find a topic. I just don’t know how much of my life I really want to share to anyone who reads what I write. Or if I write something fictional but really depressing I don’t want anyone to think I am actually talking about myself. I have noticed that on the days I don’t feel like talking to people I can write a lot more. But on the days I talk alot I can never seem to fill the blank page staring at me blankly. I also tend to drift to separate topics while I write or repeat myself again and again. At least I can be aware of it. My life has been pretty bland lately. Well anyways there is me trying to write something while having writer’s block. I hope I have enough words.
This break my best friend joined me and my mom on a trip to Big Bear. The trip was a mess from the start we planned it 2 days before we left. I had gotten a new snowboard and decided to put the bindings on myself which was one of my first mistakes. Mieke spent the night at my house the night before and we got food poisoning so going on such a long drive the next day with an upset stomach was definitely an experience. I had only seen a few photos of the house and was not sure what to expect. As we got their this house looked like something out of a trailer park. My mom nicknamed the house the “shameless shack” and it did live up to the name. Mieke and I explored the house to find old burnt bread on the porch. We walked through the backyard where the hot tub was supposed to be and it was a shed blocked by cinderblocks with a padlock. We went to our room and it literally smelled like feet. To turn on the heater you had take off thee panel of the heater and light a match. Luckily my mom is a d1 complainer and was not happy so we switched places. The second place was so much better and bigger. We still had a super fun time but personally I would not recommend booking.com
It was actually the best experience I’ve ever had. If you don’t know what SLDC is I’ll explain it.
It’s the student leadership and diversity conference, otherwise known as the POCC (people of color conference) At the conference we talk about things that normally aren’t addressed at our PWI’s (Primarily white institutions) We talk about microaggressions, inappropriate comments, or jokes, codesiwtching, and being proud of our culture. We have amazing inspirational strong guest speakers, who talk about their experiences as people of color. We have family groups that intermingle everybody of all races, cultures, sexualities, and ethnicities. They are huge groups of about 70 people. Home groups are smaller groups in our family groups where we can talk about topics more in-depth. We address things like abortion laws, cancel culture, and socioeconomic status. It is safe to say all these people were on a totally different level of maturity that isn’t in most teenagers. Not only that but they understood what it was like being in a PWI and related to the problems we went through. When I thought I was the only person going through this stuff at least 20 other people spoke up about similar if not the same experiences.
It wasn’t all serious talks and guest speeches. We didn’t sit for hours listening to one guy speak over and over. we would joke around, laugh, rap, dance, and party. The guest speakers would rap their speeches reaching into the depths of your soul.
It was life-changing.
I met the most amazing people ever. I got a whole new familia. My affinity group, the Latinx group, the loudest best most fun group, was probably the highlight of my trip. I met the most amazing people, I came out of my shell and was dancing with everyone. we had our own dance party at dinner which continued into our affinity group time right after. I have never felt so at home. I never wanted it to end.
alas it did, I cried a lot. The closing ceremony was a lot. One of the main speakers had us do an exercise where we found people we love, people who changed our lives, and people who made our experience. I didn’t last two seconds without crying. People came up to me thanking me for dragging them into the dance circle and teaching them to dance. I cried while hugging people I literally met two days ago. i probably cried for hours that day, my friends all made fun of me. I miss them.
I plan on using what I learned there to make OVS better. Making people aware, it’s hard but I’m working on it.
The title doesn’t lie. School seems to get harder and harder, with college, student government, and planning things for our affinity group. Although academics aren’t a lot of pressure, I sure did give myself many extracurricular things to do. Balancing everything is a lot of work. I’m pretty sure every senior can agree with that. The work is like a tapeworm. They find their way into you and eat all the nutrients you eat, and once they are done with that, they move on from you.
You’re left drained
If I’m being honest, I’m not sure what I’m writing. All I know is that I have a lot to do, but I’m not even sure where to start. I also feel like time is just moving on and I’m so busy doing everything that I’m not enjoying it. But I do have the most beautiful memories, I have some of the best people surrounding me. I’m looking forward to break but that’s also the halfway mark of my whole senior year. I also have to turn everything in for college.
Very scary stuff
I just hope I get to finish everything soon as I can finally look up and enjoy senior year.
OVS Journalism Blog 
You must be logged in to post a comment.