You know that people will be leaving, projects are due, and so is all the school work from the past few months that you’ve hidden under your bed in denial. So I find myself strangely lonely, isolated even.
But I’m ready for summer, and my introvert battery needs a recharge. You’d think being “isolated” now would help, but it’s different.
Right now I’m isolated by work and change, in summer – recharge mode – I am isolated by choice and enjoyment of being alone. It’s different.
Photo Credit: npengage
Given the choice, I would skip the entire last two months of school, jump straight into summer and then into the new school year. But alas there are the last two months.
I don’t really like change, and maybe that’s why I isolate myself – at least I think it’s a self driven isolation. I hope it is, because the alternative option is that no one likes me. But that’s beside the point. I don’t like change because it takes me a long time to warm up to anything, and change is like a bucket of ice water on what tolerance and comfort I build up.
I’m not saying change is bad, I’m just saying I don’t like it. On top of that, I hate goodbyes. They’re often mushy and huggy and declarative, definite, final.
The end of the year approaches, and I feel kinda lonely and things are changing, fast.
When I was in elementary school I first encountered Calvin and Hobbes. Since then it has resurfaced in various parts of my life surprisingly more and more topically.
Bill Watterson’s perennial comic often addresses the problems and anxieties of growing up, the pain of reality, and everything in between.
Watterson manages to cleverly address issues that still persist today through the eyes of the constantly adventurous and surprisingly observant six-year-old boy.
To this day, I find myself enjoying the comics in spare moments, pulling out weather-beaten copies with broken binding hoping to find a laugh or something to prove that I’m not just panicking, that growing up is indeed hard.
Watterson manages to perfectly characterize the angsty feelings of growing up and having to face oncoming reality, and sometimes it just makes me laugh and feel happy despite the panic I feel about having to continue to grow into adulthood.
But my personal favorite remains the very last panel Watterson ever drew for Calvin and Hobbes:
If summer means free time and free time means reading, summer therefore means reading…and catching up on shows.
Summer fever has hit hard. With new books on the way and old ones staring me down, my fingers physically itch. My brain angrily pounds at the inside of my skull.
All I want to be doing is reading the Devils of Loudun or Sherlock Holmes or A Court of Wings and Ruin.
Photo Credit: Huffington Post
This year especially, I have had difficultly finding moments to read. I never realized how integral it was to my life and happiness.
Not that I’m not happy, but this year has weighed heavier. I miss reading all the time. I feel less like me, just a little more unhappy, busy, insecure.
I miss the years where I could a read a book – and I mean a substantial book – every two or three days.
I want it to be summer so I can get back to taking time for myself, soaking in different worlds, recharging from a full year of nearly constant work.
About two weeks ago I sat down on my bed and opened Netflix. I kept scrolling and scrolling until, wait. I scrolled back up. In the Netflix Originals section there was a poster for 13 Reasons Why. I remember hearing so much hype for this show and seeing so many pictures from it. Not to mention, Selena Gomez, a producer for the show, raved about it on her Instagram a month ago. Almost impulsively I clicked play and listened to those first words, ringing through my ears.
“Hi, I’m Hannah Baker, live and in stereo.”
Photo Credit: hollywoodreporter.com
I was instantly hooked and stayed that way until the last episode. However, by the time I was done, I was shaking and crying. No, it didn’t move me or inspire me to donate to suicide prevention lines. It gave me a panic attack. That’s the hook. The show slowly, mysteriously arises, making you want more. The end comes in flashes and ends with a bang.
Up until this point, I’ve loved most shows I’ve watched on Netflix. Stranger Things brought a retro spin on an eerie missing child’s case, and Netflix also revived some of my favorite shows from my childhood, like Degrassi and Bill Nye. However, 13 Reasons Why seems rushed and overly dramatic. They took Jay Asher’s book and made it a sloppy real-life version.
Obviously the show can’t be exactly like the book, explaining the various character changes, such as Sheri and Courtney, and depicting some timeline and technology differences. Of course, they had to spread out Clay listening to the tapes to supplement an entire season of episodes. It makes sense that they’d show different perspectives to create more depth and keep interest at bay. In 2007, when the book was originally published, social media wasn’t as popular as nowadays, which makes the technology advancement sensical.
That doesn’t explain why they changed Hannah’s suicide. When I saw her death scene, my stomach twisted into a pretzel, with a cold, hollow feeling. I started crying and hyperventilating. Yes, there was a warning at the beginning of the episode, but nothing could’ve prepared me for seeing her slit her wrists and bleed out in a bathtub. My full-body aching became worse when I found out that they changed it from Jay Asher’s original story. In the book, Clay simply mentions that “Hannah swallowed some pills.”
Some have said that this scene only makes the show more powerful. However, seeing something as graphic as that does more harm than good. In fact, Hannah’s suicide could be a risk factor for those on the edge. The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention states, “Exposure to another person’s suicide, or too graphic or sensationalized accounts of suicide” could be an environment stressor that could trigger a suicide attempt. While it is given that there will be mentions of suicide, it isn’t publicized that a graphic suicide attempt is present in the show.
Many mental health professionals have spoken out about the negative affects of this show. Along with Hannah’s suicide attempt, the story itself glorifies suicide. The entire show is buzzing all around social media for its amazing cast and storyline, so it’s hard to detach it from all the talk, to talk about what it’s actually worth.
The entire premise is that a girl kills herself and blames it on other people, which is usually the opposite of what actually happens when someone takes their life. There is usually a feeling of helplessness and worthlessness, but suicide is (and always will be) the choice of a single individual. Viewers also miss the internal struggle that most people on the edge experience – the constant back and forth decision-making of whether or not they’ll commit.
Other less prominent issues are in play. Clay’s childhood friend, Skye Miller, tells him that suicide is for the weak and cutting is for those who are strong. Despite being grotesquely wrong, this glorifies self-harm, as a “strong” thing to do. Self harm is never a healthy, safe choice and can cause numerous health problems, besides leaving scars. The school’s health counselor’s, Kevin Porter, lack of training is appalling. He doesn’t recognize obvious signs of Hannah’s suicidal thoughts and doesn’t report that she was sexually assaulted after he pressures her into giving out the name of her assailant, which she refuses to do out of fear. This scene will discourage many students to seek help in times of need, which could cause many lives to be lost.
Finally, Alex’s suspected suicide attempt is unnecessary and a cheap way to obtain a second season. He obviously exhibited signs of suicidal ideation, but this was uncalled for. The story has no mention of Alex killing himself and for a show that wants to honor the original story, this makes zero sense. My hope is that if they make a second season, they will be more aware of how to handle his suicide in a more appropriate (and less triggering) fashion.
For what its worth, this show does open up a dialogue about suicide awareness. While the information in this show isn’t all factual, it at least depicts suicide as a very real, very horrible thing. If you or someone you know is considering self-harm, please get help. Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.
There comes a time in every senior’s career when they have to start picking colleges. Now, I’m far from being a senior, but I started thinking about colleges after going to the East Coast during spring break. Through all my time thinking about location, majors, and programs, one thing has stuck with me.
Photo Credit: breakthroughmiami.org
How are we, as children, supposed to decide the course of our lives? When someone chooses a college, they chose their connections, their future job opportunities, and many other hidden factors. When we choose a major, we cut off most of our time to explore other subjects of thought.
Picture this: You walk in to Ms. Oberlander and Mr. Alvarez’s college meeting. You sit down, take out your laptop, and open Naviance. You take a look at the colleges you’re thinking about. UCSB, Chapman, Harvard, or Yale. You have your target schools, but you know in your heart you’re dying to go to your reach school. You raise your hand to go to the bathroom, interrupting Ms. Oberlander’s speech about freedom.
It’s a little ironic. When most students go to college, they don’t know how to handle themselves. Just three months before freshman orientation, they still had to ask to use the restroom. They still had their parents doing their laundry and making them dinner. Teachers still told them how to dress, how to act. At OVS, we have the unique opportunity to learn some of the skills most college students lack so that we are more prepared to take on this new challenge.
However, OVS (and any school for that matter) can’t prepare us for what’s out there. It can’t prepare you for the choice between going to class or playing video games. It can’t prepare you for the people who will hurt you or how to make friends. They can only cross their fingers and hope you succeed.
BuzzFeed is known for its clickbait and quirky news updates. But, occasionally they use their large following for good use. A video titled “Would You Steal $5?” is a perfect example of that good-doing. A simple message is put across as it begins: “What is considered stealing?” The narrator lists different scenarios in which someone has $5, and each scenario shows another situation classified as stealing. But at the end, it’s revealed that the $5 is a symbol for consent. In simpler terms, without consent you are stealing from someone.
What is consent? Most claim to know the answer, but in reality, not many do. Consent is defined as permission for something to happen or agreement to do something. Mostly, consent refers to situations involving any romantic or sexual interactions. It seems simple enough, if one or both members aren’t up to doing something, then both have to accept that they shouldn’t be doing whatever that is. Yet somehow, rape and sexual violence is still all too common.
No one knows the severity of rape culture. On average, 288,820 people are raped annually in the U.S. alone. That is one person every 2 minutes. That number surely disgusts many, yet rape is still a taboo subject. Why is it that consent isn’t taught at all schools? Sex Ed is only mandatory in 24 states, and not all of those have to teach consent. No wonder the headlines are filled with reports of rape and violence against women and men.
Consent is honestly so simple. If you or your partner is uncomfortable, drunk, unready, or unwilling, don’t have sex! If someone says no to anyactivity, don’t do it! It’s simple, really.
The impending doom of Monday morning lurking around the corner, homework piling up by the minute.
How about waking up on Sunday and thinking it’s Saturday? The stomach drop when your phone blinks with “Sunday” is the equivalent of reading the saddest book ever, twice.
And, even though Sunday mornings are bad, nothing is worse than Sunday night.
Sometimes I can’t move.I’ll lay in bed staring blankly at a screen.I am not evening watching the movie that my eyes are fixated on.I’m in another world.
The darkness started in my brain, it made me smile less, and cry more.
Then it moved into my eyes,
the darkness made me see things differently.
When I looked in the mirror I didn’t see myself anymore, I saw a girl with dark black eyes.
Darkness took over my mouth soon after.Negativity spewed out like oil in the middle of a dark blue ocean.It covered me with a thick black liquid.
Darkness wrapped around my heart so tightly that nothing could escape.
Things I once loved, things that brought me so much happiness no longer warmed my heart, they simply pasted in front of me like a person I use to know.
Darkness takes my legs from time to time.There’s nothing I want more but to move.I want to run, and dance and write and jump.
Instead I sit, lifeless, glaring at the sticky white ceiling of my room.
I would like to think I am stronger than the darkness.
I know I’m not.
Sometimes I trick the darkness.
I make jokes, and laugh and pretend like he doesn’t exist.
My whole life I’ve had a very dry and edgy sense of humor, and with it I have attracted many close friends and also a couple enemies.I was the most sarcastic kid on the playground, often getting in little fights with the kids around me because of this.
Back in my salad days, as Shakespeare would call them, I didn’t understand why people would get so worked up about my jokes.As I got older, I realized my sense of humor was more mature than the people around me.
When they were still on bathroom jokes, I had moved on to bigger things.I would impersonate celebrities and my teachers, I would make jokes about current events, it was smart humor but my classmates never got it.
I was no class clown though.I was fairly quiet in class, always paying attention and raising my hand.At lunch though, I was on fire.I would come up with little sketches that I would then act out to my unwilling group of friends.I remember I had one about Panda Express that was a big hit.I don’t remember what is was about at all but it was quoted for weeks.
When I got to middle school, things changed.Maybe it was my sudden realization that I could be judged for being “out there.”My proudest moment in middle school was in the 7th grade.The 7th grade was a god awful year for me and honestly drowning is probably better than 7th grade but it did have one shining moment.
For the first year in my middle school’s history they would be having a play. Not a musical, but a play.
I was so pumped it was unbelievable.When I would talk about the play people probably wondered who the hell gave this 13 year old girl so much sugar, but it wasn’t sugar I was high off of, it was the theatre. Cheesy as that sounds, it rang very true for 13 year old, slightly chubby me.
When I first auditioned I was scared out of my mind.I found out there was only 10 parts in the show we were doing and only 3 of those parts were for girls.I did my best in the audition, which wasn’t surprising because I always do my best in the things I really care about.
A week later, when the cast list came out, I screamed.I screamed out of joy because I got in.I Lily, the awkward, sometimes accidentally insulting, braces wearing girl got into a real play.Of course the play was awful, as you would expect it to be since the cast was completely made out of middle school outsiders, but I thought it was amazing.I thought I was amazing.
Every single show, when I heard laughs from the audience because of something I said, it filled me with so much joy. At the cast party, the director gave out little speeches to all of the young actors.When it came to my turn to be praised, the director simply told me how funny I could be.It made a huge impact on me.
Never had I actually been told I was funny. I just told jokes and would occasionally get laughs.
In high school I was on the improv team and would get up on stage every week.I began to write little comedy scenes for myself and keep them in a file on my computer.
Comedy is something really important to me, and I’ve started using it as a cover for the real things I’m feeling.I am not defined as a person by the jokes I tell so stop judging me for my humor.
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