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.
I watch the window as I sit at work. Waiting for someone to come in on this cold, wet day. Watching outside for even the shortest time, I notice so many different people. A pair of friends walk by, bags in their hands, and I wonder how long they have been friends. A langer family walks by like a flock of geese piled together to keep warm. The kids turn to peer in the windows of the shops. The lights for the holiday season make the darkness of the night brighter. I watch a cold, frail woman lug her big wagon full of everything she has, walk by without a jacket to keep her warm through the crisp winter. A man runs by frantically, looking scared, did something happen in town I think silently to myself. No, nothing happened he must have been in a rush for something I know as a couple passes happily hand in hand smiles on both faces. A little girl and her mom walk by the little girl had a toy in her hand. Admiring the toy her mom looks down admiring the girl. I sit and I wait. No one has walked by again. No one has come in my work in a while. It is probably because I work at an air-conditioned ice cream shop in this keen weather. Cars fly by the windows as I still wait for my last person to write about. Maybe it will be a young family? Maybe a large friend group? How about an old couple holding on to one another? I am unaware. I hope it isn’t one of those people who walks slowly past the window and stares in the shop not planning on walking in. It is a tall slim man. He has a headlamp on his head and is in a warm looking pile of clothes. Where is he walking to? Does he take a walk every night? Does he have a family waiting for him to start eating dinner with him? We will never know. The beauty of people watching. We won’t ever know what people are doing. Where they are going to. Why are they here? My last description because someone just walked by. A sad looking man in blue. He strolls by and it fascinates me to ponder on why this man is so sad and alone.
On November 29, I woke up and connected my phone to my speaker and noticed Spotify wrapped came out. I was excited at first, but I realized my disappointment at this same time last year. I personally believe Spotify wrapped is hacked for two reasons. First, on my top artists list, I had 21 Savage, who I never listen to unless he is featured on a Drake song. I personally listen to a lot of Zach Bryan and Lana Del Ray, and I believe they should have been there instead of 21 Savage. Secondly, I believe I listened to way more minutes because I always listen to music when doing homework, getting ready, showering, eating ,biking and often have aux in the car. The one thing I do like about Spotify Wrapped is everyone posts it and it gives sorta a insight in peoples lives. The music people listen to say a lot about them and Spotify Wrapped is a good way to learn a little about people you don’t know.
When I was fifteen, I kept telling myself that I would have my license as soon as I turned sixteen. However, I didn’t start driver’s ed until I turned sixteen. I took months to start it, forget about it, and then finish it. I took the permit test two weeks ago, which was four months after I finished driver’s ed. However, I finally got behind the wheel and drove around a parking lot for the first time! Thirty seconds in I told my dad there was no way I would ever drive on the street. I don’t think I drove faster than ten mph at any point; the fact that people drive at seven times that speed every day baffles me. Driving reminded me that cars are completely operated by people (most of the time). Sitting in a car or seeing cars moving everywhere every day seems so natural and instinctive that everything almost seems automatic; it feels as if the cars move on their own the way that clouds or birds do.
It’s not your fault, I know we are both very busy.
But are we really? If I have the time to lay on the floor and scroll on my phone for hours, if I have the time to sit and do nothing everywhere- in lunch lines, in cars, in classrooms, shouldn’t I have found a moment for you? I should have and I’m sorry.
It’s not all my fault though. You lay on the same floor, scroll the same phone, stand in the same lines, sit in the same car, wait out the same classes. You should have found time.
I think sometimes, I just don’t like you very much. I’d just rather scroll on my phone and think about nothing than work through anything with you. You’ve let me down a lot, and sometimes I don’t even know if I trust you. You forget things that you really should have remembered, and you say things when you really should have kept your mouth shut. When I am feeling down, I play those things over and over again in my head sometimes, until I feel worse. But I know I shouldn’t. It’s not your fault you can’t be perfect all the time, even though sometimes I wish you were.
You are a person that is allowed to make mistakes, and sometimes that comes in the form of a lapse in memory or a slip of the tongue. I know you try to do what you think is right, and you have grown as a person and will continue to do so. It’s not fair for me to judge you so harshly, because I don’t judge anyone I love so harshly, and I, of all people, should have some love for you.
OVS Journalism Blog 
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