A blog space for Hill's students. Write well. Write thoughtfully. Write openly and honestly. Write respectfully. Write often.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Changes, Challenges and Choices: Our best work
Be organized, focused, and careful with your diction and syntax. Use details. Use rhetorical devices. Check all spelling and grammar. Make this your very best work.
Part 1 My life was changed drastically when I was 6 years old, and the problem, I have been facing it since then. My biological father left my mom, my sister and I in 2003 and there was no reason for it at all (that we knew of), we had no clue what was going on or why he just left our lives. When i turned 10 my mother sat down with me and had a talk, my sister was 7 so she really didn’t understand what was going on. We sit down and I had no clue what was happening, she was balling and my father had been out of my life for a good 4 years. I remember her saying “Your father will not be a part of your life, ever" I was confused beyond words, but I didn’t let it show I simply said okay, I’ve done it for 4 years now, what’s the difference? I then for a couple of days started to get curious, so I had my mom tell me why he was gone for so long, and why I couldn’t see him anymore. Then she came out and told me, and she said he has been addicted to pain killers, now. At that time, I didn’t really know what they could do to you, I know that the school talked to my class about it and what not but I didn’t know how much of a change it can do with someone. A year later, or maybe longer, he came to my school and decided to have lunch with me, he had known my mom told me about his addiction and he explained it to me well. He said that he didn’t know what he was doing, and then he agreed to not do them when I was around. The court agreed and decided to let my sister, Emily and I see him every Tuesday and Thursday. I was young and so was my sister, we didn’t know what he was doing. We would stay with him and he would take us places that I knew that we weren’t supposed to be at. He would fall asleep driving, he would scream at my sister and me for no reason, I would watch him steal from my grandparents. I never said anything to my mom or my step dad about it, because I wanted to be in my father’s life, I wanted a father like all the girls in my class had. Eventually, I told my mom because he got really aggressive; to the point where i was in danger, and I wasn’t only scared for myself but I was scared for my sister, as well. My father had unconditional love for us but never showed it. My mom, then, got full custody of my sister and I. We lived with my mom and my step dad for several years. My grandparents put my dad in rehab and he got out and was clean. He was clean for about 2 months, we got to see him again and let me tell you all, and he was a completely different person.
Part 2 He then got with the wrong people again and got hooked... again... not only on pain killers, but on more serious drugs that can really damage your body. We didn’t know it until it a month after he got out. It was about midnight on a weekend night and my grandmother and I were watching a movie and the house phone rings, I rush to get the phone. I answer it quickly, it was my dad and he said "Is nana around" he was crying and breathing really heavily, I merely said "yes but what’s wrong” he said "I’m about to shoot myself" so I rapidly give the phone to my grandmother while freaking out and he tells her he needs her to stop him and tells her where he was. We get in the car immediately and we go to 127, and there he is standing on the side of the road with a pistol to his head. This is when I realized that my father was going wild; the drugs that he was on were really affecting him. My grandmother, who is 62 jumped out and attacked him and said "Your oldest daughter is watching you, and you’re being irrational. Don’t do this" This is when everything changed. My life changed, I knew I didn’t need my dad in my life until he got his act together. I was terrified, in shock and I remained that way until I started going crazy, to the point where I didn’t talk to anyone, not even my mother. I wouldn’t eat; I was in shock, seeing that my father was suicidal. Then I had to go to counseling. This has changed me to who I am today. I see the pain that teens go through without a father, or having a drug addict as a biological parent. Anytime I see him, I’m terrified that he’s going to do what all he used to do, I see flashbacks on how odd he acted, It takes everything in my mom to let me go, she’s horrified because she knows how much pain my sister and I went through. It's tough, but it’s made me to stay strong through the minimum obstacles of life. Life throws me curve balls but then I look at myself and say "No, I am strong. I can do this". I rarely see my father; he lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, and has been clean for 2 years now. When he comes to see my sister and I, or when we go up there he asks how everything is going, I simply look at him and say “I’m doing very well. I don’t need anyone who doesn’t need me” -Sierra Smith
It was the summer before my freshman year of high school. For some reason, my best friend and I thought it would be a good idea to sneak out. It would be just this one time, we had never done anything bad and just wanted to feel like “normal” teenagers, because, you know, that’s what everyone else was doing. We all know what it feels like to be a rebel and get that rush of disobeying your parents. We weren’t bad kids. We followed all the rules and never got in trouble at school. We were just looking for a little trouble to get into for once. We wanted to feel cool, be like everyone else, so that’s just what we did… or tried to do.
I had gone over to her house during the day that day, nothing out of the ordinary because we were always together. Soon after her parents went to bed, we started getting ready, getting nervous. We were in it as long as one of us didn’t back out. I, of course, wasn’t going to back out. But, I was secretly hoping she was going to. A couple hours passed and we started going down the stairs from her bedroom, hoping her parents weren’t going to wake up, and out the back door we went! Everything was going smooth… except for the dog! We had forgotten all about the dog and you would never guess what the dog was doing, barking. Not only was her dog barking but the neighbors across the street’s dogs were barking. That was it, we sprinted back into the house, terrified her parents were going to be awake, thankfully they weren’t, we were in the clear.
After we got back into her room, we started talking and decided we were going to try this again next week with a better plan. We trusted each other, so the next week we were at it again! This night was a little different, though. She had told her mom that her dog had been scratching the basement window while she was down there and that maybe they should keep the dog in the garage that night. I didn’t think this idea was going to work, but it did. Her mom went and put the dog up for the night. I couldn’t believe this was actually working. Besides the dog, everything was going exactly like it was the last time. This was it. Parents in bed; get ready, wait a little to make sure they were still asleep and out the back door we went.
It was humid and the grass was wet when we left. After we made it out of her front yard, with no dogs barking, there was no turning back. So we started walking, our friend’s house (which we were going to) was maybe ten minutes away once we got off her street and we were making good progress. As we were walking we saw this car slowing down. You know in movies when kids aren’t supposed to be doing something they usually end up dying? Well, this was going through my head. Next thing I know this car is stopped and getting out, I was terrified. We were good kids, other kids do this all the time and get back home safe and sound, but of course, my luck, I was about to die. I had no idea what to do so I got on the phone with my friend and she decided she was going to act like she was looking for her lost puppy. As this person got out of their car, they just looked at their front tire and then left. I’d never been so relieved in my life, I seriously thought we were going to get kidnapped. We made it to our friend’s house, had a terrible time, and did make it home safe and sound.
Maybe sneaking out wasn’t the best way to finally feel that feeling you get for really going behind your parents backs for once, but it’s what we did. It made me realize everything that people do my age isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. Some things I just have to try anyway to learn my own lesson, to get that feeling every once in a while. Now, looking back at this and how embarrassing it is, I do know it changed how I choose my actions today. I hear stories and I should learn from others’ mistakes, but I can’t always learn from others. I make my own decisions and learn from my own mistakes, it just depends on if I want a big or little adventure that day.
This didn’t teach me not to ever sneak out again; it taught me to be careful on some of the choices I make. It taught me it’s okay to have fun, just as long as I’m not risking my life. It taught me that I should tell my parents what I’m doing so if something happens I can always feel comfortable calling them if I need to. It taught me that I can trust my parents no matter what the situation may be.
Dear me, What were you thinking? This girls night wasnt suppose to have been any different from any other one, it shouldve consisted of watching movies, stuffing our faces with tons of unhealty junk food and having our regular ole "girl talk". But oh boy, was it far from that. I really messed up tonight. Its July 5th, 2013. I just got home from the scariest accident I think I've probably ever been in. I can hardly walk, my head is aching and I just want to bawl my eyes out. I could tell by the look on dads face as he picked me up from the back of an ambluance how disappointed and startled he is. But can I really blame him? I cant help but wonder what Heather is thinking right now, Coach Fry didnt look too happy when he saw the scene of his daughters totaled car- and to top off her car being gone, he took her phone. All I want to do is call her and tell her how extremley sorry I am and that I'll do all I can to fix it. Anywho, heres the story so I can hopefully look back on this in 10 years and reminisce on how ignorant we all were that night. So here I go- I was bored, we were all bored and so we let the boreom take over. After we couldnt decide of anything to do, we decided it'd be fun to just drive around since Mackenzee and I had just gotten our license. Well since the rules to having your intermediate do say, "Only one passenger in the car that ISNT a family member" we decided not to break them too harshly, so we took two cars. I drove Heathers and Mackenzee drove her own. Mackenzee was the chauffeur of just her and Sierra. While Heather rode shotgun with me and Samantha sat in the back. It was raining, and it was getting pretty dark too. But we're reckless teenagers and we didnt let that stop us from curing our boreom. Mackenzee followed behind me. Heather, Samantha and I spent our ride jamming to music, having fun. It was a big turn, and I was totally blinded by it. Before I could even think, my first reaction was to slam on the breaks, with the slippery wet roads all that did was make it worse. We all screamed as closed our eyes so we wouldnt have to see ourselves slamming through and knockig down a stone wall, along the side of the road. The car was burning, I could barely open my door, the headlights shun into what use to be the wall. Heathers winshield, cracked, I saw blood and suddenly jumped right up after being in a quick shock. "Heather! Samantha! Quick! Get out!" I shouted. I assumed they were in shock as well. They reacted and with the help of me I got them out. We stood back and looked at the disastrous car, we all asked one another if we were hurt. Sam had a concussion, Heather was slightly bleeding and with rips and tears in my shirt from the air bag I was fine, with a minor knee injury. We called 911, scared for our lives of what would happen. The paramedics handed us their phone and asked us to call our parents (scariest moment ever number 2) They cleaned us up and took down all of our information as we sat in the back of the ambulance. What was I thinking? Id never seen such a beat up car as Heathers was after that accident. Thank God we were all okay. Note to self: NEVER let that happen again.
You “know” me… Don’t get me wrong, I love helping other people more than anything, it makes me feel so good, but sometimes, it can be a hassle. My problem? I struggle to say “no”, and that can cause me to take on more than I can handle. I am like a mother, running around to comply with the needs of my infinite flock of children. As I do with my mother, I am the first person many people run to when they need something. “Toe, I need you to take me to the store. I need you to braid my hair. I need you to pick me up. I need advice. help me out”. I am the first person many people run to demand when they need something. You would think a little consideration of my schedule would be in place… but quite often my children find an excuse as to what I am to demanded to do for someone is more important than what I am doing for myself. Prime Example: One Saturday, I had the day to myself, due to the rest of my family being busy out of town. I woke up to a text message saying “how about you bring us lunch and we can hang out at my house for the day.” Nothing sounded better than spending my day doing that, honestly. The planned time for lunch was 12 noon. From about 9-11:45 I hadn’t heard from my lunch date, but hey, I had the whole day to do nothing, I could wait. As I was on my way to pick up our food, he called telling me we needed to postpone our plans for about an hour. I was already in town, and didn’t want to turn around and go all the way back home so I called one of my closest friends and asked if I could hang out at her house until then. She said that I couldn’t go to her house because it was a mess, but I could take her out to lunch. Being the person I am, I said I would love to, and headed her way. I was excited…getting to spend the day with 2 of my favorite people. On my drive to Kristin’s, my phone rang and I was told my other plans were ready for me to come to his house. Of course I didn’t want to cancel my first plans I had, so I called Kristin and told her she would have to wait a while. I ran myself ragged, but somehow through that chaos, I managed to make everyone happy, and fulfill with all of my plans….. oh and not to mention that Kristin didn’t mention I had to drive her 20 minutes down Cardwell Lane to her friend’s house, instead of dropping her off back at home, like I planned. That just goes to show, that my lack of being able to say “no” can get me way too far in over my head. My day to myself, turned into my day of being a taxi and a waitress. Sometimes though… I need help, and I need advice, and I need someone to be there for me. But I don’t let that show. I try to keep a smile on my face and pray it’s contagious. My mother is the most helpful, caring, comforting person I know. Watching her, I have become the person I am today. Her smile is never dull, even in the most trying times. I want everyone to think I am strong and fearless. Being a role model is one of my main goals in life; I just want everyone to look up to me. But a lot of emotions stay bottled in, and sometimes, in the mix of caring for everyone, I start to break, cracking and crumbling. And that is when I need the most help, and the most advice, and most amount of people to be there for me. As much as I would like to be… I need to realize that I am not “super mom” and I can’t take on every task I am presented with… when I realize this... I can be at peace.
I personally think it is great to have people come to you for help. They see you as competent enough handle whatever it is they want you to handle, however it becomes overwhelmingly tiring, considering that you have needs too that have to be met. This is relatable in, that it is hard for many people including myself to say "no" to others. Job well done I enjoyed reading your story.
Personally my biggest challenge in life is achieving my future goals. Sense middle school I knew I wanted to be in the medical field. By the time I was in high school I knew I wanted to be an Rn. So I've been working to achieve my future goals for years, and there have been many challenges to get to where I am now. Because of the many requirements I must meet to achieve my future goals.
One of the many challenges that I had faced was taking advanced science courses. I had to take advanced biology and chemistry; this for me was a constant struggle and was not something I wanted to do but had to do. Because most colleges require biology and chemistry for a nursing degree. Because most Rn’s are the ones calculating how much medicine you are given and it is important to understand the amount you should be giving so you do not harm someone.
Another one of the many challenges that I had to face was taking a lot of medical explanatory’s not only to see if I’m interested in the medical field but also to see if I’m capable of completing the courses. At first they were hard and I would have to study for hours to remember many muscles, bones, disorders, diseases, and many more things. Which took a while, but now I know them without having to even think about it. All of the courses also help to show me what parts of the medical field I’m interested in and where I fit in.
I would have to say the biggest challenge I have faced so far in the process of achieving my future goals of being a Rn. Would have to be taking MNA, because it is a dual enrollment college nursing course that is required for nursing school and is very important to my future success. We have done many things that were challenging in this course from doing procedures to taking 10-15 test per term this has been the hardest course so far but has really helped me to see what college is really like and what my future life as an Rn will be like.
So most of my challenges in life right now come from school. Because I really want to achieve my future goals and become an Rn. So even though I might not want to take hard science courses or have to memorize many medical topics or take on many challenges that make me feel stressed in a college nursing course. I do because achieving my future goals and becoming an Rn is important enough for me to take on all of these challenges so that I can achieve my future goals.
I am very interested in nursing because of the many benefits that it can provide in my life and others lives to because of the impact that it can have on people. Because without nursing many people with chronic disorders would not get the care they need to live a comfortable life. And of all the challenges I have to face to get to the point where I can help these people; is very minimal considering the impact that it can have on many people’s lives. So to me it is all worth it.
We share a little bit in common, I have always wanted to be a Pediatrician since when I was a kid and that has not changed. I know it takes a lot of devotion, perseverance and a driving force to keep you going in a field as this, which I think you have to based on what you said about knowing the different diseases, disorders and bones. you going to make an excellent RN some day. Good work; I felt like I was reading what I wrote.
PART 1: An Introduction to Lucid Dreaming (if you already have decent background knowledge of lucid dreaming and want to skip this, just read Part 2 to see how it has affected me)
What is it? A Lucid dream is a dream in which you know you are dreaming. You are Aware/Conscious. Imagine the level of awareness you have in waking life and apply it to a dream. Lucid Dreaming is a natural skill for only a few people, the rest usually need to practice. However, being Lucid does not mean you can control the dream, that's a skill that may come later after first achieving Lucidity.
Why have Lucid Dreams? In a Lucid Dream, anything you can imagine is possible. A Lucid Dream is not your typical dream, it is much more vivid, and it can seem as real as any waking experience. So now going on to the why. With Lucid Dreaming, You can adventure and maybe visit a place from a book or video game. You can obtain inspiration to create something like a drawing or a story. You can practice social situations like giving a speech or performing a play. You can take advantage of your heightened ability to think and solve problems you normally couldn't in waking life. You can go on a spiritual exploration. You can even stop your nightmares.
Becoming Lucid To become Lucid in your dreams, You'll first want to improve your dream recall and then start trying Induction Techniques.
Dream Recall Even though not everyone remembers their dreams, we all dream at night. First, Lets take a look at sleep cycles. (The following information is from Dreamviews and Wikipedia with my opinion mixed in a little, Also beware the ugly formatting)
--sleep is divided into two broad types: rapid eye movement (REM sleep) and non-rapid eye movement (NREM or non-REM sleep). REM sleep is associated with the capability of dreaming. NREM is divided into three stages: N1, N2, and N3, the last of which is also called delta sleep or slow-wave sleep. --N1 is the first stage of sleep, normally lasting only a few minutes. You experience N1 as you are just drifting off to sleep. During this stage, you may experience strange noises, lights, or sensations, which are known as hypnogagic hallucinations. You may also experience random twitches in your skeletal muscles. These are called hypnic jerks. They can wake you as you fall asleep. Both hypogagic hallucination and hypnic jerks are completely harmless, although they can be startling sometimes. --N2 is the second stage of sleep, and is characterized by a total loss of consciousness. --N3 is the deepest sleep out of all of the stages, so it is very difficult to wake someone in the N3 stage. Parasomnias like sleepwalking and night terrors typically occur in this stage. --Sleep proceeds in cycles of REM and NREM, usually four or five of them per night, the order normally being N1 → N2 → N3 → N2 → REM. There is a greater amount of deep sleep (stage N3) earlier in the night, while the proportion of REM sleep increases in the two cycles just before natural awakening. (Usually, after about 1-2 cycles, people will start waking up after each cycle. This happens about 3-4 times a night but the average person doesn't remember. Also, If you don't get much sleep, you likely won't dream much as you are mostly in a restorative deep sleep during the first 2-4 hours.)
Getting back to dream recall. This is important because it helps you get familiar with your dreams, and after all, what is the point of lucid dreaming if you can't remember it? The first step is getting a decent amount of sleep, Then you simply recall your dreams after each waking and log them in your phone or whatever you want to use. Just remember to log after each time you wake up in a night because if you try to log all of your dreams after your final awakening, you'll usually forget the previous dreams. There's more to dream recall but this is a decent summary so far.
Induction Techniques I had to take this part out because the blog post would be too long. Research further if interested.
As a result of Lucid Dreaming,I've discovered some mental capabilities, I've grown spiritually and emotionally, and I've accumulated some new experiences.
Our mind is powerful. However, during the day, it's somewhat busy controlling the body, so we don't get to use it at it's full potential. If we relax a little, we can notice that our thinking ability becomes stronger and we can imagine things with greater detail. If we relax even more and fall asleep, we can notice that our mind can create a whole dream world with as much detail as waking life. As I practiced lucid dreaming, I had increased my ability to lessen my minds attention to my body. This is due to the dream yoga and meditation, as well as my attempts at WILD ( wake induced lucid dream ) over the summer.
An example of the level I had reached in this ability: I could lay down and relax enough to partially numb most of my body, at this point, I was able to imagine a detailed environment with an enemy ( usually a swordsmen/knight, just for the heck of testing how well I could maneuver ) and a body which I controlled. However, because I stopped practicing when school started, I've lost some of this ability, But since I’ve started writing about this, I’ve decided to pick it up again. ( lol maybe this time, I can develop Telepathy or something >:D )
Lucid dreaming gave me the idea to try out some different ways of living. You can look at this as sort of trying out different religions. One thing i tried out was living with the belief that all sorts of creatures existed, which ranges from the supernatural to extraterrestrial. I also dabbed a little into occult stuff. It was loads of fun. In the end, I managed to refine my core beliefs a little, which is great.
A big thing with dreaming is how it aids in conquering fears. In my dreaming experiences, I've been through a lot of violent stuff, but after being exposed to the violence repeatedly, you become somewhat immune to it. You no longer get freaked out but rather, your attitude shifts to a more “Really?!? This again?”. I've become less afriad of death, Which just might be an unhealthy change seeing as how it might get me killed one day. If you think about it, it makes sense. When you have halfway died in dreams enough, dying becomes normal and you can actually laugh a little about it.
The experiences are interesting. It's almost like taking a vacation to an unknown place each night. I've attempted world domination (my longest and most detailed dream which was 13 paragraphs long in my log), I've joined The Unmeritable Unmutable Organization of Vagueness ( I still don't know the purpose of that organization >.> ), I've traveled with vampires (The vampires tended to be very fun, and very sexy ), and I've even fought reptilian shapeshifters ( they were tough too). Even though these are dreams, they still stick with me as clear as any other memories. Like waking life, you meet people and you do things and you have wonderful times. Dreaming is a great thing.
Overall, Lucid dreaming has positively affected me in many ways. I've had a lot of fun with it, and i still have fun doing the weird things I do. I recommend it to anyone interested in it. We apparently spend a third of our lives sleeping so why not make some use of it?
It's the spring of my 8th grade year and tryouts for the Western Hills dance team were right around the corner, the day I have been waiting for since my mom started teaching at WHHS is finally here. I finally have the chance to be on the dance team I've always wanted to be on.
Monday was the first day of clinics and I was so excited I felt like a little kid waking up on Christmas morning. When I walked into the gym we began stretching, just like I had before any other dance practice, so I felt good about things. Then we started learning the dance... And in a matter of moments I was lost and could barely keep up. By the end of the first day of clinics I was completely discouraged and pretty much knew that I wouldn't make it. After countless hours going over and over the dance when I got home, I felt a little better about it and decided that I would not give up; I would push through, even if it meant that I would not make the team. Tuesday went the same way, except 10x worse and this time I felt like a really sick little kid who just wants their mom. When I got home after clinics I did the same thing I did the night before, I pushed through. Wednesday was a day to ourselves and I used that to my advantage. I went over and over and over the dance drilling it into my head preparing for tryouts the next day.
Finally the day was here, it was tryout day and I felt every emotion all at the same time. You know that feeling you get before a big test or a performance of any kind? Well just imagine that but even worse and that is what I was feeling. It was finally my time to go in front of the judges and I couldn't stop shaking like a leaf blowing in the wind. All the things I could mess up on kept playing through my mind. Well after I went out on the stage and did all the things that I thought I could mess up, I was completely devastated. After waiting all those years I just destroyed that one chance of being a Western Hills dancer... And I was right, I did not make the dance team for my freshmen year of high school. After being upset for a while, I decided to put it behind me and focus on getting better. I tried out for Champions Elite dance team and this time, I made it. I practiced my hip-hop tricks, I focused on getting my motions sharper, and most of all I didn't let my emotions get the best of me. While I was on this team for two years I improved in so many ways and I was so grateful for all the things Champions helped me accomplish.
At the end of my Sophomore year I decided I would give Western Hills dance team another try and this time I was determined to make it. When I walked into clinics the first day I knew all my hard work had payed off. I picked up on the dance easily and I had all the tricks I needed to have to make the team, not only was I prepared but I felt confident. This time when I walked into tryouts I wasn't replaying all the things I did wrong but making sure I knew everything to do right. This time I was ready. This time when they put the list up of the 2013-2014 Western Hills dance team members my name was on it. Finally after all those years of wishing, waiting, and wanting to be on the Western Hills dance team I was finally on it. I actually did it.
After not making the dance team I was so discouraged and almost didn't tryout for Champions and even then I didn't know if I wanted to tryout for Western Hills again, but I did. I put my fear of disappointment behind me and went for it. This challenge taught me to never give and and to always “keep on swimming” even if things get hard. Even though it was hard to overcome I am so grateful to of had the opportunity to learn that valuable lesson because it has helped shape the person I am today.
As I prepare to write this post, I realize how fortunate I truly am and I actually feel a bit guilty for what I’m about to write. I’m not your average teenage girl, I have married parents both of whom love me unconditionally, I have never rebelled in any way, nor have I dealt with the death of someone with whom I was extremely close. Unlike most, I enjoy public speaking. But like many of my peers and I am extremely involved in my chosen clubs and activities. Personal stories opposite of mine touch my heart, making those more similar to mine seem minuet; however, my story is a constant burden to me.
Choices are made every day. Large or small, every choice we make has an effect on our life. The result of our choices is often a challenge to be faced.
It seems my whole life I have run full speed with school, dance classes, private, school and travel team practices, basketball, working sheep, FFA events and the Franklin County 4-H livestock club. My parents have often been asked, “How do you keep up with everything?” Their response is always a simple, “It’s just our life.” And yes, it is just the way we have chosen to live our lives. Reflecting on this, I would not want it to be any other way.
Approaching this school year, I was aware that the expectations and pressure to succeed would be at an all-time high. Multiple AP classes would begin, as well as taking the ACT and looking at colleges, all while trying to manage the often conflicting schedules of multiple extracurriculars. Knowing what was ahead, I made the choice not to try out for the travel dance team I had enjoyed since the 7th grade, hoping that by cutting out two practices a week and monthly competitions my time would be a bit more open and I would be able to focus on the new challenges junior year would bring. At the time, I was not happy with my decision. I felt I was letting down my team, as well as no longer being able to satisfy my lifelong passion.
We are now well into this school year, and I cannot imagine adding two practices and monthly competitions back into my schedule. The work load I have carried this year as well as the demands of my coaches, teachers, and advisors have been extremely challenging and often overwhelming. Never have I been so ready to give up. Never have I felt I no longer care. I have realized that all of this has diminished my normally positive mindset making it hard for me to continue going forward with what is required for school, extracurricular activities, and my future.
Looking ahead, I often claim that next year I will “go out with a bang;” While there will still be academic challenges to be faced, I plan to take advantage of extra extracurricular opportunities and experiences while they are still open to me, rather than stressing over the things I cannot change. My hope is to make that claim a reality… as soon as I figure out how.
When Mrs. Hill first presented this topic as our blog post I must admit I freaked out a little bit. I always considered myself a fairly “normal” teenager who hasn’t really faced many difficult challenges or choices in their life. Then I realized, I’ve dealt with a challenge nearly every day of my life since I was in 3rd grade. It has come so accustom to me that I hardly recognize it as challenge, it has become more of a lifestyle.
When I was a child I began to notice abnormal stomach pains all throughout the day. The thought of it ever becoming anything more than a mere stomach ache never crossed my mind. Eventually, the pain became constant and unbearable. It hardly ever went away. My parents were concerned but not enough to take me to the doctor just yet. Of course if anyone knows my dad, he’ll tell you that “She’s fine, she’s just over reacting. It’s not anything serious.” I wanted to believe that but a part of me knew there was something seriously wrong with me. After months of continuous pain and no sign of it getting any better, a new symptom came into play. I began to notice blood in my stool (yes, I’m aware that is quite disgusting but it’s nothing I can control.) That very moment my mother picked up the phone and immediately called the hospital. Of course as a third grader I was pretty convinced I was dying. But I was quickly assured that was not the case.
After months of blood tests, hospital visits, and meeting several different doctors they finally reached a diagnosis. By the beginning of my fourth grade year I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis. For many people who are unaware of what Ulcerative colitis is, it’s a serious chronic inflammatory disease of the large intestine. It is known for causing severe stomach pain, nausea, chills, and frequent trips to the restroom. Being diagnosed with this terrified me. I thought I would never be able to live a normal life anymore. I had to completely change my lifestyle in order to feel the least bit better.
As I grew older my doctor decided to go in depth about what my future with Ulcerative Colitis could consist of. She told me that being a person with this disease gave me a higher chance of developing colon cancer. That may have been the most terrifying moment of my life. How is a person at my age, or any age really, supposed to deal with the news of developing cancer? Hearing those words roll off her tongue still haunt me every day. I did, however, found some good out of all of this. I have learned that I can get through every obstacle life throws at me as long as I keep a positive mindset and never give up. This disease has definitely changed me as a person and the way I live.
As of now, my Ulcerative Colitis is under control and I’m as healthy as I can be. It has definitely impacted my life in a number of ways. I still have to take medicine everyday which can have a bad effect on my body depending on the day. In ways it has helped me. It has made me take better care of my body and have a better balanced diet in order to reduce the frequency of flare ups. A big lesson it has taught me is to live life to the fullest because you never know what tomorrow might throw at you.
I have to admit I haven't made a bunch of big choices in my life, nor have there been many changes or challenges I've had to face. Like others have described it, I have had a fairly "cushioned life". One change/ challenge I have faced however was the death of my first dog. As anybody writing one of these posts knows death is a powerful force, it seems like every other writing we read talks about death. It affects everybody in someway at some point, it is unavoidable but throughout our lives we must overcome the emotional tole it brings upon us.
My first dog was a shih-tzu and her name was Lulu. I love animals and would play with her often. We grew up together, I got her when I was four and we grew close over the years. When I had moved back to Frankfort I initially didn't have any friends because I was new and didn't know anybody. My dog was there with me though, to be at my side, to keep me company.
A couple of years ago during winter break my freshman year she passed away of natural causes at the age of 11. Now I love animals anyway and think its pretty sad when something happens to one in a movie, so when my own animal died some sort of emotional string snapped. Looking back I'm lucky it happened during some sort of break away from school because I was severely depressed for the next week or so. I hardly ate anything, all I would do all day is sit in my room and listen to The Beatles. I was distraught I guess you could say, I had lost one of my oldest friends, one of my best friends. After winter break I had managed to shrug off the worst of it but I was still upset, you couldn't tell by looking at me but I was. It was hard to change at home because I continued doing the same routine like fixing up dog food and setting bowls of water in the floor. It would upset me when I realized what I was doing without any thought, these things no longer mattered.
My mom was upset over the loss as well and suggested we get a new dog. I was p***ed when she proposed the idea because it felt like we would be replacing our old dog. She said " Okay we won't." But she ended up getting two shih-tzu puppies anyway. It turns out I'm glad she did, over the last two years I have grown closer to them as well. Even though they will never replace my first dog they have helped to heal the emotional wound.
You lose family and friends and it takes it tole on you. You also gain them as well, you meet new people, more are born not to make you forget the old ones but to bring forth a positive outlook. With death brings sadness and despair, to counteract that new life brings with it happiness and a reason to look to the future.
P.S. I thought two dogs were enough and you know what happens? One of the dogs ended up having a litter of seven puppies in August. We kept two of them and I thought it was a bad idea to keep any, well I was wrong. There is one I have become pretty attached to because he just follows me everywhere.
- Cameron Bunyea, head of the PPNTOO, Preservation of the Pacific Northwestern Tree Octopus Organization
The natural enemy of the tree octopi are Sasquatch so please help to reduce the Sasquatch population.
PART 1 Every athlete is bound to face some sort of adversity during their career, it’s inevitable. How that athlete overcomes said adversity is what truly defines them as a person and establishes their character. All athletes have a story to tell, so here is mine.
Some of you have knowledge of my skill at golf. Judging by what I’ve heard, it seems as though everyone thinks that it’s all a nice sparkling success story. It isn’t. It’s actually an awful story to be honest. It’s full of anger, sadness, regret, depression, rage, and sorrow. However, it’s also a story of perseverance and character. In this story, I became a new man, and a brand new golfer.
It was the summer of 2012. School had just ended and the new golf season was on the horizon. I had registered to participate in a touring competitive golf program called “Kentucky Junior PGA Tour”. They host many tournaments during the summer that you can sign up to participate in. I had been placed in the advanced division as a 15 year old, playing with guys of any age, typically 16-18. In my first tournament of the year, I stepped onto the tee to find I was paired with a boy who was 18 and was going to play golf at Transylvania in the fall. Even when met with this challenge, I thought to myself, “I’m Chris freaking Hughes, I can beat this guy. No problem.” Of course that wasn’t the case. I came in second place in the tournament with a disgraceful score of 82, ten strokes above par. The trip back to Frankfort wasn’t pretty. There was anger, and plenty of it. Little did I know it was only a fraction of the emotional wear that was waiting for me this season.
In the next few tournaments, the losses began piling up, and my hope began to shrivel. Now I had arrived upon the final tournament of the season, the Tournament of Champions. I had convinced myself that this is where I would get my good karma and finally have a good showing after the horrible regular season. Again, I was mistaken. Do you know how hard it is to suffer for 6 hours? To watch your dreams fall flat in front of you as you aimlessly attempt to navigate between trees and bunkers and ponds? To finish in last place? I hope none of you do, it’s the most painful experience you can endure. Its mere torture. I wanted to quit golf so bad. I wanted to throw in the towel and send my clubs into the garage to rust. I wanted the pain and suffering to end, and the only way that seemed possible was to give up. The struggles weren’t just inside my own head; I heard a great deal of criticism from some fellow golfers. “You’ve lost your touch Chris, You aren’t that good anymore Chris, Everyone is better than you now Chris.” These negative comments simply tore me apart. The only support I could manage to find was from my family. The kept drilling this idea in my head that things would get better. It’s only a matter of time. Your day is coming. However, it was nearly in vein. I hated golf, I truly did. It wasn’t fun anymore, all it brought was stress and anger and regret and depression. When I finally came to my senses, I decided to stick with it one more year, and see if I could find success, just one more year.
Summer of 2013 had arrived. It was my time to shine and prove to everyone that I am a golfer, and a damned good one at that. My first tournament was in Elizabethtown, where I earned third place with a score of 78, six strokes above par. “That’s it. I am going to win. All of these other players will be asking for my autograph because of the talent that is about to rush over this tour.” I thought to myself. My next tournament was in Shelbyville, where I shot 73 and won by 10 strokes. The next day, I won again. Now I found myself in contention for player of the year. “You can do it Chris. You’ve earned this” I kept telling myself. In my last tournament of the regular season, I found myself in second place overall for player of the year, and I was playing in a tournament with the boy who was in first place. After the dust had settled, I shot 76, he shot 77. Now I had the lead, and the other players shuddered at the mention of my name. Now, I just had to survive the tournament of champions. I finished the tournament with a two day score of 156 (which is quite disgraceful at that) and won player of the year. It took about 2 days before it all resonated in my head that I just beat everyone, I was triumphant, and I was the best, all because I decided to stick with it one more fateful year.
The moral of the story, as cliché as it sounds, never give up. You can never reap the fruits of your efforts if you quit and throw your ambitions away. Success and triumph are born out of adversity and struggle. That’s why they are so admired. At the end of the summer in 2012 I was faced with a choice, to quit or to keep trying. Now you can see the good that that decision has brought to my life. My once dying passion for golf was reignited and is burning bright. Now, instead of being a story of failure, I’m a story of success. -Chris Hughes
I was late on my first day. My first day of volleyball. I walked into the gym right at 4 o'clock, proud that I was right on time. Then I looked up and saw 25 girls running laps and the coach staring at me. Five laps then stretch she growled at me. I think I might have whimpered a little but I was just lucky not to pass out. After I ran those laps and practiced for what seemed like an eternity it was over. I was free! I could go home, chug some water and fall asleep. Some how I managed to force myself to go the next day and the day after that and so on until I was officially on the team.
Throughout all of this the biggest challenges was conditioning. Sometimes we ran so much I thought that I might have joined the cross country team on accident. What made it even worse was that I was and still am terribly slow. As in, I'm lucky if my mile time is under ten minutes. This really was the hardest part of it all. I could build muscle to do push-ups or get my serve over, but for the life of me I just couldn't run very fast. Nikki Dorsey ran faster than me when she was having an asthma attack. But slowly, very slowly, I got better. Over time it became a personal goal of mine to improve my mile time, even if it was just a little bit. By the end of summer workouts I had cut two minutes of my time. I was so excited! (This was before I made varsity) I was still the slowest person on the team but I had improved so much that it made me want to work harder on everything because I proved to myself I could do anything I set my mind to.
During this season, though, I faced more challenges...I was the team's starting benchwarmer. We played a total of 36 matches this season, I might have played in seven of them. I didn't expect to be a starter, but I thought I at least deserved a shot. I showed up to every practice, ran every lap, did every push-up, tried harder than most of my teammates and still sat the bench. Every time the coach walked down the bench my heart started pounding at the thought that she would put me in. It never happened. Of the seven times I got put in twice were because it was the last point of the match we were going to win, once was during a scrimmage, once was to serve for someone else, and the other three were because the other team was guaranteed to win. We lost 19 matches this year, I played in three of those.
Even after this season I still love volleyball, I still love my teammates and I still hate running. I will never quit because of these reasons. I will continue to try my best, run every lap and go to every practice. I will continue to overcome this challenge that I love so much.
PART 1: Being around people paralyzes me, it always has and I don’t know if that will ever change but I am determined to try. In the beginning of my sophomore year I made a choice to be less introverted. I told myself I will talk, I will meet new people, I will join new clubs, and I will overcome this ridiculous shyness. This choice proved to be one of the most grueling challenges I have ever faced. I found out that this particular goal would be a long term goal and could not be achieved in one short year no matter how hard I tried or how much effort I put forth.
There was one time in particular that really set me on edge. It was my freshman year and, of course, I had yet to make my extroverted resolution, but I was told that I had to pick a poem to recite in front of my entire English class. I looked around the room at my classmates and saw that some were actually excited to participate but I also saw the people who had apprehension laced faces. I knew exactly how they felt. I had absolutely no clue as to how I was going to get the nerve up to actually do this and get a good grade, I was immediately overwhelmed. So, of course, when choosing my poem, I went with one of the shorter poems, “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost and figured that the shorter it was, the more bearable it would be. Then the day came that I had to recite my poem and I finally got up there in front of my classmates with their waiting eyes staring at me and I felt like crawling in a pit of snakes (my biggest fear) and dying. I felt like I was at the doctor, getting probed and poked and judged, while I was standing up there shaking. I stammered through the stanzas and somehow made it through and, it was over, and there was this part of me, one little piece, that felt just a little bit more confident in myself. That’s the part I like to remember and thinking back to that day, and that phenomenal feeling is what led me to my decision my sophomore year.
My freshman year I was a member in a few different clubs but I wasn’t an actual participate. So the first thing on my list to becoming a non-hermit was becoming an active member in my favorite club, FCCLA where I felt pretty comfortable. I went to the FCCLA National Cluster meeting in Indianapolis, Indiana with about 7 other people who I didn’t even know. You could probably guess that I was terrified and stupefied and I hated it. I roomed with two college students who are alumni and one person who was a junior at the time and I they were some of the best people I think I have ever met. While I listened to them talk to each other I sat in the background telling myself over and over again to talk and not be afraid and finally I spoke. I overcame one fear on my very extensive list of fears and by the end of the trip I was literally bouncing off the walls and the junior I roomed with was saying “Oh my gosh, we broke her!!” That one little sentence made my day because that’s when I realized that I could do this. I could be more courageous.
Also last year, I decided that I wanted to be a big part of something to show my determination and passion of abandoning my shyness. I decide that I wanted to be an officer for FCCLA. One thing I didn’t take into account when I made this decision was the fact that being an officer meant having to stand in front of a lot of people and speaking to them and when I realized this, I wanted to take back my officer application and rip it to pieces. I sucked it up and told myself to stop being a wimp and achieve my goal. I then became First Vice President of FCCLA and the joy in that moment made me forget about the bad part and gave me the motivation I needed to face the problem head on. I can now speak in front of people without turning into a frozen freak but I still quiver and tremble and get that ghastly feeling in my stomach like there is a rock sitting there while every other part of me convulses and it sucks but I WILL overcome this. I am set on that.
At the beginning of this year I told myself that it was time to spread my horizons in the friends department. This seems to be the most difficult part for me and I don’t know why. Every day I adhere to my decision, even when I get shot down over and over again and you could probably say I’m taking the road I’ve not taken yet and venturing the different possibilities. I know that this goal will not be fully accomplished by the end of this year and will probably be an ongoing goal for my entire life because it is the most terrifying phenomenon for me, individually. I guess I’m just not a “social butterfly”. Oh, well. I guess all I can do is give it my best and face whatever challenges are thrown at me so that I can ditch the loner in me.
Almost every little girl growing up, sometime in their lives, aspires to be “Disney Princess”. Some dream of being Cinderella, others Princess Jasmine, and some Ariel. As for me, I dreamed of being the determined, strong, loving, and selfless Mulan. Nevertheless, these princesses are the furthest from “perfect”. Cinderella snuck out of the house, Jasmine fell for the “bad boy” and Mulan disobeyed her father and lied to the Chinese army about being a man. Nobody is perfect, but there is one thing that can remain perfect in all of us, until our wedding day- if we choose to keep it perfect- our virginity.
Now, being that little girl who wanted to be a princess like Mulan, I of course wanted to someday meet my prince charming, to live “happily ever after” with- just like Mulan had Shang! I will spare you the “mushy” love story of how my boyfriend and I, formed our present relationship, but he is a crucial point in my life. Our relationship is quite different than most relationships in today’s society- how you ask? - We have made the commitment to one another to abstain from having sex. Now let me tell you, this is not easy when statistics show that, “16% of teens have had sex by age 15, compared with one-third of those aged 16, nearly half (48%) of those who aged 17, 61% of 18-year-olds and 71% of 19-year-olds.”. Being someone who just turned 17, that is so scary for me to hear. Almost half of American’s by reaching the age of 17 years old have already had sex, whereas I am still a proud virgin at 17.
To some that isn’t “cool”, but to me, it’s something I hold very dear to my heart and will continue to do so, until my wedding day. This is a challenge my boyfriend and I have decided to take on together, as a couple, to defy the odds and remain pure. Nevertheless, it isn’t always easy to stay pure when the statistics are up against you, with propaganda always popping up saying: “everyone else is doing it” and those teenage hormones that are happening. It is a choice we have made, and it is something I know I will never have to regret doing- rather than not staying pure and regretting so much on my wedding night. By waiting and saving myself for the man God has planned for me, I will give myself away to my true prince charming and only him.
The Lord says in 1 Thessalonians 4:3-5; “For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God.” Being someone who has grown up in church I have been taught to save my virginity till marriage, and being a young girl just aspiring to be a princess, I hardly knew what that truly meant. I automatically thought that everyone else was taught the same thing as me, I never would have predicted how alone I would stand when it came to abstaining from sex. Now that I am older and can truly understand what this verse is asking of me, and I can honestly say it is one of the biggest challenges in my life. It is a challenge that I take on daily in order to glorify God, and with him I know I can face this challenge, and any other one that comes in my life.
As I am sitting at the computer the black and white colored keys underneath my fingertips, and thinking about what to talk for Ms. Hills blog and the story that hit me like a bolt of lightning was the time I fought Tanner Smith on the practice field in the middle of my sophomore year.
I am smelling the fresh cut grass and going through a blocking drill and I have to block tanner and then we turn the tables and I have to block him. So as we’re doing this he holds me and I told him to stop, and Tanner does it again, and as he is throwing me around like a rag doll, and making me mad I told him to stop. {It was probably like the third, maybe fourth time,} I got mad and ran at him and went to block him and I end up slamming him, because I was blood boiling furious and he was doing cheap stuff and not taking practice seriously. In my mind all the reason in the world to get someone who not helping me, not benefiting the team and goofing off to stop. I think I was justified in slamming him.
So I slam tanner, then he retaliates he grabs my face mask rolls me off of him and repeatedly slams my head in to the semi soft ground. I can’t help but think did I really just do that, I just picked a fight with Tanner Smith, I then see as my head is bobbling around like a bobble head in my helmet John Elder out of the corner of my eye and he runs over and pulls Tanner off of me and then helps me up. Coach Hockensmith looked at me and shaking his head he then said after practice “That’s was one of the best things I have ever seen you do”. Tanner and me then shook hands and walked towards the water and as we’re drinking and I’m taking care of my busted nose. He looks at me and shook his head as if he agreed with what I did. He then took care of his teammates on the field on Friday nights and he also took the rest of practice more seriously from then on.
As I’m looking back on this, I stood up for myself and even somehow put an upperclassmen back in line. It was his senior year and he knew he should have taken practice more serious. Now he talks to me and where friends and said” good practice as we walked back in the locker room”. I stopped him from messing with me to helping my team, and gave him someone he could rely on to further benefit the team.
From the football field, to everyday life, I tend not to let people mess with my friends or my family. I think it is a semi wolf pack mentality, that gives me the overprotective nature I have. Based upon things that I don’t see as morally right or just something feels off and I tend to find out what I can do to fix or to help the everyday problem and continue to move forward.
We each are still very young, and will have countless choices to make and challenges to face as we progress through our lives. The challenge that I've encountered is one that is fairly common in today's society, yet still affects me profoundly; the challenge that is most prominent in my life is the divorce of my parents.
At the age of six, most of us are frolicking around and having fun with childhood, as most children do. I was six when my parents got divorced. Fortunately, there was no fighting between my parents and it wasn't messy at all. Nevertheless, it was still a rough time for me, as a six year old has no idea what is truly happening. I had to have everything explained out to me in terms that I could understand. I had to essentially be left out of the loop because of my age, and I'm just now learning intricate details of what truly happened.
To say the least, divorce is hard on a child. A typical family is shown with happily married parents and their child. I didn't know what that feeling was. I was jealous of friends who had both parents. I have no memories of that. Other kids have photos and memories of their parents and them on vacations and family trips, but I don't. My sister does since she's older than me, but I do not. I yearn for those memories, but I know that there's no way I can ever gain them.
Ever since then, I have been going to a different parent's house every week, and it has really become commonplace for me. I pack some items, and switch. I used to sit around and cry because I'd miss one parent or the other, but I don't mind it as much as I used to, because I know it's for the better. Although, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that sometimes I get very flustered and angry at the thought of having to move back again after being in a house for as small a time span as a week.
Now, I am fortunate in that I have two parents who I love and love me and my sister, otherwise they wouldn't have been so civil during the divorce. Since then, both of my parents have remarried and are very happy, as am I. I know that life could be better, but it could also be much worse, so I'm ever-appreciative of what I have. It doesn't affect me as much as it used to, and I can certainly say that I don't think I've ever been happier with life.
Let me be honest with you. I can think of nothing of any real consequence to write about. I have never seriously played a sport, I have never really had a big defining moment of success or failure in my life. Nor have I encountered many of the hardships some of you have faced here. My life has been cushy and sheltered and safe. I never took any risks and stayed in my safe little bubble, and that bubble was always left untouched. That in mind, please excuse any language that you may find condescending, unchallenged, boring or otherwise stupid.
In the fifth grade I was what most would call a huge nerd. I never fit in, never had a consistent group of friends, and was very awkward. Sometime in the course of the early months of 2008, some kids were selected (I'm not sure whether it was grades, teacher recommendation, recommendation from other students or whatever) to take a test to be on our school's academic team. This test was fairly straight-forward for the fifth grade. Somewhat challenging but easy.
At the time I didn't think much of it. I took the test and went on about my life. A few days later, one of the coaches (another fifth grade teacher), passed around letters to the few who made it. I was ecstatic when I didn't get the letter because I thought I wasn't good enough, I didn't have a good enough work ethic and that it would be a waste of my time.
A few days after that I was pulled aside and told that I had made the team and that they for some reason they hadn't printed out a paper for me. I still thought it was a waste of my time, but I went to the practices anyway. The practices at first were run by the coaches, a fifth grade teacher I never had, Mrs. Doerting and my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Garmon. As they ran through the questions, about books frequently mentioned in my classes, but that I had never read, US history, basic operation math problems; I found them getting easier and my confidence rising. As I went, I got better and better, but we still hadn't played a match.
The time had come to show what I knew. It was time for the "Superintendent's Cup", an academic competition between the district's then six elementary schools. I can't say I remembered everything about it, but we lost our first match, and I was devastated. It was the first real experience of loss that really affected me, even if it wasn't Governor's Cup, which was what really mattered.
Governor's Cup was at Good Sheperd that year. I had never gotten up early on a Saturday to go to what was very close to actual school. It was weird. I was excited as I walked upstairs and outdoors to one of their classrooms. I killed that test. I can't say the same about quick recall. Just as in the Superintendent's Cup, we were saddened by an early exit. We mostly spent the afternoon in the cafeteria playing games until it was time for awards.
I got nervous, and I still do to this day. They went over quick recall before they called the individual test-takers. But I still had to wait uncomfortably through fifteen names as the first three subjects were called. Then it was time. Four more names. As they called number two, I was a wreck, just knowing that this couldn't be me... could it? I heard the group cheering behind me as Mr. Castle read off my name. I was the Social Studies district champion. I was very proud of myself and was finally happy to be on the academic team.
As many know, I am still on the academic team today and we are league champions for the second time in three years and I'm still not having any second thoughts about the decision I made back in the fifth grade. It has helped me study for upcoming tests and has increased my general knowledge base. In shorter terms, it helped me fit in. I had accepted the challenge.
While I was learning, I was completely and utterly afraid of driving. Just the thought of getting behind the wheel made my heart jump out of my chest. I was so frustrated because I couldn’t drive the way I imagined I could. Driving didn’t come naturally to me, which for some reason bothered me, even though hardly anything ever does. It didn’t exactly help the situation that most of my friends had already been driving before I even turned sixteen, and while I was struggling to learn the basics, they pretty much had the whole driving thing accomplished.
Normally, having to actually practice learning to drive like a typical human being shouldn’t bother someone, but I guess I wasn’t just someone. I was crushed. Devastated. Every time I wasn’t perfect, every time I made a mistake, I thought I was letting someone down. It didn’t matter whether it was my dad or myself or anyone, and I hated it. I hated it so much I basically started avoiding driving all together unless I had to. Until I started craving the feeling of independence that I started seeing in everyone else.
There were two things I were particularly bad at when I was learning, parallel parking, and standing my ground against the other drivers. When I went out driving, and other drivers would try to take advantage of the fact that I had a little car, or that I was young, I would assume that I was doing something wrong and let them do whatever they wanted to do. It got so bad at one point my dad actually told that I can’t be nice to people when I drive. Not like the can’t where you shouldn’t, but the can’t where you really, really just cannot do it, and it freaked me out. It took a lot of work to learn to take consideration and almost regulate it when I was driving. Now, about parallel parking, well I was just as bad at it as anyone could expect, but it was still one of the biggest challenges for me. I would nail it one time, after countless practicing and practicing, only to fail after that one success, and the frustration was nearly unbearable for me.
It took a lot of hard work, but eventually I grew past all of those things. I still don’t exceptional parking skills, but I’m becoming okay with that. The more I practiced and the more I worked to perfect the issues I had instead of dwelling on them, the stronger I became in the areas I was weakest in. And because of that improvement, I got my confidence back. I slowly felt less inadequate about my driving skills, and I got better. Now I drive everywhere, and I don’t regret having the challenges I did when I was learning. It made me become a better driver, and I wouldn’t have learned as well as I did if I didn’t have that frustration to fuel my practice.
Part One Everyone has a passion towards something. Whether it be sports, reading, or video games. We all have that one thing that means so much to us and we want to be the best that we can. We want to be pushed so we can be the best we can. We want to do everything we possibly can to try to do our best. I am very passionate about music, particularly band. I am third chair in symphonic band and I work very hard to maintain my spot and show off what I can do. One thing that really helps push our band to play to the best of our ability is Mrs. Wallace. She pushes and encourages us to go out and play our horn in different atmospheres. She pushes for us to audition for honor bands and play in front of people. There are many different opportunities we have to play in different environments. There is All-State Band, All-District Band, University of Louisville Honor Band, EKU Honor Band and many, many more. Most of these you have to audition for. Our band knows that the hardest Bands to get into are All-State and All-District. All-District Band gives us two pieces that are not challenging but we still have to put in the effort to play them perfectly. All-State Band forces you to put in as much practice as you work on your English III AP work to even be considered for the band. All-State Band is a struggle and that is exactly what my story is about. At the beginning of the year, we start off with marching band music. It is fairly easy and it just gets us back in the hang of playing our horns again and playing them well. Marching band also gets us ready for concert band where we play more challenging pieces that we struggle through to make us stronger as individuals and as a whole. During marching band season, we start receiving audition music. The first audition music we receive is All-State Band music. We are given a few months to practice on it before the first cut and if you want to make it past first cut; you must start as soon as you get it. My freshman year, I did not even think about auditioning. I saw the music and could have thrown it away right then and not thought anything else about it. I just wanted to get used to being in high school. My sophomore year I did not plan on trying out but I at least wanted to be able to play that high level of music so I could get ready for the next year. I completely dropped the ball on that one and didn’t look at it at all. MY junior year came and I knew that this was the year that I would not back down. I would practice and practice and when auditions came, I would go and play the music. That attitude did not last for long. I took the music and planned on starting on it soon. I didn’t do it. I would look at just sitting in my folder and thought about sight reading it for the first time. I didn’t do it. About a month had passed and you have thought I would have practiced it, but sadly, I didn’t do it. The music remained in my folder and after a month, the most I had done was circle all the notes that were to be played sharp or flat according to the key signature. A month had passed and I had yet to play the excerpts let alone the first note. I thought that I would end up not trying like I had done the past few years. That was until I began my clarinet lessons. My instructor asked if I planned on trying out for All-State. I was hesitant to say yes because I know that others taking lessons had start working on it and had an idea of how the tune goes. I finally told him that I had planned on it; I told him I had not started working on it and he said that it was okay but I would need to start soon. We went over a few basics and started working on it together. At the end of that lesson he gave me a goal for the next time. That is what officially pushed me into practicing. ~Ashleigh Johnson~
Part Two Generally, on audition music, there is a lyrical piece and an upbeat piece. For the slower excerpt, you must pay attention to details such as dynamics (soft and loud.) For the faster song, you must pay attention to articulations. I personally am better at playing slow lyrical pieces and focusing on my tone. So I obviously started on the slow piece. It started coming together and I had an idea of what it should sound like and would just need to keep practicing it. I was quite reluctant to play the faster piece. My articulations always come out heavy when they supposed to be short. Since I was not the best at it, I didn’t play that one for even longer when I should have been doing the opposite. Eventually I worked on it but I did not make as much progress as I did with the first piece. I was nowhere close to being prepared for the audition. I knew that I had to work my butt off so that mistakes during the audition won’t matter as much. I have always auditioned badly. Ever since middle school I had a fear of playing in front of people. I would shake uncontrollably, my breathing would get ragged and my chest would break out in bright red blotches. That trend carried on into high school. I knew that I would need to get over that fear so I could perform better. I performed for my mom and some friends without a problem. I knew I still had work but I was getting there. Suddenly, audition day was here. Leading up to my audition all these different thoughts were in my head. “I can’t do this.” “I’m going to completely wipeout.” “I won’t play the key signature.” “I won’t breathe in enough and cut off phrases.” “I’m not ready.” I was psyching myself out and I knew that it wouldn’t do any good. We arrived at Henry Clay High School where the auditions were being held. Once arriving, I was actually excited to play. This time there were positive comments going through my head. I waited outside the room for them to call my number. Once they did, I received a “good luck” from my band mates and made my journey into the room. I walk in and the judge’s backs were to me. I sit down and take some deep breaths. They tell me that I can warm up a little and to start when I was ready. I played a scale and tuned then all I could think was “it’s now or never.” I put it all out there. I played confidently. The lyrical piece went great. Once that one was over, that is when my nerves started kicking in. I took a few more deep breaths and prepared myself. I started off strong and then one of the hardest sections came and it was shaky. I attempted to recover as best I could. The ending was better but it still wasn’t as great as I had played before. I walked out of the room and had a few people from different schools compliment my playing. I was proud of myself. I didn’t shake and my breathing stayed fairly normal. I then had great confidence in myself and hoped for the best. We got back on the bus to go back home. Mrs. Wallace had to results. Part of me was not surprised and a tiny bit of me was shocked. I did not make it past the first cut. I was upset at myself when I knew I could have done better. I should have practiced and played in front of more people. However I didn’t and this was the consequence. I did however reach my goal. I actually auditioned this year. I didn’t shake. I got through both pieces without completely wrecking them. Yes it would have been nice to have made it past the first cut but this just gives me more motivation to try again next year. Trying out for All-State was a challenge for me. Through this process I have definitely become a better player and that is the overall goal for any musician. I still have one year left to audition and I plan to work hard as soon as I get the music and keep playing no matter what. ~Ashleigh Johnson~
This entire week, I’ve been more stressed than I’ve ever been in most of my life. I have GSP application due, my mom bugging me to schedule college tours, I’m getting over a bad virus, I have to write this English post, an AP Euro essay, and countless finals. I know a lot of us are feeling this stress, especially those who, like me, put off the GSP application until the last minute. However, due to my often unrealistic expectations of myself, I increase this stress and it is an immense challenge in my life right now. Most people call these unrealistic expectations as perfectionism. To be clear, I don’t think that I’m perfect AT ALL. In fact, ask me and I’ll probably tell you the exact opposite. I’m known for being extremely hard on myself. This perfectionism has caused me to have many breakdowns in my life. At times I feel like Atlas, trying to hold the entire world on my shoulders. I’ve improved greatly at holding these breakdowns in, which is beneficial in making me seem stronger on the outside, but can also deteriorate me on the inside. This perfectionism manifests itself in my schoolwork mostly. I know many of you will roll your eyes at this, but I hate seeing anything less than a 100% on my report card. I’m not the only one who expects this. So does my mother. For most of my career as a student grades had come easy to me, up until this year. My mother, however, doesn’t see how much harder I have to work for the grades I have and is often upset with me when I have limited amount of time to spend on other activities such as golf and college prep. Although the stress in my life has increased greatly this year I have also found someone who has taught me to let go and relax. My relationship with my SO has given me someone to fall back and talk with and taught me that sometimes you have to drop some “perfections” to keep your sanity. Although I haven’t conquered my perfectionism yet, I am well on the way to, and I hope that, in the future, I can find a way to succeed and still find ways to relax.
“It is no bad thing celebrating a simple life.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien
Ok, so I accidently deleted like two nights of work and I am hating myself so hardcore right now. Like, the piece that I wrote was absolutely beautiful, I almost cried when I realized what I did. Legitly, I was about to curl up in a corner and bawl my eyes out until I died, then it hit me. In my state of utter desperation and despair I found the little light bulb that clicked on in such a cliché manner that I almost cringed at the mere sight of the glowing little orb. With a simple click of the mouse, I realized the secrets of life the universe and everything. “Life. Goes. On.” After a day of talking about death, mourning lost pens, and despairing over lost word documents I noticed that people still took the time to smile and laugh. People who had nearly lost everything were still smiling brightly despite what they didn’t have. People have lost parents, brothers, so much, and yet they still found a way to smile. What the hell do I have to be sad about?! My life has been so average, that I began to feel jipped, like I was missing out on some secret way to find happiness. But happiness doesn’t come from the things around me, it doesn’t come from what I’m doing, or what I’m dreaming of doing, man. It comes from looking at what you have, and realizing that it could be worse. It could always be worse, so why sit and worry about the things that are already wrong. There are so many beautiful things that surround me every day, like this, this Christmas tree right here. I know you can’t see it, but it’s pretty damn gorgeous. It’s been here for a week now, and I’ve never taken time to just sit and look at it, to take in all of the lights and patterns in the branches. It’s gorgeous, and I’m just now noticing. After looking at the tree for a good ten minutes or so, my pet parakeet caught my attention. The little lady has been here for like 3 years, and I’ve never noticed how gorgeous she really is in her awkward little birdie movements. The way she ruffles her feather is so odd, almost alien. The thing has lived right next to me for so long, and I’ve hardly noticed the captivating strangeness of it. How many amazing things have I missed because I wasn’t paying attention. How many gorgeous sunsets have I missed because I was too busy working on assignments like this. Just how much of the present am I missing because I’m so stuck in the building of my future. I get that some people prefer to have strict goals, tight schedules, and such. Some people like to do project after project. But now that I’ve really, really thought about it, maybe the Taoist books I’ve read are right. Just be, don’t worry and stress about things, and problems will work themselves out. Focus on the present, and have confidence in the fact that life just goes on. I’m not even sure if I did this assignment right, I’m actually pretty sure I didn’t do it close to right, but man, I feel happy. I know how to be really happy for the first time in a while. This is awesome, if I get a crappy grade, I get a crappy grade. Life goes on. (I hope my point gets across without ruffling any feathers.)
“Go back?” he thought. “No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!” -Bilbo Baggins
My freshman year was the first time I had Mrs. Wallace as a band director and, I’ll admit, she kicked my butt with her band literature choices. In the spring, she passed out our contest piece, ‘Gathering of the Yeomen’ by Robert W. Smith. (Yes, I remember it!) I was immediately overwhelmed by all the notes. Upon closer inspection, I saw a thirteen measure flute solo and I had to be the one to play it. “I hate this instrument, why me?” I thought to myself. The first time playing the piece, the air in my horn stood still, my mouth was immobile, and I was flat out terrified of messing up. Weeks passed and I still couldn’t play a single note of the wretched thing. Mrs. Wallace eventually gave me a stern talk and told me she knew I could do it all I needed was confidence and lots of practice. That’s when it clicked. I could do it! I remember practicing until I was blue in the face and staying up late to work on fingerings. I even took up lessons for the unaccompanied melody. And finally, I had it down-pat. This was it, the day of contest. The day I had to perform my solo flawlessly, or, as Wallace put it, like a “diva”. With my heart beating out of my chest and my fingers quivering, the first note of the number was played by the baritone and that was my cue. I began to play, feeling like I was gasping for air between notes, but I kept going. It was the longest thirteen measures of my life, but it was soon over and I had done it. The challenge of playing the flute, and more importantly, that thirteen measure solo from ‘Gathering of the Yeomen’ has had the biggest impact on my confidence when playing; it’s also one of the best band memories I have. That solo pushed me to become a better player, change my practicing habits, and ultimately led to me making symphonic band the following year. And that’s worth any challenge out there.
I faced a very difficult challenge over the last two years. I completely understand that everyone is hit with hard challenges throughout their life time. Probably one of the hardest challenges for me so far was losing my best friend.
My freshman year and beginning of my sophomore year were so amazing! I had so many amazing friends. My best friend and I were getting closer every day of it. It seemed like every year we would get closer, even though we didn't have any classes together. I mean this girl had been with me through everything. Ever since we had the same classes in first grade, we became inseparable. We went to Kings Island every year, went to Florida together, spent all of your school breaks together. Through every snow day, every sick day, every everything. She was there. We spent every waking moment together... Until later on my sophomore year.
She started dating this guy who is still her current boyfriend. I was more than happy for her because, I mean, you could just tell how much she liked this guy. She deserved to have a guy who treated her right. As the days started to pass I started to see less and less of her. Suddenly, we weren't hanging out much anymore. I wasn't her best friend anymore. He was. I never saw her on weekends, we didn't see each other at all over Christmas break which we usually spent every day of together. She stopped inviting me to mall trips. Everything we did together, she was now doing with him. I even stopped getting Christmas presents from her. She use to text me every single morning before school. And then the texts just stopped coming. I kept lying to myself and thinking: "we're still close, she's still my best friend" but that wasn't the case...
I was so heartbroken and hurt to think that I had lost my best friend. What made things worse was the fact that I didn't really have anybody else except her at the time. I had invested every day with her and never made time for any of my other friends. I was alone. I was so confused why this was happening to me. I didn't understand. She was my person and then she was gone.
The second half of my sophomore year came around and I started investing my time towards other people. I was spending hanging out with a lot more new people. I made a lot of new friends and got closer to the current friends I already had. I didn't think losing my best friend was the worst thing that ever happened to anymore. One door closed, another opened. We still see each other from time to time and talk every once in a while, but it's not the same. I don't think it'll ever be the same.
It's really hard to adjust when changes like this happen. She will always have a special place In my heart. I have a few amazing friends in my life right now and I hope they read this and know how much they mean to me. I didn't ask or expect things to turn out this way, but we can't always control the changes or challenge that we face, but know something good will come out of this. Hannah Hyatt
When I was little I had no problem with trust. I was a the wild child who could be friends with anybody who was willing to talk to me. I was open about everything and kept every secret I was given. That opened me up to so many pains of the world that no child should know at such a young age. Since I was 9 I haven't trusted many people. I've never wanted to get hurt again. So I would build what seemed like a 10 inch thick wall of ice, that's a million feet tall and wrapped all around me (this was some what ironic when my best friend started calling me ice pack because I was cold at a football game). The point is I have always protected myself so much from the world that I never really saw it.
When I was 6 years old my mom married a guy she loved. We had all known for a long time and we all liked him. When I was 8 he was arrested and found guilty of abuse. His case found that he would spend 18 years in prison so his daughter, that had just been born, could grow up without a father. After this my little sister, the middle one (We'll call her Beth), would always say she hated me. She thought it was all my fault that he was arrested. To a 9 year old it seemed like a valid reason. I remember crying and telling my mom and she would say that Beth was just going through a faze. My mom would hold and rock me until I cried myself to sleep. After this I couldn't trust anybody accept my mom and my aunt, Pamela, for a very long time.
Then the beginning of junior year I decided to start trusting. We had the philosophy unit in English and with the help of a phenomenal friend, I learned how to get past this wall and to let myself be free to trust others. It was suck a hard path learning to trust again because I had been so closed off from the world for such a long time. Here I am, 16 years old, learning to take first steps like a toddler. But I took it day by day. Although it was very difficult I remember taking my first very big leap towards trust.
I was looking for a new church to got to and my step-dad found a church called Quest. I decided to go and have a look and as soon as I walked through the doors everybody welcomed me. This had never happened before. Everybody was so trusting and open and I wanted to be that way too. So on Sept. 8, 2013 I gave my life to Christ and the I talked with my youth leaders: Jake and Holly.They talked to me about getting baptized and everything that it meant, but the thing was I would have to get in front of the whole church and tell my story. Holly already knew my story and me and her talked about all of my trust issues. After a lot of conversations and about a month of praying I got up and opened up in front of my best friend (for the first time), my family, and a whole congregation of people I had just met.
This was one of my first steps and it was huge and scary for me. At the same time, it was the third best decision I have made. I absolutely did NOT do this alone though. I have had so much help getting to this point. Now that I have opened up I am free to have better conversations with my friends, me and my sister Beth are back to being best friends, I have a new relationship, I have a new church of amazing people, and I have a group of phenomenal friends who support me. I am free to have my own opinions and voice them without being afraid. I am also able to face my past head-on and am able to say that I did the best I could and sincerely mean it. From my challenge I learned that; you can get past anything if you really want to, Even an impossible wall of ice. -Madison-ice pack-Whitman-
part one: Cheer has been a big part of my life since I was a little girl. From the time that I can remember I have always said "I want to be a UK cheerleader, they are the best of the best." I have over come so many challenges, and made a lot of choices in order to be where I am today with my goal of being a UK cheerleader. My biggest challenge that I have come across is all the problems I have had with my knee. Of course this will be one challenge that I will have to face for the rest of life sadly, but I have learned how to stretch it properly and also I go to therapy and from there I get certain exercises that also helps with my knee problems. Last year when I hurt my knee I was doing a hand, hand full and landed on it wrong after my full. After that fall I was so scared to throw my full again, but then I thought if I don’t throw this full I will never be able to reach my goal/dream of being a UK cheerleader. After telling myself over and over that I could do it I finally did it, this made me realize even though I hurt my knee once on a tumbling pass dose not mean to be afraid of it, it actually made me want to work harder so that I could have a perfect, and clean landing. Another challenge I have had to over come is learning how to coed stunt. I have always been on an all girl team so I never got to coed stunt because we never had any guys. Of course I have always been a flyer but with all girl you have three and maybe four people under you but with coed you have one guy under you and that is it. Me and my mom sat down one night and called up the UK cheer coach and asked if any cheerleaders were willing to give me lessons and he said that they would love to. My first lesson I was so scared but my coach, Matej, told me not to worry he wouldn’t drop me, and he would be there to help me every step of the way. Come to find out when I finally over came the challenge of coed stunting it made me realize that I am actually better with coed stunting then all girl . A lot of people say that coed stunting is harder than all girl and yes I agree with that but for some reason coed came very easily to me which will be great for cheering at UK.
Over my life I have had many challenges to overcome, some were harder than others. The hardest to overcome bring out the best outcomes. The hardest challenge I’ve had to overcome was the loss of my dad on October 10, 2010.
I was extremely close to my dad. My dad worked in an ER as long I could remember, due to this fact I never really got to hang out with him except for Saturdays between chores and yard work. When we finally finished we would sit in front of the television and play on my GameCube. But we’d always play the same game no matter what, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. We were extremely close; I could tell my dad anything.
Years went by and I got more involved with school friends and gamming; we slowly got disconnected from each other. Then he got his first round of melanoma, a skin cancer. It seemed like the rounds of chemotherapy would never end. Eventually, the doctors said it was over we were all relieved. A couple years passed and doctors said it was back and worse the second time around. It spread to the lymph nodes.
He fought with melanoma for two year. After some time, I came to the realization that he was no more. I then found myself connected to computers, as an escape, I immersed myself in technology and found out I was passionate in it, the hardware, software, all of it. It all grew to consume my entire life. Then freshman year rolled around, we got our first schedules to fill out I tried my best to fit in all the technology classes I can. I got into the Web design and A+ hardware class over at Franklin County CTC, I loved it. I came out top of the class, I was able to take apart a computer find the problem and reassemble the computer in little to no time. That year was the time of my life.
Sophomore year was awful! No matter how I looked at my schedule I couldn’t find any holes to fit in a technology based course. Over that time my skills started to dull; till the summer of junior year. Then I had gotten an apprenticeship, well basically a job, at a computer store. I was working twelve hours a day four days a week; my boss couldn’t keep me out of the store. I enjoyed every minute in the store fixing and creating amazing computers out of mere insufficient parts.
So from my escape into my passion I found a career, a life style, a choice. From my challenge to making my choice, of finding my passion to computers I have achieved more now than I would have ever before perceived
It is really hard for many to move forward after losing someone so close, such as a dad, and try to do something positive with their life. I can't even understand how it feels to loose someone so close, but your inner strength keeps you going. I liked your story and it is a challenge to me.
Sometimes unexpected events can challenge us and, hopefully, we do more than get through them. Hopefully, we overcome them. Everyone is faced with a challenge at some point in their life; some good and some bad. I was faced with a challenge and even though I was only seven years old, I succeeded in overcoming the challenge.
It was a cold December Sunday afternoon. I remember because it was freezing and white snow had covered the ground. I was wearing a nice white shirt with ruffled sleeves and my favorite purple gloves to keep my fingers warm. After church that day my family and I were supposed to make Christmas candy with my Nana.
When church was over I rode home with my Aunt and little cousin. We had to stop by their house to pick up the chocolate. I walked up the sidewalk to their front door. Watching my cousin toddle along behind me, she made sure her footprints were exactly in the same spots where mine were in the snow.
We got inside and the first thing we did was run to my cousin’s room to play. She had to show me all of her toys, games, books and dresses. My Aunt came in the room while we were playing and told my cousin that whatever she did to not open the door next to her room. Both of them knew what was behind that door, but I had no clue. I was curious, but I listened to my Aunt and went along playing and didn’t bother the door.
My cousin, who was two at the time, asked me if I wanted to see her puppy. I told her I would love to see it. I was sitting on the floor rummaging through her toy box expecting her to bring back a stuffed puppy. I watched her go into the hallway and open the door that had been forbidden by my Aunt. All of a sudden, this huge bear-like thing ran towards me. It was so heavy. I could feel it on top of me; I thought my ribs were going to break. I heard loud woofs in my ears and felt warm dog breath on my face. I couldn’t see anything; all I knew was that my mouth hurt terribly. I got the monster off of me and looked down to find that my white shirt with ruffled sleeves was no longer white; instead, it was a dark red. That “puppy” had bitten or clawed or I don’t even know what to my face.
I ran crying to the bathroom because I didn’t understand what was happening. I told my cousin to go get my Aunt. I looked at myself in the mirror and all I saw was red. My puffy eyes were red from crying. Red blood gushed from my mouth. I had never seen so much blood in my seven years on this earth. Relief came over me when my Aunt, who is a doctor, came rushing into the bathroom with a white washcloth and an ice pack. I could see the panic in her face and the confused expression on my cousin’s face as she waited in the hallway.
After washing my face, the washcloth was no longer white either; once again it was that same dark red. I could see that my upper lip had a tear in it. I was freaking out because I could move my lip back and forth and know that wasn’t supposed to happen. My Aunt looked at me and told me that the cut was too deep and that I needed stitches. I had never been to the emergency room let alone ever had stitches. I wasn’t even sure what stitches were. I pictured some old lady knitting my face up and was so scared.
We got in the car, ready to begin our frightening journey to the hospital. I couldn’t stop crying, I was so scared and wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I sat in my seat with an ice pack wrapped in a blue washcloth. The bleeding had slowed down but my whole face was throbbing. It felt like it had a heartbeat of its own. I looked at my cousin beside me. She was staring; her confused expression still had not changed. I thought about how she must’ve been wondering why her “puppy”, a 100-pound adult Siberian Husky, had made me cry. I could hear my Aunt on the phone with my mom, telling her what had just happened in the surprisingly past ten minutes. It all happened so fast.
The waiting room was terrifying with no color and not very many people. By that time I had stopped crying, but I couldn’t say anything, the only noise coming out of me was my uncontrollable snuffling. People starred at me as they walked by, but I didn’t care. My mouth felt as though it was going to fall off. I still didn’t understand why this had to of happen. I just wanted to go make Christmas candy. Most of all I wanted my mom to be there with me.
After what felt like hours, my name was called. I went into the room to find that there was no old lady waiting with pointy knitting needles but a nice nurse who had a warm reassuring smile on her face. She told me that it felt worse than how bad it actually was and that I only needed three stiches. I held my Aunts hand and whimpered every time I felt the needle go through one side of my flesh and back out the other. Ouch!
When the quick torture was over, I looked in the mirror and there was a black lump on the corner of my upper lip. I was thankful the bleeding had stopped and the throbbing had gone away but now I was concerned about how embarrassing it was going to be to walk into class on Monday which was the next day. I was afraid all the other kids were going to make fun of me or think it was gross. Third graders can be harsh.
On Monday morning I cried and begged my mom to let me stay home. I couldn’t face my class because I looked so weird. My mom walked me to class that day and explained to my teacher the eventful weekend we had just experienced. My teacher understood and told me I could share my story with the whole class.
At first I was nervous, and then I saw their intrigued faces. No one else in my class had as an exciting weekend as I did or had ever gotten stitches before, so it was cool to be the first one. The kids didn’t make fun of me or get grossed out, they thought my stitches were awesome and said it looked like I had a mini mustache. Everyone asked me all kinds of questions and told me how brave I was. I felt like a celebrity. I had worried for nothing.
This was a challenge in my life I’ve had to overcome. Even though I overcame the events of that day and going to school the next day, I was left with the fear that every dog would bite my face off. I also was left with an ugly scar on my lip. As I’ve grown older and am now sixteen, I am no longer scared of dogs but would much rather not be around them; I prefer cats. As for my scar, its barely noticeable and most of the time I don’t pay any attention to it. I feel like my story is proof that challenges can be overcome, even when they happen at a young age.
I felt like I was reading a non-fiction novel I just got and I just can't stop reading it. I have been beaten by a dog before on my knee, which created a fear of dogs in me, which a hid a little. Very interesting story to read, I enjoyed it.
We all have faced, or still face challenges in our lives. Some of the decisions we have made turn out messy, and regretful. And if you said you have never made a decision that you regret, I'd say you were lying. For me, the biggest challenge I have faced is making the choice to drink before the schools Glow Dance this year. I now smart! Now I'm sure most of my classmates have heard about this incident, but for those of you who have been living under a rock, I will explain to you what happened that night.
Before I start, I must tell you how queasy it makes me feel just telling this story... But I must. I was getting ready with my best friend for the dance that day. We were so excited for this dance because after all, it is the best dance of the entire year. When our other friend got to my house, we left to go eat. Before arriving to the restaurant, we picked up two of our other friends who are sophomores. We got to Applebee's, all five of us, and we were having a great time. We were laughing and smiling, yet little did we know this night would end in tears. When the food got to the table, someone had mentioned "pre-gaming", meaning drinking before the dance, ya' know "to have a better time..." We were all extremely nervous about it, like a group of men planning on robbing a bank. But of course we all agreed to follow through with our plan. We arrived to the school, parking in the student section, but not getting too close to the school. We had began drinking... some of us got in more drinks than others, but drinking is drinking. It wouldn't matter if we took one sip, or twenty. All of a sudden we look up and here comes our school officer along with his partner for that night. He yelled "c'mon girls. Let's get a move on." I believe at this point he either had no idea what we were doing, or he did from someone who ratted us out. We quickly sat all the drinks down in the car, except for one girl who decided to throw her alcohol out of the car, right in front of the Officers. My stomach immediately turned into one big knot. I started shaking, my face felt as if it were on fire.
Long story short, all five of us got suspension for three days, which was a reasonable punishment. Immediately a rush of numerous thoughts were swirling around in my head. Could this really be happening to me? Am I really getting suspension for three days? What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking, clearly. See we all believe nothing bad could ever happen to us. We never look at the consequences we could possibly face. Or at least that's what us teenagers are like. But when we finally slip into trouble, when something goes unplanned, we are forced to quickly snap into reality... And reality is harsh.
Telling my mother and step-father the news was the hardest thing I have ever had to tell them before... I remember crying so hard that they couldn't even understand what I was saying at first. The look of disappointment I received from them broke my heart, as I'm sure I broke theirs. I have always been a good girl, I have never been one to do anything rebellious. I thought getting a d-hall would be absolutely terrible... just imagine how getting suspended for three days felt. It was as if I was "one of the bad kids". After an extremely long lecture from my parents, I went to bed, but don't let me fool you, I got zero sleep that night. There was talk of getting charges pressed against us, which made all of this ten times worse. Thank goodness, the charges never happened. Even though to me, I might have gotten away easily, with only three days of suspension (because I could have had gone to court over this), I will always live with the shame, and embarrassment for the rest of my life. I let not only myself down, but my friends and family as well. Something I never wanted to do.
It is safe to say I learned an extremely large and valuable lesson from all of this mess. To look at this in a positive way, maybe it was better for something like this to happen now than later, where I could have been drinking plus driving. It is up to us to let the mistakes we make define us, or we can take it as a lesson, grow from it, and move on. I have finally stopped beating myself up over this so much. But I still tell myself how stupid it was of me to do this. Although I was not alone in making this awful choice, I could have been the one to say "no this is a bad idea and I don't want anything to do with it." I regret making the choice to drink in the school parking lot before the dance, every day. But it is safe to say I have learned from this and I know to never make this mistake, or any other mistake relevant to this one, again.
Not many of you know that I've only been going to a public school for three years. This was a choice I had to make; it wasn't a hard choice because I didn�t want to drive to Lexington Catholic. This left me with one option: going to Western Hills. This brought a challenge; I only knew three people and one of those three being my brother. I barley know anyone but that was only one of my challenges. Being shy made it difficult task, but the band welcomed me with open arms. Another challenge was not knowing what I was going to wear because I had always worn a uniform. This is why I haven�t worn khaki pants in the last three years. Throughout the three years I've been in public school I've changed tremendously. Mrs. Hill will agree with me, I've became way more talkative. During my first year of public school, I considered it a good day if I spoke to a teacher. I'm not as shy as I use to be. I'm more outgoing, willing to try new things, and make new friends. To give you a better understanding of my challenges to transition from private school to a public school you need to know I went to the same private school for nine years. This private school was a second home for me. Leaving a school where everyone knew everybody from the preschoolers to my own class and the whole staff is hard. When you saw someone that needed help you didn�t hesitate to help. I felt safe at Good Shepherd. When I graduated from Good Shepherd School I was ready to start the next step in my life. I can say I was nervous about leaving a school I felt so safe in, but knew I had to face this challenge with a positive attitude. During the summer I prepared for not only high school, but public school. I went into band camp that summer knowing my brother, Luke and Courtney Woodyard. Everyone knew me as "Jake's sister." On the first day we were there Mrs. Wallace had us play a game a game where you find a person you didn't know and you and ask them a few "get to know you questions." Then we would share them with the band. This activity led to meeting a new person. Mrs. Wallace gives all the freshmen a big (a senior). Your �bigs� are the ones who are suppose to show you around and tell you what to do during band camp. They also were to help you during the first few school days. That summer I met so many new people that took me under their wing and made me feel so comfortable. The first day of school wasn�t as scary as I thought it was going. Some of the challenges I faced that first day was getting to class on time. I would need practice to get through the hallway with ease. At Good Shepherd we were used to going from room to room. I had another challenge I had trouble opening my locker. I had never used a locker with a lock. I could never remember the combination or which locker was mine. Therefore, I didn't use my locker at all that year. Learning to talk to new people and become friends with many of them was a struggle but I learned quickly. I have to say that I and the few others that came from Good Shepherd transitioned into high school better than some of the kids we graduated with from Good Shepherd.
When I was deciding on a topic for this essay, the first thing that came to mind was “what it’s like living life one-handed” but then I thought, “well this is just what everyone would expect me to write about, it’s going to be really boring and it’s going to state things that they already know”. Then Harper brought to my attention that you all might know most of what’s on the surface, but there’s a lot of things that you all may not know or fully understand. I started thinking and she was completely correct. So here I am, going to try to give you all some insight into what its like living life without a limb.
When I was younger, I picked up a lot of things simply by instinct. I learned to tie my shoes before Annie, I learned to button and zip my own clothes, I learned to put up my hair; all of these things I learned to do on my own. They may not seem like big things to any of you all, but to me these were really big accomplishments. Nowadays I seem to make a lot of things look effortless even when they may not be; This is because I really like to prove people wrong, I feel so accomplished when I do. That’s why when people ask me things like, “Do you need help with that?” It really fuels my fire. I think that they see me as helpless. I know, everyone needs help at some point in their lifetime, but when everyone else seems fully capable of something I want to say that I can do it on my own as well.
Like I said earlier, I like to prove people wrong. If they say that I can’t do something; I want to come back and do it ten times better than they expected me to do it. I always get really interested in trying new things, but they are usually things that normally would require two hands, but when has that ever stopped me? The answer is never. I really wanted to learn to play guitar in the fifth grade; so I decided to give it a try. I went out and bought myself a shiny, red bass guitar ( Bass? Really?... I was obsessed with the Naked Brothers Band at the time and if you don’t get the reference look it up). I got home, sat it in my lap and thought, “How am I supposed to play this?”. The guitar ended up sitting in my room for a good three weeks before I decided to venture up to Shriners to see if they could help me. Well, they came up with a device that, in the end, didn’t even end up working correctly so the guitar sat in my room until the beginning of Sophomore year. For some reason I decided that I wanted to try the whole guitar thing out again. I went out and traded the bass for an acoustic guitar. I had been watching this girl on YouTube, April Lockhart (Look her up she is really awesome), she is an amputee as well; I had this idea that maybe if I could get a prosthetic that was similar to the one she used then I would be able to play as well as she could. I took another trip back to Shriners to see if I could get something similar. They said that because her arm was a few inches longer than mine, then it wouldn’t work the same way. So, we went for an alternative route and found an attachment that we could put on a previously made prosthetic (It was made for a pompom which is a whole other story in itself). I used it for a while, and where I wasn’t used to the weight of the prosthetic it just didn’t sound and work like it should have. Now I’m back at square one with nothing. I will, of course, keep trying, but it’s just frustrating when things don’t turn out like I think they will.
Being born without an arm may seem like a challenge to me at times, but when I go to I-CAN (a summer convention for amputees, a.k.a. International Child Amputee Network) and I see people missing all four limbs I honestly feel slightly guilty for ever doubting that I couldn’t do anything. It’s so inspiring to see them live as though they are just like any of us, normal. For amputees in general I think we have to face the challenge of informing society that although some things may be inconvenient for us we are fully capable of doing anything we set our minds to. It’s hard for people to really understand, especially children, we get looks and stares every time we go out in public and I’m not gonna lie, it does hurt at times; I feel as though I’m like an alien or something, but It’s not something that I can change about myself so I just have to kind of look past it and know that their opinions shouldn’t matter to me. On occasion I will give these people “the evil eye”, but only if I believe it’s deserved; Like when they blatantly say “what’s wrong with her”... I’m not blind, nor deaf contrary to your belief and nothing is “wrong” with me.
I just hope that one day the world will be able to accept everyone for who they are, because a lot of us can’t change, and I hope that those who are different in any way know that they should not be ashamed of who they are.
"I wish you were eighteen, so that I wouldn't need to look at you anymore." My mother said on my fifth birthday. "You will never amount to anything." My mother said, when I was six. "Why would anyone love an ugly little s*** like you?" My mother asked, when I was seven. "If only your father hadn't stopped me from getting that abortion. I never wanted you. No one would want you." My mother said, when I was eleven. "Get out. I never want to see your face in this house again." My mother said, near the end of eighth grade. A lot of kids are pretty lucky. They've got two loving parents. Two parents who, whether they're together or apart, would do anything to keep their child safe and happy. Two parents who would never dream of hurting their child, physically or mentally. I'm one of the unlucky ones. My parents divorced when I was too young to remember them ever being together, and my mom won custody over my big sister and I. There was never any question that my sister was always the favorite. She got whatever she wanted, and she never got in trouble for anything. My mother had a lot of anger inside of her. She got mad about everything. And all of that anger got taken out on me. On rare occassions, she would get violent. But most of the time, she simply stuck with mental/emotional abuse. I'm sure that, to someone who didn't have to deal with it day after day, this doesn't sound so bad. I mean, all she was doing was yelling at me, right? Spewing insults and what not. What you don't understand, is that all of those insults were made to tear me down. And after putting up with them every day for twelve years, they left me as nothing more than a shell of myself. No self esteem, no selfworth. I got to the point where I didn't even want to keep living anymore. When I lived with my mom, I did everything I could to find an escape from her tyranny. I would lock myself in my room or sneak out whenever I knew she was angry. I took every chance I could to go to a friend's house, sometimes bouncing between friends for a couple of weeks at a time. I even sometimes broke into her liqour cabinet. But none of it helped. Her abuse simply escalated. During my middle school years, when all of her insults hit me the hardest, I went through a very deep period of depression. One that I still haven't recovered from. I pushed everyone away from me and stopped doing the things that I loved, because I no longer cared about anything. I left my room on rare occassions, and stopped eating. Suicide was definitely something I considered, on a daily basis. I don't think I would be alive today if she hadn't decided that she didn't want anything to do with me. On April 22, near the end of my eighth grade year, my mom kicked me out. I don't remember what we were arguing about, exactly. That particular detail is a blur to me. But I do remember the yelling, the insults, the threats. The things that were said to me that day were so bad that I can't even think about them without breaking down, let alone type them. My dad came to get me, and I am currently living with him. He and my step mom have done everything they can to make me feel as if I finally have a home, but the things my mom did to me still haunt me. I feel her influence everywhere; in my distrust of the people around me, in the way that I always expect the worst out of everyone, the way that I hate everything about myself, the way that I hesitate to open up to anyone, and so much more. That is the challenge that I face every day. Having to live with the aftermath, faking smiles and forcing laughs, pretending like everything is okay. But it's not. Nothing is okay. Because of her, every day is a struggle. ~Shelby McKinney
Before this past summer, I would be perfectly confident in telling anyone that I’m an introvert, because I didn’t see anything wrong with it. I could, hypothetically, drive myself out to a deserted field in Utah (because nothing happens in Utah), and live all by myself in a trailer for like, six months with no problem. I know the Social Butterflies are cringing at the thought but I always figured that if I was content, what does it matter?
Except, this summer, I learned that it does matter, when I stepped out of my comfort zone and traveled to Brazil to teach students English. I wasn’t very content in how being an introvert left me. It’s not that I’m of afraid of human interaction… I just don’t practice it as much as I should. Because of this, I knew I wasn’t very skilled in essentially the most important aspect of the trip. But before I arrived my youth pastor told our group, “You can be a different person on this trip because no one knows you. There’s no reason not to step out of your comfort zone.” I embraced this idea every day for the entirety of the trip. I ended up learning so much about people I had never met before, and myself.
For me, I’m constantly challenged not to just sink back into what’s comfortable because I now realize that people are created to interact and how important it is to make connections in life. This showed me that although I had thought of myself as possessing a “certain personality” and had formed myself a specific identity, that doesn’t mean that I am that identity and can, in fact, change it to fit the situation I’m in.(As tempted as I am to start talking about social contingencies, I’m going to try and stay focused). As I get older I’m learning that the “real world” is different and expects you to carry on conversations, be flexible. I’m slowly putting that agoraphobic- self (I’m kidding) behind me. I would just encourage anyone like me who feels like being alone a lot to try and experience friendships anyway and not let their selves hold them back.
Hearing the cheers from the stands as you go into overtime during a tied game, smelling the fresh cut grass just before the game starts, and feeling like no other team could touch you, unstoppable. For a lot of people playing a sport is just something they do when they’re young because their parents want them to. My passion for soccer goes far beyond what other people want or expect of me, it’s what I want for myself not only for the present but for my future and the rest of my life.
At age 4 my parents signed me up for the YMCA recreational soccer league. Most kids at that age just play so they have something to do and granted that’s why my parents had signed me up. As you get older most kids drop out and move on to something else, I didn’t. I played YMCA rec soccer fall and spring season until I got to middle soccer at the age of 12. My 6th grade year in middle school I tried out for the middle school soccer team, at that time in my life I had never tried out for anything ever before. I was ecstatic to find out that I had made the team. Middle school soccer was in the spring I had no choice but to drop out of rec soccer since it conflicted too much with school soccer. Over my years of playing soccer in middle school I grew so much on and off the field. Defiantly one of the best parts of being on a soccer team in general is that I played with people I knew and had played with before.
As each person grew with skill we adapted and learned how to play together well. When I got to 8th grade I decide to be a part of the WHHS JV soccer team. It was an astonishing experience to see and play soccer on a high school level. Playing JV just motivated me more to want to play soccer all throughout high school. As I began my freshmen year of high school soccer the biggest challenge for me was managing my time. Along with soccer I was a member of the band, dance team, track team, and of course I had to manage school work. Every season it’s a struggle to give each activity an equal amount of time. However, with flexible coaches and schedules I’m always able to balance everything. Another challenge in high school soccer was the fact that every year our coach would resign so we would have to find a replacement. This past fall was the fourth coach we’ve had in four years. Adapting to new coaching style every year was hard however, as a team we worked together to overcome these complications.
My sophomore year I joined Commonwealth Soccer Club, which is a traveling soccer team that plays on a much higher and competitive level. Through this team I met many new talented people who were as serious about soccer as I was. This team also helped me grow as a soccer player. I feel that this past fall season of soccer has been I and my teams’ most successful year yet. We beat Franklin County in the city championship, got runners up in districts, and made it to regionals which WHHS hadn’t done since 2006. The best feeling in the world to me is knowing that you helped achieve success in a way you never knew you had the ability to do. These precious moments in high school helped me realize that I want to further my soccer career beyond high school and into college.
I could never have accomplished so much with soccer without my parents who support me know matter what I decide and push me to be the best I can be. I’m so grateful for all the abilities that God has blessed me with because I know without him nothing I do is possible. A lot people might think that it’s crazy to call a sport your passion but soccer is something I love and has shaped who I am not just as a player but as a person, without it I would be a totally different person. CHANGING from different levels of soccer has CHALLENGED me to make CHOICES that will impact my life forever. It’s hard to believe that I will close the door to my journey with high school soccer next year but I look forward to opening a new door to soccer in my future.
“Stop talking,” the voice in the back of my head says. “Just stop talking; they’re getting annoyed of you” for some reason I can’t get the thought out of my mind. The idea of one of my friends secretly hating me always seems to pop up. You see, I’ll allow myself to get close to someone. But then, after a while, I start to get scared that I’m being too clingy. In order to keep myself from being seen as over-attached, I make myself completely un-attached. My fear of being secretly hated or unwanted drives me to pushing away the people I care about most. I’ve cut off countless friends and boyfriends, but the most prominent relationship that I’ve ruined would probably be the one with my dad. After my parents got divorced, my two sisters wanted to spend more time with my mom, so I decided to spend more time with my dad to keep him from feeling left out. My dad and I had always been close and I just felt like he was my best friend. I could tell him anything. When I was about 10 years old, my dad and his girlfriend started getting pretty serious. Although it was completely untrue, I had the idea in my head that he would want to spend more time with her instead of me. I began to shut him out. I remember trying to only talk to him when I needed something, and even then I tried to make the conversation as quick as possible. Looking back on it, I was actually hurting my dad’s feelings. But, at the time, I felt like I was just doing him a favor. Since then, my dad and I have never been the same. I’d distanced myself from him for almost two years, and in those two years we’d both changed quite a bit. I’ve tried and tried to make things the way they were before, but it’s like there’s an unbridgeable gap between us. I really have no one else to blame though, because I took it upon myself to personally tear that bridge down. We still get along, but very rarely can I feel comfortable around him. It’s been almost six years since then, so I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that I’m never going to have a close relationship with him. I know compared to a lot of the other stories on here my problem seems miniscule, but it really does make me sad thinking about it. As I said before, I do this all the time. It’s something that I don’t even realize I’m doing until after it’s done. It’s affected the way I interact with people and kept me from being able to keep people around for extended periods of time. I hope I’ll be able to deal with my, we’ll call them fears, more efficiently one day. But, as of right now, it’s still a challenge that I face regularly.
I am an unusual person. Some of you will not find that very hard to comprehend or may not even need telling. But, I am different from others in my age group in a very unique way. I am a catholic teenager that actually believes and holds the morals of my church. All of you have heard stories about us "weird" catholics who have just been going through the same motions for thousands of years, selling forgiveness and abusing innocent children. Those kind of stories are actually making my life a living hell.
It is the bane of my existence when someone finally catches on that I am catholic and they give me the cold shoulder because they think that I am some kind of sicko. I have been asked many times if I feel uncomfortable around my priest or why we can't just be normal and be a part of the, what I would like to call, "Anything Goes Policy" which is becoming increasingly popular. That is one of the first things I have a problem with. If we were created in a certain way, by whom ever you choose, wouldn't it follow that you were supposed to accept that you are the way that you are and not try to alter it in any way? Today in class, I heard two people talking about how it would be completely okay if someone wanted to be african-american even though they were caucasian. Maybe I'm the last person on earth, but I think that there is something wrong with that picture. If a person was created white then that is the way the nature wanted it. Who are we to try and go against the will of nature with a mere whim. That is just a minor example what is becoming okay. In the context of homosexuality, I believe that no one is born gay, I believe that it is a learnt thing that continues to be unnatural. But apparently, it doesn't matter anymore that you just deal with the hand you've been dealt, you can just change it and dress like a woman and call yourself black.
Another big question that I get asked a lot is "Why do your priests molest little boys?" This one really makes it difficult for me. But, I just say right back that they chose the wrong line of work. When we chose our priests, there is a long process of discernment (listening to what God has to say on the matter) which hopefully allows the people who God wants to be priests to serve the people. Without becoming too religious, I want to say that it is completely possible for a pedophile to fall through the cracks and become a priest, but there have been statistics done on how many do actually make it to the priesthood. About 20 in every 500 priests do not deserve to be priests according to the Daily Times. That means that only a handful actually are in the U.S. Anyway, the catholic church has no tolerance policies in place to maintain the purity of the church. I would like to say that is the end of it but, there have been a surprising number of pedophilic leaders in other well known american organizations and churches. For example, the Boy Scouts of America have a greater amount of leaders who sexually abuse children; about 1,200 cases were reported between 1965 and 1985. Thats just twenty years. Most of the time when people associate the catholic church with pedophilia it is just the misguided words of the media who seem to want to target catholics for what ever reason.
Finally, I want to say why I as a teenager in 2013 have stuck with the "old fashioned" catholic church and maintained their strict and currently unpopular morals. I believe in something worth fighting for. I believe that we are some of the only people left who have maintained a clear head in the glamor of immoral changes to our society and country. I see the catholic church as the last guardians of the true way of nature. As a part of this church I can see the beauty of nature and how our integrity has lasted through the ages. Doesn't it make sense to you that if something was not acceptable today it should stay the same tomorrow? Here is a pretty graphic example of I am trying to say. Currently it is seen as taboo and even illegal to walk around in public with out clothes on. Then one day someone said, out of the blue, just to be different, "Why are clothes necessary? I think that they aren't so I will no longer wear clothes." Then another person thought that this "sans clothes" mentality was cool or novel. So, eventually everyone did it. But yet, today it is not acceptable to be stark naked in public. That is what I am talking about. If something that was previously unthinkable became a norm, would you follow? Or would you continue to hold your beliefs and morals.
Lots of people would say that what about or women's rights or slavery? Ever since someone decided that it would be a good idea to chain up other humans or be unjust to one half of our population the Catholic Church has held that all human lives are precious and women are very holy. In regards to slavery, During that time in history when slavery was okay, the Catholic Church realized that an evil was being done to these African and Native American people. Every human life is sacred and equal, no one is better than anyone else. We should all treat others with dignity. In regards to women's rights, we have always held women in the highest esteem. We believe that because the woman is the creator of new life that she is to be protected and loved. Think about Mary the mother of Jesus, she is a woman, who in ancient times would have been looked down upon, but who has her holy day in the church calendar on January 1st because she is the most important and she belongs at the head of every calendar. So in a sense, we have kept the natural order of things and just waited out for the rest of society to catch up with our set of morals.
Through out the years it has been difficult for me to hold my current beliefs and morals about life, death and about everything that I hold near and dear is being questioned by others. But then I remind myself that I have something to hold on to. I have a beautiful truth to keep because I know that I am right in my mind and no class distinction or peer pressure can take that away from me.
(PART 1) We all will or have already gone through many challenges, these challenges shape us into the people we are today and the life we live. Not only does it do that but it puts us in a position of having to make a hard decision, that may or may not effect our lives dramatically, instantly, or in an suitable or unpleasant way. For me making a decision on what career I want to do, and where I want to attend college, these decisions are linked because I figured that once I know what I will do in life I will be able to choose a college that is suited for my career. But since I haven't exactly got my heart dead set on a career, I’m not sure where to go to school or what to expect. The reason this bother’s me so much is because I enjoy planning out everything that is going to happen, it’s like I feel that I’m ahead in life and I don’t feel as stressed. As I have gotten older I have received this dreadful question even more “what do you want to do when you grow up?” and then the other awful question for me follows “what college do you want to go to?” Sometimes I try to avoid the question, or I simply give some unconfident ideas I have about what I would like to do or what college’s I’m seeking out.
Now on to the reason I’m so indecisive about this subject, well first of all when I was younger I had many idea’s about what I wanted to be, but I always seemed to change my mind quickly. I changed my mind based on what other’s had to say about the profession I wanted to go into, when I was 7 I swore up and down that I wanted to be a dentist, but then my aunt at a family dinner added in “so your telling me you want to have your fingers in people’s mouths all day?” of course at 7 I didn't exactly think about it like that. Then at age 12 I thought I had decided that I was going to be a Physical Therapist, but of course the amount of college helped me talk myself out of that career. So as you can tell this has been an ongoing challenge for a long time, and yet I still am not confident on what I want to do in life. Now on to why it is so hard for me to choose some colleges I’m interested in, well my one reason it is difficult for me is because I don’t enjoy school at all and the thought of having to go on to college after high school frightens me, and secondly there are so many schools to choose from, and lastly I cant decide on colleges because I have not chosen my career I want to do yet, and I feel that it is important to pick a college that is known for the type of career you want to do.
When I think of what I want to do for the REST of my life, it scares me not because it feels like my life would full of the same events on repeat but because I also think of how it will please others. For example my dad and I went to a college fair this year and like everyone else we walked around asking questions and gathering information, so it was that moment that my dad and I were standing at a booth when I asked a college rep from Union college if they had a education program, and the woman responded kindly and I took a pamphlet. Then as soon as we got in the awful conversation started, my dad started out by asking me why I had even asked the college rep about any education programs and of course I told him that I had thought about becoming an elementary teacher, and he began giving me a long lecture on how it is not a stable job, and how the children these days are crazy and how most parents don't care anymore, and how the money wasn’t good. My parents excuse for telling me that I shouldn't be a teacher or anything else I might consider is always the same and that is "we are only trying to protect you and help you" well unfortunately its not helping, only making it more confusing.
Then of course every time I bring up any college I end up hearing or finding out reasons on why I shouldn’t attend there. It can be helpful to receive a lot of opinions on what colleges I want to attend but on the other hand it can be over whelming. The main things I consider when I look at colleges are the cost of the college, what majors they offer, and how far away the college is. These all help other’s from opinion's on where I should attend college and what for. When I was younger I always thought that I wanted attend the University of Kentucky, but then my cousin told me about how many students are in one class and I realized that I wouldn't want to handle a class with a lot of students in it, then I stayed on UK’s campus for a camp over the summer and figured out that I didn’t like the campus or dorms that much. So as I keep considering college’s my once little challenge becomes more challenging.
So I have finally realized that I need to attempt to figure out my challenge and face it in confidence for once in my life. I feel that this challenge isn't and wont be the biggest challenge in my life but for the time being it is still a very important challenge for me to get through. This challenge I hope to laugh at in 10 years because I know that I will pick the right college and career for myself, because only I know what I want and just how I want to get it. This challenge will affect my life, but that doesn’t worry me as much any more, because getting myself to quit worrying is a challenge all on it’s own, and I know I don't have the time to face that, only time to focus on the present and the future.
“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.” -Henry David Thoreau
Here I am again sitting on the side of the pool, beating my head against the wall and slowly going crazy from chlorine withdrawals. Why does this happen to me? First pneumonia which took me out for two and a half months before I was even close to The level of swimming I was at before getting it. Now I've hurt my shoulder which has taken me out of the pool for a month and a half so far and who knows how much longer. Coming back from this is going to be the biggest challenge of my swimming career.
It started as a mild annoyance in the joint over the summer which slowly built and built and built until it was a constant inescapable pain that shot all the way down my arm. I went to the doctor who told me it was just some inflammation so I was given an anti-inflammatory some stretches and a month of rest which helped somewhat.
Then the season started and it came back worse this time. I went back to the doctor who said I needed an MRI which I got. The results came back and said I had a torn tendon I couldn't decide if I wanted to scream or cry or just poop myself in shock. If this was true that meant I needed surgery and a long length of rope to hang myself with because that meant I wouldn't have a season at all.
I went to a shoulder specialist in Lexington who had performed surgery on my dad and had also done Joe Montana's shoulder. He was my saving grace he told me that I hadn't torn a tendon, that I didn't need surgery, and that it could be fixed with physical therapy. I remember thinking this is going to be a ton of work.
Even though I have come back from a similar set back with pneumonia this is completely different. With pneumonia all I had to do was build up my lung capacity and cardio endurance. With this injury I've got to basically start over at ground zero, well not exactly at ground zero but pretty close and build everything back up not just my cardio.
Recovery is always the worst part of an injury. It takes the longest and the time always seems to go by so slow. Even worse I've still got to hang around and watch as other people are doing exactly what I can't and I have to support them and continue to give them encouragement. For me that's the worst part sitting on the sideline watching like some voyeur except I'm not enjoying it.
I'm both looking forward to and dreading getting back into practices. I know its going to be a lot of hard work which I've already gotten a glimpse of from all the physical therapy I've had to go through, but I enjoy a challenge. I know that if I keep going and pushing my limits like I have been I'm going to climb out of this hole I've found myself in. When I get through this I'm going to be much better than what I was before. It's helped me build a stronger work ethic and renewed my dedication to the sport. I know that once I get back from this I'm going to be unstoppable like a freight train from hell.
One of the big challenges in my life is my introverted personality. For those of you who know me, if you were asked to describe me, one word would probably come to your mind: quiet. It may sound like it wouldn't be a challenge or that it would be easy to “get over”, but it is very difficult. I've been asked many times “Why don’t you ever talk?” or some variation of that impossible question. I wish I had an answer for that, because honestly, I don’t know. Nothing traumatic has ever happened to me, I had a normal upbringing, but I’m still quiet. There is nothing wrong with being quiet, but I would definitely like to become more outgoing. It would make many challenges in life easier to overcome.
I can trace being quiet all the way back to elementary school. However, I can still never trace an exact reason. Well, maybe being in speech classes in elementary school caused me in part to be shy (stupid “r” sounds sounding like “w”…), but I do not remember what was going through my head when I was in Kindergarten. Not that the reason matters much anymore, as me being quiet has just become what I’ve accepted. It’s strange to actually consider the reasons why you act the way you do. It’s insane to think that maybe if I was talkative on the first day of Kindergarten, my personality and therefore life could potentially be totally different.
There is nothing physical holding me back from being more outgoing, but everything mentally is. I’d consider myself an anxious person in general. I tend to worry about everything and a lot of situations can make feel uneasy. I am scared that I’ll say something stupid or that someone won’t like me. I’m afraid of being viewed as someone who is awful to be around. Basically, I over think anything and everything. I sweat the small stuff. I sweat the larger stuff too, but the small stuff is more noteworthy.
Despite all of this, I actually enjoy other people. If I’m comfortable in a social situation, I enjoy it immensely. Even if I’m not comfortable, it can be nerve-wracking but at the same time exciting. A lot of the time my mind goes blank in social situations, which I hate, but usually I am still enjoying the interaction with others, even if it doesn't look like it.
Though I’m still a pretty quiet person, I have made some strides since, say, middle school. I try to just relax and not take anything to heart. This has helped greatly as I’m not stressed out about inconsequential things as much. I am definitely more comfortable in social situations, though I’m far from feeling perfect about them. I still have a long way to go. This is part of the reason why I’m applying to GSP. I don’t know what my chances are to get in (due to the insane amount of competition in this junior class), but I think that just throwing me into a new environment would force me to get better at this. Hopefully in the future, I will continue to become more comfortable socially.
A challenge that I have faced in my life, recently I should rather say, has been to whether continue playing basketball or to just stop playing all together.
I normally love the game of basketball but I must admit that I have been growing bored with playing the game. It's just not the same to me anymore. It's not the same "go out and have fun" game it used to be to me. I have just been getting really bored with it and I actually contemplated leaving the team for good.
The first thing I did when I thought about leaving the team was how upset or disappointed my parents would be. They grew up watching me play sports my whole, more importantly basketball, and I just didn't want to take that away from them. But I ultimately talked to both my mom and dad, and they both supported me, whatever the outcome of the decision was or would have been.
I ultimately ended up staying on the team and playing basketball this year. Even though I had the urge to leave, I stayed playing because I have played since I was 5 and it was just hard to quit. I enjoy playing and playing for any team, it doesn't matter to me.
Not having a coach is not something that a lot of athletes have to go through. I mean sure every team has probably not had a coach for s mall period of time, maybe over there off season but not having a coach at all is pretty rare. When I first started pole vaulting I had no idea that there was not a coach out of the 5 track team coaches that had no idea about the one thing that I joined the track team to do.
The first practice was rough, actually the whole first season was rough my “coach” this year was a boy one year older than me that really only knew the basics but we got by with what he knew. Even though I hear the same things at every practice “Run faster!” “Keep your elbow out!” this year was my lucky year because my first year ever pole vaulting getting my personal record of the year at 6’6 I miraculously made it to state. When I was told the news that I would actually be competing at state I was the most excited I think that I’ve ever been. I was also a bit confused and worderd if it was all in my head that I wasn’t very good at my new sport. When I got to state I was a little overwhelmed and I didn’t do as great as I had hoped but that day must have been another lucky day because that was the day that our team finished first in the state and I was actually on the team! I still can’t believe that we won. And even though I ended up 18th in the pole vault I still kinda won.
After going to state I realized that pole vaulting is something that I actually wanted to do my mom and I asked everyone that we knew and looked up everything that we could trying to find me a pole vaulting coach. And sure enough we found someone. When I had my first practice with an actual pole vaulter that knew what they were doing and had jumped for longer than 5 years, thinking about it I don’t think that we actually jumped on a pit the first 5 or 6 weeks that I went there, but when I started I had to re learn everything because the boy that had tried his hardest to try and coach me ended up being a little bit wrong. The one coach that I had ended up being with another guy who ran a whole “team” and coaches other pole vaulters. His team is called fuzion and even though I only get to see him once a week he has really helped me. And not having him at meets (which is the most important thing) is defiantly the hardest but I wouldn’t be where I am today without his help.
My sophomore year of vaulting was a lot better until I got to regional’s and did the worst I did all season. I was very upset about it mainly because my season was over for the year. After I got my mom to sign me up for the bluegrass state games I was ready to go back out there and do what I had newly learned how to do. With my form getting better and better with my one day a week practice I managed to get a new person record at the blue grass state games and also managed to beat the school record. Even though it was only by 3 inches it still counts in my book. I have a lot of goals that I am ready to accomplish this season like going to state and giving myself a really nice cushion on the school record to make sure nobody can break my record. Even if I don’t have a coach I am still determined to do the best that I can. -Annie Cunningham
I remember simpler times back in elementary school when everybody got along and nobody judged or bullied anybody. There were no “popular” kids or nerdy ones. We were just simple innocent kids. I don't know what happened, but as we got older everything started to change. What was once barren land became the tallest of mountains and deepest of seas (my metaphorical social ladder). The popular kids inhabited the mountains and took over the land, but it was twisted. When did we decide that to be popular we had to hurt others? It is just stupid to think that way. I was stupid to think that way. I don't know what it was but I loved the mountains and the people that inhabited it. I loved to be accepted and it is what I thought was most important. Isn't that what every parent wants for their kids?
At our school, they taught us that it was good to be different. Maybe we thought that at one time, but everybody has their own limits on what's too different. For us 8 year olds, too different was a kid named Sam (Sam represents all the people we bullied). Sam probably wanted to fit in just like everybody else, but he was too nice and too smart and exceeded the limits of what our 3rd grade brains thought of as different. He was bullied for it. With words we brought him down. We took apart the foundation underneath his feet, stone by stone, word by word, until he fell. What did we do? What did I do? I watched him fall into the sea, preventing him from ever climbing up our mountain. I watched as the rest of my classmates climbed even higher up the mountains. I, somewhere in the middle, did not want to climb any higher; but I did anyway. I have to fit in.
When middle school came, everything changed. I felt distant from everyone. The classmates I grew up with all my life suddenly seemed different. Confused and lost, I was not sure what to do. It wasn't until the sound of my name that I was filled with hope that someone will fill me in on what I missed over the summer. What l thought would be words of reassurance and guidance instead were words of offense, insult, and hate. The words were like a knife, stabbing me in the back. I couldn't breathe. I didn't slip, I was pushed and I was now falling faster than ever before. I was frantically trying to grab hold of anything that could keep me from falling into the sea. I could see my metaphorical mountain disappearing as I got closer to the ground. Until—darkness. No way out.
I hear my name from a distance and I brace myself for even more hateful words. The voice turned out to be the teacher asking me to tell the class about my summer. I stand up but my knees are weak. I start to shake and I can't stop myself, I have no control. I start to speak but my voice shakes just like my knees. My voice is quiet. I feel the eyes of everybody in the class on me, judging me. I start to sweat; I hear my classmates’ voices in my head turning any positive thoughts negative. This is what they do to me. The thoughts are like poison slowly killing me on the inside. I die a little. I put on a mask and promised myself never to take it off. One must not speak, one must not bring attention to themselves, one must never laugh, smile, or show true emotion. Emotion is what they feed on, and I must not give them the satisfaction. I know deep inside that what they say about me doesn't matter. I am different. Different is good, but different is also bad. I am myself and that's what scares them, but that's also what scares me. The sea is a dark and cold place, but I swim farther and farther down. The sea is where I live now. It is my place of comfort. I have learned to love the silence, I have learned to love the cold, but most importantly I have learned to love the land and the sea and the creatures that dwell within them. My best friend Sam is a dweller of the sea, and so am I. He was the one that taught me to never look down on someone, unless you are picking them up. I swim, even now, to the deepest parts of the sea in search of my own mountain underneath the waters.
Most people have someone they call their best friend. Someone they tell everything to, they do everything with, those two people who always seem to come as a pair. But, my best friend just happened to move twelve hours away in between eighth grade and freshman year, right before the big transition to high school. The change comes from Bethany moving, but the challenge lies in the sudden realization that the people that I hung out with weren't really my friends. They were Bethany’s. Most kids drift apart from the people that they once called their best friend not have them ripped from your grip and thrown miles away, leaving you feeling lost. That feeling where you know you have friends, but you feel very alone. Coming back from summer, the first day back I was searching of the sea of people for a familiar face, but I couldn't find one. You make it to your first classroom and look for just one friend to help you survive that class period, but I didn't know most of them. Not only was I searching for someone not there. My classes consisted mostly of people I didn't know and the ones I did, had their own group of friends and I wasn't invited. Freshman year I felt like the people that were my “friends” held that title simply because we had been in the same group of people for what seemed like forever. Like it was an obligation, honestly, I never knew if they would be there for me when it counted the most. I’m not saying that these people didn't care about me or that we didn't get along, it just felt like they were more of acquaintances than friends. I felt like I was second best to everyone, there was always someone that they would pick over me when it came down to it. But how could I let that upset me when I would always choose Bethany? Sometimes it is when you feel you’re at lowest, you realize who is there to help you back up. At some point, I came to realize that while I was feeling alone with no one to talk to, I was overlooking the people who were always there for me. Maybe the reason I felt like no one was there to listen, was because I wasn’t talking about it. I had felt like no one understood, but when faced with reality, I’m not the first kid to feel so lost without their “other half” nor will I be the last. Sometimes, when describing my social life as a freshman, I say that I had no friends, when in fact I had lots of them that really cared. I just wasn't looking in the right places.
I was ten years old when my parents got divorced. It was during summer break when they broke the news to me and my sister. Naturally, I started bawling and was completely inconsolable, confused as to why my parents would make this decision. All I knew was that “they did not love each other anymore, and it was not my fault.” At first, I thought it was my fault; that if I had not gone to 4-H camp the week before, I could have stopped this. After a few weeks, I went to divorce care class and had “It’s not your fault,” and “You are still loved,” drilled into my head. I already knew this was true, but for some reason, the repetition of those tiny phrases made me more and more upset. I had very little understanding of the situation, and I thought that my life was shattering around me.
I was wrong.
Reflecting back, my parents fought quite a bit and never seemed to be happy. Now, they are rather happy. Divorce causes many people’s worlds to turn upside down. This is exactly what I expected, too, but I now realize that this is not always the case. My parents did not have the nasty divorce seen in movies, and now they get along very well. When I was ten, I thought that I was going to end up losing one of my parents, but I have grown closer to both of them because of the quality time I get to spend with them each week. There was a transition period where I had to get used to switching houses every week, but I grew to understand that though I was going back and forth, I still had both parents. This allowed me to have the security I needed after such a quick and enormous life change.
I also had to learn to let new people into my life. At first, I was very shy and timid, but I have met many new people and am happy to call them my family. I finally have the brother I have wanted since I was young, plus a sister-in-law and a new nephew. I love getting to see them every week and watching my two month old nephew, Liam, grow up.
My family has learned several lessons in the last six years, but the main lesson is that even when the strongest support system in life is broken apart; it can always be rebuilt into something even stronger. C. Joybell C. said, “There is no such thing as a ‘broken family’. Family is family, and is not determined by marriage certificates, divorce papers, or adoption documents. Families are made in the heart.” My life is better, and I have learned so many new things from the divorce. I grew as an individual and grew closer to my family. We are not “broken”.
Allow me to introduce myself. Hi there, I’m the really smart kid with the messed-up lip.
Whew. Thank God that’s off my chest.
As long as I can remember, my life has been an ongoing, subconscious challenge to make the most of being eternally labeled by those two features of me.
Let me address the second feature first. In sixth grade basketball, after a particularly respectable game (I was inexplicably good at basketball in middle school) I might have been rewarded by overhearing an opponent mutter, “the kid with the messed up lip was a good player,” or something along those lines. Not number 20; not the point guard; not the kid awkwardly sporting a t-shirt under his jersey. No, that dazzlingly perceptive sixth grader knew me as the kid with the messed up lip.
Now, I would be remiss not to clarify for those of you who haven’t had the displeasure of talking to me up close, or didn’t see Bobby G and others call me out for it on the Twitters. I was born with a cleft lip, and when I was a baby I had surgery to fix it. It’s the petite indentation on the left (I actually just had to check which side it was on—that’s how little I think about it) side of my upper lip. Judging by the hundreds of times that I have been asked, “what happened to your lip?” it must be my most profound feature. I can’t help but giggle at that prospect.
In the same vein, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing when I read on twitter that evidently I can’t “mess up that clef lip anymore.” Or when someone called me “cleffy.” Or when someone told me in a text that I can take my “ugly clef lip ass on somewhere.” Of course, the main reason for my laughter is that evidently the word “cleft” is very easily confused with a music symbol. But I also laughed because of the incredible shallowness of these depraved people. If that’s truly the best insult that you can come up with about me, I’m flattered.
As I’ve gotten older, fewer people have asked me about my lip (yet, amusingly, more people insult me about it). Yet I suppose, for some reason, I have grown up to feel cheated out of my identity when I’m remembered for a miniscule facial feature. It’s not insecurity by any means—that would have made for a terrible childhood. It is a sense of underestimation that I grew accustomed to as a child, and now the natural reaction to being identified by my lip is to provide a hundred great reasons to identify me by something else. I promise there are more significant parts of me.
If you do in fact identify me by something else, please do not be that person who calls me “the smart kid.” Yes, I grin and nod and shrug when people tell me I’m too smart or that I’m going to make more money by the time I’m twenty-five than they will make their whole lives. But on the inside, the eye roll is absolute.
I swear, if I had a dime for every time someone has told me I just succeed because I’m smart, I would fulfill the prophecy of making more money by the time I'm 25 than (person) in their whole life. Perhaps these people honestly believe that they’re paying me a compliment. They aren’t. Anyone who says something like that to me is both undercutting the hard work that I have—believe it or not—put in throughout my education and making excuses for themselves.
I have been blessed with parents who have made me learn about the world, who have made me apply myself, who have paid thousands to send me to a fantastic private school until ninth grade, and that is a debt which I may never be able to repay. Yet the scores that I have received, the awards that I have won, are not merely a sum of genetics and upbringing. I had to take those tests. I had to study (or, pay enough attention to absorb the information). I did not become good at Quick Recall by accident. It has taken countless hours of work to get to where I am—to be able to excel while appearing not to try. If I don’t work hard enough at some step of the educational process, I feel like an idiot, and perform like one. Honestly—just ask anyone in my lab group in AP Chem.
Anyone who attributes my success to pure intellect is making excuses for their failures. It’s not my problem if I beat you on a test or if my presentation makes yours look bad. That’s your problem. It has nothing to do with me being smarter than you, because I’m probably not. I just worked harder than you at some point—either in elementary and middle school, where I learned ninety percent of all social studies and humanities information that I know today, or on the homework that you didn’t do or that you BSed or that you got off the Internet. I’m looking at you, 2012-13 APUSH class.
It’s worth noting that I don’t take—and never have taken—“nerd” as an insult.* This post is not to defend myself from such comments. It could be because I was raised in an environment where academic success got you praise from students and faculty alike, or it could be that I think making fun of someone for being smart is extraordinarily ignorant, provincial, and lazy, but those around me quickly learn that “nerd” or anything similar will not faze me whatsoever. However, I still feel slighted when I’m labeled by my intelligence because that limits me.
I’m many things. I’m a son, a brother, a cousin, a nephew, a teammate, and most importantly a friend. I’m a goalkeeper. I’m a Son of Gondor (Dol Amroth, to be specific)** at heart. I’m an academic team captain. I’m a very average piano player. I’m a student. I’m a liberal Democrat. And I’m a smart kid with a messed-up lip. So call me Andrew, Bates, Andy, Master, BTG, or cleffy (at your own embarrassment). But if you label me, I will accept no liability for a hurt ego when I prove you wrong.
Andrew “BTG” Bates
*I feel the same about “cocky bastard”; it’s lazy and jealous. Besides, I am in fact immensely grateful for the tools that I’ve been given, and I have been humbled many times over by such forces of nature as the Dunbar academic team and Anita Tope. **If you understand this reference we can be friends—tall and fair swan friends in shining robes of deep blue and silver guided by the noble Prince Imrahil.
Im originally from california thats where my family and friends live. But in 210 when i was in 7th grade my mom got a call from my cousin cutia saying that my uncle max was saling my great grandmothers property. Earlier that year she had passed away thats why he was saling it. At the moment my family werent doing so good, but anyways at first she didn't want to but i really wanted to go because i have never been to kentucky before. I knew that my moms side of the family lived here so i really wanted to meet them so i tired to convince her to move here. At first my mom wasnt having it, but after a little while she thought it over and decided she wanted to come out here too. At first i was excited to as the time went by i started to get little sad because i realized i wasnt going to be able to see my family evey other day anymore or see my friends so that part really sucked. my last day in clifornia was probably the sadest day of my life because my brothers and sisters were being all dramatic and every was in tears. Now that iv been here for about four years i dont like it as much as califronia. i realized that im not the same person that i was the day i left. i was always excited to go to school because it was actually fun. Here i cant stand coming to school, its so small and the school day is so much longer. Another thing that i really miss is seeing my dad every wekend and going to my sisters house evey other day. Hopefully one day i can actually move back . quanesha clay
As high school began, so did the preposterous amount of questions. I have been asked questions about history and math and science and health and English and French and every other subject I failed to mention. Yet I could study for these, I could cram in the last bit of information, at 2:30 at night, to feel prepared for the questions I faced the next day. I would actually know what to say and how to say it; but there is always one question I am never ready for. One of the hardest questions to answer.
Yeah, I know the answer. It’s a simple yes or no. But how do I explain it? How do I say it without looking silly? How can I answer it, the way I want, without being judged? To me it’s one of the world’s toughest questions, and no matter how many times its been asked, I am always scared to answer.
“Wanna come drink at my house tonight?” They would say. “Come on Keenan, let’s go get wasted.” Person after person, “You going to that party tonight?” High school was an infantry of soldiers, all fighting for the wrong goal, and I felt like the objective. Every question was a shot trying to get me to succumb; but I have to be relentless in my effort, I have to say no.
It’s not a parental choice, even though they hounded me about it. It’s not a choice that my teachers or some of my peers urge me to say. It’s not even a choice that can easily change. I choose not to drink alcohol, because it’s the choice I want to make. No matter how many of my friends are doing it, I stay unyielding in my decision, and for many reasons.
It’s not worth the risk! Time after time we hear of teens that have lost their lives in horrible ways under the influence of alcohol. We see athletes who lose the ability to play the game they love, due to accidents caused by alcohol. We see some of the most talented students lose their scholarships, to some of the best schools in the United States, due to incidences with alcohol. It’s not worth risking everything I have studied for, trained for, and aspired for my whole life just to have a “great” night with friends. It just isn’t worth it, and won’t worth it at this age.
This simple, yet toilsome to answer question, frightens me to this day. I never know when it will be asked, who will ask it, how they will ask it. A copious amount of x-factors, but only one answer for me. Some people may judge me for it, some may shame me for it, some may even vote me off the island, but it won’t change my views; it hasn’t changed my views. I aim to stay strong, no matter how many bullets are being fired, because I know the dangers. I know of the horrible, life-changing things that could happen in a brief moment, a single bad decision. The battle will never be over, the battle will never change, and neither will my answer. I can wait. I will wait. And I choose to wait. I say not to alcohol.
This is going to be rather odd. I’m going to tell you all about a choice or challenge or change I am making as I am writing this. I will save it until the end to see who can figure out what the choice is, turning this assignment into a game. I found it rather difficult to think of a choice or challenge or change that was worth writing about. And yes while Hill told us it would be fine to write about something simple, I just couldn’t bring myself to write about what I had eaten for breakfast this morning. I have come to the realization that our choices, challenges, and changes, while they may seem important at the time, may not be such important moments in our lives. While I am in no way saying that some of the posts here aren’t important, but in the long run they may not be defining moments in our lives. Especially with the fact that we have most of our lives left. As I sit here on my bed, looking at the computer screen breathing and wondering if this will be long enough waiting to get done so I can eat and play xbox and thinking about how much time I wasted today just relaxing when I should have been writing this and just thinking about what I’m writing, I realized that thinking about all the things you’re doing at one time is astronomical. But you’ll be doing it all for the rest of your life. So you may not think this had been a “story” about a time I made a choice or dealt with a change or took on a challenge. But it is. In the 30 seconds of my life that I have described I have done all three. I made a choice to write this about a simple moment in my life, I have described my change in perception on how much we really do in a single moment, and I took the challenge to do this a few hours before it was due like I’m sure many of my classmates have done. So how many of you guessed it right?
Courageous. Enthusiastic. Gregarious. Industrious, most importantly, Confident. I used to believe in myself. I might have been the most self-assured person you would come across, back then. I used to be self-disciplined. Even when there wasn’t practice, I practiced. I used to be full of life. Always running to have attention, entertaining the biggest crowd, back then. I used to be obedient. You told me to jump, I’d ask how high. I used to be a leader. When you need someone to step up, I was always there, back then. Softball. That’s me, my calling you could say. But one of the most crucial years of my career, everything changed. Who would have thought that I, #5, would let someone, a coach, get in my head. Who would have thought that I, “princess makay”, would let someone ones words take me down. Who would have thought that I, Makayla Hawkins, would let someone dull my shine. Your words hurt. Hurt more than I thought words could. You said I’d never amount to much. I never left the bench. You said I wasn’t good enough, and you were right, I never thought I was. Cowardly. Apathetic. Timid. Indolent, and most importantly, unsure. Now, I am misunderstood. I have it in me, I just don’t know where. Now, I am weak. I have no drive, I can’t push myself. Now, I am scared. Attention makes me quiver. Now, I am uncertain. You tell me to jump. I say I can’t. Now, I am hidden. I can’t lead others until I can lead myself. You haven’t completely controlled me. I still am a great catcher, I still can earn my spot. I still am a great teammate, I still can cheer others on.
I am not who I used to be. And for some, you never knew, because part of my final fight was to not let this show through. I didn’t want to change as a person, I liked the life I lived, but for some reason I couldn’t hold on. But there was one thing I could do. I pretended for so long that I was the same athlete that I was. But I wasn’t. And I’m still not. My abilities are the same, greater you could say. I can throw the ball quicker and hit it farther, that’s one thing I kept. My game is still mine. Makayla Hawkins
“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.” –Winnie the Pooh I tend to think of myself as a person who always wants a routine, but on the night of March 9, 2013, that idea came to a tragic stop. March 9th started as any other day it was a Friday and I went to school, after school my mom picked me up to go to her work as usual. But when I arrived my Aunt Chrystal who worked with my mom was gone. I asked my mom where she was because my usual routine was to come in and go talk to her. My mom told me she wasn’t feeling well and had stayed home to rest. My “talks” with Aunt Chrystal were a highlight of my day she helped me with anything and everything I needed. She was a strong Christian woman who I knew I could get good, meaningful advice from, she hadn’t only been my Aunt my whole life, she had been a best friend. My most favorite memories of Aunt Chrystal were the years she worked at my grandparents flower shop. She taught me how to design flowers and how to make my first arrangement. She became a role model to me and I would always look forward to seeing her there. My favorite of all times was on Valentine’s Day, which is the busiest holiday at the flower shop. We would stay late preparing, most the time it was midnight before we all would leave. Everyone would always crack jokes to lighten the stress, but Aunt Chrystal and Uncle Ronnie’s bickering jokes were the best. Aunt Chrystal could really get a crowd laughing. She could change someone’s life by just being around to brighten there day. The memories and talks I shared with Aunt Chrystal were a life changing event she helped me become a strong Christian women and a better person. What I wish I would have known was on March 8th 2013 in her office that would be the last talk I ever had with Aunt Chrystal. At 8:00 o’clock at night on Friday, March 9th 2013, my mom got a call as we were walking outside of a restaurant it was my cousin Megan, Aunt Chrystal’s daughter. As my mom stood pale and motionless her eyes started to water I had no idea what was going on and it was rare to ever she my mom cry. As I stood there next to her she screamed “Megan, Megan! What’s going on?!” I stood in terror I knew it was Aunt Chrystal something had happened. What I didn’t know was at that moment she had stopped breathing and her organs were shutting down. At that moment in the middle of a parking lot I wanted to fall to my knees in tears as my mom told me, she was gone. All I could do was stand still in shock and feel as if the world had to hit a sudden stop. Part Ashton Chaney
After March 9th 2013, my life changed, for the next week I cried for hours straight I even broke down at school. I couldn’t handle the idea of her being gone, but the worst of all was we didn’t know why she had stopped breathing or why her organs had failed. Because of that I felt as if I couldn’t get any closure. After the doctors had examined her and studied to figure out what had happened, we had her funeral. Never in my life did I think that I would lose someone so young and so close to me, so suddenly. Aunt Chrystal was the first person I had ever lost that was this close to me. Finally after a couple of days we learned what had happened to her, her pancreas had failed. The pancreas the only organ that you cannot have replaced and the main organ that supports the insulin flow in your blood stream and keeps you alive. After finding out why it just made me more and more angry, I couldn’t understand why such as good women like her could die of something like that. She was healthy why her why so suddenly. Those questions were never answered. All I know is that God must have really needed another angel. Aunt Chrystal created memories that I will never forget and that have changed my life in the best possible way. Not only did her memories change my life so did her passing, it was the most tragic change that has happened so suddenly in my life. She was their one day and gone the next. It felt unreal because I had just been with her the Wednesday before she passed away. We had hung out all day, just me and Aunt Chrystal that was a memory that I will never forget. That is the last memory and the last time I ever talked to my Aunt, she was my role model and a woman that changed my life. I will forever miss her until I see her again. “ Yeah, when I get where I’m going, There’ll be only happy tears , I’ll shed the sins and struggles , I have carried all these years, And I’ll leave my heart wide open , I will love and have no fear, Yeah when I get where I’m going , Don’t cry for me down here.” (Brad Paisley & Dolly Parton) Part 2 Ashton Chaney
i like how you opened and closed your essay with quotes. we all are afraid of change and comfortable in our comfort zone, but the comes a time when we have no choice and there is no turning back. There are always questions that can't be answered when someone good passes away, like "why now?", "why her?", especially someone we are use to. Incredible story loved it.
There’s a lot to be said for the power of adrenaline. Some people find adrenaline when bungee jumping or sky-diving. Others find adrenaline in those last 20 seconds of the match when all the pressure is on them, all eyes on them, everyone eagerly anticipating those final moments of truth. I find adrenaline as I lace up my cleats, mentally and physically preparing for the game. I find adrenaline as I step on the field and get lost in the game, lost in the feel of the ball at my feet. When you’re on an adrenaline high, you’re faster, stronger, smarter, and more in-tune than your opponent. Nothing can faze you, nothing can touch you. Trust me, there’s a lot to be said for the power of adrenaline.
The struggle comes when adrenaline is no longer enough to cover the pain, the fatigue, the lack of strength. For 8 months I played with a torn labrum in my hip. For 3 months I played off adrenaline. Sure, it would hurt but as soon as I got into the game the pain faded away and I just could focus on each touch, each tackle. Being injured didn’t faze me, it’s part of being an athlete. After a few months though, a sharp, stabbing pain began to seep its way through the haze of adrenaline and into my game. Shortly thereafter, I started taking an Advil (or two) before the game, after the game, during the day, whenever the pain resurrected. It was scary how much I began to rely on pain killers, so I pretended not to notice. I didn’t think twice about taking them, anything to stop the pain. I swore that ice could heal anything as it placated my pain. Briefly. Ice relieved the pain briefly. Those cold, numbing cubes became my new best friend, and with Advil of course.
Adrenaline. Advil. Ice. Combined, those three things bought me another few months. I could still play the game I love and I could continue the only life I knew. Sure, I felt some pain when they wore off, but I was fine. I was fine. I just wouldn’t run track this year, I didn’t like it that much anyway. There was no reason to stop playing. Physical therapy didn’t work; I tried that. Surgery wasn’t an option, not when I was still able to play. So I was fine. Honestly, nothing was going to stop me from playing. I felt invincible when I had the ball at my feet and my teammates protecting me back; it only made sense that I thought my body to be invincible as well.
Those three magical things, they only served to put a Band-Aid on the physical pain. The thing that lingered, that ate me inside, was mental, but I admitted that to only the ones who knew me better than they know themselves. As much as I wanted to believe that I was fine and they were wrong, worry and doubt crept into my mind. I wondered if I was good enough. I started to feel less than up to par, out of place and undeserving, on the field with such elite players. In fear I pushed harder, trained more, and ignored the voices of reason. 10 more shots, 15 more crosses, 20 more sprints. Of course my “cure” only led to more ice, more Advil, but I was fine.
Except maybe I wasn’t. The semi-finals of State Cup were close. I just had to make it a few more weeks and I could rest. Except the adrenaline, that adrenaline that kept me going for so long, I didn’t feel it any more. When I laced up my cleats and stepped on the field all I felt was dread. I dreaded playing. I dreaded everything. I knew it would hurt. Every step and every shot and every pass and every run and every single thing I did, would bring pain. The sweet power of adrenaline that carried me in its’ arms for months wasn’t enough. That’s when I made my choice. The truth I had been evading for so long, it caught up to me and now it was time to face it.
The week after the semi-finals I went to see a hip specialist to get some MRIs done and figure out how to fix it, fix me. I diligently sat the allotted 6 weeks out. I didn’t touch a ball, I didn’t lace up my cleats, I didn’t even protest that much. Yet the pain was still there, dully throbbing in the background of my body, prone to sudden and unexplainable flares of anger much like a high school girl. At the end of the 6 weeks I faced the truth that had building in me for 10 months now; I needed surgery. I wouldn’t play for another 6-8 months, 5 at best.
What no one seems to understand is that the pain doesn’t fade away with surgery, it merely shifts. The physical pain intensifies the first few weeks after surgery and then it slowly begins to heal with a lot of PT and not to mention the sudden unexpected flare ups. What takes place of the physical pain is stronger; it cuts deeper than any surgical knife ever could. The thing is, when I was playing with the pain, I was playing. I was playing. Sitting on the bench, powerless to help your team, powerless to dictate the game like you once did, powerless to everything it seems like hurts like hell. The beautiful escape the field used to give me was taken from me, swiftly and abruptly. It’s hard to explain how scary it is to lose the thing you love, to lose the one thing that kept you grounded. I clung hard to those around me because soccer, the one thing that never failed me, was no longer an option.
Even now when I’m back on the field playing, slowly learning to love the game again, the same question lingers. Did I make the right choice all those months back? Should I have gone to the doctor when I first felt the pain? Or maybe when the adrenaline wore off and the pain began to linger? Should I even be playing now? Is this what I love? Every single day I chose to evade the inevitable. I chose to stick to what I knew, what I loved, instead of listening to those who knew more. Yes, I have my happy ending. I’m on the field playing, my body took surgery well and I came back fast. I’ll never know if I could’ve avoided surgery by going in when it first began. I’ll never know what the right choice was. I’ll never know, but I find it’s best not to focus on questions with answers I’ll never find. I just take one day at a time and hope I make the “right” choice this time around. There’s a lot to be said for adrenaline but there’s also a lot to be said for facing the truth.
Once upon a time, there was a little innocent girl, probably in the second grade, around 7 or 8 years old. She was a sweet, obedient, pleasant little child. In these early moments of her life, her and her sisters were staying with her dad and celebrating Christmas with him. Now, she absolutely loved Christmas. She loved the ideas of presents and families and sweets and snow. She still believed in Santa Claus, still adored Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman.
Her sisters off playing, she was left alone in the living room with her dad. They were having a casual conversation when he brought up Santa Claus. He asked “Do you still believe in Santa, Darb?” This is when he lifted up his foot. Of course, the remark went right over the little girls head, and the little girl replied with a why-would-you-even-ask-that-question look and a “Yes, Daddy” Her Dad got a little smirk on his face and said, “He’s not real honey…” That’s when he shoved his foot in his mouth. The young child had heard the rumors about this tragic misunderstanding, but she never even considered believing in them. I mean, you have to believe in Santa in order for him to be real, right? But why would your dad tell you this, I mean if he does buy the presents and put them under the tree then wouldn’t he definitely know if this ‘Santa’ thing is real or not? She was shocked at this random outburst of crazy talk from her Dad, and zoned out as he continued to explain Santa’s lack of existence, and her parents’ part in Santa’s role. I will never really understand what brought him to tell me this, I mean I was a child. Still young, naïve, pure, there was no reason for such an early disappointment.
Later on, I considered asking my mom about the validity of my father’s accusations, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She believed that I believed, and I honestly did want to believe, but I now had too many doubts. I think that my mom, just this past year or two, finally realized that I knew Santa wasn’t real. Even now, I would still love for Santa Claus to be a real thing. He brings so much happiness, hope, and faith to everyone; I don’t understand why someone would start this tradition just to get everyone’s hopes up.
To most high school kids now, Santa Claus is nothing but a far off childhood story, stored and packaged away in the back of our brains. To me, the realization of Santa Claus’s non-existence was kind of my first reality check. It is a lie, even if the concept only has good intentions. I am a Christian, and Christians typically categorize lying in the sin category, and teach children that lying is never okay. Why then, exactly, do we tell this dream-crushing lie to all of our children? Why not bring families closer together and just tell them that the gifts are from you? Better yet, why don’t we just celebrate without any gifts? Just appreciate the time we have with our family and celebrate Jesus’ birth (or Hanukkah or any other beliefs you honor during the holiday season).
Anyways, back to my reality check. I guess what I’m trying to say is that although this experience was unavoidable, I kind of wish that it had never happened. It’d be nice to still have those childish beliefs and that trouble-free lifestyle. Realizing Santa Claus wasn’t real wasn’t just realizing that Santa Claus wasn't real. It was more like realizing that there is a much bigger picture. There is a whole big earth out there, with more problems than can be named; there are millions-no billions of other people out there, also with more problems than can be named. I can no longer say that I am naïve, young, or innocent. I am aware of the bad things in life.
Once upon a time, a child grew up... and stopped believing in Santa Claus.
Part 1 Schools in Cameroon, Africa, stereotypically are smaller, accommodating large numbers of students, less furnished (mostly public schools), which limits teacher-student interaction. Even though the students have the zeal to learn and acquire the little knowledge they can get, is hard because the teachers are not well paid and don’t see the need to put in as much effort. To make this even better it is not required to go school, so those students who feel they aren’t learning don’t go to school, but instead find a “job”. Schools still used chalk board and every school has its own uniform, which every student has to wear. Very few and competitive scholarship awards, most schools don’t have computers, which affected me, as I didn’t learn how to type until I was ten. I was blessed to have gone to a private, which is not a whole great, but better. It’s amazing how contented I was and most others, though doing all we could and hoping for the better. My dream has always been to pediatrician, I knew it was going to be hard to get a job after school (as is often the case), but I still hold on to that dream.
It was a cold winter evening, 5:40 PM 0n Wednesday, October 26th 2011, when I arrived the United States of America, Lexington, Kentucky to be specific from Yaoundé Cameroon, Africa. I was in form five, which is freshmen year in America. I didn’t start that academic year, because I was soon leaving for the U.S. I went to a bordering school; an average student, didn’t care about so much. Two days before I had to leave for the U.S., I went about my city, saying farewell to all my family and love ones; it was very hard, I couldn’t control my eyes from oozing out as a waterfall. We had already given our house away and almost all of our belongings; spending the last two days at my aunt’s place. The next day we had to pack all what we were leaving with. Almost all of my family member traveled in, to see my mom and I off the next night. It didn’t hit me yet that I was leaving the place and the people I had known all my life, for one I had no imagination of, which was a scary feeling.
The day and time had come for my mom and I to go catch I flight, we said our prayers and drove to the airport. Everyone was there, that was my last time of seeing my whole family. I kept trying to say something to each of them, for the last time, face-to-face, but I was speechless and trying not to cry a lot. My mom and I gave our last hugs and kisses, waving and going to get checked and board the plane. That was my first time on a plane, which was a scary feeling. When we reached, we were picked up at the airport by my mom’s friend, which we lived with for a little. It was so different; the time difference of 5 hours backwards from what I was used to, which made it hard for me to take naps. The food too was new to me, but I ventured everyone I came across. I spoke both English and French as official languages back home, but what I heard was unlike like that. It took me some time to be able to understand and calculate the money currency.
On October 31st 2011, was when I first experienced the “American system” of school, I knew it was going to be as hard as a rock, since I was a shy and quiet person and I didn’t know anyone. New World, New School. It was unusual; as the students had to move from class to class, while I was use to the teacher moving from class to class while the students say put in one class, and also because different grades could take the same classes. I made 5 friends on my first day in school, which was impressive. My name was and still is so hard for people to pronounce. The day was so long and I keep having migraines the first few weeks. I dislike when people would say “what did you say?” when I said something, I knew I was would have to get used to it. Every year as I get more familiar with the environment and the people around me, I feel like I open up my shell more.
It was a big change for me and my mom too, but we keep learning something new every day. I Know it might sound like I missed out on a lot, but I’m trying to catch up gradually. I have made and still making a lot of friends now and adapted, but not fully to the climate. Even though I miss my family and hope to see them soon, I don’t regret the change I made; but hope to dare greatly and get out of my comfort zone more.
I sit in my desk, my hands clenched into fists, sweat gathering on my palms. A student is finishing up a spectacular presentation, and I do not envy the person who has to follow it up. Even as I am thinking this and the rest of the class is clapping for the student, I hear the teacher call across the room, "Will, you're next." I freeze. I have a sick feeling in my stomach. My throat feels constricted; I don't know if I'll be able to talk. The teacher calls for me again, more forcefully, assuming that I hadn't heard my name the first time. "Will, it's your turn." With those words, my trance is broken. I slowly get to my feet and walk to the front of the classroom. Now the trembling begins. I hope that the rest of the class can't see my paper shaking in my hands. I look out at the other students, to see if they have noticed.
That was a mistake.
Now I am flooded with a hundred worrisome thoughts. Are they judging me? What will they think of my presentation? They'll probably think that it's idiotic, stupid, boring, pointless. What if I mess up? Will they laugh at me? Or will they not even care? Is my presentation so boring that they won't even listen? Will I just end up putting them to sleep? All of these thoughts and more come into my head in a split second. But I know I have to give this presentation. It is for a grade, after all.
I begin speaking. "I read the book..." is what I'm trying to say, but I'm mumbling, so all they hear is, "Irethook...". The teacher interrupts me and curtly says, "Speak up." I stop, look at the teacher, and nod. I start again, louder, but now I'm rambling, talking faster and faster and I just want to get it over with so I can sit down and not feel like I'm being judged or like I'm doing a horrible job and that I'm boring and I can't think about anything but how I must sound so stupid and helpless and how I keep messing up and everything is just going wrong and I just really want it to be over... And then, as suddenly as it started, it was finished. I look back out at the class, and I hear nothing, I see no reactions. Does that mean that it was boring? It was horrible, wasn't it? It was idiotic and stupid and boring and pointless. But then I hear clapping, and I let out the breath that I have been holding all this time without even realizing it. I walk back to my desk and sit down, glad that I'm finished.
But it's not over.
Now I start berating myself. Why was I so nervous? I should have talked more slowly, been more confident in myself. And why do I worry about whether or not people will judge me? I have no right to think that they will take time out of their lives to focus on my shortcomings or mistakes. Why would they care? I'm not that important to everyone. I shouldn't be so conceited, to think that people will pay attention to every move that I make and judge me for it. Then I hear someone tell me, "Good job." I thank them, but on the inside, I'm wondering why they felt the need to tell me that. Was my presentation really that terrible? Do I emit this vibe, like I'm this wounded animal that needs to be cared for and consoled? I keep thinking these things over and over, until the bell rings. But when I leave the classroom, these thoughts follow me. They periodically come to the front of my mind throughout the day, and I can't seem to get rid of them. It becomes harder and harder for me to focus on my other classes; I'm too worried about one insignificant presentation. A miniscule moment in my life has me so unnerved, so frightened...
Even now as I'm writing this blog post, I wonder what people will think of it. I don't know why I've always been so nervous in front of people, or why I worry about their opinions of me. Maybe it's because I am not very self-confident. Perhaps it's because I'm not good at opening up to others and sharing my own opinions, and that affects other aspects of my life. Either way, this is a challenge that I still face. I have gotten a little better about dealing with it, though. I've learned not to worry so much; I've realized that I need to focus on making myself into who I want to be, not who others think I should be. I think I'm finally starting to gain more confidence in myself and my abilities as well, and that has helped me tremendously. I'm not as afraid to say what I think, although I do still freeze sometimes when I'm asked a question or giving a presentation. I think part of my growth has also come from coming to public school. At Good Shepherd, we had twenty-seven students in our whole eighth grade. This meant that we spent much more time with the same people, so I was afraid that they were all the more likely to judge me. Now, in high school, there are so many different people, all with their diverse opinions and outlooks on life. The diversity at Western Hills has really made me want to be my own person as well. I'm still not quite as outgoing and comfortable as I'd like to be, but by meeting new people and experiencing new points of view, I'm slowly finding my way there.
Elementary school was a breeze for me, didn’t get on the Academic Team? No problem, you can work the computer. Forgot your homework at school? Don’t worry, you can see theirs. Forgot your lunch money? Just take use their account. Don’t want to walk up the driveway alone? Don’t worry there’s 3 of you. This was elementary school, I was called both Harper and sometimes Keenan, I could switch seats and the teacher wouldn’t know the difference. The transition from elementary school to middle is an exciting time; you get to wake up later, ride a different bus, and just be somewhere new for the next three years of your life. My first day of middle school was probably the second scariest day of my life. Imagine, you have spent your whole life, with two other people, your family, every class, every lunch, every after school activity. The whole 9 yards. On my first day of middle school I was without my lifeline, my support. When I got my schedule I remember thinking this isn’t that bad, and then, I compared it to theirs, my siblings. At first I thought yay this will be fun, I’ll make my own friends, have my own classes and my own homework. That “yay” was not the case. I walked into the theatre on that fateful day and realized that I was scared to death. I sat down in Mrs. Stewart’s row dreading the day ahead. We walked to our first class, quiet and shy. I remember this teacher, at the back to school bash, she and another teacher (Mrs. Fryman) argued who had the best triplet, Keenan or MacKenzie? Did it even really matter? Neither of the teachers had talked to us for more than five minutes, but was determined that one was ultimately better than the other.
Part 2 Having recalled that memory, I felt a little more comfortable, maybe I was the best, a least in her eyes I was. When the first bell rang, walking into the hallway I’ll admit to scanning for their faces, and hoping that somehow they would get changed into my next class. Mrs. Crask, Mr. Shepard, Mrs. Fryman. Zip. Zilch. Nada. No siblings in there. When lunch approached I was sure to see them. They weren’t at my lunch table, or any one close to it, Harper absorbed talking to her new and old friends at the third table, and Keenan surrounded by the guys at the 8th table. I had a seemingly perfect view of each of them, near the middle of the room, on the aisle. I watched them attentively hoping to catch their eyes, a sense of recognition, a sense of desperation and confusion. Anything. But alas nothing, nothing but smiling faces and ignorance of their forgotten sister, the one they had no clue who needed them. I moped my way through the rest of lunch, and walked grudgingly back to class. After the 4th bell, we were free to go to enrichment. I rushed out of my classroom, standing in the middle of the hallway like a kid lost in the store. Looking for a familiar face, I looked up the hall, and harper was escaping with Keenan up the ramp and away from me. I frantically tried to catch up, but they were gone. I had lost my chance to talk to them, to see how they were coping. I finished off my day in silence. Contemplating the horribly tragedy middle school seemed to be, and how could the others before me gotten it so wrong. I was utterly alone; how they could have left me behind, not telling me they were moving on. Words cannot describe how abandoned I felt, how helpless that first day was for me. I had them with me every step of the way and all the sudden they were gone. I never did ask them how those first few days were for them, maybe they were feeling the same insecurities that I was, I can’t say I was never tempted to ask, but at the same time. Maybe I don’t want to know; maybe I could be content and stop worrying about them and how we compare for once in my life. Middle school helped me to realize that you never really know the good things you have until they are gone. Those are exactly what they were and still are; good things. That first day of middle school was a big change for me as well as a challenge. I’ve grown as a person because of that first day, which subsequently was a first of a lot of firsts. I became involved in agriculture, I ran all alone on the cross country team, I joined the basketball team and started to become the person I am today. I’ve come to realize that I made myself so different from them, willingly distancing myself from them as well as their activities and came to realize who I was as a person. I became my OWN individual. I became MacKenzie Jones. A triplet; but not one of the triplets.
About 55% of people play sports in high school. Well, I used to be a part of that statistic. I have been an avid sports fan all my life. Sports used to be to me. Throughout my elementary and middle school years I had all the fun in the world. Then high school came around and sports weren’t all that they used to be. Sports for me used to be about social aspects and just having fun. When you hit high school it’s just competition and competition and more competition.
I use to be a huge lover of playing basketball. Basketball was life, everything involved me and basketball. In fact, I won the state championship free throw competition in 2011. Sports have been huge through school, as I have played for Bondurant's basketball team every single year, and played for Hill's team my freshman year. I used to constantly practice outside and at the gym as many chances as I could. I made many friendships throughout these years and wouldn’t trade them for anything.
Sports are supposed to be fun. That is the exact opposite of what I was feeling after middle school. We obsess over sports too much, and don't enjoy them anymore. We take them way too seriously. For example, I used to always see parents fight over the games. Like honestly, this is just a game, Your children are just trying to have fun. Not to mention, all sports are is politics anymore. Whoever knows someone that is in the hierarchy of the sport makes the team. People are just too worried about sports when they are our age. I mean come on, where is a sport going to get you unless you’re just somehow spectacular at your sport, and at Hills, that usually doesn’t happen.
My life with sports were full of stress, always wanting to be better than someone else, always wanting to be the best at everything involved with the sport. I have met a happy state in my life at this point. No sports have made my life very calm and a lot happier. But with this being said, I feel like not playing a sport in high school dissociates you with others. I feel people don't feel as highly of you if you don't play a sport. Don't get me wrong, I could care less, but I know that others do. I honestly think this should not be happening, considering how happy I am without playing sports. Sports are a happy time in middle school, but in high school it’s all about competition. There is no fun to the sport anymore.
Don't get me wrong, I do still love to play sports for fun and to watch them, but I feel so much happier without playing on a high school team. It filled my life with stress, and envy. This choice that I made ended up making my life better, and I have ended up doing better in school, and I am just a happier person in general. Although sports are huge in today’s society, I think we need to take a step back and look at what is going on in the sports world. Sports are supposed to be about fun in high school, but lately they have been the total opposite of fun. Come on world; let’s make those 55% experience what sports really should be, fun.
Have you ever wished you were out of your parents' house? That they would just leave you be sometimes? Yeah, me too until I realize I really don't have both of my parents. My mom works 10 hours a day then comes home and slaves over the stove for hours to make us happy, while my dad is living with his mother, acting as if he is a sponge sucking all her money from her, selling all of her antiques and all of his kids stuff so he can make a quick buck.
My dad is a chronic crack-cocain and heroin user, and he never wants anything to do with me. I see my father maybe once a week, even when I'm at his house all weekend. He never calls me to tell me he loves me, ask how I'm doing, or even come to a single one of my tennis matches. The only interaction I have with my father is when he's asking me for something or barking orders, and when he doesn't get what he wants, he goes off and separates himself from everyone, making it hard to get through to him. Whenever he gets off of his high, he always takes it out on others, usually me, threatening to take their stuff away, probably to sell it for drug money, or to kick them out of the house he doesn't own nor have any jurisdiction over. He always claims he "never feels good" when I ask him to do stuff with me, not realizing that I know the real truth to why he won't. My past birthday, we were going out to celebrate it with the whole family, and when it came down to the last hour, I caught him getting high off his heroin and then he said he was sick and couldn't. He ended up staying home that day and when he found out that my aunt had taken me instead, he through a fit, saying he was always pitted against and that no one really wanted him. From the time I walk in the doors over there at 4:15 pm on friday after school to when I have to leave Sunday night at 7, I probably have spoken to him once.
So here is my challenge: to help my father better himself so that we don't have to worry about his future. My older sister and two of my aunts have been discussing it lately and we feel that an intervention is what's going to have to happen. In my opinion, though, it's much deeper than what we think. I feel like some time away in an institution or a rehabilitation center would be fantastic. I know my father and I know he won't like being confronted by a big group of people, especially when he's getting called out. He'll say that there's "nothing wrong" with him, that he's "clean".
Honestly, I'm just scared for his future. If he continues on the road he's traveling now, I'm worried he'll end up in a halfway house, over dosing on pills and even worse. My father is a huge part of my life, but if he continues to neglect me, I will refuse to see him until he betters himself.
There are many different topics I could talk about that have changed my life, but there is one in particular that I would like to share with you, which is the divorce of my parents. Now I know this is a very common topic to talk about, but this is the biggest change I’ve had to face in my life so far. Most teenagers whose parents are still together think that a divorce isn’t a huge deal, but they don’t have the feel for what it is actually like.
My whole life growing up, my parents would fight all the time. At least two or three times a week, I would have to listen to them going back and forth. It was usually my dad who would start the arguments. He is a control freak, so if something doesn’t go his way, he snaps which quickly results to him screaming at the top of his lungs. I’m pretty sure he has an anger issue. After a month of nothing but fighting, my dad decided to move out for a month or so to see if he could calm his anger down. Once he was back in the house again, everything seemed as if had resolved itself. They were getting along greatly and he wasn’t yelling at all. I couldn’t be happier with what I was seeing. I would soon figure out that this wouldn’t last forever. Things started to get bad again and before too long, they were as worse as they had ever been. My dad was constantly yelling and we couldn’t seem to find any solution to it so my mom finally decided to take charge.
In the middle of my sixth grade year, my mom decided that she was going to move out, but this time, for good. Of course my dad was not in favor of her choice, but there was nothing he was going to do to stop her. After school one day, they sat down my brother and I to tell us the news. Even though we weren’t shocked, we were still heartbroken. After she moved out, I just felt kind of lost in the world. Moving from house to house every few days was really hard to get used to. I would forget things I needed for school all the time which would make my dad angry that he would have to go back. Every time I went to his house, we would always end up arguing over something stupid. I knew that my dad had just been through a divorce, but I still didn’t think that was the way I needed to be treated. He needed to be there for me just as much as I did for him.
I honestly never thought that my parents would be where they are today. They still rarely talk, but they don’t fight with each other as much anymore. My dad has finally calmed down a little bit, even though he can still have a bit of an anger issue at times. My dad and I have started to get along which is what I’ve been wanting for years. My mom and I never fight which is a relationship that every teenager should have the opportunity for. Since they got a divorce, my life is kind of stressful at times, but so much easier as a whole. I don’t have to listen to constant yelling between my parents and get to come home every day to a great environment. My mom remarried a couple of years ago to a great guy. He treats her great which is exactly what she deserves. I’m glad that my mom met him because she is finally happy, which in fact, makes me happy too. I hope the kids’ whose parents are together stay together because going through a divorce as a teenager is definitely not something you want to see happen. It will change your life dramatically, and not in a good way.
I’m sure that you all could guess right off the bat that I am going to write about soccer. Well duh, it’s my life. When one thing occupies 90% of your life it is very easy to be faced with many changes and challenges. I have many years to look back over to determine a “major change” or challenge. The unique thing about my topic is that it is both a change and a challenge. Here is my story.
I have had a soccer ball at my feet since I could walk. I have played competitively since I was 3. Until recently, I hadn’t noticed my true talent for the game. I have played for many well-known teams around the state of Kentucky, all of which consist of a tryout. AC United, Commonwealth, and LFC have all done amazing things for the development of my game.
All of those seasons, however, I have had very bad, painful, and severe injuries. Ranging from a broken wrist, broken knee, broken ankle, high ankle sprain, and the most recent, a torn hip flexor. Each of these injuries requires me to sit out for AT LEAST 6-8 weeks (maybe not the wrist). That is 6-8 weeks that I am losing that I can spend time practicing and getting myself prepared for my future.
I have had mixed emotions about this scenario. I have considered quitting competitive soccer, playing a different sport, or just sports in general. Did I choose that? Hell No. I took it as motivation and put in the work to make up for those lost months that injury brought upon me. Without the beautiful game, I would be lost in life. That is how you know you are dedicated; if you are willing to fight the battle and get better no matter what.
Personally, I believe that if I had not gotten injured, I would be a much better player. It has completely changed my view on the game, but not my mentality. I am more cautious, but I will continue to work until I make it big. Anything that comes in between me and my game, such as an injury, will only make me push through it and get better.
Currently, I have been invited to play for the River City Rovers, an academy team in Louisville. This club has no tryout. You get scouted and they ask you to come play. When I was invited, I thought to myself, only the best of the best get in, I am going to make a name for myself and play as if I had never been injured at all. Next weekend is my test, as I have already received emails from UNC and Georgetown interested in seeing me play. I am traveling to Florida for a college showcase, where hundreds of coaches will be present. Playing teams from all around the world is going to be very tough. But you all know me, I sure as hell will never let down. I am going to make the coaches notice me, and you all never forget me.
I absolutely love tennis. It's taken over a large part of my life, what with the school season, summer leagues, weekly lessons, and now, even teaching tennis. It's a game that has not only pushed me physically, but tested my mentality. It's challenged me and rewarded me. It's something I honestly never tire of and can always look forward to. Also, I've made some of my best friends through tennis. All in all, it seems as though tennis has been nothing but good to me.
Except.
I remember the moment itself so clearly; I was in the middle of a heated match, and I was winning, feeling good, confident. Then, I went for one awkward shot that had an unfortunate ending. My follow through felt very odd; as my arm twisted and raised itself too high, I felt a sickening pop, and suddenly, my arm felt completely immobilized. It was stuck. I didn't know what I did wrong. I didn't know what to do next. I panicked. Instinctively, I reached my other hand up and pushed my shoulder back down into its socket. A searing pain shot through me as I did so and my entire arm felt limp. What had I done?
Absolute agony followed after that incident. I could hardly move my shoulder for the next several days and most of my free time was spent lying down with an ice pack over my shoulder. Eventually, though, the pain subsided. I was relieved- it seemed like it was nothing, after all. I tried to push the unpleasant memory out of my mind. However, not surprisingly, the same thing happened again, and then again. Three times total so far, I've partially dislocated my shoulder while playing tennis.
I've never been one to go to the doctor at any mere sign of something being wrong, so I was adamant about just toughing it out. But, as the pain and discomfort grew, my mother decided to bring up the subject to my doctor at my next physical. After examining me, my doctor shared the conclusion she had come to: I am a weirdly "double jointed" person, meaning I have lots of hyper-mobile joints throughout my body. Basically, this causes my joints to be much looser than normal, typically resulting in increased flexibility. However, because I work my right shoulder a lot due to playing tennis, I've loosened that joint even further, to the point where my shoulder no longer stays in its socket- a subluxation.
I was referred to physical therapy, where for 2-3 days a week for about three months, I had half hour sessions dedicated to strengthening the muscles in my shoulder to help battle my weak joints and hold my shoulder in place. In addition to that, I had frequent chiropractic appointments, where my chiropractor worked to push my shoulder back in place. I'll admit I was kind of scared, not knowing how this would change me. Amidst all of this, I was suddenly faced with a choice: do I continue playing tennis and risk harming myself further, or do I take the safer, easier alternative and quit altogether?
I don't regret my choice.
I continue to play tennis to this day. Many of you reading this may disagree with my choice, and I can understand that. However, to me, the pros of playing tennis far outweigh the cons. To be honest, it hasn't been easy- even now, I still have to get my shoulder regularly adjusted, I'm physically incapable of moving my arm certain ways, and I have to be careful to not push myself too hard, not reach too far, and not lift things that are too heavy for me. These boundaries go beyond tennis and into daily activities. Also, I have the added frustration of dealing with people who simply don't understand my physical limitations. Despite all of this, I still love the sport and cannot imagine giving up tennis.
I stand by my choice to face the challenge that changed my life. I'm lucky to have had the support of my parents, friends, teammates, and tennis coach throughout this whole ordeal. I've accepted that this a problem that'll never be completely fixed and that I'll have to deal with for the rest of my life, so I might as well make the most of it, right? Tennis is an individual sport that can be played at any age, so I plan I continue playing it for as long as possible. I know my limits and my weaknesses, but I'm learning to be careful and work around them. If anything, this experience has made me stronger rather than weakened me.
Part 1 I’m sure almost everyone can say that they’ve been through a challenge of some sort, had a type of change in their life, or had to sit down and take the time to make a choice. These three things are constantly happening within our lives. I would like to share a something personal that has happened in my life where all three of the “C’s” came into play. Not a lot of people know what I am about to write and I’m sure of you all will be shocked by it too. Here it goes… First, let me explain how people see me. The girl who is very talkative. The girl who doesn’t have any problems. The girl who has it pretty good. The girl who can take people’s jokes but it really does hurt her deep down. The girl who will straight up how it is regardless. Some of those assumptions are right and some are mistaken by many. There has been one constant struggle that I’ve hidden pretty much my entire life. My dad and I haven’t had much of a relationship pretty much my entire life. Yes, my parents are still married and we all live together, but my dad and I never really talk. As a child, all of my good and fun memories are with my mom. As I began to grow up I finally started to understand why my dad and I didn’t have a good relationship, why he was hardly ever there for me. My dad is an alcoholic. He is not physically abusive but more emotionally. Just imagine, someone who is supposed to love you and protect you and raise you into the adult you will be one day calling you worthless, saying they wished they never had you as a daughter. Telling you that you were a mistake. Yes, it hurts more than anyone can ever imagine. That little saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” is total bullshit. Words hurt. I’m pretty sure everyone can agree to that. There have been countless of times where I would believe the things that he has said. I would question things like “Why am I here if he hates me so much? How could my mom let him do this to me? If I am so worthless why am I even alive?” Needless to say I have overcome the struggle of asking myself those questions. Yes, it has affected who I am as a person but it does not define me. It is the reason why I usually keep things all bottled up inside. The reason why it’s hard for me to trust people. The reason I am so hesitant to let people into my life because I’m scared they’re going to just walk out on me whenever it is convenient for them. Most people couldn’t even imagine that this would be going on in my life. I try to be a happy, positive person who always has a smile upon her face. I tend to not share personal things with people because I feel as though I will look weak or be judged. This would be considered the challenge/change I have faced my entire life and I am still facing it to this day. My dad’s problem has obviously made me make various choices. As a teenager I have learned that I cannot let my dad’s problem stop me from being Hannah. I can’t let it stop me from achieving my future goals in my life. I can’t let it determine my future and my life. Statistics do show that alcoholism does indeed run in families. I am not going to let some silly statistic tell me that I am going to one day end up like my father. The biggest and most important choice I have made with this situation is coming to terms with my dad’s problem and accepting it. Very few people know this but I have actually been attending therapy to just have someone different to talk to. No, just because I go and see a therapist doesn’t mean I’m psychotic or anything like that. I just simply have someone else to talk to about my situation other than my mom and various friends who I chose to share with. Learning to accept my dad’s problem and knowing that I can’t stop it no matter how hard I try.
Part 2 Basically, I have been through hell and back in my sixteen years of living. Not going to lie about that. I have finally accepted the fact that you cannot help someone who wants to be helped or change someone who doesn’t want to change. I have realized that his problem is not because of me. Many of times I have questioned if it was. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my dad more than anything. I have begged him countless of times to stop or to try and get help. He says he will but let me tell you, actions DO speak louder than words. He will always be my dad and I cannot change that. Now that I have accepted my dad’s problem, it has lifted a million pound weight off my shoulders. Now I worry about Hannah and Hannah only. I am now focused on only my problems and only my future. My dad’s problem has helped me grow up really fast and face the not so pretty side of reality early in life. Do I think other problems won’t affect me in the future? Heck no. I’m not that naïve. I feel like learning how to deal with this problem, I will be able to deal with problems in my future more maturely.
The change, choice, and challenge that I deal with even today made many differences in my life an in those of peoples' around me. To get the full picture though, I have to take you all way back, back to middle school. That's when things started, and please, blame testosterone. You see, I was an overall nice, bubbly kid. But with puberty came the need to make myself seem like I belonged, and at the same time show that I didn't need anyone. But at the same time, I had friends like Bethany that I stood up for in everything, and she stood up for me. Even when I was, honestly, undeserving. I was just angry all the time, unless I was around her or my family. My thoughts were, are, always jumbled and running into each other like trains on a collision course, and move too fast for me to keep up sometimes. She helped keep me under control, and in check. However, it didn't last; she moved away at the end of 8th grade. So it was just me. Now, everyone knows I'm a weird guy, and so are my friends. But some of them are the nicest, most supportive people you could know, if you give them the time to show you. Quentin especially. Now my change in life, the jumbled thoughts and anger, all poured out into me not holding my tongue. And Quentin, well, he likes to talk as much as I do. He’s a big guy, incredibly random, and says some of the most offensive, strange, and completely hilarious jokes. But he’s my friend, and a good friend at that, and I wouldn’t change a thing about him. You see, I’ve never gotten along with guys at all, but Quentin is just such a goodhearted friend, you wouldn’t be able to help it but want be nice to him. But that wasn’t how I felt two years ago. I would pick on him, call him names, instigate him try to make him mad. I bullied him, basically. I was an asshole. There were times where I said too much, and it made him visibly angry. He never spoke out, not one word against me. I kept egging him on, enjoying angering him in some sick way. And through everything I said to him, he never once said anything back, never got openly angry, never lashed out at me. All he ever did, was be nice to me, and try to make me smile. To be completely honest, I don’t know why I did what I did. But I know one day I took it too far, and caused the chain reaction that made who I am today. Quentin, a group of friends, and I all hanging out in the hallways before school. We were all talking, and Quentin said another one of his far-fetched jokes we’ve never heard of. In response, I said “You need to stop that dude, this is why you can’t get a girlfriend” I deserved to get the daylight knocked out of my self-righteous ass. But he just turned around and walked away. I was actually angry at him, for turning his back on me and walking off. I was told later that I had gone too far by a mutual friend, and I said I didn’t know what they were talking about. They told me what he had said to them, and how he was stressed out, crying, he felt no one wanted him around. I knew I had to talk to him. I sat through the day mulling over my thoughts on the occurrence. I finally decided to talk to Quentin about it. I went to apologize to him later that day, and he explained to me how the stresses of his family life had brought him down, how he’s been feeling lost as of late. I felt horrible, I hated myself. I had to give the guy a hug and just say, “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry. It’s because of the heart inside that man that I wanted a CHANGE in my life, a CHOICE I made on my own, and a CHALLENGE I face every day. He’s one of my closest friends, and even though I can’t tell you why I was that person, I can honestly say I won’t be him again.
Tyler Chapman
I care for everyone in this class, and no one deserves to be treated badly or left alone. Have a merry Christmas guys ^-^
As most of you all may know, I'm on the Western Hills dance team. Every time before I'm about to perform, I look at the crowd sitting in the stands. I see the basketball parents that are at every game, the band parents, the cheer moms, and the dance moms that are at every dance team activity. I also notice those handful of parents that come to every single little game, it even seems like they have their own seat that is reserved for them. Guys— I envy you all that have parents like that.
In my six years of dancing, my parents have never seen me dance — their faces were never present when I looked up and skim the crowd. Not at the 50+ basketball games and football games, not at the 10+ competitions I've competed in since middle school.
It hurts looking out seeing the other dancers have parents that are willing to travel to competitions with us knowing they'll be sitting on the bleachers the whole day.
They're not bad parents by many means, I'm more than blessed. I assume a lot of things comes from where they were raised, Cambodia. After the Khmer Rouge (similar to Holocaust, but Cambodians instead of the Jewish) my parents were raised to work hard and make sure me and my brothers work have a better life than they had. Sometimes I don't realize how lucky I am and don't look at the bigger picture, they came to America with nothing and worked for everything we have now— a beautiful home, being able to provide my two brothers an education at the University of Kentucky and everything in between. My parents have own their own nail salon for 13 years and they didn't understand one word in English while opening up their own business.
Those family days most of you all have with your family— if it was planning a weekend to go out of town, going to pick out a Christmas tree to cut down and put up to decorate that night, I've never had. If my mom goes with me somewhere, my dad has to stay back and manage the salon, vice versa. I schedule my own ACT test dates, my own college visits, I check up on my own grades to keep myself on track, and I find my own rides to games, community service for dance, etc. because if it's busy at work, my parents can't leave and take me. At this teenage age, we often think we're "too cool" to hang around our parents. While you guys can't wait for your mom to get out of your room and stop asking questions, I wish mine would come in and ask how my day was. It's the littlest things in life like that.
I’m struggling guys. I can honestly say that I have faced a challenge when trying to decide on what to write. If you know me, I’m an open book, but I’m not one to get touchy-feely and sensitive and spill my emotions onto a screen as I confess the reasons why I am who I am today. However, I was thinking of that last statement, “the reasons why I am who I am today”, and I think I’ve found my challenge leading to change.
As many of you know, I was pleasantly in a relationship with a young man who I found to not exactly be “my type”. He pushed me in finding out who I really am and what really makes me happy and where I want to go in life and the things I think I might want years down the road. He pushed me in defining parts of myself, parts of my morals, my faith, etc. as he took me to church, family outings, frog-gigging, baseball games, and to my first time shooting a rifle. As we watched Duck Dynasty and listened to country music in his truck and as he begged me to hunt with him. The dooming question that eventually resulted in the end of our relationship was how can we make each other so happy, yet be so different?
Throughout this relationship, I was asked to define parts of myself that I haven’t ventured to do so before. My mind is not one that wanders 10 years into the future; I prefer to live in the present. Thus, a huge challenge for me was competing with his sense of future awareness, and my constant concern with the busy week ahead of me. With this junior year, full of challenging classes, a GSP application, an all-state audition, a pageant, a campaign for an office at a conference, and strenuous extracurriculars, I don’t take a breath to think about my future past college and past an occupational label. He challenged me to define who I am, and I just did not want to be defined.
After the relationship ended, I took a step back to look at my life. What consumed most of it, what I enjoyed doing, where I could possibly see myself in the future. I contemplated things like where my morals originated from, what I really think will happen to me when I pass away, and whether or not I am living the life I want to live. This mere relationship changed me, in ways that I probably wouldn’t have seen if it weren’t for him, so I have nothing but thanks to give.
No, I still have not defined the things he wanted me to, but now attempting to define them for different reasons. I develop morals daily as I have just joined the twitter-sphere and am subject to see contradicting, eye-opening, moral-shaping ideas thrown around. I develop my future plans as I complete my GSP application and take and register for ACT tests. I develop my goals for the future as I narrow down where I want that future to take place, college wise. I develop a sense of what I like and who I want to surround myself with when I graduate as I participate in many things and hang out with friends. Most importantly though, through this challenge and change, I have developed the confidence to say that I don’t need these definite things in my life. Even though I work to define more of myself, I learned to be content and pleased with the person I am without these certainties.
I had unexplained bruises and scars on my knees and elbows in early elementary school but thought nothing of it given I was very active. They continued through elementary and into middle school. We would ask doctors if it was anything to worry about and they didn't seem concerned. It wasn't until I had Mononucleosis in that we realized there was something more to the scars and bruises. Turned out that I have Juvenile Dermatomyositis (JDM) a 3 in 1,000,000 autoimmune disease.
My immune system began fighting off the bacteria from mono which took a few weeks but after getting rid of the mono, never went back to functioning normally. My immune system was still acting like there was something it need to get rid of, but there wasn't. It started eating away at muscle tissue. Soon I was by far the slowest my player on my soccer and couldn't lift my arms over my head. To put a shirt on I would throw it up and catch it on my head then pull it the rest of the way on. I began medication, tests, physical therapy, and my road to recovery during my first couple years in middle school.
During my recovery one of the medications I was on ate a hole in my stomach and almost ruptured my spleen forcing me into emergency surgery. Nothing ruptured and everything ended up being okay. At the time the disease was active in my body I didn't know that it was unsure if I would walk in the future or how long I would even live. It wasn't until I was in remission that I found out. I think that was very important in the process of my recovery, not having a doubt that I wouldn't recover and keeping a positive attitude.
Today I have been in remission for a little over a year. With the help of doctors who diagnosed me and led me on the path to recovery as well as many physical therapists and my rheumatoid arthritis specialist in Louisville who helped me through the medication and continues to check up on me annually. I am now healthier and stronger than I was before and most couldn't tell anything was ever wrong with me. Sometimes I even forget I went through all of it
Sixteen candles on the cake, burning, as you breathe in to prepare yourself to extinguish them. Turning sixteen was a milestone that I had looked forward to ever since I could remember. I built it up in my mind. I believed that this one day, this one birthday in particular, could transform my life. It did bring about a change, one that I never could have expected.
Excitement had filled me as I stood in line at the county clerk’s office, waiting to fill out the necessary paperwork to take the drivers permit test. My legs were shaking as the lady behind the counter asked for two forms of identification. The necessary paperwork was filled out, and my sister and I were told to proceed down the hallway to find the testing room. Having read the drivers manual carefully, I felt confident in my ability to pass the test. I walked into the room and was told to sit down, that I would be taking the vision test now. “Easy”, I thought to myself. My last visit to the eye doctor had given me comfort in this portion of the test as I had left the office with twenty-twenty vision in both eyes. I pressed my head against the bar. Everything was blurry. Something had to be wrong with the machine. I pressed my forehead against the bar with more pressure this time. Nothing changed. I was asked to read the first row. I recited what I saw with caution. What had happened? What had changed in two years? Why was I not able to decipher the letters and numbers? I had to leave the testing room, feeling defeated, as Rachel went on to pass and receive her permit. My mom tried to comfort me by telling me nothing was wrong. Something had to be wrong. I was told that before I could retake my test I would have to get my eyes checked. So an appointment was made.
I arrived at the eye doctor’s office terrified. I was positive that I would leave that building with horrible news. My mind always wanders to the most extreme conclusions, and it had not skipped this opportunity. The appointment started like all the others. I was placed in a room to stare at a wall and describe the letters and numbers I saw. My left eye, like usual, had no problem reading the last row. Then, it was the right eye’s turn. The ease transitioned to struggle. I was only able to read a few lines. It was shocking to see the dramatic difference that covering one eye could make. With my mind creating stories, I felt as if I was going to throw up. The numbing of my eyes came next, which I usually hate, but with everything else that was going on, it seemed like a piece of cake. Sitting in the waiting room, silently, eyes dilated, thinking about how ironic it is that they have magazines laying here, I finally accepted that no matter the outcome, I would have to live with it.
The doctor motioned for us to follow him for an additional examination. He waited until the very end of the appointment to even mention the rapid change that my right eye had gone through. He wasn’t certain but his diagnosis was keratoconus. I listened intently as he described it. “Keratoconus,” he said, “is a disease that affects the shape of the cornea. With this disease, the normal clear, dome shape of the cornea transitions into a thin, cone shape. This causes blurred vision and sensitivity to light. It continues to get gradually worse. At the beginning, its effects can be partially mediated by glasses, but as time goes on it can require a corneal transplant.” Me being the squeamish person that I am, hearing the word transplant caused my heart to skip a beat. Additional testing was needed for a certain diagnosis, but at that time glasses were the answer.
With glasses ordered the next step was specific testing to map my eye. Appointments were set up, tests were completed, and the results were in. Now I had a visual to explain the difference between my left eye and my diseased eye. I had visuals that showed the difference in elevation between an eye with kertoconus and one without. The proof was right there in the red, hourglass shaped regions. This was not the birthday surprise that I had been hoping for. The realization that at some point I may lose the remaining vision in my right eye hit me. I felt numb.
At the age of sixteen I am faced with a change and a challenge that 1 in every 1,500 experience. In these situations there is nothing to do but accept and live your life. I was ready to move on and determined to obtain my driver’s permit. I entered the county clerk’s office with my glasses on. I pressed the bar down and to my relief the blurry images from before were now clear. I received my drivers permit.
Kertoconus will continue to affect me, but I won’t let it confine me.
As you may know I am not a very talkative or loud person, I like to keep to myself unless I know you very well and feel very comfortable around you. I’m not what you would call a “people person” and is that such a bad thing? I’m not going to walk right up to you and be the best of friends with you. I like to figure out what makes you tick and how you approach things before I let my wall down towards you. It takes a while for me to warm up to you, that doesn’t mean I’m going to be rude to you right from the beginning- you’ll just be at arm’s length.
Being a quiet person is not classified as being socially impaired in my book. Rather someone who choses to watch first then do. I want to be social and have friends but at time-yes, I don’t want to constantly be talking to someone or to be the center of attention. I don’t mind people asking “why are you so quiet?”, “why don’t you talk much?”, or “your just a quiet person, I understand” because really if they actually knew me, you would know that I’m a different person than that.
My constant challenge day to day is trying to have a middle ground between a “quiet person” and a “social person." Some people think that if you are a quiet person you automatically don’t have any friends or social skills and this may be true for some people but not for me. It is a struggle for me to have a equal balance between being more vocal and my current personality. I don’t want people to think I’m a stuck up person because I don’t speak to them or I don’t like them. I just don’t at that time have anything in particular to say, so I feel like I shouldn’t say anything at all.
I’d like to right my wrongs to anyone that thinks I don’t like them; I just have trouble with letting people in before I know them.This conflict also applies to my quiet personality, where I don't feel comfortable small talking, let alone listening to your life story. In these situations I find myself uncomfortable at times; my awkwardness paired with my unwillingness to talk probably affects you as well. I do come out of my shell every now and then and I am proud of myself when I do. I admit I am not an easy person to like or to be friends with but is it such a bad thing to only have a few close friends or people rather than a bunch of people who say they are your friends but not really?
I like to think that my personality is almost a defense mechanism that lets me think that I am staying away from the people that will mostly like hurt me or have some sort of that outcome. In reality it’s just a way to hide my real personality from other people. I can truthfully say I act different when I’m with my friends or family than I do at when I’m with my peers.
To overcome this challenge of being an unbalanced person with two different personalities I became involved in many clubs and organizations through my high school years. The most impactful one was being thoroughly involved with FFA, it has truly changed my life in many different ways. Through this I am able to be more vocal of my thoughts and opinions as well as forming new relationships with many people so that I can truly come out of my shell. FFA has not only improved my public speaking skills but also my communication skills towards my peers which in the long run benefits my two sided personality. Becoming a officer of our FFA chapter and participating in Senior Parliamentary Procedures team or Beef Impromptu speaking contests I am guided to many different situations that require me to adapt to a more out going personality.
I don’t want to be known as the “quiet girl” but as the quiet girl that was also social and friendly. Some people may not classify this as a challenge for them but it is for me. I try each and every day to balance my personality rather than being an extreme of one or the other. This may always be a challenge for me but that doesn’t mean it should hold me back from being who I am. Bailey Bishop
PART 1 To some my story may not seem like much, to others, it's just as important to them as it is to me. It's a serious matter and stressful; sometimes more than others but the thought never leaves my mind, ever.
We've all been there more than once and for some of us its our least favorite time of the year (aside from finals of course, these past two days were horrid). Then you have me, the one who gets a migraine just hearing the words "grow up" then it gets even worse hearing the full dreadful sentence that I'm always expecting but never prepared for "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I could get sick at how overly used this question is but I could die knowing that I myself don't know what my exact answer is.
I remember it being such a simple, fun question that empowered me and gave me a drive of believing I could be anything I wanted to be every time I answered it, well you know what there are limits; I can't be a princess now can I? Didn't think so. Though now feeling the pressure to answer it belittles me every time it's asked. It strikes with a strong winding wind of fear into me, it worries me, it devastates me. Telling this story the last thing I care to hear is "it's just a question". Well so be it. That question easily runs my life it could "make or brake me" to say. This question is bigger than anything I face currently, this question will define me when I submit my final answer; which will have to be given very soon being a high school junior and that strikes terror in me in the blink of an eye.
It's so crazy how much this question disturbs me on the daily, relentlessly. You would never think those words, one question could have so much power over you and never let up because it's not exactly what I like to call poetry. You would think I could get rid of it, or shove it to the back of my mind but I can't. This question, those words, control me. This question, these 10 words can run my life without hesitation whether answered sufficiently or not. And the worst part for me is that I need my final answer by next year. The time for explorations on careers is near end and I'm still in a maze.
I don't take many things to seriously or care to much about anything which has now come to backfire at me. I wish for the sake of me and my health I would have known before. I wish I could go back and get serious more rapidly. Then maybe it wouldn't be such a heart attack for me this year. Though now I'm having more health problems than ever I know there was a way I could of tried and prevented this, pace it all out instead of pushing it all back and now having it all flow out at once.
I don't think I've ever shared this with anyone but immediate family and close friends because it's a big stress reminder itself. I have benign tremors (essential tremor[s]) it's the most common forms of abnormal tremors for many ages over 25-30. It's very embarrassing and obviously noticeable most of the time, It's caused by stress and my stress is caused by overthinking things which is what happens anytime my mind wanders off. The tremors cannot be treated on me correctly because there is no medication for my age range whereas it's uncommon for people my age. It's not to bad unless it goes on for over a few seconds, then it starts to send me a really sharp pain. My hands start to shake uncontrollably I can rarely do anything but cry or just space out. Luckily, it happens seldom in class but when it does I try to make the shaking shift down to my legs, I still space out but many of us do in class and many of us shake our legs so I never have to make a big scene unless I lose control which has only happened once and scared my Mom to death. Though once it's over I come to the realization of how overly stressed I am. Terrible cycle, right? -Kendra Harris
PART 2 It's happened more than ever this year but I know the reason, I played around these past two years and seeing my run is almost up I know I have to get it all together though from the point I'm at and the time I have left I need to speed it up.
But maybe some thing's will never change. Maybe when I get my career going and after working for 20 years I'll still wonder if it's for me. So I guess the worries for me will never go away, and as for my mind with it's overthinking I suppose it will never rest.
Going back through the time line of my life, my split family connects to so many dashes. Growing up, my father would threaten leaving again and again, fulfilling his words on multiple occasions. At age six, I remember that pattern of threatening, returning, and then threatening again ended with a divorce. From then on, my life changed even more. Joint custody where my two sisters and I had to switch back and forth every other day and weekend influenced everything I did and shaped my character. My stepmom and half-brother came along shortly after altering my life even more. These changes, like blocks, kept building off each other and resulted in a character that I am proud of.
This all started when my small first grade mind had to try and comprehend why my mommy and daddy wouldn’t live with each other anymore and why I had to continuously switch from house to house. I was lucky to have my two sisters as a backbone to help me adjust, but it still seemed hectic and confusing. Being passed off between houses, I had a hard time keeping up with my things. If I left something at my dad’s house, like my glasses or some homework, I couldn’t get it back until his next designated day. For any of you who wear glasses or contacts, you probably know the kind of headache you get for not wearing them for a day or two. I had to become organized and less forgetful. This was a lesson I learned fast. If I forgot to bring something from house to house, I would have to live without it until I got the opportunity to retrieve it.
I finally saw the divorce as final when my dad proposed to Missy. They got married a few years after my parent’s separation. I don’t really remember my reaction to getting a new stepmom but I remember being at the small ceremony that created a new family dynamic. Missy wasn’t the only acquired family member. Jeff has been part of my life since third grade, and always knows what to say to make my day better. My little brother came shortly after. I was ecstatic to be getting a little brother. I remember watching Jacob as a baby. I remember going to the hospital and getting to hold him for the first time. He was so small and cute with little chubby cheeks. I tried to be careful not to break him. The memories of watching or helping your little siblings grow up is what makes having a younger sibling so great, even though there was a stinky diaper or two. It’s hard to imagine that if my parents didn’t split up, Jacob wouldn’t be here.
I started participating in dance classes at a young age and continued on for many years until our schedules just got too hectic. Having to switch back and forth made it difficult to do activities. If I wanted to take a class that was on my dad’s night, I wouldn’t get the chance to dance that year. Having to commute between Frankfort and Versailles, later Frankfort and Lawrenceburg, made scheduling hard. Neither of my parents wanted to give up their precious time with the three of us. As time progressed we figured out a schedule that worked more efficiently, giving us the opportunity to do more activities.
Remembering whose holiday is whose and keeping schedules straight are difficult, especially with my sisters and I being the messengers between my mom and dad. Divorce and joint custody has its ups and downs, but it resulted in some personal growth. I have become more organized throughout this experience, especially having to keep schedules straight and having to keep up with my things. Through the divorce, I have gained so many new people that care about me. I have also had the joy of watching my now 7 year old brother grow up. I learned what my priorities are, especially when I have to coordinate my schedule with both parts of my family. I may not get to do everything I want, but I make time for the most important people in my life.
I knew I would be a lifeguard at Juniper Hills ever since about sixth grade and started working there last summer. I swam for about 9 years and was already certified besides the pay was good for my first job. The only thing I was really concerned with was trying not to get sunburnt too bad, too many times. Most guards go their entire career without having to jump in to save someone. Some jumped in to help kids to the edge of the pool if they couldn't make it. It was never too extreme. They would fill out an incident report and the day would continue. It was my first year as a guard, what was the chance that I would have to jump in? The job was simple, until it wasn't. I remember the build up to seeing the girl all too clearly. I just finished telling some young boys not to flip into the pool from the three foot, I started to scan the pool just like we are trained to do. When I saw her my heart vaporized. She was floating on the surface of the pool, arms in front of her head. At first I panicked, then I told myself to calm down, I had seen kids do it at least fifty times before, the dreaded “dead man float” that the guards loathe because we never know if they are faking or not. Children will put their face in the water to blow bubbles and look at the bottom of the pool. If I waited a few more seconds she would come up, but that icky feeling in my stomach didn’t leave. I waited for what felt like an eternity, but at that point adrenaline had replaced my blood. Time felt like it was moving so slow from that point when in fact it all happened ing a matter of two or three minutes. I stood and blew the whistle as loud as I could. I heard it echo around for just a moment. The entire pool turn around and looked at me in horror. I would like to tell you I swooped down from the chair, seized the guard tube from the chair, and flew to her like the superhero I wish I was. But I didn’t. I stumbled from the chair, seemed to play tug o’ war with the chair over the guard tube, and jumped into the water. When I got to her I threw her over the tube and went back to find everyone surrounding us. Anger and fear erupted from me. These people were in the way and I couldn’t have that. I started yelling, “EVERYBODY GET BACK!” And they parted like the red sea. I turned the girl around and put her hands up for a fellow guard and her day care teacher to get her out of the pool. When we got her out of the pool. I called Kirsten who yelling at someone to call 911 the poor guy couldn’t get through the mass of people, “I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU AREN’T RUNNING RIGHT NOW!” I remember her saying. Not gonna lie, I yelled at a lot of little kids that day. “EVERYONE MOVE!” when they did the guard did run. Kirsten then came over to me, took her pulse and check for breathing. I didn’t need to, she was already blue, most of the guards thought she was already dead. For some reason I didn’t, my mind was running fast but that thought didn’t turn up. Then the wailing started, tens of kids just started bawling, and in that moment I wanted to do the same. If she died it would all be on me. “No,” I thought, “I’m not living with that for the rest of my life. God, if you have taken her, you are going to give her back. She is young, she has so much to live for, I can’t be the reason that she doesn’t.” Kirsten walked over to me, I didn’t even ask if she showed signs of life, I pointed to her, “Chest compressions.” I said. Then to myself, “Breathing.” She nodded her head and we went to work.
Someone brought me a breathing mask, and Kirsten began compressing her chest. After the appropriate number of chest compressions I attempted to do rescue breaths but she started vomiting into the mask. I couldn’t continue doing that otherwise I would force her to choke on her own vomit. So I took off the mask and started sweeping the vomit from her mouth. Kirsten continued doing chest compressions and I was wondering where on heaven and earth the ambulance was. Our manager, Mrs. Caldwell, came up and helped us revive her. I started yelling at the young girl, trying to call her back into the world. The day care teacher was saying “Come on Hannah! It’s your birthday! You are seven today!” That shattered my heart. Wouldn’t that be ironic? On the same day she came into the world she leaves it. I was really getting sick and tired of the irony of the situation, I was substituting for someone, that’s why I was there that day; It was Kirsten’s first day back at the pool; It was the girl’s 7th birthday, the number of completeness. At that point my mind was playing elevator music because I sure wasn’t there. Everything I was doing was like a heartbeat. You don’t mean to do it you just do, even when you take the heart from the body it still beats. The sirens brought me back and I thanked God in heaven when I heard them. Then she took a breath and her eyes fluttered open. It was like she was a machine turning back on after being dead. I took a deep breath and realized I hadn’t for a while. A few seconds later, an EMT came running in, took her in his arms, and just as quickly was gone. Me, Kirsten, and Mrs. Caldwell got to our feet and just stood there for a while. Every part of my body ached, my back my knees, my legs had fallen asleep at some point during the commotion. The guards came up to us and consulted with us about the ordeal. We were swapping stories and saying what was going through our minds at the moment. People were hugging me thanking me and I was just thankful that we got a happy ending. I started to go into shock, I was shaking and got really cold. Kirsten and I went to the bathroom to wash our hands and a woman came in telling us that the police were wanting to know what happened. We went out there and told the story, then the hospital called wanting to know how long she was unconscious, I told them as best as I could, they told me she was fine, that she was breathing before she got into the ambulance. Kirsten gave me a long sleeve shirt since I was freezing and when it all settled down, we went and filled out an incident report. When that was done, we sat at the guard table. The pool decided to close for the day, but there was a party that night so they were going to bring in some guards for that. I can’t count the number of hugs I got that day, or the ones I gave out. Fact is I just wanted to be held and told everything was alright. People were shocked when they found out it was me. My blood family and church family were amazed at the strength I showed. People asked me if I was there when it happened and I would shyly say I was the one that got her out of the water. This incident in my life was all three of these. It was a change, a turning point in my life. Kirsten and I got a lot of recognition for it. It is the most important thing that has ever happened to me. It was a challenge that got thrust upon me. I wasn’t sure if I could deliver this young back to the land of the living when she was floating in between it and whatever you want to think you go to when you die, I like to think heaven. I like to think that God had it all planned out, that she had unfinished business here that He wanted her to carry out. It was my choice to not give up when everyone thought she was gone.
Being compared to your older siblings is a challenge for most of us, I'm sure. I'm the same way, except that it's the opposite of what people normally think when I say that "I don't want to be compared to my older brother."
My older brother barely graduated high school, passing in many classes with a D. He's smart, but due to multiple family issues that were happening a couple years ago that I care not to disclose back when he was in high school and I was in middle school, he ended up not caring about his future. He dropped his clubs, including band and some sport that I don't care much about to list, and focused purely on video games. He even had a child with his old significant other, although he won't say that the child is his because he's in denial. I'm not proud of that, but I do love my niece and am glad that he made those mistakes happen that got her here when he was younger. He then began living with my father, who stays at home to work and never had any reason to go outside unless it was to take the animals outside or buy food, and did nothing but sleep and play video games. He was slowly throwing his life away until recently, when he moved out and got his own apartment to live in thanks to help from my mother.
Obviously I'm not proud of my male family members - I've probably been outside more this week than my father has, if you don't consider the animals in this equation, and most likely even my brother. My mother still favours him over me in all aspects, besides the fact that I "am better to shop for", and barely has a moment where she's not talking about him. However, she does know when she's going too far, and chides on me to do something with my life. That has gotten me stressed out with all of the homework I have to do everyday because of school, but I'm good with handling stress - pushing it down and pretending it's not there is very helpful and definitely works.
She wants me to consider going to colleges around where she lives, not even considering the fact that she moves around so often. She wants me to do "what I want", as long as it pays well and secures my future. She wants me to have children that I accept, when I know that it will complicate my dream job - my entire future. She wants me to do so many things that I don't want to do, but I'm afraid of saying no and forcing her to give me "that look" and making me feel guilty about doing something that she doesn't approve of.
As I finish writing this, I can now see I added two challenges that I face - being compared to my older brother, and facing my mother. I'm probably never going to tell my mother the truth of exactly what I want to do, and many little things about myself, but the problem will go away with time. Or at least until I graduate high school and start heading off to college. It would be too late to change my mind about a career path by then.
Honestly, the biggest challenge I've had in my life is the balancing act called my life. With so many things going on in my life, it's just as calm as Ms Hill's desk is organized. While every individual part of my life is a challenge, when you put them all together my life is like a never ending wind-up toy.
The first aspect of my life that is difficult to juggle would be my extra-curricular activities. The three main activities that take up m time are archery, academic team and band. Truthfully, archery is something that calms me down and takes me away from the stress of the aspects of my life. However, academic team and band are completely different stories. Both of these activities require so much preparation that I hardly have time for, but it also seems like all of their events conflict with each other. This forces me to constantly choose: band or academic team.
The other main component of my challenging schedule is my course load. With four extremely difficult AP classes (as well as band... more preparation). It wouldn't be very difficult if it was just the classes, but the true killer is the homework. With an average of two hours of homework a day, as well as instrumental practice and voice practice, my average sleep time is about five to six hours a night. Between probable sleep deprivation and the stress of taking four AP classes, I’m even surprised that I’ve been able to stay afloat.
One of the best examples of when all of this stress has taken a toll on me would be just this week. Not only did I have to deal with my normal stresses, but I also had to deal with the stress caused by the deadline for my GSP application and the stress of having six midterms and the setback of being sick. With so much to do and so much to turn in I had to literally work for almost 24 hours a day. The average amount of sleep I got per night this week would probably be close to three hours a night. Sadly, this caused me to become slower and slower the following days, forcing me to stay up longer each night. Also, one thing that I feel fairly bad about is that I often have to put my education before my family; this means that instead of eating a nice family dinner, we often have a quick fast-food dinner, if that.
Many of you are probably wondering why I would still partake in all of these activities and classes if they cause such a gain in stress and loss in sleep. That question would have two fairly simple answers. The first would be that I know that pushing myself now will make it easier for me later down the road. The second answer would be that I wouldn’t have a clue of what to do with myself. Honestly, as I sit here I have a difficult time of coming up with something that I could do in this thing called “free-time”.
If trying to survive with busy my schedule isn’t challenging then I don't know what is. One thing that always goes through my head is that as long as I work hard now, I won’t have to work nearly as hard in the future because I know that every inch helps. My life is like a speeding train that goes nonstop. Even if I derail, I have to find a way to get going again because I know that every inch that I go will help later on down the tracks.
To believe in something is to stand for it even when others are against it and yourself. This belief that we must follow the standards set upon us by those made only for themselves and their beliefs has been weaved tightly into our thoughts since childhood. We learn and lead by example. For some it seems that they were born with the ability to go forth in the world and do what they want. For others it seems they play it safe and follow the straight and narrow, a path that they never want to stray from, a path that they will take to the end, a path that they see only whats in front of them and will continue because that is what they know and only what they want to know.
"Who I Am, Where I'm Goin"
There is nothing wrong with the person that you are. It becomes wrong when you believe and become something you're not. I wish to not do what is the trend only because it is. The solid barriers built to keep me safe from the unknown are crumbling. The dust from the destruction is slowly falling to now silent echo of what once was. Constrictions put upon what is right and wrong and at what time each is qualified, are slipping loose. Sliding to the cold and brutally honest floor of the world around me. Realizations of what I truly want to believe in and consider wrong are pushed to the center. The center where the true me starts.
"Dream on, Dream on, Dream on, Dream Until Your Dreams Come True"
Follow your dreams. This is what we are told we need to do in order to make the unrealistic possible. The three words we want to hear a person say to us. Everyone I believe starts somewhere. The small glimmer of hope in a childs eye that one day they will conquer the world. A dream. A dream that with slightest possibility the smallest wish is possible. The heartbreaking wake-up is when the glimmer of hope starts to dull, dwindling into non-existence. We forget about the dreams and childish fantasies that we so desperately wanted to have happen to us.
"Woah, We Are Strong, No One Can Tell Us We're Wrong"
What happened? The practice of falling into a daily routine becomes the only thing that is practiced. It seems that I feel unable to step out of the confines of the box that surrounds me. The large four walls put in place from the first sighting of The Daily Routine. Constructing itself into a masterpiece. And all great masterpieces have a reason for being built. The foundation of which it stands is that of solid and unmoving beliefs that is my only center. I like to think that what I believe, shapes and defines who I truly am.
"Don't Be Discouraged Oh I Realize It's Hard To Take Courage"
Going after what you want is easier said then done. The push I gave myself to take the leap of faith in the unknowing is an event in my life I won't forget. I fought the restraints of following and looking over my shoulder for others and straining to hear what they thought, that's even if they paid attention to begin with. The shallow thought processes I put myself through to accomplish what I thought I needed, was a very sad existence to be living. I would like to think I'm not the only one that has had this thought.
"It's My Life, It's Now Or Never. I Ain't Gonna Live Forever"
Resolutions are broken every year once they have been set. If I break my promises to myself, then I think it would only be worse to promise in the first place. I want to be able to break out of the confines I have around me. About everyone wants to travel the world. They want to live out their dreams and experience that once and life time feeling. I don't really want the long bucket list, but I want new experiences and visit places big or small, extraordinary or unnoticeable, and just live. Break out of the cages we have built that we consider the norm. I want to start living to my own expectations only.
I have faced a challenge where I would always wish to just hideaway and to just not be around people. I mostly feel that way when I have a performance or just a big event going on. But I have found that I face that challenge almost every day that I live and breathe. I have found that one thing that can get me through this daily challenge is to talk to a guy about it. I know it sounds strange but I know that it’s one of the only ways that I can be able to feel comfortable and myself. I faced this challenge sometime in the beginning of freshman year when everybody, including me, were hitting puberty and I didn’t feel like I could tell my friends everything. But it was because a majority of my friends were girls. My two best friends were two girls I could tell everything to. But I felt that I wanted to be able to tell someone else this stuff as well. That’s when I was able to find a guy that I felt like I could tell as much as I told Dove and Hannah. He was kind and trusting to me as I was to him. But sometime last year was when I knew that this guy was someone that I needed to stay in my life. Many of our friends keep assuming that we are a couple and we both still hear the randomly asked question if we were dating (mostly I think from the choir). I still laugh at that question because if I saw it from someone else’s eyes. I would probably ask that same question repeatedly too. But neither of us have any intention to date each other, but to still be close and still make people assume that we are a couple. But we do love each other. It’s our friendship that we love. Victoria C. Word P.S. Love Ya Tyler!!!
Softball is not just a sport to me, it is something I have a desire to do throughout my college career. My entire life I have either played shortstop or catcher.softball brings out a better me and the real me. Without softball I feel like I wouldn't have half the people I have in my life now, it keeps me focused on my grades, and more importantly keeps me out of the trouble I could get myself in. But one practice..... Might now seem to you like changed a lot for me, but to myself, it did change a lot.
One day my coach decides he wants to switch me to second base, which isnt much of a difference than shortstop, but it is still different and was very uncomfortable for me at first and still is to this day. I've never been the type of person to say anything back to my coach or question them about anything they are doing for me, I just simply go with it. I remember this day so well, it was summer ball and he says "Hey Mackenzee, we really need you to play second while one of our pitchers is not pitching so she can play shortstop."
Me being the willing person I am, I start to practice there that day just like he had asked. As practice goes on I start to get more and more frustrated with myself and somewhat at my coaches because I was not sure what to do on some plays. I am the type of person that beats myself up when I am not doing something right....well only on the softball field. So I start to tear up and completely give up on that spot and myself but no one really starts to see it just yet becasue I am not showing it to the team or coaches, just myself. Over the past year an half I have practiced at second and improved a lot but it is still not a comfort zone to me. Shortstop is the spot I have a desire to play and improve at, but once again I do as my coach ask and I have played there all fall ball this past fall.
Also another challenge I have overcome would be how I beat myself up so much or how bad I drop my head. I did that up until about sophomore year. I realized that dropping your head all because you made a mistake will not do anything for you but make you make another error/mistake. Last year seaon I completely shut down after I knew someone else had the spot I wanted and I completely regret it. That is why now, I work hard at whatever spot I am put at, becasue either way I am going to do my best I can to achieve my goal. Nothing and no one will stand in my way now, all because I've learned from the mistake of giving up and having to live with that regret for a whole year.
The most difficult thing I think anyone could have to face is having to watch someone they love, get hurt. I'm pretty strong, I don't really get upset about much, and generally I'm able to hind my feelings and paint a smile on my face. But my challenge isn't even my challenge, my challenge is that I have to watch as my dad is separated from his family and as he misses out on his children growing up. I can only imagine how hard that must be for him. And being someone who loves him more than anything, that hurts.
Just hearing the tone in his voice when he calls reveals how distressed he is and how terribly he misses everyone, and I can do nothing to change that. The worst part of all is that the pain that I feel for him, probably doesn't even equal up to what he feels. He says that everything is okay and that he has gotten used to it by now, but could you honestly ever get used to not seeing your family? I know he just says that so that we won't worry about him. I just get to sit back day in and day out and watch him be sad. I have a little brother named Mason and he will turn 3 in January. During these 3 years my dad has been sent to Afghanistan for a year and 2 months and to Texas for a year and 1 month. He has missed most of my little brothers life so far and it tears my dad up, which in return tears me up. It's not only my dad either, when my 2 year old brother wakes up and says "where's daddy?" I can't help but feel terrible. Or when he cries for dad and all there is to do is put him to sleep so that he hopefully will forget who he was crying for, isn't as easy as it sounds.
And how do you explain to a 2 year old that his daddy, who supposedly loves him more than anything in the world, didn't just leave him? You can't. All there is to do is hope for the best and pray that it doesn't effect Mason and my dad's relationship in the future.
I face a lot of other issues but this is definitely was hurts me the most. Because even though my dad may come home in May, the time he spent away is gone and he will never be able to get it back. -Emily Evans-
As a child I was told " I was the lucky one," "I was lucky 'she' walked out when 'she' did," "I was lucky I never had time to bond with my mother." I was told "Austin had time to bond,you never did." That was all just a lie. I bonded to a point. No I didn't remember her. I couldn't tell you her hair color, her height, or tell you about her smile. I never was shown a photo of her. But on the inside I had bonded because when she left I lost part of my heart I can never get back. A part of me that I never knew, and a part of me I will never know.
As a child I never really ever felt lucky. I always felt like I was the reason 'she' left. I remember asking questions about the subject, only to be told to run along and play, or i was told I wasn't old enough to understand. (Trust me never tell a kid they wont understand, because it only makes them wonder and blame themselves even more) The worst thing I think they ever told us was that when she left she took me. She told my brother and father she wanted nothing to do with austin. Yeah she kept me for a couple of months longer than she did him. But she finally just chose to abandon both of us. Austin and I always blamed our selves; but when they finally told us that she wanted one of us over the other, that only made us blame ourselves even more. he blamed himself because he thought I lost my chance at a to grow up with our 'mother;' i blamed myself for not holding on, not fighting to stay, for being to weak to have her keep us both.(No Austin and I never hated each other over this subject. We never said that it was one or the others fault. We blamed ourselves. We never once each other)
I grew up with pain. I grew up knowing betrayal. I grew up knowing exactly how it felt to have your life crumble. To have no one to lean on. No answers to why your life has to hurt so much. No answers to why it had to happen to you. I never once got a single answer. I never once was sat down and told the whole story.. instead I was left to live my life trying to crawl my way out. This wasn't the worst I had in store. No it was the very beginning... I was about to lose everything. I was about to change in a way that I could never be 'normal' again. (If i ever was normal to begin with) Better yet I was about to become someone totally different, and there was no turning back. This was a change i had no control over. My dad married again when I was 3ish.. this time marring the devil herself. She put us through hell. We were not aloud to speak of our mom or sisters. This was a rule we learned not to break very early on, because if we did break this rule, if we merely mentioned 'her' name we would be locked in our rooms for the rest of the day. Austin is the one who challenged her. He was the strong one...but as soon as he challenged that devil he meet a great deal of pain. He was grounded, he had to sit in a chair facing the wall for two weeks..doing nothing.(besides eating, school, and going to the bathroom) After years of her abuse to us, cheating on our father and her drug abuse my father left her. I was in 4th grade at the time. This was the same year my life took its fatal fall. This is when i really lost everything. This is when my pap-paw died. My pap-paw was everything to me. I talked for hours to that man. He was my best friend, and when he died i lost everything. I had no one to talk to. No one to go to. I had nothing. This was the same year, and around the same time my mother chose to be a mother.
She stayed around for about a year. She let us meet our two older sisters, I found out I had a younger brother.. (this was the only child she ever choose to raise.. this only made me wonder more...why i wasn't good enough to be raised by my mother. What had i done so wrong for her to hate me so much..why was she the only person i never could please..) I also found out i even had a niece...and a nephew on the way.. (my niece is probably in middle school and my nephew should be either in first grade.) In the beginning she would come every saturday and every sunday for hours. We would hang out with her for what felt like ever, finally being able to have a 'normal life.' This continued for a while. One day we asked her why she left, she didn't answer us but i remember what she told our granny when she thought we couldn't hear. "I don't know why they blame me, they need to get over that. It was the past, I forgave them. They should be able to forgive me." This added to the pain I felt, it made me blame myself even more. It made me crave forgiveness. I wanted to forgive her, but there was a part of me that couldn't a part of me that knew the truth. a part of me that knew it wasn't my fault, that part wouldn't let me forgive her. After a while, she started to only come on sunday, and soon later she quit coming all together. She basically stayed long enough for us to re bond, then she left without saying goodbye. She left, leaving us with the loss again.
Leaving us craving her attention all over again. This time the betrayal was to much. This time it hurt bad enough that it took all of my power to just get up and go though a 'normal' routine day. I walked through life like a zombie. ignoring the people around me, blocking out any type relationships, terrified to be close to anyone. Terrified that everyone was going to betray me the way she did. Scared that everyone could see "her" in me. The pain started consuming me, more each day. It keep building up and building up. Finally I Broke my freshman year. I turned to alcohol to get away from the pain. IT numbed the pain I felt, it aloud me to be able to be around other people. It didn't take away the pain, it only made it livable. It allowed me to be able to do the things I enjoyed, and once the alcohol wasn't enough I turned to drugs. No turning to drugs wasn't the best choice I could have made, but at the time it was my only choice. The outcome was that i got two of the best guy friends i could ever ask for. By the time sophomore year's winter break came around my pain turned to hatred. I'm not sure why my pain ever turned into hatred but im glad it did. When it turned into hatred it was as if i had found a ladder in the darkest, deepest holl ever. It helped me, it made it to wear I could go days with out drinking. Days soon turned to weeks. Weeks to months. I face this hatred daily. I get up and sometimes I face pain instead. On those days its a challenge to just get dressed. Its a challenge to put a smile on my face. On those days, I feel weak. I feel as if its my fault, I blame my self on those days, I blame myself that I don't reach out to her, I tell myself that if I would just act like a 'normal' daughter she would come back. Then i wake up and realize it never was my fault, i fight down the pain so that I can live. I don't fake who I am. I prefer to hide my true feelings. I prefer to build up walls and not let people in. I do this because of pain. Pain can either consume you or shape you. I chose to accept the pain in ways others wouldn't. I chose to make it hatred. I chose to keep it, since after all I couldn't really leave it behind. No I don't let it define me but I also won't tell you it isn't apart of me. Yes i see her everywhere, we don't acknowledge each other, Austin tries to but he wastes his time. Because she could care less, and she never did care. I tried to tell him this, just like he tried to tell me she did. Finally we settled on just leaving the other alone. This has been my biggest challenge ever. I over came a pain, that has shaped my life, a pain that has made me not want to keep on going. It turned into something that would give me a reason to keep on going. I wont forgive her, and but I wont blame myself ever again either. She walked out, I didn't.
The first day of school is always the best when you're in elementary school. You've just spent two full months away from your best friends. You can't wait to hear all about their summers and tell all about yours. To put the icing on the cake, it was fifth grade year. THIS is the year you are on top of the school, nothing could hold you back. Okay, maybe one thing. Frankfort is a small town. It seems like everybody knows everybody. When your new, you tend to stick out like a sore thumb. For me, the first day was the hardest. I walked in, found my cubby, my seat, and my fear of new people. I can't even imagine how others looked at me. Whether it "oooo new kid" or "who is that" I'm sure I looked like a lost puppy.
To be honest, I don't remember all of the day, or even actually walking in. I do remember an icebreaker where Mr. Lovell when we were doing ice breakers "pick someone you don't know very well" and of course every rushed over to me. It happened to be a paper you were supposed to fill out with the other persons information. I am shy and don't tend to make friends easily, but I will talk to anyone who is willing to talk to me first. I guess that I made a good choice because it seemed I had met a mirror of my personality. It was then that I knew I had met my best friend. Despite making new friends, I still felt lost and unconnected to my friends and life that I had left in Florida.
In Florida, I was used to being the kid that everybody knew. My mom had been a crossing guard since I was a baby. I literally grew up in my car seat. None the less, I was the kid that most students and teachers knew around school. The last day of fourth grade I made sure to have everyone sign my yearbook and give me numbers and addresses, you know, because writing to your friend via snail mail was cool in 2006/2007. Anyway there were very few instances where, still to this day, that I have communicated with anyone that I went to elementary school with. When we walk across that stage next year to graduate, many of you have spent all grades of school together. Sometimes I struggle with the idea that I on the other hand, will never get to walk across the stage with anyone I started school with.
Moving wasn't all bad. With social media nowadays, I am able to see what my old "friends" are up to. Often I remind myself that I am much better here. The "good" children I hung out with, grew up. I have no idea who those people are. I'm not calling them sluts but their clothes sure don't cover a whole lot. I could never see myself where they are now. Lifestyle and values are higher in Kentucky too. Education wise, I'd say Western Hills is about 1/5 the size of a normal or typical high school, no exaggeration. That means much smaller classes and a better learning base. I'm not dissing Florida's education system, I just think there is better life opportunity in Kentucky.
Overall, I realized that although change is hard in the beginning, it's generally for the better in the long run. I held a lot of anger, for lack of a better word, inside because I didn't know anything other than Florida. As I've grown, I've become grateful for the opportunities and the changes that have occurred around me and for me.
Shannon McCutcheon "Florida" "New chick in the red sweater" "Jackie"
When coming to high school you should expect new changes, new experiences, new friends, and a whole new level of choices you're eventually going to have to face. I was a freshmen in high school when the choice of drinking knocked on my front door. Of course, like any new freshmen in high school, I think you can guess what my choice was and the outcome was not pretty. But as they say the worst decisions make the best stories. This story is one my friends and I will indeed, never forget.
It all started when one of my friend's had gotten the alcohol and asked me and another friend if we wanted to drink that night. I had never gotten drunk before and couldn't think of a better way to do it than with some friends. So the three of us went back to my house and patiently waited for my mom to go to sleep. Waiting for her to fall asleep seemed like an eternity. Once she was asleep, the "fun" began. The moment we opened the bottle of cheap liquor my heart raced and adrenaline rushed through my veins. We drank and drank and drank. I'm sure you can assume that this didn't end so well. Not knowing my limits, I drank till I blacked out. Like a light switch, my memories were turned off just like that. To this day I still don't recall that nights crazy events. Thank goodness I don't either because there's a factor that comes into play that we didn't even think about being young and stupid; My mother. At this point one of my friends has initially peed her pants and needs to be cleaned up. So as my other friend takes care of the one who peed her pants they leave me behind in my room. This is where it all went wrong. I bust through the door and attempt to run through out the rest of the house chasing after my friends. Apparently I was a tad bit too loud and ran into a couple of walls, this resulted in my mother waking up in a not so pleasant mood. Apparently my other two friends got an earful from my mom, thankfully I don't remember a thing.
The next morning was a nightmare. I woke up light headed and confused on my bathroom floor. My anxiety level was at an all time high. I sat up quick hoping I hadn't woken up my mother by coming to the bathroom at some point that night, from which I don't remember. Panic overwhelmed me and my heart dropped when my mother called my name from her room. Caught. I was caught. After a very drawn out punishment and many underaged drinking lectures from my mother we have finally put this situation in the past. Long story short, we made a stupid decision and got into a large amount of trouble for it. But now that we look back on it we joke around about that night all the time, including my mom. The point is everyone is going to make the wrong choice but our choices make us who we are today. We learn from our mistakes and make some pretty good memories along the way. That's what life is all about, right? To me, that's all that matters.
Part #1 About seven years ago, I faced one of the biggest changes I have ever faced and probably will ever face. Somebody very close to my heart became addicted to prescription pain killers. Five and a half years ago, during fall break of my sixth grade year at Bondurant, she then decided that she was going to start making trips to Florida once a month to the pain clinic to get the prescription pain killers at a higher dosage because her body had become immune to the ones they prescribe here in Kentucky. This one change has led me to make choices, face challenges, and deal with multiple changes. The challenges that I was faced with in the midst of all of this being in action ranged from praying that the electric would be on when I got home, to not being able to tell anybody what was happening. I worried about little things, and big things. Was I going to get dinner that day? Was I going to have clean or even different clothes to wear to school the next day? Would I have electric and hot water that night? Would I get picked up from school, or was she arrested? Where would I be sleeping that night? I faced physical challenges like these, but I also faced other problems. Problems with not feeling safe riding in the car with her, or hoping she would stay awake long enough to actually carry on a simple conversation with me. Would her brain be working at all that day? Only if I was lucky. After facing all of these challenges on my own, without telling anybody because I didn’t want to be torn away from my “best friend” , something bigger happened. The police showed up at my house, the SWAT team looking for her and her boyfriend because they were in trouble. I finally realized that we weren’t staying other places because our house was cold; it was because they were hiding and they just drug me with them. ~KALI WHITAKER
Part #2 It was time that I made a choice, before things got any worse. I told my grandmother what was happening and she talked her into letting me stay with her until she was for sure out of trouble. Staying at Meme’s (my grandmother’s) turned into moving in. It was my choice but it lead to challenges of being sacred to go to school because she might try to check me out to get me back, or being scared to go into public because I might run into her or she might try to find me. It was an everyday fight for her to let me stay at Meme’s where I was safe because she despised us with that choice, she did anything to try to get me back. It eventually turned into a forever thing because I made the choice to allow Meme to take it to the court system to get custody, in May of 2013 she officially gained custody and I no longer had to worry about anything but grades, friends, and normal 16 year old stuff; so I thought. “One of the hardest lessons in life is letting go: Whether it’s guilt, anger, love, loss, etc. Change is never easy, you fight to hold on, and you fight to let go.” –Unknown There is guilt from not telling somebody earlier so she could maybe get help before everything kept getting worse. There is anger, just from not knowing why. Why do people feel the need to turn to stuff like that? Why do they like it? What is the point of throwing your life away like that? There is love, and always will be because she was one of the most important people in my life, and I watched her push everybody away just from one change. There is loss, because I basically lost her, she’s not the same anymore and she never will be the same. She has permanent affects from them. I fought for five and a half years on my own, and then fought for her with the family for 2 years because we continued to hold on to the idea that she would wake up one day and realize what she has done; to herself, to her family, and to her life. I still have hopes that she might make something out of it, but I lose more and more hope every day. I fought to let go, I am still fighting to let go. I have finally begun to realize that I am not doing any good by worrying more than she is. I have to let go. My family and I have done everything in our power to make her realize what she has done and what she is doing, but it just doesn’t work. She refuses to listen. I will never forget when she looked at me and said “I could quit if I wanted to, but I don’t want to. I like it.” That is when I realized that I have to let go, I still haven’t completely, but I am getting there. I have finally come to the realization that she is the only one that can change this. Nobody else can help her. I finally quit trying, I moved on, I let go, and I’m just worrying about myself. I don’t have the power to change her, but I still held on and tried to. It was the hardest thing I have ever done to finally let her go, but it had to be done. I hope that one day myself and my family will get the chance of meeting the cheerful, happy, outgoing, inspirable sides of her all over again. If I could have just one wish it would be to go back to seven years ago and give it another chance. TO see if she would make the same choices all over again. ~KALI WHITAKER
So we're supposed to write about a challenge we have faced, well if you would have asked me todo this 3 month ago I would have been clueless about what to write about, but my life has changed dramatically since he first day of junior year. After a long and happy 17 years of marriage, my parents have decided to get a divorce. Those of you who's parents have been divorced since you were little are provably thinking "That's not a challenge" Well to you I may but be but for me I think that tho is the biggest challenge I'm ever gonna face in life.
For as long as I can remember my parents have been happy. They've had that type of relationship that everyone dreams about. They never fought in front of people, heck you would think that they didn't even fight at all. Then one day someone stopped trying in there relationship. Someone fell out of love with the other parson.
I can remember the day like it was yesterday, I got home from school and as soon as I walked in I could tell something was wrong. My mom and dad were both sitting on opposite ends of the couch, not even looking at each other, and the tv was off. (The tv is never off in my house). My mom looked at me and said we need to have a talk. I thought maybe they were mad about one of my grades or something. Never in a million years would I have guessed that the next words that would come out of her mouth was going to be "your dad and I have decided to get a divorce." I didn't believer her at first, I just stood there dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say or do. I thought that maybe I was the reason that they were doing this. Maybe it was all my fault. Maybe I had done something that tore there relationship apart. They assured me that was not the reason. The next week or so was the hardest if my life. My dad moving out, my mom always upset and crying. It was really hard on me to just sit back and watch this happen.
The next few weeks took a toll on me. My dad got an apartment in Lawrenceburg and me and my older sister helped him move in and get settled in. I spent the night with him that first night it was kind of awkward at first, being in a strange place with only one of my parents, but after a few more times of going over there it got more "homie" to me. I like going to me dads but I feel bad that I leave my mom at home all alone, in a way it kind of makes me feel guilty. I know that things will get better and soon ill be used to it all but right now I'm still getting used to the fact that my parents are never gonna be together again. This Christmas is also gonna be weird for me because it's the first Christmas Eve that I'm not going to be able to wake up and spend the day with both of my parents together. It's going to be hard at first but I'm sure it will get easier with time.
Im sure that at least once in your life you have been forced to do something that you had no say in. Something that would effect the way you do things for the rest of your life. I know I have and it has affected me both in a good way but negatively as well. Moving to the public school system after spending your entire childhood in private schooling is a dramatic change and full of new experiences. Any kind of change can be hard on a child, but placing them in a completely new environment that they are forced to get used to is aways hard. I never realized how different it could be moving to a different school, or that my definition of school could be so different from others. Being a shy person, public schooling really helped me to come out of my comfort zone. While knowing every single person in my private school, on a friendly level because there was so few of us, it took some getting used to. Meeting many new people, and getting involved in activities with people you had never seen before was very different for me but I grew to love it and thats what made the experience that much better. Not even having the option before to join various clubs and sports, public schooling really open new doors for me. While always having those little regrets after making a big decision, I find myself occasionally looking back to think what would have been different now if my parents made the decision to keep me in private schooling? I definitely would not have been exposed to things in the same way. Private schooling is very strict and controlling, you have to be well behaved or there were very strict consequences. I didn't have a since of independence, because there weren't many decisions to make on your own. It was all pretty much laid out for you. In a private school I feel there was no individuality, everyone wares the same uniform everyday, only interacting with a total of twenty students everyday, having very few sports and clubs to get involved in. How would you ever know what you like and don't like? This change has effected my life in many ways when it came to getting to know myself. I never was involved in any activities to take my mind off school. It was always just the focus of God and school. I had a very limited amount of friends, being only twelve in my class. I had a very simple view on things, only knowing the up scale, clean, healthy, focused, structured environment I was raised in. Bottom line is if I had the chance to go back and could change my parents decision of moving me to public schooling I wouldn't change it for anything. Everything in the end has turned out just as I would have wanted it too. I have had the experience of both environments and had the chance to compare them unlike a lot of others. -Brooke N. Spaulding
Self-Doubt, what is it? It is a deceptively simple term. Its meaning can change from person to person, its significance just the same. When I chose to write my essay about self-doubt, its significance changed for me.
I took up a daunting task: Determining its significance and role in society today. How does self-doubt affect people? How does it pertain to us? I have asked myself these questions time and time again, and have settled upon the belief that it is vital in all humans, just not in the form we are born with. One thing that is evident throughout history is that humans are manipulable, from both criticism and persuasion.
Up until freshman year, I didn’t have a care in the world for my grades. It was easy to get by with all A’s and B’s in middle school and goof off with your friends all day. Was I going to actually work in high school? At the time it didn’t seem like a heavy matter, but now I realize that it is, and thank myself for making the decision to apply myself more and more everyday.
I’m not writing this essay to explain to you how I have turned my life around, but to show how my decision, then and there, altered how I would make all of the decisions in my future. That decision meant giving up “friends.” That decision meant having to work for a good GPA, but the work ethic, the confidence, and the self reliance—all of these things that I gained in making this one decision were phenomenal, and stood out to me.
I guess you could say I am sharing my personal advice, and want you all to make decisions with care, to have confidence in yourself, without being manipulated by others beliefs. Within reason, you should do what is good for you and your goals. Consider others, but not be swayed by the negative criticism that comes your way, for it is only temporary.
The decisions that we make, big and small, make us who we are. People say that we are the product of our surroundings, but ultimately, we are the product of our decisions.
Imagine if you will, that no matter how hard you try, you’re not good enough. You want to sleep forever because it’s better than the reality you have to face every day. Your life is so full of darkness that the brightest of lights can’t bring you to the end of the tunnel. You’ve lost all hope in your life because you feel like you’ve been dragged through Hell and back; you are on the verge of giving up everything. The things that I am about to tell you are words that have never been uttered before to such an array of people, yet in writing, I feel comfortable sharing this challenge I have faced in my life because it is a factor that contributes to who I am today. In the past, I had struggled with depression; a severe feeling of dejection and despondency. For about two years I was drowning in black liquid and I couldn’t quite make it to the surface to get a breath of air. This is one of the biggest challenges I have ever had to overcome. It all started about when I was twelve and ended when I was fourteen. I grew up in one of those happy homes that everyone dreams about; the utopia of early livelihood yet, something wasn’t right about me. I didn’t feel the warm happy feelings that everyone else did every day. I often felt alone and I lived in a state of dysphoria. I developed anxiety problems – extreme anxiety problems – that affected how I lived. I was literally afraid to talk to people, I felt no desire to wake up in the morning, I developed insomnia-like tendencies, and I cried a lot (that’s a bit harder to let out). My life was ending before it had even truly begun. People watched me crumble right before their eyes and they didn’t even realize it was happening. Something had to change or else I wouldn’t have made it out of the black liquid to be who I am today. Yes, I eventually overcame this bout in my life. I had to make the decision to want to get better. It was a hard decision to make because I was battling an inner demon; to reveal this destructive force within me or to keep it bottled up inside. I decided that it was for the best, no matter the circumstances. It was scary telling my parents because I was afraid that they wouldn’t believe me or tell me that it was normal for my age. After pushing my fears aside and coming forth, they were not as reluctant as I believed they would be. They were supportive; I went to counseling (that is also a bit unnerving to release), I changed who I was for the better and I escaped from the black liquid with barely a moment to spare. Within months of my treatment, my thoughts regarding life had started to change. I started to feel happy again and life was good again. I returned to the world I had once lived in as a child. I can never see the world as a utopia again after seeing its true colors. The world in which we live is imperfect and to this day it places a weight on my shoulders that I have to bear. I believe that some people are blind; the world as we know it is not a happy place. There’s death and destruction and war and societal pressures. The world is hell but not everyone can see it. Conquering this has impacted my life greatly, I’ve became a more independent minded person and I’m very headstrong in my ways. I used to be very dependent on other people to help me through but now I’m extremely independent in everything I do. I was once devoid of hope and adequacy but after climbing my mountains I earned my freedom from the chains that once bound me to the cold hard ground. As Aristotle once said, “hope is a waking dream,” and we have to chase that dream no matter how dark it is in our lives because the only thing that’ll brighten the way is hope. -Amanda LeMay
A challenge that I have faced in my life was to pick up an instrument. I remember always wanting to play guitar but whenever I would sit down and try it just never worked out. After many failed attempts at the basics I decided if I was going to learn an instrument that I should try something else. I finally decided on the piano and it was on of the best choices I have ever made.
I don't feel I need to explain why exactly learning an instrument is a challenge. Ask any band member and they will tell you that it is difficult trying to pick up an instrument especially because you don't know if two months later you will even enjoy it or not. Thankfully when I started learning I started playing at my church so I wasn't going to get booed off the stage.
For the first six months or so it was all me learning on my own. I would sit down at my computer and look for a song that I was interested in and then try to learn it through videos or just by ear. It would be expected that during this time when I had no one else to help me out that it would be the hardest time. Honestly it was the best time. Ignorance is bliss. I didn't understand why chords worked together the way they could, hell I couldn't even read sheet music. But I had no expectations thrown upon me.
Sophomore year I decided that I wanted to take our piano class at school. I went into the class with a very cocky attitude because I assumed most everyone that was taking the class probably hadn't even touched a piano before. I was about half right. There were some in the class that honestly didn't understand anything about it, then there were a few that had been doing music with the band since sixth grade and one even had lessons for five years. I knew I had my work cut out for me.
I pushed myself in that class harder than any other. Any chance I got I was in the choir room either on the piano or the keyboards trying to master that song that was way harder than I was used to. All of this was just to show that I was the best in the class. That was my number one goal.
I ended the year with all of my hardest pieces finally coming together perfectly. I go the award in the class for “Most Outstanding” I believe and plan to get it again this year.
Since I picked piano up it has been a challenge, I always pushed myself to keep going and I hope that anyone else that plays an instrument keeps pushing themselves as well. The rewards that I have gotten far out cede the obstacles.
I was always a child who dwelt within myself. Having no siblings I learned to keep myself entertained in quiet ways. Drawing and reading and acting out scenes with figurines. That never left me. And in that way, my father and I were kindred spirits. He was a solitary, quiet man who would rather stay home and read a book than anything. I think that's why it took him a while to warm up to me; a baby was the opposite of his cup of tea, a whining, confused toddler the same. It wasn't that he didn't like me. I was just so foreign to him. A small, breakable package that required complete attention and made noises. He didn't realize that I was a chip off the old block until after he and my mother divorced and I was three; I stayed at his apartment after school while my mom was at work. I wanted to watch T.V. Having nothing else, I suppose, he popped a documentary into the VCR. I was enchanted with it, and he with my curiosity. Hearing the sweeping opening chords of “Walking With Dinosaurs” still pulls me to emotional shreds. Not long after that, He began to take advantage of his bi-weekly weekend custody of me. He got a new house and I had my own room there and it was good. He started reading Harry Potter to me, and Lord of the Rings. I reminded him how much he loved cartoons and we watched them all together every other Saturday. He introduced me to computers, another section of his personal paradise, and they quickly became part of my own. He taught me basic HTML coding- I remember the pride on his face as I first caught on. He'd play music from his youth,the 60's, and sing along with a soft voice in the car. “Lemon tree, very pretty, and the lemon flower is sweet, but the fruit of the poor lemon, is impossible to eat.” On days when it was his turn to take me home, he'd get me a little present; a tube of bubbles or a new pony or a story book. He'd put it in my closet. And so every other Friday when I came in the front door I'd ask “Is there a surprise for me?” He's always say “Maybe” with a gentle smile. And he would always mean yes. I think all the gifts he gave me were, at least somewhat, to make up for the lack of time he gave me. He could have gotten 50/50 custody, but he didn't. He chose solitude, and that's alright; he gave more of himself to me than he did to anyone else. I forgive him. In second grade, when I got my first pair of glasses, I was upset. I thought I looked silly. I came in and slumped on his couch and asked him if he thought so too. He gave me a pensive, concentrated look.
“You look studious.” He said with a smile.
I never worried about my glasses again. We read all of the Lord of the Rings books, Hobbit included. We watched many a movie together; Three Amigos, Jurassic Park, Planet Earth. We got all the way to the sixth Harry Potter. Then my mom got off the phone one day. Her brow was furrowed. She told me he had gone to the doctor. I was in fifth grade. “Will he be alright, though? He'll get better.” “We don't know.” She was caringly honest as she always is. I am thankful for that. “He has cancer, and that's very bad.” His disease progressed slowly after that, but it seemed so fast. Soon he couldn't read to me anymore, not feeling well enough. Soon he would get up to go to the bathroom and be gone for two hours. I would sit on the couch and keep watching Angry Beavers like the naïve, innocent idiot I was. Soon he went to the hospital and stayed. Soon he couldn't talk anymore. I wish to God I could remember the last thing he said to me, but when you refuse to believe any words are the final ones you don't pay them as much mind. Even when my mom was kind and brave enough to tell me that yes, he was going to die I wouldn't accept it. Not for a moment. He liked cats. I'd get books about cats and leave them at his bedside like he could read them. I'd draw cats in the back of them, as a surprise for when he finished. He never saw the drawings, of course. He couldn't lift a pencil anymore. Samantha Hensley
He'd smile, croak a “Thank you” when he still could. Soon he came back home. A hospital bed looks so out of place in a living room. So does an unresponsive parent. I was still too stupid to think he would die. I saw him die. That sounds jarring but it wasn't so much, just the idea of it. All I saw was a comatose, frail and sunken silhouette that could have been my dad, I guess, in a crueler world. A heart monitor that gave a steady beep instead of the pulsing rhythm that had been there before. After that I don't remember much. I don't remember the next few weeks, except the funeral. It wasn't that bad. I cried some, not much. My great aunt or something gave me a hideous angel doll and I never saw her, or most of the people there, again. Before they closed the coffin, I stepped up to it, sniffling, and placed a stuffed cat at his side. It hadn't set in yet.
So there is the change and challenge; the choice was how to deal with it. It took a while to set in. I had just finished reading 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. I realized that the number in the title was not the depth, but the distance the characters had traveled. I'll have to tell Daddy that, I thought to myself. Then it set in. I was in hysterics that evening. Eventually I regained my footing and I only cried when things suddenly reminded me of him like tripping and falling face first into a memory. Plastic dinosaurs, lemons, denim shirts, the smell of old paper backs and the sound of a dated windows pc booting up. Little senseless things. I chose to get stronger. No day to day problem compares to facing death. Less phases you when you've been phased to the breaking point. I'm not a goofy kid anymore. I'm goofy kid with a shifted paradigm. I don't complain much anymore. I'm naïve and lighthearted and I laugh and smile most of the time. I'm also tough and cold and real. More than real, Corporeal. People see me as a jester, and it's a guise I'm willing to accept, but I am a knight. My sword is intellect, I sharpen it each day; my armor is keen tenacity and it hardens with every blow. When I doubt myself, worry that a challenge is too great, or feel that I am not strong enough, I remember what I made it through. That is something I will always carry with me. I tell people my dad is dead when it seems appropriate. When people are sharing parent stories and waiting for my input, or when I use the past tense in reference to him and they ask why. They're usually shocked, then pitying, nursing. That's nice of them but I don't need it. Not that I'm not sensitive; I want a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to be lent, and I will always, I promise you, do the same. But I want something else too: respect. I want you to remember that Samantha Hensley is more than meets the eye. Samantha Hensley
Cheer has been a big part of my life since I was a little girl. From the time that I can remember I have always said "I want to be a UK cheerleader, they are the best of the best." I have over come so many challenges, and made a lot of choices in order to be where I am today with my goal of being a UK cheerleader. My biggest challenge that I have come across is all the problems I have had with my knee. Of course this will be one challenge that I will have to face for the rest of life sadly, but I have learned how to stretch it properly and also I go to therapy and from there I get certain exercises that also helps with my knee problems. Last year when I hurt my knee I was doing a hand, hand full and landed on it wrong after my full. After that fall I was so scared to throw my full again, but then I thought if I don’t throw this full I will never be able to reach my goal/dream of being a UK cheerleader. After telling myself over and over that I could do it I finally did it, this made me realize even though I hurt my knee once on a tumbling pass dose not mean to be afraid of it, it actually made me want to work harder so that I could have a perfect, and clean landing. Another challenge I have had to over come is learning how to coed stunt. I have always been on an all girl team so I never got to coed stunt because we never had any guys. Of course I have always been a flyer but with all girl you have three and maybe four people under you but with coed you have one guy under you and that is it. Me and my mom sat down one night and called up the UK cheer coach and asked if any cheerleaders were willing to give me lessons and he said that they would love to. My first lesson I was so scared but my coach, Matej, told me not to worry he wouldn’t drop me, and he would be there to help me every step of the way. Come to find out when I finally over came the challenge of coed stunting it made me realize that I am actually better with coed stunting then all girl . A lot of people say that coed stunting is harder than all girl and yes I agree with that but for some reason coed came very easily to me which will be great for cheering at UK. Miranda Gunn, part 1
Along with my challenges I have had to make a some choices. One of my biggest choices I have had to make was to quit all-star cheer and spend more time training with the UK cheerleaders or keep cheering for an all-star squad and don’t go up to UK as much. I decided that it would be better for me to quit cheering for an all-star team and go train with the UK cheerleaders more than I did. I am very happy with this choice that I made, at the time it was very hard for me but now that time has past I have realized it was so much better for me to train more with the UK cheerleaders and will help more in the long run. Since I have been training with the cheerleaders the coaches have got to know me and know my talent level, they are always impressed with my hard work and determination. If I were to stick with all-star cheering I would not have got the chance to get so close to the coaches and cheerleaders. They are always telling me if I keep up my hard work I will be able to reach my dream of being a UK cheerleader and that’s exactly what I want to hear. Another choice I made was having to give up a lot of my free time. I enjoy hanging out with my friends and I still get to it's just not as much time as I used to spend with them. When people would ask me to hang out and I had to say no because I had training I would sometimes wish that I wouldn’t have started training with UK cheerleaders, but then I started to think and there are thousands of cheerleaders out there that would kill for a spot on the UK cheer squad and if I just stopped my training then that is giving them a chance to be better than me and possibly take my future spot. With every challenge and choice that I have came across it has made me a better cheerleader and even a better person all around. I have learned to never let a challenge or choice come in between me and my dream of being a UK cheerleader. **Miranda Gunn
That slender neck attached to the smooth, shiny body. Expertly tuned to make the paradisiac sounds when connected to its other half that helps it achieve it’s voice. It can bring a melody so fine it makes my heart feel the tranquility it longs for. Reading this you might think that I have tasted the bitter-sweet hard work it takes to play fulfilling sounds that rev the soul. That I can communicate in a way other than words. Actually I only played the guitar for a month until it was sold at a pawn shop. I was forced to give it up before I could even attain a morsel of what I wished. I didn't detest that I couldn’t play that wonderful assassin guitar more than the simple ‘Skip to My Lou’. I simply had no opinion on it. I was mute. My life has been an endless line of selling that dreamy guitar. I sold so many guitars that it ended up becoming a part of my personality. Actually writing this, I'm starting to feel hungry. Talking about how I never fully enjoyed anything to its fullest. Just a taste never the whole meal. Have you ever had dinner with your stomach thundering with the anticipation of consuming everything on the table until your bursting with satisfaction? I have. But what can you eat without a fork? You just stare at it until you lose your zeal for it. Finally I put the napkin in my lap; grabbed the fork staring down at the food daring it to run away; poising the knife in the other hand daring others to try to take it. Using my fork, I take a bite. It was delectable. Chewing the juicy, tender stake my mind began to wonder. I began to notice my surroundings and I discovered something shocking. The knife I had gripped in my right hand, the one poised for attack. It was nothing but a butter knife. What can you protect with a butter knife? As I slowly chewed my steak it began to taste like a dollar burger that you could easily get from McDonalds. That what I praised so much for its rich taste was nothing more than a common 3,000 calorie burger. Are my taste buds broken? Am I completely out of my mind? I guess that’s why I like to put peanut butter on my steaks. But I suppose it makes sense. Why desire something that will be taken away anyways? It’s better to give it up first with dignity than to have it stolen. It got to the point that I would end up losing my appetite as soon as the food was in my reach. I hope you know that I’m not actually talking about food. I typically eat three meals a day. My way of thinking became a repetition and it doesn't only affect me it affects others around me. Whether I’m talking about friends, love, or something like learning how to play the guitar it all turns out the same. It’s because of things and choices that happened in the past led me to make this decision that was done unconsciously and in turn became a bad habit. But if that is true why do I keep on buying that wistful electric guitar? It reminds me of the story that Virginia Wolf describes. That moth that probably compared itself to the butterfly like the others did. It knew it wouldn’t amount to much. It knew its time was dwindling. But looking at that lush, miraculous, world it didn’t give up. The moth ended up battered and died longing for those green planes of grass.
Blog post: challenge As high school student I have been faced with many challenges in my life. The challenge I want to talk about is one I still am trying to overcome. It began my freshmen year when I decided to join the western hills baseball team. When I began playing I had no incredible skills on the field or with the bat. It was difficult to go from an easy league to this one as well. As a freshmen, I played J.V., I did not start every game, I was nothing special yet. But I did look up to the varsity that year. I wanted to be that great ballplayer that every one talks about for hills. I would watch the varsity game before every jv game in the dugout. Though I was not that good my coaches told us to strive to play varsity regardless of who is playing in your spot. I worked hard to become the best player I could be, but I never really could outplay those who played varsity. But if there is one thing I love about my coaches it’s that they wanted everyone to be a part of the team. So they really encouraged us to cheer on those who were on the field and just be a good team mate. That year I tried to keep my team in the game at all times. I wanted to make myself the loudest in the dugout and the brightest. I made the JV championship and did not play in it. Though I didn’t get to play I still was a part of the game by cheering on my team. We would lose the game. As for the varsity that year they lost first round of districts to Woodford. I cheered for them to win but they lost by two runs. Many of the seniors cried after their last game of high school ball. I couldn’t help but feel terrible for them. The next year I kept my need for being a good teammate but I wanted to be a bigger part of the game for my team with more actions. I still played jv but I found what kind of player I was. I am just a get on base and run kind of player. As I played I developed the nastiest drag but the team had ever seen. It became a weapon for us as almost every at bat I was bunting. But ninety percent of the time if I was bunting it was almost an automatic single. I didn’t play varsity much but pinch running that year but I knew I was going to take my new skills into the next season. That year the jv won the district while our varsity had the same result as last year. Our seniors shed their tears again and that’s when I decided I was tired of it. This year I will work myself to help our team win the district. Davis Nesselrode
Part 1
ReplyDeleteMy life was changed drastically when I was 6 years old, and the problem, I have been facing it since then. My biological father left my mom, my sister and I in 2003 and there was no reason for it at all (that we knew of), we had no clue what was going on or why he just left our lives. When i turned 10 my mother sat down with me and had a talk, my sister was 7 so she really didn’t understand what was going on. We sit down and I had no clue what was happening, she was balling and my father had been out of my life for a good 4 years. I remember her saying “Your father will not be a part of your life, ever" I was confused beyond words, but I didn’t let it show I simply said okay, I’ve done it for 4 years now, what’s the difference? I then for a couple of days started to get curious, so I had my mom tell me why he was gone for so long, and why I couldn’t see him anymore. Then she came out and told me, and she said he has been addicted to pain killers, now. At that time, I didn’t really know what they could do to you, I know that the school talked to my class about it and what not but I didn’t know how much of a change it can do with someone.
A year later, or maybe longer, he came to my school and decided to have lunch with me, he had known my mom told me about his addiction and he explained it to me well. He said that he didn’t know what he was doing, and then he agreed to not do them when I was around. The court agreed and decided to let my sister, Emily and I see him every Tuesday and Thursday. I was young and so was my sister, we didn’t know what he was doing.
We would stay with him and he would take us places that I knew that we weren’t supposed to be at. He would fall asleep driving, he would scream at my sister and me for no reason, I would watch him steal from my grandparents. I never said anything to my mom or my step dad about it, because I wanted to be in my father’s life, I wanted a father like all the girls in my class had.
Eventually, I told my mom because he got really aggressive; to the point where i was in danger, and I wasn’t only scared for myself but I was scared for my sister, as well. My father had unconditional love for us but never showed it. My mom, then, got full custody of my sister and I. We lived with my mom and my step dad for several years. My grandparents put my dad in rehab and he got out and was clean. He was clean for about 2 months, we got to see him again and let me tell you all, and he was a completely different person.
Part 2
ReplyDeleteHe then got with the wrong people again and got hooked... again... not only on pain killers, but on more serious drugs that can really damage your body. We didn’t know it until it a month after he got out. It was about midnight on a weekend night and my grandmother and I were watching a movie and the house phone rings, I rush to get the phone. I answer it quickly, it was my dad and he said "Is nana around" he was crying and breathing really heavily, I merely said "yes but what’s wrong” he said "I’m about to shoot myself" so I rapidly give the phone to my grandmother while freaking out and he tells her he needs her to stop him and tells her where he was.
We get in the car immediately and we go to 127, and there he is standing on the side of the road with a pistol to his head. This is when I realized that my father was going wild; the drugs that he was on were really affecting him. My grandmother, who is 62 jumped out and attacked him and said "Your oldest daughter is watching you, and you’re being irrational. Don’t do this" This is when everything changed. My life changed, I knew I didn’t need my dad in my life until he got his act together. I was terrified, in shock and I remained that way until I started going crazy, to the point where I didn’t talk to anyone, not even my mother. I wouldn’t eat; I was in shock, seeing that my father was suicidal. Then I had to go to counseling.
This has changed me to who I am today. I see the pain that teens go through without a father, or having a drug addict as a biological parent. Anytime I see him, I’m terrified that he’s going to do what all he used to do, I see flashbacks on how odd he acted, It takes everything in my mom to let me go, she’s horrified because she knows how much pain my sister and I went through. It's tough, but it’s made me to stay strong through the minimum obstacles of life. Life throws me curve balls but then I look at myself and say "No, I am strong. I can do this". I rarely see my father; he lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, and has been clean for 2 years now. When he comes to see my sister and I, or when we go up there he asks how everything is going, I simply look at him and say “I’m doing very well. I don’t need anyone who doesn’t need me”
-Sierra Smith
Part 1 Casey Marshall
ReplyDeleteIt was the summer before my freshman year of high school. For some reason, my best friend and I thought it would be a good idea to sneak out. It would be just this one time, we had never done anything bad and just wanted to feel like “normal” teenagers, because, you know, that’s what everyone else was doing. We all know what it feels like to be a rebel and get that rush of disobeying your parents. We weren’t bad kids. We followed all the rules and never got in trouble at school. We were just looking for a little trouble to get into for once. We wanted to feel cool, be like everyone else, so that’s just what we did… or tried to do.
I had gone over to her house during the day that day, nothing out of the ordinary because we were always together. Soon after her parents went to bed, we started getting ready, getting nervous. We were in it as long as one of us didn’t back out. I, of course, wasn’t going to back out. But, I was secretly hoping she was going to. A couple hours passed and we started going down the stairs from her bedroom, hoping her parents weren’t going to wake up, and out the back door we went! Everything was going smooth… except for the dog! We had forgotten all about the dog and you would never guess what the dog was doing, barking. Not only was her dog barking but the neighbors across the street’s dogs were barking. That was it, we sprinted back into the house, terrified her parents were going to be awake, thankfully they weren’t, we were in the clear.
After we got back into her room, we started talking and decided we were going to try this again next week with a better plan. We trusted each other, so the next week we were at it again! This night was a little different, though. She had told her mom that her dog had been scratching the basement window while she was down there and that maybe they should keep the dog in the garage that night. I didn’t think this idea was going to work, but it did. Her mom went and put the dog up for the night. I couldn’t believe this was actually working. Besides the dog, everything was going exactly like it was the last time. This was it. Parents in bed; get ready, wait a little to make sure they were still asleep and out the back door we went.
Part 2 Casey Marshall
ReplyDeleteIt was humid and the grass was wet when we left. After we made it out of her front yard, with no dogs barking, there was no turning back. So we started walking, our friend’s house (which we were going to) was maybe ten minutes away once we got off her street and we were making good progress. As we were walking we saw this car slowing down. You know in movies when kids aren’t supposed to be doing something they usually end up dying? Well, this was going through my head. Next thing I know this car is stopped and getting out, I was terrified. We were good kids, other kids do this all the time and get back home safe and sound, but of course, my luck, I was about to die. I had no idea what to do so I got on the phone with my friend and she decided she was going to act like she was looking for her lost puppy. As this person got out of their car, they just looked at their front tire and then left. I’d never been so relieved in my life, I seriously thought we were going to get kidnapped. We made it to our friend’s house, had a terrible time, and did make it home safe and sound.
Maybe sneaking out wasn’t the best way to finally feel that feeling you get for really going behind your parents backs for once, but it’s what we did. It made me realize everything that people do my age isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. Some things I just have to try anyway to learn my own lesson, to get that feeling every once in a while. Now, looking back at this and how embarrassing it is, I do know it changed how I choose my actions today. I hear stories and I should learn from others’ mistakes, but I can’t always learn from others. I make my own decisions and learn from my own mistakes, it just depends on if I want a big or little adventure that day.
This didn’t teach me not to ever sneak out again; it taught me to be careful on some of the choices I make. It taught me it’s okay to have fun, just as long as I’m not risking my life. It taught me that I should tell my parents what I’m doing so if something happens I can always feel comfortable calling them if I need to. It taught me that I can trust my parents no matter what the situation may be.
Dear me,
ReplyDeleteWhat were you thinking? This girls night wasnt suppose to have been any different from any other one, it shouldve consisted of watching movies, stuffing our faces with tons of unhealty junk food and having our regular ole "girl talk". But oh boy, was it far from that. I really messed up tonight.
Its July 5th, 2013. I just got home from the scariest accident I think I've probably ever been in. I can hardly walk, my head is aching and I just want to bawl my eyes out. I could tell by the look on dads face as he picked me up from the back of an ambluance how disappointed and startled he is. But can I really blame him? I cant help but wonder what Heather is thinking right now, Coach Fry didnt look too happy when he saw the scene of his daughters totaled car- and to top off her car being gone, he took her phone. All I want to do is call her and tell her how extremley sorry I am and that I'll do all I can to fix it.
Anywho, heres the story so I can hopefully look back on this in 10 years and reminisce on how ignorant we all were that night. So here I go- I was bored, we were all bored and so we let the boreom take over. After we couldnt decide of anything to do, we decided it'd be fun to just drive around since Mackenzee and I had just gotten our license. Well since the rules to having your intermediate do say, "Only one passenger in the car that ISNT a family member" we decided not to break them too harshly, so we took two cars. I drove Heathers and Mackenzee drove her own. Mackenzee was the chauffeur of just her and Sierra. While Heather rode shotgun with me and Samantha sat in the back. It was raining, and it was getting pretty dark too. But we're reckless teenagers and we didnt let that stop us from curing our boreom. Mackenzee followed behind me. Heather, Samantha and I spent our ride jamming to music, having fun. It was a big turn, and I was totally blinded by it. Before I could even think, my first reaction was to slam on the breaks, with the slippery wet roads all that did was make it worse. We all screamed as closed our eyes so we wouldnt have to see ourselves slamming through and knockig down a stone wall, along the side of the road. The car was burning, I could barely open my door, the headlights shun into what use to be the wall. Heathers winshield, cracked, I saw blood and suddenly jumped right up after being in a quick shock. "Heather! Samantha! Quick! Get out!" I shouted. I assumed they were in shock as well. They reacted and with the help of me I got them out. We stood back and looked at the disastrous car, we all asked one another if we were hurt. Sam had a concussion, Heather was slightly bleeding and with rips and tears in my shirt from the air bag I was fine, with a minor knee injury. We called 911, scared for our lives of what would happen. The paramedics handed us their phone and asked us to call our parents (scariest moment ever number 2) They cleaned us up and took down all of our information as we sat in the back of the ambulance.
What was I thinking? Id never seen such a beat up car as Heathers was after that accident. Thank God we were all okay. Note to self: NEVER let that happen again.
Sincerely,
How could I be so stupid Lauren Knarr.
You “know” me… Don’t get me wrong, I love helping other people more than anything, it makes me feel so good, but sometimes, it can be a hassle. My problem? I struggle to say “no”, and that can cause me to take on more than I can handle. I am like a mother, running around to comply with the needs of my infinite flock of children.
ReplyDeleteAs I do with my mother, I am the first person many people run to when they need something. “Toe, I need you to take me to the store. I need you to braid my hair. I need you to pick me up. I need advice. help me out”. I am the first person many people run to demand when they need something. You would think a little consideration of my schedule would be in place… but quite often my children find an excuse as to what I am to demanded to do for someone is more important than what I am doing for myself.
Prime Example: One Saturday, I had the day to myself, due to the rest of my family being busy out of town. I woke up to a text message saying “how about you bring us lunch and we can hang out at my house for the day.” Nothing sounded better than spending my day doing that, honestly. The planned time for lunch was 12 noon. From about 9-11:45 I hadn’t heard from my lunch date, but hey, I had the whole day to do nothing, I could wait. As I was on my way to pick up our food, he called telling me we needed to postpone our plans for about an hour. I was already in town, and didn’t want to turn around and go all the way back home so I called one of my closest friends and asked if I could hang out at her house until then. She said that I couldn’t go to her house because it was a mess, but I could take her out to lunch. Being the person I am, I said I would love to, and headed her way. I was excited…getting to spend the day with 2 of my favorite people. On my drive to Kristin’s, my phone rang and I was told my other plans were ready for me to come to his house. Of course I didn’t want to cancel my first plans I had, so I called Kristin and told her she would have to wait a while. I ran myself ragged, but somehow through that chaos, I managed to make everyone happy, and fulfill with all of my plans….. oh and not to mention that Kristin didn’t mention I had to drive her 20 minutes down Cardwell Lane to her friend’s house, instead of dropping her off back at home, like I planned.
That just goes to show, that my lack of being able to say “no” can get me way too far in over my head. My day to myself, turned into my day of being a taxi and a waitress.
Sometimes though… I need help, and I need advice, and I need someone to be there for me. But I don’t let that show. I try to keep a smile on my face and pray it’s contagious. My mother is the most helpful, caring, comforting person I know. Watching her, I have become the person I am today. Her smile is never dull, even in the most trying times. I want everyone to think I am strong and fearless. Being a role model is one of my main goals in life; I just want everyone to look up to me. But a lot of emotions stay bottled in, and sometimes, in the mix of caring for everyone, I start to break, cracking and crumbling. And that is when I need the most help, and the most advice, and most amount of people to be there for me.
As much as I would like to be… I need to realize that I am not “super mom” and I can’t take on every task I am presented with… when I realize this... I can be at peace.
Torey Hawkins
I personally think it is great to have people come to you for help. They see you as competent enough handle whatever it is they want you to handle, however it becomes overwhelmingly tiring, considering that you have needs too that have to be met. This is relatable in, that it is hard for many people including myself to say "no" to others. Job well done I enjoyed reading your story.
DeleteNerisia Ngum
Personally my biggest challenge in life is achieving my future goals. Sense middle school I knew I wanted to be in the medical field. By the time I was in high school I knew I wanted to be an Rn. So I've been working to achieve my future goals for years, and there have been many challenges to get to where I am now. Because of the many requirements I must meet to achieve my future goals.
ReplyDeleteOne of the many challenges that I had faced was taking advanced science courses. I had to take advanced biology and chemistry; this for me was a constant struggle and was not something I wanted to do but had to do. Because most colleges require biology and chemistry for a nursing degree. Because most Rn’s are the ones calculating how much medicine you are given and it is important to understand the amount you should be giving so you do not harm someone.
Another one of the many challenges that I had to face was taking a lot of medical explanatory’s not only to see if I’m interested in the medical field but also to see if I’m capable of completing the courses. At first they were hard and I would have to study for hours to remember many muscles, bones, disorders, diseases, and many more things. Which took a while, but now I know them without having to even think about it. All of the courses also help to show me what parts of the medical field I’m interested in and where I fit in.
I would have to say the biggest challenge I have faced so far in the process of achieving my future goals of being a Rn. Would have to be taking MNA, because it is a dual enrollment college nursing course that is required for nursing school and is very important to my future success. We have done many things that were challenging in this course from doing procedures to taking 10-15 test per term this has been the hardest course so far but has really helped me to see what college is really like and what my future life as an Rn will be like.
So most of my challenges in life right now come from school. Because I really want to achieve my future goals and become an Rn. So even though I might not want to take hard science courses or have to memorize many medical topics or take on many challenges that make me feel stressed in a college nursing course. I do because achieving my future goals and becoming an Rn is important enough for me to take on all of these challenges so that I can achieve my future goals.
I am very interested in nursing because of the many benefits that it can provide in my life and others lives to because of the impact that it can have on people. Because without nursing many people with chronic disorders would not get the care they need to live a comfortable life. And of all the challenges I have to face to get to the point where I can help these people; is very minimal considering the impact that it can have on many people’s lives. So to me it is all worth it.
Drew Dearborn
We share a little bit in common, I have always wanted to be a Pediatrician since when I was a kid and that has not changed. I know it takes a lot of devotion, perseverance and a driving force to keep you going in a field as this, which I think you have to based on what you said about knowing the different diseases, disorders and bones. you going to make an excellent RN some day. Good work; I felt like I was reading what I wrote.
DeleteNerisia Ngum
PART 1: An Introduction to Lucid Dreaming
ReplyDelete(if you already have decent background knowledge of lucid dreaming and want to skip this, just read Part 2 to see how it has affected me)
What is it?
A Lucid dream is a dream in which you know you are dreaming. You are Aware/Conscious. Imagine the level of awareness you have in waking life and apply it to a dream. Lucid Dreaming is a natural skill for only a few people, the rest usually need to practice. However, being Lucid does not mean you can control the dream, that's a skill that may come later after first achieving Lucidity.
Why have Lucid Dreams?
In a Lucid Dream, anything you can imagine is possible. A Lucid Dream is not your typical dream, it is much more vivid, and it can seem as real as any waking experience. So now going on to the why. With Lucid Dreaming, You can adventure and maybe visit a place from a book or video game. You can obtain inspiration to create something like a drawing or a story. You can practice social situations like giving a speech or performing a play. You can take advantage of your heightened ability to think and solve problems you normally couldn't in waking life. You can go on a spiritual exploration. You can even stop your nightmares.
Becoming Lucid
To become Lucid in your dreams, You'll first want to improve your dream recall and then start trying Induction Techniques.
Dream Recall
Even though not everyone remembers their dreams, we all dream at night. First, Lets take a look at sleep cycles. (The following information is from Dreamviews and Wikipedia with my opinion mixed in a little, Also beware the ugly formatting)
--sleep is divided into two broad types: rapid eye movement (REM sleep) and non-rapid eye movement (NREM or non-REM sleep). REM sleep is associated with the capability of dreaming. NREM is divided into three stages: N1, N2, and N3, the last of which is also called delta sleep or slow-wave sleep.
--N1 is the first stage of sleep, normally lasting only a few minutes. You experience N1 as you are just drifting off to sleep. During this stage, you may experience strange noises, lights, or sensations, which are known as hypnogagic hallucinations. You may also experience random twitches in your skeletal muscles. These are called hypnic jerks. They can wake you as you fall asleep. Both hypogagic hallucination and hypnic jerks are completely harmless, although they can be startling sometimes.
--N2 is the second stage of sleep, and is characterized by a total loss of consciousness.
--N3 is the deepest sleep out of all of the stages, so it is very difficult to wake someone in the N3 stage. Parasomnias like sleepwalking and night terrors typically occur in this stage.
--Sleep proceeds in cycles of REM and NREM, usually four or five of them per night, the order normally being N1 → N2 → N3 → N2 → REM. There is a greater amount of deep sleep (stage N3) earlier in the night, while the proportion of REM sleep increases in the two cycles just before natural awakening. (Usually, after about 1-2 cycles, people will start waking up after each cycle. This happens about 3-4 times a night but the average person doesn't remember. Also, If you don't get much sleep, you likely won't dream much as you are mostly in a restorative deep sleep during the first 2-4 hours.)
Getting back to dream recall. This is important because it helps you get familiar with your dreams, and after all, what is the point of lucid dreaming if you can't remember it? The first step is getting a decent amount of sleep, Then you simply recall your dreams after each waking and log them in your phone or whatever you want to use. Just remember to log after each time you wake up in a night because if you try to log all of your dreams after your final awakening, you'll usually forget the previous dreams. There's more to dream recall but this is a decent summary so far.
Induction Techniques
I had to take this part out because the blog post would be too long. Research further if interested.
--Coleman Williams
PART 2: How Lucid Dreaming has affected Me.
ReplyDeleteAs a result of Lucid Dreaming,I've discovered some mental capabilities, I've grown spiritually and emotionally, and I've accumulated some new experiences.
Our mind is powerful. However, during the day, it's somewhat busy controlling the body, so we don't get to use it at it's full potential. If we relax a little, we can notice that our thinking ability becomes stronger and we can imagine things with greater detail. If we relax even more and fall asleep, we can notice that our mind can create a whole dream world with as much detail as waking life. As I practiced lucid dreaming, I had increased my ability to lessen my minds attention to my body. This is due to the dream yoga and meditation, as well as my attempts at WILD ( wake induced lucid dream ) over the summer.
An example of the level I had reached in this ability: I could lay down and relax enough to partially numb most of my body, at this point, I was able to imagine a detailed environment with an enemy ( usually a swordsmen/knight, just for the heck of testing how well I could maneuver ) and a body which I controlled. However, because I stopped practicing when school started, I've lost some of this ability, But since I’ve started writing about this, I’ve decided to pick it up again. ( lol maybe this time, I can develop Telepathy or something >:D )
Lucid dreaming gave me the idea to try out some different ways of living. You can look at this as sort of trying out different religions. One thing i tried out was living with the belief that all sorts of creatures existed, which ranges from the supernatural to extraterrestrial. I also dabbed a little into occult stuff. It was loads of fun. In the end, I managed to refine my core beliefs a little, which is great.
A big thing with dreaming is how it aids in conquering fears. In my dreaming experiences, I've been through a lot of violent stuff, but after being exposed to the violence repeatedly, you become somewhat immune to it. You no longer get freaked out but rather, your attitude shifts to a more “Really?!? This again?”. I've become less afriad of death, Which just might be an unhealthy change seeing as how it might get me killed one day. If you think about it, it makes sense. When you have halfway died in dreams enough, dying becomes normal and you can actually laugh a little about it.
The experiences are interesting. It's almost like taking a vacation to an unknown place each night. I've attempted world domination (my longest and most detailed dream which was 13 paragraphs long in my log), I've joined The Unmeritable Unmutable Organization of Vagueness ( I still don't know the purpose of that organization >.> ), I've traveled with vampires (The vampires tended to be very fun, and very sexy ), and I've even fought reptilian shapeshifters ( they were tough too). Even though these are dreams, they still stick with me as clear as any other memories. Like waking life, you meet people and you do things and you have wonderful times. Dreaming is a great thing.
Overall, Lucid dreaming has positively affected me in many ways. I've had a lot of fun with it, and i still have fun doing the weird things I do. I recommend it to anyone interested in it. We apparently spend a third of our lives sleeping so why not make some use of it?
--Coleman Williams
It's the spring of my 8th grade year and tryouts for the Western Hills dance team were right around the corner, the day I have been waiting for since my mom started teaching at WHHS is finally here. I finally have the chance to be on the dance team I've always wanted to be on.
ReplyDeleteMonday was the first day of clinics and I was so excited I felt like a little kid waking up on Christmas morning. When I walked into the gym we began stretching, just like I had before any other dance practice, so I felt good about things. Then we started learning the dance... And in a matter of moments I was lost and could barely keep up. By the end of the first day of clinics I was completely discouraged and pretty much knew that I wouldn't make it. After countless hours going over and over the dance when I got home, I felt a little better about it and decided that I would not give up; I would push through, even if it meant that I would not make the team. Tuesday went the same way, except 10x worse and this time I felt like a really sick little kid who just wants their mom. When I got home after clinics I did the same thing I did the night before, I pushed through. Wednesday was a day to ourselves and I used that to my advantage. I went over and over and over the dance drilling it into my head preparing for tryouts the next day.
Finally the day was here, it was tryout day and I felt every emotion all at the same time. You know that feeling you get before a big test or a performance of any kind? Well just imagine that but even worse and that is what I was feeling. It was finally my time to go in front of the judges and I couldn't stop shaking like a leaf blowing in the wind. All the things I could mess up on kept playing through my mind. Well after I went out on the stage and did all the things that I thought I could mess up, I was completely devastated. After waiting all those years I just destroyed that one chance of being a Western Hills dancer... And I was right, I did not make the dance team for my freshmen year of high school. After being upset for a while, I decided to put it behind me and focus on getting better. I tried out for Champions Elite dance team and this time, I made it. I practiced my hip-hop tricks, I focused on getting my motions sharper, and most of all I didn't let my emotions get the best of me. While I was on this team for two years I improved in so many ways and I was so grateful for all the things Champions helped me accomplish.
At the end of my Sophomore year I decided I would give Western Hills dance team another try and this time I was determined to make it. When I walked into clinics the first day I knew all my hard work had payed off. I picked up on the dance easily and I had all the tricks I needed to have to make the team, not only was I prepared but I felt confident. This time when I walked into tryouts I wasn't replaying all the things I did wrong but making sure I knew everything to do right. This time I was ready. This time when they put the list up of the 2013-2014 Western Hills dance team members my name was on it. Finally after all those years of wishing, waiting, and wanting to be on the Western Hills dance team I was finally on it. I actually did it.
After not making the dance team I was so discouraged and almost didn't tryout for Champions and even then I didn't know if I wanted to tryout for Western Hills again, but I did. I put my fear of disappointment behind me and went for it. This challenge taught me to never give and and to always “keep on swimming” even if things get hard. Even though it was hard to overcome I am so grateful to of had the opportunity to learn that valuable lesson because it has helped shape the person I am today.
Abigale Wilson
As I prepare to write this post, I realize how fortunate I truly am and I actually feel a bit guilty for what I’m about to write. I’m not your average teenage girl, I have married parents both of whom love me unconditionally, I have never rebelled in any way, nor have I dealt with the death of someone with whom I was extremely close. Unlike most, I enjoy public speaking. But like many of my peers and I am extremely involved in my chosen clubs and activities. Personal stories opposite of mine touch my heart, making those more similar to mine seem minuet; however, my story is a constant burden to me.
ReplyDeleteChoices are made every day. Large or small, every choice we make has an effect on our life. The result of our choices is often a challenge to be faced.
It seems my whole life I have run full speed with school, dance classes, private, school and travel team practices, basketball, working sheep, FFA events and the Franklin County 4-H livestock club. My parents have often been asked, “How do you keep up with everything?” Their response is always a simple, “It’s just our life.” And yes, it is just the way we have chosen to live our lives. Reflecting on this, I would not want it to be any other way.
Approaching this school year, I was aware that the expectations and pressure to succeed would be at an all-time high. Multiple AP classes would begin, as well as taking the ACT and looking at colleges, all while trying to manage the often conflicting schedules of multiple extracurriculars. Knowing what was ahead, I made the choice not to try out for the travel dance team I had enjoyed since the 7th grade, hoping that by cutting out two practices a week and monthly competitions my time would be a bit more open and I would be able to focus on the new challenges junior year would bring. At the time, I was not happy with my decision. I felt I was letting down my team, as well as no longer being able to satisfy my lifelong passion.
We are now well into this school year, and I cannot imagine adding two practices and monthly competitions back into my schedule. The work load I have carried this year as well as the demands of my coaches, teachers, and advisors have been extremely challenging and often overwhelming. Never have I been so ready to give up. Never have I felt I no longer care. I have realized that all of this has diminished my normally positive mindset making it hard for me to continue going forward with what is required for school, extracurricular activities, and my future.
Looking ahead, I often claim that next year I will “go out with a bang;” While there will still be academic challenges to be faced, I plan to take advantage of extra extracurricular opportunities and experiences while they are still open to me, rather than stressing over the things I cannot change. My hope is to make that claim a reality… as soon as I figure out how.
Grace Higgs
Part One
ReplyDeleteWhen Mrs. Hill first presented this topic as our blog post I must admit I freaked out a little bit. I always considered myself a fairly “normal” teenager who hasn’t really faced many difficult challenges or choices in their life. Then I realized, I’ve dealt with a challenge nearly every day of my life since I was in 3rd grade. It has come so accustom to me that I hardly recognize it as challenge, it has become more of a lifestyle.
When I was a child I began to notice abnormal stomach pains all throughout the day. The thought of it ever becoming anything more than a mere stomach ache never crossed my mind. Eventually, the pain became constant and unbearable. It hardly ever went away. My parents were concerned but not enough to take me to the doctor just yet. Of course if anyone knows my dad, he’ll tell you that “She’s fine, she’s just over reacting. It’s not anything serious.” I wanted to believe that but a part of me knew there was something seriously wrong with me.
After months of continuous pain and no sign of it getting any better, a new symptom came into play. I began to notice blood in my stool (yes, I’m aware that is quite disgusting but it’s nothing I can control.) That very moment my mother picked up the phone and immediately called the hospital. Of course as a third grader I was pretty convinced I was dying. But I was quickly assured that was not the case.
After months of blood tests, hospital visits, and meeting several different doctors they finally reached a diagnosis. By the beginning of my fourth grade year I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis. For many people who are unaware of what Ulcerative colitis is, it’s a serious chronic inflammatory disease of the large intestine. It is known for causing severe stomach pain, nausea, chills, and frequent trips to the restroom. Being diagnosed with this terrified me. I thought I would never be able to live a normal life anymore. I had to completely change my lifestyle in order to feel the least bit better.
Part Two
ReplyDeleteAs I grew older my doctor decided to go in depth about what my future with Ulcerative Colitis could consist of. She told me that being a person with this disease gave me a higher chance of developing colon cancer. That may have been the most terrifying moment of my life. How is a person at my age, or any age really, supposed to deal with the news of developing cancer? Hearing those words roll off her tongue still haunt me every day.
I did, however, found some good out of all of this. I have learned that I can get through every obstacle life throws at me as long as I keep a positive mindset and never give up. This disease has definitely changed me as a person and the way I live.
As of now, my Ulcerative Colitis is under control and I’m as healthy as I can be. It has definitely impacted my life in a number of ways. I still have to take medicine everyday which can have a bad effect on my body depending on the day. In ways it has helped me. It has made me take better care of my body and have a better balanced diet in order to reduce the frequency of flare ups. A big lesson it has taught me is to live life to the fullest because you never know what tomorrow might throw at you.
Heather Fry
I have to admit I haven't made a bunch of big choices in my life, nor have there been many changes or challenges I've had to face. Like others have described it, I have had a fairly "cushioned life". One change/ challenge I have faced however was the death of my first dog. As anybody writing one of these posts knows death is a powerful force, it seems like every other writing we read talks about death. It affects everybody in someway at some point, it is unavoidable but throughout our lives we must overcome the emotional tole it brings upon us.
ReplyDeleteMy first dog was a shih-tzu and her name was Lulu. I love animals and would play with her often. We grew up together, I got her when I was four and we grew close over the years. When I had moved back to Frankfort I initially didn't have any friends because I was new and didn't know anybody. My dog was there with me though, to be at my side, to keep me company.
A couple of years ago during winter break my freshman year she passed away of natural causes at the age of 11. Now I love animals anyway and think its pretty sad when something happens to one in a movie, so when my own animal died some sort of emotional string snapped. Looking back I'm lucky it happened during some sort of break away from school because I was severely depressed for the next week or so. I hardly ate anything, all I would do all day is sit in my room and listen to The Beatles. I was distraught I guess you could say, I had lost one of my oldest friends, one of my best friends. After winter break I had managed to shrug off the worst of it but I was still upset, you couldn't tell by looking at me but I was. It was hard to change at home because I continued doing the same routine like fixing up dog food and setting bowls of water in the floor. It would upset me when I realized what I was doing without any thought, these things no longer mattered.
My mom was upset over the loss as well and suggested we get a new dog. I was p***ed when she proposed the idea because it felt like we would be replacing our old dog. She said " Okay we won't." But she ended up getting two shih-tzu puppies anyway. It turns out I'm glad she did, over the last two years I have grown closer to them as well. Even though they will never replace my first dog they have helped to heal the emotional wound.
You lose family and friends and it takes it tole on you. You also gain them as well, you meet new people, more are born not to make you forget the old ones but to bring forth a positive outlook. With death brings sadness and despair, to counteract that new life brings with it happiness and a reason to look to the future.
P.S. I thought two dogs were enough and you know what happens? One of the dogs ended up having a litter of seven puppies in August. We kept two of them and I thought it was a bad idea to keep any, well I was wrong. There is one I have become pretty attached to because he just follows me everywhere.
- Cameron Bunyea, head of the PPNTOO, Preservation of the Pacific Northwestern Tree Octopus Organization
The natural enemy of the tree octopi are Sasquatch so please help to reduce the Sasquatch population.
To learn more please visit the website below:
http://zapatopi.net/treeoctopus/
PART 1
ReplyDeleteEvery athlete is bound to face some sort of adversity during their career, it’s inevitable. How that athlete overcomes said adversity is what truly defines them as a person and establishes their character. All athletes have a story to tell, so here is mine.
Some of you have knowledge of my skill at golf. Judging by what I’ve heard, it seems as though everyone thinks that it’s all a nice sparkling success story. It isn’t. It’s actually an awful story to be honest. It’s full of anger, sadness, regret, depression, rage, and sorrow. However, it’s also a story of perseverance and character. In this story, I became a new man, and a brand new golfer.
It was the summer of 2012. School had just ended and the new golf season was on the horizon. I had registered to participate in a touring competitive golf program called “Kentucky Junior PGA Tour”. They host many tournaments during the summer that you can sign up to participate in. I had been placed in the advanced division as a 15 year old, playing with guys of any age, typically 16-18. In my first tournament of the year, I stepped onto the tee to find I was paired with a boy who was 18 and was going to play golf at Transylvania in the fall. Even when met with this challenge, I thought to myself, “I’m Chris freaking Hughes, I can beat this guy. No problem.” Of course that wasn’t the case. I came in second place in the tournament with a disgraceful score of 82, ten strokes above par. The trip back to Frankfort wasn’t pretty. There was anger, and plenty of it. Little did I know it was only a fraction of the emotional wear that was waiting for me this season.
In the next few tournaments, the losses began piling up, and my hope began to shrivel. Now I had arrived upon the final tournament of the season, the Tournament of Champions. I had convinced myself that this is where I would get my good karma and finally have a good showing after the horrible regular season. Again, I was mistaken. Do you know how hard it is to suffer for 6 hours? To watch your dreams fall flat in front of you as you aimlessly attempt to navigate between trees and bunkers and ponds? To finish in last place? I hope none of you do, it’s the most painful experience you can endure. Its mere torture. I wanted to quit golf so bad. I wanted to throw in the towel and send my clubs into the garage to rust. I wanted the pain and suffering to end, and the only way that seemed possible was to give up. The struggles weren’t just inside my own head; I heard a great deal of criticism from some fellow golfers. “You’ve lost your touch Chris, You aren’t that good anymore Chris, Everyone is better than you now Chris.” These negative comments simply tore me apart. The only support I could manage to find was from my family. The kept drilling this idea in my head that things would get better. It’s only a matter of time. Your day is coming. However, it was nearly in vein. I hated golf, I truly did. It wasn’t fun anymore, all it brought was stress and anger and regret and depression. When I finally came to my senses, I decided to stick with it one more year, and see if I could find success, just one more year.
Summer of 2013 had arrived. It was my time to shine and prove to everyone that I am a golfer, and a damned good one at that. My first tournament was in Elizabethtown, where I earned third place with a score of 78, six strokes above par. “That’s it. I am going to win. All of these other players will be asking for my autograph because of the talent that is about to rush over this tour.” I thought to myself. My next tournament was in Shelbyville, where I shot 73 and won by 10 strokes. The next day, I won again. Now I found myself in contention for player of the year. “You can do it Chris. You’ve earned this” I kept telling myself. In my last tournament of the regular season, I found myself in second place overall for player of the year, and I was playing in a tournament with the boy who was in first place. After the dust had settled, I shot 76, he shot 77. Now I had the lead, and the other players shuddered at the mention of my name. Now, I just had to survive the tournament of champions. I finished the tournament with a two day score of 156 (which is quite disgraceful at that) and won player of the year. It took about 2 days before it all resonated in my head that I just beat everyone, I was triumphant, and I was the best, all because I decided to stick with it one more fateful year.
ReplyDeleteThe moral of the story, as cliché as it sounds, never give up. You can never reap the fruits of your efforts if you quit and throw your ambitions away. Success and triumph are born out of adversity and struggle. That’s why they are so admired. At the end of the summer in 2012 I was faced with a choice, to quit or to keep trying. Now you can see the good that that decision has brought to my life. My once dying passion for golf was reignited and is burning bright. Now, instead of being a story of failure, I’m a story of success.
-Chris Hughes
I was late on my first day. My first day of volleyball. I walked into the gym right at 4 o'clock, proud that I was right on time. Then I looked up and saw 25 girls running laps and the coach staring at me. Five laps then stretch she growled at me. I think I might have whimpered a little but I was just lucky not to pass out. After I ran those laps and practiced for what seemed like an eternity it was over. I was free! I could go home, chug some water and fall asleep. Some how I managed to force myself to go the next day and the day after that and so on until I was officially on the team.
ReplyDeleteThroughout all of this the biggest challenges was conditioning. Sometimes we ran so much I thought that I might have joined the cross country team on accident. What made it even worse was that I was and still am terribly slow. As in, I'm lucky if my mile time is under ten minutes. This really was the hardest part of it all. I could build muscle to do push-ups or get my serve over, but for the life of me I just couldn't run very fast. Nikki Dorsey ran faster than me when she was having an asthma attack. But slowly, very slowly, I got better. Over time it became a personal goal of mine to improve my mile time, even if it was just a little bit. By the end of summer workouts I had cut two minutes of my time. I was so excited! (This was before I made varsity) I was still the slowest person on the team but I had improved so much that it made me want to work harder on everything because I proved to myself I could do anything I set my mind to.
During this season, though, I faced more challenges...I was the team's starting benchwarmer. We played a total of 36 matches this season, I might have played in seven of them. I didn't expect to be a starter, but I thought I at least deserved a shot. I showed up to every practice, ran every lap, did every push-up, tried harder than most of my teammates and still sat the bench. Every time the coach walked down the bench my heart started pounding at the thought that she would put me in. It never happened. Of the seven times I got put in twice were because it was the last point of the match we were going to win, once was during a scrimmage, once was to serve for someone else, and the other three were because the other team was guaranteed to win. We lost 19 matches this year, I played in three of those.
Even after this season I still love volleyball, I still love my teammates and I still hate running. I will never quit because of these reasons. I will continue to try my best, run every lap and go to every practice. I will continue to overcome this challenge that I love so much.
Emily Crowe
PART 1:
ReplyDeleteBeing around people paralyzes me, it always has and I don’t know if that will ever change but I am determined to try. In the beginning of my sophomore year I made a choice to be less introverted. I told myself I will talk, I will meet new people, I will join new clubs, and I will overcome this ridiculous shyness. This choice proved to be one of the most grueling challenges I have ever faced. I found out that this particular goal would be a long term goal and could not be achieved in one short year no matter how hard I tried or how much effort I put forth.
There was one time in particular that really set me on edge. It was my freshman year and, of course, I had yet to make my extroverted resolution, but I was told that I had to pick a poem to recite in front of my entire English class. I looked around the room at my classmates and saw that some were actually excited to participate but I also saw the people who had apprehension laced faces. I knew exactly how they felt. I had absolutely no clue as to how I was going to get the nerve up to actually do this and get a good grade, I was immediately overwhelmed. So, of course, when choosing my poem, I went with one of the shorter poems, “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost and figured that the shorter it was, the more bearable it would be. Then the day came that I had to recite my poem and I finally got up there in front of my classmates with their waiting eyes staring at me and I felt like crawling in a pit of snakes (my biggest fear) and dying. I felt like I was at the doctor, getting probed and poked and judged, while I was standing up there shaking. I stammered through the stanzas and somehow made it through and, it was over, and there was this part of me, one little piece, that felt just a little bit more confident in myself. That’s the part I like to remember and thinking back to that day, and that phenomenal feeling is what led me to my decision my sophomore year.
My freshman year I was a member in a few different clubs but I wasn’t an actual participate. So the first thing on my list to becoming a non-hermit was becoming an active member in my favorite club, FCCLA where I felt pretty comfortable. I went to the FCCLA National Cluster meeting in Indianapolis, Indiana with about 7 other people who I didn’t even know. You could probably guess that I was terrified and stupefied and I hated it. I roomed with two college students who are alumni and one person who was a junior at the time and I they were some of the best people I think I have ever met. While I listened to them talk to each other I sat in the background telling myself over and over again to talk and not be afraid and finally I spoke. I overcame one fear on my very extensive list of fears and by the end of the trip I was literally bouncing off the walls and the junior I roomed with was saying “Oh my gosh, we broke her!!” That one little sentence made my day because that’s when I realized that I could do this. I could be more courageous.
Also last year, I decided that I wanted to be a big part of something to show my determination and passion of abandoning my shyness. I decide that I wanted to be an officer for FCCLA. One thing I didn’t take into account when I made this decision was the fact that being an officer meant having to stand in front of a lot of people and speaking to them and when I realized this, I wanted to take back my officer application and rip it to pieces. I sucked it up and told myself to stop being a wimp and achieve my goal. I then became First Vice President of FCCLA and the joy in that moment made me forget about the bad part and gave me the motivation I needed to face the problem head on. I can now speak in front of people without turning into a frozen freak but I still quiver and tremble and get that ghastly feeling in my stomach like there is a rock sitting there while every other part of me convulses and it sucks but I WILL overcome this. I am set on that.
-Taylor Moreland
At the beginning of this year I told myself that it was time to spread my horizons in the friends department. This seems to be the most difficult part for me and I don’t know why. Every day I adhere to my decision, even when I get shot down over and over again and you could probably say I’m taking the road I’ve not taken yet and venturing the different possibilities. I know that this goal will not be fully accomplished by the end of this year and will probably be an ongoing goal for my entire life because it is the most terrifying phenomenon for me, individually. I guess I’m just not a “social butterfly”. Oh, well. I guess all I can do is give it my best and face whatever challenges are thrown at me so that I can ditch the loner in me.
ReplyDelete-Taylor Moreland
Almost every little girl growing up, sometime in their lives, aspires to be “Disney Princess”. Some dream of being Cinderella, others Princess Jasmine, and some Ariel. As for me, I dreamed of being the determined, strong, loving, and selfless Mulan. Nevertheless, these princesses are the furthest from “perfect”. Cinderella snuck out of the house, Jasmine fell for the “bad boy” and Mulan disobeyed her father and lied to the Chinese army about being a man. Nobody is perfect, but there is one thing that can remain perfect in all of us, until our wedding day- if we choose to keep it perfect- our virginity.
ReplyDeleteNow, being that little girl who wanted to be a princess like Mulan, I of course wanted to someday meet my prince charming, to live “happily ever after” with- just like Mulan had Shang! I will spare you the “mushy” love story of how my boyfriend and I, formed our present relationship, but he is a crucial point in my life. Our relationship is quite different than most relationships in today’s society- how you ask? - We have made the commitment to one another to abstain from having sex. Now let me tell you, this is not easy when statistics show that, “16% of teens have had sex by age 15, compared with one-third of those aged 16, nearly half (48%) of those who aged 17, 61% of 18-year-olds and 71% of 19-year-olds.”. Being someone who just turned 17, that is so scary for me to hear. Almost half of American’s by reaching the age of 17 years old have already had sex, whereas I am still a proud virgin at 17.
To some that isn’t “cool”, but to me, it’s something I hold very dear to my heart and will continue to do so, until my wedding day. This is a challenge my boyfriend and I have decided to take on together, as a couple, to defy the odds and remain pure. Nevertheless, it isn’t always easy to stay pure when the statistics are up against you, with propaganda always popping up saying: “everyone else is doing it” and those teenage hormones that are happening. It is a choice we have made, and it is something I know I will never have to regret doing- rather than not staying pure and regretting so much on my wedding night. By waiting and saving myself for the man God has planned for me, I will give myself away to my true prince charming and only him.
The Lord says in 1 Thessalonians 4:3-5; “For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God.” Being someone who has grown up in church I have been taught to save my virginity till marriage, and being a young girl just aspiring to be a princess, I hardly knew what that truly meant. I automatically thought that everyone else was taught the same thing as me, I never would have predicted how alone I would stand when it came to abstaining from sex. Now that I am older and can truly understand what this verse is asking of me, and I can honestly say it is one of the biggest challenges in my life. It is a challenge that I take on daily in order to glorify God, and with him I know I can face this challenge, and any other one that comes in my life.
http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/FB-ATSRH.html (statistic source)
~Amber Booth~
As I am sitting at the computer the black and white colored keys underneath my fingertips, and thinking about what to talk for Ms. Hills blog and the story that hit me like a bolt of lightning was the time I fought Tanner Smith on the practice field in the middle of my sophomore year.
ReplyDeleteI am smelling the fresh cut grass and going through a blocking drill and I have to block tanner and then we turn the tables and I have to block him. So as we’re doing this he holds me and I told him to stop, and Tanner does it again, and as he is throwing me around like a rag doll, and making me mad I told him to stop. {It was probably like the third, maybe fourth time,} I got mad and ran at him and went to block him and I end up slamming him, because I was blood boiling furious and he was doing cheap stuff and not taking practice seriously. In my mind all the reason in the world to get someone who not helping me, not benefiting the team and goofing off to stop. I think I was justified in slamming him.
So I slam tanner, then he retaliates he grabs my face mask rolls me off of him and repeatedly slams my head in to the semi soft ground. I can’t help but think did I really just do that, I just picked a fight with Tanner Smith, I then see as my head is bobbling around like a bobble head in my helmet John Elder out of the corner of my eye and he runs over and pulls Tanner off of me and then helps me up. Coach Hockensmith looked at me and shaking his head he then said after practice “That’s was one of the best things I have ever seen you do”. Tanner and me then shook hands and walked towards the water and as we’re drinking and I’m taking care of my busted nose. He looks at me and shook his head as if he agreed with what I did. He then took care of his teammates on the field on Friday nights and he also took the rest of practice more seriously from then on.
As I’m looking back on this, I stood up for myself and even somehow put an upperclassmen back in line. It was his senior year and he knew he should have taken practice more serious. Now he talks to me and where friends and said” good practice as we walked back in the locker room”. I stopped him from messing with me to helping my team, and gave him someone he could rely on to further benefit the team.
From the football field, to everyday life, I tend not to let people mess with my friends or my family. I think it is a semi wolf pack mentality, that gives me the overprotective nature I have. Based upon things that I don’t see as morally right or just something feels off and I tend to find out what I can do to fix or to help the everyday problem and continue to move forward.
Robbie Olson
We each are still very young, and will have countless choices to make and challenges to face as we progress through our lives. The challenge that I've encountered is one that is fairly common in today's society, yet still affects me profoundly; the challenge that is most prominent in my life is the divorce of my parents.
ReplyDeleteAt the age of six, most of us are frolicking around and having fun with childhood, as most children do. I was six when my parents got divorced. Fortunately, there was no fighting between my parents and it wasn't messy at all. Nevertheless, it was still a rough time for me, as a six year old has no idea what is truly happening. I had to have everything explained out to me in terms that I could understand. I had to essentially be left out of the loop because of my age, and I'm just now learning intricate details of what truly happened.
To say the least, divorce is hard on a child. A typical family is shown with happily married parents and their child. I didn't know what that feeling was. I was jealous of friends who had both parents. I have no memories of that. Other kids have photos and memories of their parents and them on vacations and family trips, but I don't. My sister does since she's older than me, but I do not. I yearn for those memories, but I know that there's no way I can ever gain them.
Ever since then, I have been going to a different parent's house every week, and it has really become commonplace for me. I pack some items, and switch. I used to sit around and cry because I'd miss one parent or the other, but I don't mind it as much as I used to, because I know it's for the better. Although, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that sometimes I get very flustered and angry at the thought of having to move back again after being in a house for as small a time span as a week.
Now, I am fortunate in that I have two parents who I love and love me and my sister, otherwise they wouldn't have been so civil during the divorce. Since then, both of my parents have remarried and are very happy, as am I. I know that life could be better, but it could also be much worse, so I'm ever-appreciative of what I have. It doesn't affect me as much as it used to, and I can certainly say that I don't think I've ever been happier with life.
Cam Newton
Let me be honest with you. I can think of nothing of any real consequence to write about. I have never seriously played a sport, I have never really had a big defining moment of success or failure in my life. Nor have I encountered many of the hardships some of you have faced here. My life has been cushy and sheltered and safe. I never took any risks and stayed in my safe little bubble, and that bubble was always left untouched. That in mind, please excuse any language that you may find condescending, unchallenged, boring or otherwise stupid.
ReplyDeleteIn the fifth grade I was what most would call a huge nerd. I never fit in, never had a consistent group of friends, and was very awkward. Sometime in the course of the early months of 2008, some kids were selected (I'm not sure whether it was grades, teacher recommendation, recommendation from other students or whatever) to take a test to be on our school's academic team. This test was fairly straight-forward for the fifth grade. Somewhat challenging but easy.
At the time I didn't think much of it. I took the test and went on about my life. A few days later, one of the coaches (another fifth grade teacher), passed around letters to the few who made it. I was ecstatic when I didn't get the letter because I thought I wasn't good enough, I didn't have a good enough work ethic and that it would be a waste of my time.
A few days after that I was pulled aside and told that I had made the team and that they for some reason they hadn't printed out a paper for me. I still thought it was a waste of my time, but I went to the practices anyway. The practices at first were run by the coaches, a fifth grade teacher I never had, Mrs. Doerting and my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Garmon. As they ran through the questions, about books frequently mentioned in my classes, but that I had never read, US history, basic operation math problems; I found them getting easier and my confidence rising. As I went, I got better and better, but we still hadn't played a match.
The time had come to show what I knew. It was time for the "Superintendent's Cup", an academic competition between the district's then six elementary schools. I can't say I remembered everything about it, but we lost our first match, and I was devastated. It was the first real experience of loss that really affected me, even if it wasn't Governor's Cup, which was what really mattered.
Governor's Cup was at Good Sheperd that year. I had never gotten up early on a Saturday to go to what was very close to actual school. It was weird. I was excited as I walked upstairs and outdoors to one of their classrooms. I killed that test. I can't say the same about quick recall. Just as in the Superintendent's Cup, we were saddened by an early exit. We mostly spent the afternoon in the cafeteria playing games until it was time for awards.
I got nervous, and I still do to this day. They went over quick recall before they called the individual test-takers. But I still had to wait uncomfortably through fifteen names as the first three subjects were called. Then it was time. Four more names. As they called number two, I was a wreck, just knowing that this couldn't be me... could it? I heard the group cheering behind me as Mr. Castle read off my name. I was the Social Studies district champion. I was very proud of myself and was finally happy to be on the academic team.
As many know, I am still on the academic team today and we are league champions for the second time in three years and I'm still not having any second thoughts about the decision I made back in the fifth grade. It has helped me study for upcoming tests and has increased my general knowledge base. In shorter terms, it helped me fit in. I had accepted the challenge.
-Evan Hatter
While I was learning, I was completely and utterly afraid of driving. Just the thought of getting behind the wheel made my heart jump out of my chest. I was so frustrated because I couldn’t drive the way I imagined I could. Driving didn’t come naturally to me, which for some reason bothered me, even though hardly anything ever does. It didn’t exactly help the situation that most of my friends had already been driving before I even turned sixteen, and while I was struggling to learn the basics, they pretty much had the whole driving thing accomplished.
ReplyDeleteNormally, having to actually practice learning to drive like a typical human being shouldn’t bother someone, but I guess I wasn’t just someone. I was crushed. Devastated. Every time I wasn’t perfect, every time I made a mistake, I thought I was letting someone down. It didn’t matter whether it was my dad or myself or anyone, and I hated it. I hated it so much I basically started avoiding driving all together unless I had to. Until I started craving the feeling of independence that I started seeing in everyone else.
There were two things I were particularly bad at when I was learning, parallel parking, and standing my ground against the other drivers. When I went out driving, and other drivers would try to take advantage of the fact that I had a little car, or that I was young, I would assume that I was doing something wrong and let them do whatever they wanted to do. It got so bad at one point my dad actually told that I can’t be nice to people when I drive. Not like the can’t where you shouldn’t, but the can’t where you really, really just cannot do it, and it freaked me out. It took a lot of work to learn to take consideration and almost regulate it when I was driving. Now, about parallel parking, well I was just as bad at it as anyone could expect, but it was still one of the biggest challenges for me. I would nail it one time, after countless practicing and practicing, only to fail after that one success, and the frustration was nearly unbearable for me.
It took a lot of hard work, but eventually I grew past all of those things. I still don’t exceptional parking skills, but I’m becoming okay with that. The more I practiced and the more I worked to perfect the issues I had instead of dwelling on them, the stronger I became in the areas I was weakest in. And because of that improvement, I got my confidence back. I slowly felt less inadequate about my driving skills, and I got better. Now I drive everywhere, and I don’t regret having the challenges I did when I was learning. It made me become a better driver, and I wouldn’t have learned as well as I did if I didn’t have that frustration to fuel my practice.
Erin Chapman
Part One
ReplyDeleteEveryone has a passion towards something. Whether it be sports, reading, or video games. We all have that one thing that means so much to us and we want to be the best that we can. We want to be pushed so we can be the best we can. We want to do everything we possibly can to try to do our best. I am very passionate about music, particularly band. I am third chair in symphonic band and I work very hard to maintain my spot and show off what I can do. One thing that really helps push our band to play to the best of our ability is Mrs. Wallace. She pushes and encourages us to go out and play our horn in different atmospheres. She pushes for us to audition for honor bands and play in front of people. There are many different opportunities we have to play in different environments. There is All-State Band, All-District Band, University of Louisville Honor Band, EKU Honor Band and many, many more. Most of these you have to audition for. Our band knows that the hardest Bands to get into are All-State and All-District. All-District Band gives us two pieces that are not challenging but we still have to put in the effort to play them perfectly. All-State Band forces you to put in as much practice as you work on your English III AP work to even be considered for the band. All-State Band is a struggle and that is exactly what my story is about.
At the beginning of the year, we start off with marching band music. It is fairly easy and it just gets us back in the hang of playing our horns again and playing them well. Marching band also gets us ready for concert band where we play more challenging pieces that we struggle through to make us stronger as individuals and as a whole. During marching band season, we start receiving audition music. The first audition music we receive is All-State Band music. We are given a few months to practice on it before the first cut and if you want to make it past first cut; you must start as soon as you get it. My freshman year, I did not even think about auditioning. I saw the music and could have thrown it away right then and not thought anything else about it. I just wanted to get used to being in high school. My sophomore year I did not plan on trying out but I at least wanted to be able to play that high level of music so I could get ready for the next year. I completely dropped the ball on that one and didn’t look at it at all. MY junior year came and I knew that this was the year that I would not back down. I would practice and practice and when auditions came, I would go and play the music. That attitude did not last for long.
I took the music and planned on starting on it soon. I didn’t do it. I would look at just sitting in my folder and thought about sight reading it for the first time. I didn’t do it. About a month had passed and you have thought I would have practiced it, but sadly, I didn’t do it. The music remained in my folder and after a month, the most I had done was circle all the notes that were to be played sharp or flat according to the key signature. A month had passed and I had yet to play the excerpts let alone the first note. I thought that I would end up not trying like I had done the past few years. That was until I began my clarinet lessons. My instructor asked if I planned on trying out for All-State. I was hesitant to say yes because I know that others taking lessons had start working on it and had an idea of how the tune goes. I finally told him that I had planned on it; I told him I had not started working on it and he said that it was okay but I would need to start soon. We went over a few basics and started working on it together. At the end of that lesson he gave me a goal for the next time. That is what officially pushed me into practicing.
~Ashleigh Johnson~
Part Two
ReplyDeleteGenerally, on audition music, there is a lyrical piece and an upbeat piece. For the slower excerpt, you must pay attention to details such as dynamics (soft and loud.) For the faster song, you must pay attention to articulations. I personally am better at playing slow lyrical pieces and focusing on my tone. So I obviously started on the slow piece. It started coming together and I had an idea of what it should sound like and would just need to keep practicing it. I was quite reluctant to play the faster piece. My articulations always come out heavy when they supposed to be short. Since I was not the best at it, I didn’t play that one for even longer when I should have been doing the opposite. Eventually I worked on it but I did not make as much progress as I did with the first piece. I was nowhere close to being prepared for the audition. I knew that I had to work my butt off so that mistakes during the audition won’t matter as much.
I have always auditioned badly. Ever since middle school I had a fear of playing in front of people. I would shake uncontrollably, my breathing would get ragged and my chest would break out in bright red blotches. That trend carried on into high school. I knew that I would need to get over that fear so I could perform better. I performed for my mom and some friends without a problem. I knew I still had work but I was getting there.
Suddenly, audition day was here. Leading up to my audition all these different thoughts were in my head. “I can’t do this.” “I’m going to completely wipeout.” “I won’t play the key signature.” “I won’t breathe in enough and cut off phrases.” “I’m not ready.” I was psyching myself out and I knew that it wouldn’t do any good. We arrived at Henry Clay High School where the auditions were being held. Once arriving, I was actually excited to play. This time there were positive comments going through my head. I waited outside the room for them to call my number. Once they did, I received a “good luck” from my band mates and made my journey into the room. I walk in and the judge’s backs were to me. I sit down and take some deep breaths. They tell me that I can warm up a little and to start when I was ready. I played a scale and tuned then all I could think was “it’s now or never.” I put it all out there. I played confidently. The lyrical piece went great. Once that one was over, that is when my nerves started kicking in. I took a few more deep breaths and prepared myself. I started off strong and then one of the hardest sections came and it was shaky. I attempted to recover as best I could. The ending was better but it still wasn’t as great as I had played before. I walked out of the room and had a few people from different schools compliment my playing. I was proud of myself. I didn’t shake and my breathing stayed fairly normal. I then had great confidence in myself and hoped for the best.
We got back on the bus to go back home. Mrs. Wallace had to results. Part of me was not surprised and a tiny bit of me was shocked. I did not make it past the first cut. I was upset at myself when I knew I could have done better. I should have practiced and played in front of more people. However I didn’t and this was the consequence. I did however reach my goal. I actually auditioned this year. I didn’t shake. I got through both pieces without completely wrecking them. Yes it would have been nice to have made it past the first cut but this just gives me more motivation to try again next year. Trying out for All-State was a challenge for me. Through this process I have definitely become a better player and that is the overall goal for any musician. I still have one year left to audition and I plan to work hard as soon as I get the music and keep playing no matter what.
~Ashleigh Johnson~
This entire week, I’ve been more stressed than I’ve ever been in most of my life. I have GSP application due, my mom bugging me to schedule college tours, I’m getting over a bad virus, I have to write this English post, an AP Euro essay, and countless finals. I know a lot of us are feeling this stress, especially those who, like me, put off the GSP application until the last minute. However, due to my often unrealistic expectations of myself, I increase this stress and it is an immense challenge in my life right now.
ReplyDeleteMost people call these unrealistic expectations as perfectionism. To be clear, I don’t think that I’m perfect AT ALL. In fact, ask me and I’ll probably tell you the exact opposite. I’m known for being extremely hard on myself. This perfectionism has caused me to have many breakdowns in my life. At times I feel like Atlas, trying to hold the entire world on my shoulders. I’ve improved greatly at holding these breakdowns in, which is beneficial in making me seem stronger on the outside, but can also deteriorate me on the inside.
This perfectionism manifests itself in my schoolwork mostly. I know many of you will roll your eyes at this, but I hate seeing anything less than a 100% on my report card. I’m not the only one who expects this. So does my mother. For most of my career as a student grades had come easy to me, up until this year. My mother, however, doesn’t see how much harder I have to work for the grades I have and is often upset with me when I have limited amount of time to spend on other activities such as golf and college prep.
Although the stress in my life has increased greatly this year I have also found someone who has taught me to let go and relax. My relationship with my SO has given me someone to fall back and talk with and taught me that sometimes you have to drop some “perfections” to keep your sanity. Although I haven’t conquered my perfectionism yet, I am well on the way to, and I hope that, in the future, I can find a way to succeed and still find ways to relax.
Sidney Cobb
“It is no bad thing celebrating a simple life.”
ReplyDelete― J.R.R. Tolkien
Ok, so I accidently deleted like two nights of work and I am hating myself so hardcore right now. Like, the piece that I wrote was absolutely beautiful, I almost cried when I realized what I did. Legitly, I was about to curl up in a corner and bawl my eyes out until I died, then it hit me. In my state of utter desperation and despair I found the little light bulb that clicked on in such a cliché manner that I almost cringed at the mere sight of the glowing little orb. With a simple click of the mouse, I realized the secrets of life the universe and everything. “Life. Goes. On.” After a day of talking about death, mourning lost pens, and despairing over lost word documents I noticed that people still took the time to smile and laugh. People who had nearly lost everything were still smiling brightly despite what they didn’t have. People have lost parents, brothers, so much, and yet they still found a way to smile. What the hell do I have to be sad about?!
My life has been so average, that I began to feel jipped, like I was missing out on some secret way to find happiness. But happiness doesn’t come from the things around me, it doesn’t come from what I’m doing, or what I’m dreaming of doing, man. It comes from looking at what you have, and realizing that it could be worse. It could always be worse, so why sit and worry about the things that are already wrong. There are so many beautiful things that surround me every day, like this, this Christmas tree right here. I know you can’t see it, but it’s pretty damn gorgeous. It’s been here for a week now, and I’ve never taken time to just sit and look at it, to take in all of the lights and patterns in the branches. It’s gorgeous, and I’m just now noticing.
After looking at the tree for a good ten minutes or so, my pet parakeet caught my attention. The little lady has been here for like 3 years, and I’ve never noticed how gorgeous she really is in her awkward little birdie movements. The way she ruffles her feather is so odd, almost alien. The thing has lived right next to me for so long, and I’ve hardly noticed the captivating strangeness of it. How many amazing things have I missed because I wasn’t paying attention. How many gorgeous sunsets have I missed because I was too busy working on assignments like this. Just how much of the present am I missing because I’m so stuck in the building of my future.
I get that some people prefer to have strict goals, tight schedules, and such. Some people like to do project after project. But now that I’ve really, really thought about it, maybe the Taoist books I’ve read are right. Just be, don’t worry and stress about things, and problems will work themselves out. Focus on the present, and have confidence in the fact that life just goes on. I’m not even sure if I did this assignment right, I’m actually pretty sure I didn’t do it close to right, but man, I feel happy. I know how to be really happy for the first time in a while. This is awesome, if I get a crappy grade, I get a crappy grade. Life goes on.
(I hope my point gets across without ruffling any feathers.)
“Go back?” he thought. “No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!”
-Bilbo Baggins
My freshman year was the first time I had Mrs. Wallace as a band director and, I’ll admit, she kicked my butt with her band literature choices. In the spring, she passed out our contest piece, ‘Gathering of the Yeomen’ by Robert W. Smith. (Yes, I remember it!) I was immediately overwhelmed by all the notes. Upon closer inspection, I saw a thirteen measure flute solo and I had to be the one to play it.
ReplyDelete“I hate this instrument, why me?” I thought to myself. The first time playing the piece, the air in my horn stood still, my mouth was immobile, and I was flat out terrified of messing up. Weeks passed and I still couldn’t play a single note of the wretched thing. Mrs. Wallace eventually gave me a stern talk and told me she knew I could do it all I needed was confidence and lots of practice. That’s when it clicked. I could do it! I remember practicing until I was blue in the face and staying up late to work on fingerings. I even took up lessons for the unaccompanied melody. And finally, I had it down-pat.
This was it, the day of contest. The day I had to perform my solo flawlessly, or, as Wallace put it, like a “diva”. With my heart beating out of my chest and my fingers quivering, the first note of the number was played by the baritone and that was my cue. I began to play, feeling like I was gasping for air between notes, but I kept going. It was the longest thirteen measures of my life, but it was soon over and I had done it.
The challenge of playing the flute, and more importantly, that thirteen measure solo from ‘Gathering of the Yeomen’ has had the biggest impact on my confidence when playing; it’s also one of the best band memories I have. That solo pushed me to become a better player, change my practicing habits, and ultimately led to me making symphonic band the following year. And that’s worth any challenge out there.
-Courtnie Carr
I faced a very difficult challenge over the last two years. I completely understand that everyone is hit with hard challenges throughout their life time. Probably one of the hardest challenges for me so far was losing my best friend.
ReplyDeleteMy freshman year and beginning of my sophomore year were so amazing! I had so many amazing friends. My best friend and I were getting closer every day of it. It seemed like every year we would get closer, even though we didn't have any classes together. I mean this girl had been with me through everything. Ever since we had the same classes in first grade, we became inseparable. We went to Kings Island every year, went to Florida together, spent all of your school breaks together. Through every snow day, every sick day, every everything. She was there. We spent every waking moment together... Until later on my sophomore year.
She started dating this guy who is still her current boyfriend. I was more than happy for her because, I mean, you could just tell how much she liked this guy. She deserved to have a guy who treated her right. As the days started to pass I started to see less and less of her. Suddenly, we weren't hanging out much anymore. I wasn't her best friend anymore. He was. I never saw her on weekends, we didn't see each other at all over Christmas break which we usually spent every day of together. She stopped inviting me to mall trips. Everything we did together, she was now doing with him. I even stopped getting Christmas presents from her. She use to text me every single morning before school. And then the texts just stopped coming. I kept lying to myself and thinking: "we're still close, she's still my best friend" but that wasn't the case...
I was so heartbroken and hurt to think that I had lost my best friend. What made things worse was the fact that I didn't really have anybody else except her at the time. I had invested every day with her and never made time for any of my other friends. I was alone. I was so confused why this was happening to me. I didn't understand. She was my person and then she was gone.
The second half of my sophomore year came around and I started investing my time towards other people. I was spending hanging out with a lot more new people. I made a lot of new friends and got closer to the current friends I already had. I didn't think losing my best friend was the worst thing that ever happened to anymore. One door closed, another opened. We still see each other from time to time and talk every once in a while, but it's not the same. I don't think it'll ever be the same.
It's really hard to adjust when changes like this happen. She will always have a special place In my heart. I have a few amazing friends in my life right now and I hope they read this and know how much they mean to me. I didn't ask or expect things to turn out this way, but we can't always control the changes or challenge that we face, but know something good will come out of this.
Hannah Hyatt
When I was little I had no problem with trust. I was a the wild child who could be friends with anybody who was willing to talk to me. I was open about everything and kept every secret I was given. That opened me up to so many pains of the world that no child should know at such a young age. Since I was 9 I haven't trusted many people. I've never wanted to get hurt again. So I would build what seemed like a 10 inch thick wall of ice, that's a million feet tall and wrapped all around me (this was some what ironic when my best friend started calling me ice pack because I was cold at a football game). The point is I have always protected myself so much from the world that I never really saw it.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was 6 years old my mom married a guy she loved. We had all known for a long time and we all liked him. When I was 8 he was arrested and found guilty of abuse. His case found that he would spend 18 years in prison so his daughter, that had just been born, could grow up without a father. After this my little sister, the middle one (We'll call her Beth), would always say she hated me. She thought it was all my fault that he was arrested. To a 9 year old it seemed like a valid reason. I remember crying and telling my mom and she would say that Beth was just going through a faze. My mom would hold and rock me until I cried myself to sleep. After this I couldn't trust anybody accept my mom and my aunt, Pamela, for a very long time.
Then the beginning of junior year I decided to start trusting. We had the philosophy unit in English and with the help of a phenomenal friend, I learned how to get past this wall and to let myself be free to trust others. It was suck a hard path learning to trust again because I had been so closed off from the world for such a long time. Here I am, 16 years old, learning to take first steps like a toddler. But I took it day by day. Although it was very difficult I remember taking my first very big leap towards trust.
I was looking for a new church to got to and my step-dad found a church called Quest. I decided to go and have a look and as soon as I walked through the doors everybody welcomed me. This had never happened before. Everybody was so trusting and open and I wanted to be that way too. So on Sept. 8, 2013 I gave my life to Christ and the I talked with my youth leaders: Jake and Holly.They talked to me about getting baptized and everything that it meant, but the thing was I would have to get in front of the whole church and tell my story. Holly already knew my story and me and her talked about all of my trust issues. After a lot of conversations and about a month of praying I got up and opened up in front of my best friend (for the first time), my family, and a whole congregation of people I had just met.
This was one of my first steps and it was huge and scary for me. At the same time, it was the third best decision I have made. I absolutely did NOT do this alone though. I have had so much help getting to this point. Now that I have opened up I am free to have better conversations with my friends, me and my sister Beth are back to being best friends, I have a new relationship, I have a new church of amazing people, and I have a group of phenomenal friends who support me. I am free to have my own opinions and voice them without being afraid. I am also able to face my past head-on and am able to say that I did the best I could and sincerely mean it. From my challenge I learned that; you can get past anything if you really want to, Even an impossible wall of ice.
-Madison-ice pack-Whitman-
part one:
ReplyDeleteCheer has been a big part of my life since I was a little girl. From the time that I can remember I have always said "I want to be a UK cheerleader, they are the best of the best." I have over come so many challenges, and made a lot of choices in order to be where I am today with my goal of being a UK cheerleader. My biggest challenge that I have come across is all the problems I have had with my knee. Of course this will be one challenge that I will have to face for the rest of life sadly, but I have learned how to stretch it properly and also I go to therapy and from there I get certain exercises that also helps with my knee problems.
Last year when I hurt my knee I was doing a hand, hand full and landed on it wrong after my full. After that fall I was so scared to throw my full again, but then I thought if I don’t throw this full I will never be able to reach my goal/dream of being a UK cheerleader. After telling myself over and over that I could do it I finally did it, this made me realize even though I hurt my knee once on a tumbling pass dose not mean to be afraid of it, it actually made me want to work harder so that I could have a perfect, and clean landing.
Another challenge I have had to over come is learning how to coed stunt. I have always been on an all girl team so I never got to coed stunt because we never had any guys. Of course I have always been a flyer but with all girl you have three and maybe four people under you but with coed you have one guy under you and that is it. Me and my mom sat down one night and called up the UK cheer coach and asked if any cheerleaders were willing to give me lessons and he said that they would love to. My first lesson I was so scared but my coach, Matej, told me not to worry he wouldn’t drop me, and he would be there to help me every step of the way. Come to find out when I finally over came the challenge of coed stunting it made me realize that I am actually better with coed stunting then all girl . A lot of people say that coed stunting is harder than all girl and yes I agree with that but for some reason coed came very easily to me which will be great for cheering at UK.
Over my life I have had many challenges to overcome, some were harder than others. The hardest to overcome bring out the best outcomes. The hardest challenge I’ve had to overcome was the loss of my dad on October 10, 2010.
ReplyDeleteI was extremely close to my dad. My dad worked in an ER as long I could remember, due to this fact I never really got to hang out with him except for Saturdays between chores and yard work. When we finally finished we would sit in front of the television and play on my GameCube. But we’d always play the same game no matter what, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. We were extremely close; I could tell my dad anything.
Years went by and I got more involved with school friends and gamming; we slowly got disconnected from each other. Then he got his first round of melanoma, a skin cancer. It seemed like the rounds of chemotherapy would never end. Eventually, the doctors said it was over we were all relieved. A couple years passed and doctors said it was back and worse the second time around. It spread to the lymph nodes.
He fought with melanoma for two year. After some time, I came to the realization that he was no more.
I then found myself connected to computers, as an escape, I immersed myself in technology and found out I was passionate in it, the hardware, software, all of it. It all grew to consume my entire life. Then freshman year rolled around, we got our first schedules to fill out I tried my best to fit in all the technology classes I can. I got into the Web design and A+ hardware class over at Franklin County CTC, I loved it. I came out top of the class, I was able to take apart a computer find the problem and reassemble the computer in little to no time. That year was the time of my life.
Sophomore year was awful! No matter how I looked at my schedule I couldn’t find any holes to fit in a technology based course. Over that time my skills started to dull; till the summer of junior year. Then I had gotten an apprenticeship, well basically a job, at a computer store. I was working twelve hours a day four days a week; my boss couldn’t keep me out of the store. I enjoyed every minute in the store fixing and creating amazing computers out of mere insufficient parts.
So from my escape into my passion I found a career, a life style, a choice. From my challenge to making my choice, of finding my passion to computers I have achieved more now than I would have ever before perceived
-Conner Nelson
It is really hard for many to move forward after losing someone so close, such as a dad, and try to do something positive with their life. I can't even understand how it feels to loose someone so close, but your inner strength keeps you going. I liked your story and it is a challenge to me.
DeleteNerisia Ngum
Part 1
ReplyDeleteSometimes unexpected events can challenge us and, hopefully, we do more than get through them. Hopefully, we overcome them. Everyone is faced with a challenge at some point in their life; some good and some bad. I was faced with a challenge and even though I was only seven years old, I succeeded in overcoming the challenge.
It was a cold December Sunday afternoon. I remember because it was freezing and white snow had covered the ground. I was wearing a nice white shirt with ruffled sleeves and my favorite purple gloves to keep my fingers warm. After church that day my family and I were supposed to make Christmas candy with my Nana.
When church was over I rode home with my Aunt and little cousin. We had to stop by their house to pick up the chocolate. I walked up the sidewalk to their front door. Watching my cousin toddle along behind me, she made sure her footprints were exactly in the same spots where mine were in the snow.
We got inside and the first thing we did was run to my cousin’s room to play. She had to show me all of her toys, games, books and dresses. My Aunt came in the room while we were playing and told my cousin that whatever she did to not open the door next to her room. Both of them knew what was behind that door, but I had no clue. I was curious, but I listened to my Aunt and went along playing and didn’t bother the door.
My cousin, who was two at the time, asked me if I wanted to see her puppy. I told her I would love to see it. I was sitting on the floor rummaging through her toy box expecting her to bring back a stuffed puppy. I watched her go into the hallway and open the door that had been forbidden by my Aunt. All of a sudden, this huge bear-like thing ran towards me. It was so heavy. I could feel it on top of me; I thought my ribs were going to break. I heard loud woofs in my ears and felt warm dog breath on my face. I couldn’t see anything; all I knew was that my mouth hurt terribly. I got the monster off of me and looked down to find that my white shirt with ruffled sleeves was no longer white; instead, it was a dark red. That “puppy” had bitten or clawed or I don’t even know what to my face.
I ran crying to the bathroom because I didn’t understand what was happening. I told my cousin to go get my Aunt. I looked at myself in the mirror and all I saw was red. My puffy eyes were red from crying. Red blood gushed from my mouth. I had never seen so much blood in my seven years on this earth. Relief came over me when my Aunt, who is a doctor, came rushing into the bathroom with a white washcloth and an ice pack. I could see the panic in her face and the confused expression on my cousin’s face as she waited in the hallway.
After washing my face, the washcloth was no longer white either; once again it was that same dark red. I could see that my upper lip had a tear in it. I was freaking out because I could move my lip back and forth and know that wasn’t supposed to happen. My Aunt looked at me and told me that the cut was too deep and that I needed stitches. I had never been to the emergency room let alone ever had stitches. I wasn’t even sure what stitches were. I pictured some old lady knitting my face up and was so scared.
Hannah Smith
Part 2
ReplyDeleteWe got in the car, ready to begin our frightening journey to the hospital. I couldn’t stop crying, I was so scared and wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I sat in my seat with an ice pack wrapped in a blue washcloth. The bleeding had slowed down but my whole face was throbbing. It felt like it had a heartbeat of its own. I looked at my cousin beside me. She was staring; her confused expression still had not changed. I thought about how she must’ve been wondering why her “puppy”, a 100-pound adult Siberian Husky, had made me cry. I could hear my Aunt on the phone with my mom, telling her what had just happened in the surprisingly past ten minutes. It all happened so fast.
The waiting room was terrifying with no color and not very many people. By that time I had stopped crying, but I couldn’t say anything, the only noise coming out of me was my uncontrollable snuffling. People starred at me as they walked by, but I didn’t care. My mouth felt as though it was going to fall off. I still didn’t understand why this had to of happen. I just wanted to go make Christmas candy. Most of all I wanted my mom to be there with me.
After what felt like hours, my name was called. I went into the room to find that there was no old lady waiting with pointy knitting needles but a nice nurse who had a warm reassuring smile on her face. She told me that it felt worse than how bad it actually was and that I only needed three stiches. I held my Aunts hand and whimpered every time I felt the needle go through one side of my flesh and back out the other. Ouch!
When the quick torture was over, I looked in the mirror and there was a black lump on the corner of my upper lip. I was thankful the bleeding had stopped and the throbbing had gone away but now I was concerned about how embarrassing it was going to be to walk into class on Monday which was the next day. I was afraid all the other kids were going to make fun of me or think it was gross. Third graders can be harsh.
On Monday morning I cried and begged my mom to let me stay home. I couldn’t face my class because I looked so weird. My mom walked me to class that day and explained to my teacher the eventful weekend we had just experienced. My teacher understood and told me I could share my story with the whole class.
At first I was nervous, and then I saw their intrigued faces. No one else in my class had as an exciting weekend as I did or had ever gotten stitches before, so it was cool to be the first one. The kids didn’t make fun of me or get grossed out, they thought my stitches were awesome and said it looked like I had a mini mustache. Everyone asked me all kinds of questions and told me how brave I was. I felt like a celebrity. I had worried for nothing.
This was a challenge in my life I’ve had to overcome. Even though I overcame the events of that day and going to school the next day, I was left with the fear that every dog would bite my face off. I also was left with an ugly scar on my lip. As I’ve grown older and am now sixteen, I am no longer scared of dogs but would much rather not be around them; I prefer cats. As for my scar, its barely noticeable and most of the time I don’t pay any attention to it. I feel like my story is proof that challenges can be overcome, even when they happen at a young age.
Hannah Smith
I felt like I was reading a non-fiction novel I just got and I just can't stop reading it. I have been beaten by a dog before on my knee, which created a fear of dogs in me, which a hid a little. Very interesting story to read, I enjoyed it.
DeleteNerisia Ngum
1ST PART
ReplyDeleteWe all have faced, or still face challenges in our lives. Some of the decisions we have made turn out messy, and regretful. And if you said you have never made a decision that you regret, I'd say you were lying. For me, the biggest challenge I have faced is making the choice to drink before the schools Glow Dance this year. I now smart! Now I'm sure most of my classmates have heard about this incident, but for those of you who have been living under a rock, I will explain to you what happened that night.
Before I start, I must tell you how queasy it makes me feel just telling this story... But I must. I was getting ready with my best friend for the dance that day. We were so excited for this dance because after all, it is the best dance of the entire year. When our other friend got to my house, we left to go eat. Before arriving to the restaurant, we picked up two of our other friends who are sophomores. We got to Applebee's, all five of us, and we were having a great time. We were laughing and smiling, yet little did we know this night would end in tears. When the food got to the table, someone had mentioned "pre-gaming", meaning drinking before the dance, ya' know "to have a better time..." We were all extremely nervous about it, like a group of men planning on robbing a bank. But of course we all agreed to follow through with our plan. We arrived to the school, parking in the student section, but not getting too close to the school. We had began drinking... some of us got in more drinks than others, but drinking is drinking. It wouldn't matter if we took one sip, or twenty. All of a sudden we look up and here comes our school officer along with his partner for that night. He yelled "c'mon girls. Let's get a move on." I believe at this point he either had no idea what we were doing, or he did from someone who ratted us out. We quickly sat all the drinks down in the car, except for one girl who decided to throw her alcohol out of the car, right in front of the Officers. My stomach immediately turned into one big knot. I started shaking, my face felt as if it were on fire.
Long story short, all five of us got suspension for three days, which was a reasonable punishment. Immediately a rush of numerous thoughts were swirling around in my head. Could this really be happening to me? Am I really getting suspension for three days? What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking, clearly. See we all believe nothing bad could ever happen to us. We never look at the consequences we could possibly face. Or at least that's what us teenagers are like. But when we finally slip into trouble, when something goes unplanned, we are forced to quickly snap into reality... And reality is harsh.
-Samantha Roberts
2ND PART
ReplyDeleteTelling my mother and step-father the news was the hardest thing I have ever had to tell them before... I remember crying so hard that they couldn't even understand what I was saying at first. The look of disappointment I received from them broke my heart, as I'm sure I broke theirs. I have always been a good girl, I have never been one to do anything rebellious. I thought getting a d-hall would be absolutely terrible... just imagine how getting suspended for three days felt. It was as if I was "one of the bad kids". After an extremely long lecture from my parents, I went to bed, but don't let me fool you, I got zero sleep that night. There was talk of getting charges pressed against us, which made all of this ten times worse. Thank goodness, the charges never happened. Even though to me, I might have gotten away easily, with only three days of suspension (because I could have had gone to court over this), I will always live with the shame, and embarrassment for the rest of my life. I let not only myself down, but my friends and family as well. Something I never wanted to do.
It is safe to say I learned an extremely large and valuable lesson from all of this mess. To look at this in a positive way, maybe it was better for something like this to happen now than later, where I could have been drinking plus driving. It is up to us to let the mistakes we make define us, or we can take it as a lesson, grow from it, and move on. I have finally stopped beating myself up over this so much. But I still tell myself how stupid it was of me to do this. Although I was not alone in making this awful choice, I could have been the one to say "no this is a bad idea and I don't want anything to do with it." I regret making the choice to drink in the school parking lot before the dance, every day. But it is safe to say I have learned from this and I know to never make this mistake, or any other mistake relevant to this one, again.
-Samantha Roberts
Not many of you know that I've only been going to a public school for three years. This was a choice I had to make; it wasn't a hard choice because I didn�t want to drive to Lexington Catholic. This left me with one option: going to Western Hills. This brought a challenge; I only knew three people and one of those three being my brother. I barley know anyone but that was only one of my challenges. Being shy made it difficult task, but the band welcomed me with open arms. Another challenge was not knowing what I was going to wear because I had always worn a uniform. This is why I haven�t worn khaki pants in the last three years.
ReplyDeleteThroughout the three years I've been in public school I've changed tremendously. Mrs. Hill will agree with me, I've became way more talkative. During my first year of public school, I considered it a good day if I spoke to a teacher. I'm not as shy as I use to be. I'm more outgoing, willing to try new things, and make new friends. To give you a better understanding of my challenges to transition from private school to a public school you need to know I went to the same private school for nine years. This private school was a second home for me.
Leaving a school where everyone knew everybody from the preschoolers to my own class and the whole staff is hard. When you saw someone that needed help you didn�t hesitate to help. I felt safe at Good Shepherd. When I graduated from Good Shepherd School I was ready to start the next step in my life. I can say I was nervous about leaving a school I felt so safe in, but knew I had to face this challenge with a positive attitude. During the summer I prepared for not only high school, but public school.
I went into band camp that summer knowing my brother, Luke and Courtney Woodyard. Everyone knew me as "Jake's sister." On the first day we were there Mrs. Wallace had us play a game a game where you find a person you didn't know and you and ask them a few "get to know you questions." Then we would share them with the band. This activity led to meeting a new person. Mrs. Wallace gives all the freshmen a big (a senior). Your �bigs� are the ones who are suppose to show you around and tell you what to do during band camp. They also were to help you during the first few school days. That summer I met so many new people that took me under their wing and made me feel so comfortable.
The first day of school wasn�t as scary as I thought it was going. Some of the challenges I faced that first day was getting to class on time. I would need practice to get through the hallway with ease. At Good Shepherd we were used to going from room to room. I had another challenge I had trouble opening my locker. I had never used a locker with a lock. I could never remember the combination or which locker was mine. Therefore, I didn't use my locker at all that year. Learning to talk to new people and become friends with many of them was a struggle but I learned quickly. I have to say that I and the few others that came from Good Shepherd transitioned into high school better than some of the kids we graduated with from Good Shepherd.
~Megan Blanton~
Part 1
ReplyDeleteWhen I was deciding on a topic for this essay, the first thing that came to mind was “what it’s like living life one-handed” but then I thought, “well this is just what everyone would expect me to write about, it’s going to be really boring and it’s going to state things that they already know”. Then Harper brought to my attention that you all might know most of what’s on the surface, but there’s a lot of things that you all may not know or fully understand. I started thinking and she was completely correct. So here I am, going to try to give you all some insight into what its like living life without a limb.
When I was younger, I picked up a lot of things simply by instinct. I learned to tie my shoes before Annie, I learned to button and zip my own clothes, I learned to put up my hair; all of these things I learned to do on my own. They may not seem like big things to any of you all, but to me these were really big accomplishments. Nowadays I seem to make a lot of things look effortless even when they may not be; This is because I really like to prove people wrong, I feel so accomplished when I do. That’s why when people ask me things like, “Do you need help with that?” It really fuels my fire. I think that they see me as helpless. I know, everyone needs help at some point in their lifetime, but when everyone else seems fully capable of something I want to say that I can do it on my own as well.
Like I said earlier, I like to prove people wrong. If they say that I can’t do something; I want to come back and do it ten times better than they expected me to do it. I always get really interested in trying new things, but they are usually things that normally would require two hands, but when has that ever stopped me? The answer is never. I really wanted to learn to play guitar in the fifth grade; so I decided to give it a try. I went out and bought myself a shiny, red bass guitar ( Bass? Really?... I was obsessed with the Naked Brothers Band at the time and if you don’t get the reference look it up). I got home, sat it in my lap and thought, “How am I supposed to play this?”. The guitar ended up sitting in my room for a good three weeks before I decided to venture up to Shriners to see if they could help me. Well, they came up with a device that, in the end, didn’t even end up working correctly so the guitar sat in my room until the beginning of Sophomore year. For some reason I decided that I wanted to try the whole guitar thing out again. I went out and traded the bass for an acoustic guitar. I had been watching this girl on YouTube, April Lockhart (Look her up she is really awesome), she is an amputee as well; I had this idea that maybe if I could get a prosthetic that was similar to the one she used then I would be able to play as well as she could. I took another trip back to Shriners to see if I could get something similar. They said that because her arm was a few inches longer than mine, then it wouldn’t work the same way. So, we went for an alternative route and found an attachment that we could put on a previously made prosthetic (It was made for a pompom which is a whole other story in itself). I used it for a while, and where I wasn’t used to the weight of the prosthetic it just didn’t sound and work like it should have. Now I’m back at square one with nothing. I will, of course, keep trying, but it’s just frustrating when things don’t turn out like I think they will.
• Caroline Cunningham •
Part 2
ReplyDeleteBeing born without an arm may seem like a challenge to me at times, but when I go to I-CAN (a summer convention for amputees, a.k.a. International Child Amputee Network) and I see people missing all four limbs I honestly feel slightly guilty for ever doubting that I couldn’t do anything. It’s so inspiring to see them live as though they are just like any of us, normal. For amputees in general I think we have to face the challenge of informing society that although some things may be inconvenient for us we are fully capable of doing anything we set our minds to. It’s hard for people to really understand, especially children, we get looks and stares every time we go out in public and I’m not gonna lie, it does hurt at times; I feel as though I’m like an alien or something, but It’s not something that I can change about myself so I just have to kind of look past it and know that their opinions shouldn’t matter to me. On occasion I will give these people “the evil eye”, but only if I believe it’s deserved; Like when they blatantly say “what’s wrong with her”... I’m not blind, nor deaf contrary to your belief and nothing is “wrong” with me.
I just hope that one day the world will be able to accept everyone for who they are, because a lot of us can’t change, and I hope that those who are different in any way know that they should not be ashamed of who they are.
• Caroline Cunningham •
"I wish you were eighteen, so that I wouldn't need to look at you anymore." My mother said on my fifth birthday.
ReplyDelete"You will never amount to anything." My mother said, when I was six.
"Why would anyone love an ugly little s*** like you?" My mother asked, when I was seven.
"If only your father hadn't stopped me from getting that abortion. I never wanted you. No one would want you." My mother said, when I was eleven.
"Get out. I never want to see your face in this house again." My mother said, near the end of eighth grade.
A lot of kids are pretty lucky. They've got two loving parents. Two parents who, whether they're together or apart, would do anything to keep their child safe and happy. Two parents who would never dream of hurting their child, physically or mentally.
I'm one of the unlucky ones. My parents divorced when I was too young to remember them ever being together, and my mom won custody over my big sister and I. There was never any question that my sister was always the favorite. She got whatever she wanted, and she never got in trouble for anything.
My mother had a lot of anger inside of her. She got mad about everything. And all of that anger got taken out on me. On rare occassions, she would get violent. But most of the time, she simply stuck with mental/emotional abuse.
I'm sure that, to someone who didn't have to deal with it day after day, this doesn't sound so bad. I mean, all she was doing was yelling at me, right? Spewing insults and what not. What you don't understand, is that all of those insults were made to tear me down. And after putting up with them every day for twelve years, they left me as nothing more than a shell of myself. No self esteem, no selfworth. I got to the point where I didn't even want to keep living anymore.
When I lived with my mom, I did everything I could to find an escape from her tyranny. I would lock myself in my room or sneak out whenever I knew she was angry. I took every chance I could to go to a friend's house, sometimes bouncing between friends for a couple of weeks at a time. I even sometimes broke into her liqour cabinet. But none of it helped. Her abuse simply escalated.
During my middle school years, when all of her insults hit me the hardest, I went through a very deep period of depression. One that I still haven't recovered from. I pushed everyone away from me and stopped doing the things that I loved, because I no longer cared about anything. I left my room on rare occassions, and stopped eating. Suicide was definitely something I considered, on a daily basis.
I don't think I would be alive today if she hadn't decided that she didn't want anything to do with me. On April 22, near the end of my eighth grade year, my mom kicked me out. I don't remember what we were arguing about, exactly. That particular detail is a blur to me. But I do remember the yelling, the insults, the threats. The things that were said to me that day were so bad that I can't even think about them without breaking down, let alone type them.
My dad came to get me, and I am currently living with him. He and my step mom have done everything they can to make me feel as if I finally have a home, but the things my mom did to me still haunt me. I feel her influence everywhere; in my distrust of the people around me, in the way that I always expect the worst out of everyone, the way that I hate everything about myself, the way that I hesitate to open up to anyone, and so much more.
That is the challenge that I face every day. Having to live with the aftermath, faking smiles and forcing laughs, pretending like everything is okay. But it's not. Nothing is okay. Because of her, every day is a struggle.
~Shelby McKinney
Before this past summer, I would be perfectly confident in telling anyone that I’m an introvert, because I didn’t see anything wrong with it. I could, hypothetically, drive myself out to a deserted field in Utah (because nothing happens in Utah), and live all by myself in a trailer for like, six months with no problem. I know the Social Butterflies are cringing at the thought but I always figured that if I was content, what does it matter?
ReplyDeleteExcept, this summer, I learned that it does matter, when I stepped out of my comfort zone and traveled to Brazil to teach students English. I wasn’t very content in how being an introvert left me. It’s not that I’m of afraid of human interaction… I just don’t practice it as much as I should. Because of this, I knew I wasn’t very skilled in essentially the most important aspect of the trip. But before I arrived my youth pastor told our group, “You can be a different person on this trip because no one knows you. There’s no reason not to step out of your comfort zone.” I embraced this idea every day for the entirety of the trip. I ended up learning so much about people I had never met before, and myself.
For me, I’m constantly challenged not to just sink back into what’s comfortable because I now realize that people are created to interact and how important it is to make connections in life. This showed me that although I had thought of myself as possessing a “certain personality” and had formed myself a specific identity, that doesn’t mean that I am that identity and can, in fact, change it to fit the situation I’m in.(As tempted as I am to start talking about social contingencies, I’m going to try and stay focused). As I get older I’m learning that the “real world” is different and expects you to carry on conversations, be flexible. I’m slowly putting that agoraphobic- self (I’m kidding) behind me. I would just encourage anyone like me who feels like being alone a lot to try and experience friendships anyway and not let their selves hold them back.
-Emilee Agee
Hearing the cheers from the stands as you go into overtime during a tied game, smelling the fresh cut grass just before the game starts, and feeling like no other team could touch you, unstoppable. For a lot of people playing a sport is just something they do when they’re young because their parents want them to. My passion for soccer goes far beyond what other people want or expect of me, it’s what I want for myself not only for the present but for my future and the rest of my life.
ReplyDeleteAt age 4 my parents signed me up for the YMCA recreational soccer league. Most kids at that age just play so they have something to do and granted that’s why my parents had signed me up. As you get older most kids drop out and move on to something else, I didn’t. I played YMCA rec soccer fall and spring season until I got to middle soccer at the age of 12. My 6th grade year in middle school I tried out for the middle school soccer team, at that time in my life I had never tried out for anything ever before. I was ecstatic to find out that I had made the team. Middle school soccer was in the spring I had no choice but to drop out of rec soccer since it conflicted too much with school soccer. Over my years of playing soccer in middle school I grew so much on and off the field. Defiantly one of the best parts of being on a soccer team in general is that I played with people I knew and had played with before.
As each person grew with skill we adapted and learned how to play together well. When I got to 8th grade I decide to be a part of the WHHS JV soccer team. It was an astonishing experience to see and play soccer on a high school level. Playing JV just motivated me more to want to play soccer all throughout high school. As I began my freshmen year of high school soccer the biggest challenge for me was managing my time. Along with soccer I was a member of the band, dance team, track team, and of course I had to manage school work. Every season it’s a struggle to give each activity an equal amount of time. However, with flexible coaches and schedules I’m always able to balance everything. Another challenge in high school soccer was the fact that every year our coach would resign so we would have to find a replacement. This past fall was the fourth coach we’ve had in four years. Adapting to new coaching style every year was hard however, as a team we worked together to overcome these complications.
My sophomore year I joined Commonwealth Soccer Club, which is a traveling soccer team that plays on a much higher and competitive level. Through this team I met many new talented people who were as serious about soccer as I was. This team also helped me grow as a soccer player. I feel that this past fall season of soccer has been I and my teams’ most successful year yet. We beat Franklin County in the city championship, got runners up in districts, and made it to regionals which WHHS hadn’t done since 2006. The best feeling in the world to me is knowing that you helped achieve success in a way you never knew you had the ability to do. These precious moments in high school helped me realize that I want to further my soccer career beyond high school and into college.
I could never have accomplished so much with soccer without my parents who support me know matter what I decide and push me to be the best I can be. I’m so grateful for all the abilities that God has blessed me with because I know without him nothing I do is possible. A lot people might think that it’s crazy to call a sport your passion but soccer is something I love and has shaped who I am not just as a player but as a person, without it I would be a totally different person. CHANGING from different levels of soccer has CHALLENGED me to make CHOICES that will impact my life forever. It’s hard to believe that I will close the door to my journey with high school soccer next year but I look forward to opening a new door to soccer in my future.
Lexie Richardson (:
“Stop talking,” the voice in the back of my head says. “Just stop talking; they’re getting annoyed of you” for some reason I can’t get the thought out of my mind. The idea of one of my friends secretly hating me always seems to pop up. You see, I’ll allow myself to get close to someone. But then, after a while, I start to get scared that I’m being too clingy. In order to keep myself from being seen as over-attached, I make myself completely un-attached. My fear of being secretly hated or unwanted drives me to pushing away the people I care about most.
ReplyDeleteI’ve cut off countless friends and boyfriends, but the most prominent relationship that I’ve ruined would probably be the one with my dad. After my parents got divorced, my two sisters wanted to spend more time with my mom, so I decided to spend more time with my dad to keep him from feeling left out. My dad and I had always been close and I just felt like he was my best friend. I could tell him anything. When I was about 10 years old, my dad and his girlfriend started getting pretty serious. Although it was completely untrue, I had the idea in my head that he would want to spend more time with her instead of me. I began to shut him out. I remember trying to only talk to him when I needed something, and even then I tried to make the conversation as quick as possible. Looking back on it, I was actually hurting my dad’s feelings. But, at the time, I felt like I was just doing him a favor.
Since then, my dad and I have never been the same. I’d distanced myself from him for almost two years, and in those two years we’d both changed quite a bit. I’ve tried and tried to make things the way they were before, but it’s like there’s an unbridgeable gap between us. I really have no one else to blame though, because I took it upon myself to personally tear that bridge down. We still get along, but very rarely can I feel comfortable around him. It’s been almost six years since then, so I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that I’m never going to have a close relationship with him. I know compared to a lot of the other stories on here my problem seems miniscule, but it really does make me sad thinking about it.
As I said before, I do this all the time. It’s something that I don’t even realize I’m doing until after it’s done. It’s affected the way I interact with people and kept me from being able to keep people around for extended periods of time. I hope I’ll be able to deal with my, we’ll call them fears, more efficiently one day. But, as of right now, it’s still a challenge that I face regularly.
Caroline Coles
I am an unusual person. Some of you will not find that very hard to comprehend or may not even need telling. But, I am different from others in my age group in a very unique way. I am a catholic teenager that actually believes and holds the morals of my church. All of you have heard stories about us "weird" catholics who have just been going through the same motions for thousands of years, selling forgiveness and abusing innocent children. Those kind of stories are actually making my life a living hell.
ReplyDeleteIt is the bane of my existence when someone finally catches on that I am catholic and they give me the cold shoulder because they think that I am some kind of sicko. I have been asked many times if I feel uncomfortable around my priest or why we can't just be normal and be a part of the, what I would like to call, "Anything Goes Policy" which is becoming increasingly popular. That is one of the first things I have a problem with. If we were created in a certain way, by whom ever you choose, wouldn't it follow that you were supposed to accept that you are the way that you are and not try to alter it in any way? Today in class, I heard two people talking about how it would be completely okay if someone wanted to be african-american even though they were caucasian. Maybe I'm the last person on earth, but I think that there is something wrong with that picture. If a person was created white then that is the way the nature wanted it. Who are we to try and go against the will of nature with a mere whim. That is just a minor example what is becoming okay. In the context of homosexuality, I believe that no one is born gay, I believe that it is a learnt thing that continues to be unnatural. But apparently, it doesn't matter anymore that you just deal with the hand you've been dealt, you can just change it and dress like a woman and call yourself black.
Another big question that I get asked a lot is "Why do your priests molest little boys?" This one really makes it difficult for me. But, I just say right back that they chose the wrong line of work. When we chose our priests, there is a long process of discernment (listening to what God has to say on the matter) which hopefully allows the people who God wants to be priests to serve the people. Without becoming too religious, I want to say that it is completely possible for a pedophile to fall through the cracks and become a priest, but there have been statistics done on how many do actually make it to the priesthood. About 20 in every 500 priests do not deserve to be priests according to the Daily Times. That means that only a handful actually are in the U.S. Anyway, the catholic church has no tolerance policies in place to maintain the purity of the church. I would like to say that is the end of it but, there have been a surprising number of pedophilic leaders in other well known american organizations and churches. For example, the Boy Scouts of America have a greater amount of leaders who sexually abuse children; about 1,200 cases were reported between 1965 and 1985. Thats just twenty years. Most of the time when people associate the catholic church with pedophilia it is just the misguided words of the media who seem to want to target catholics for what ever reason.
Part 1
-Simon Holden
Finally, I want to say why I as a teenager in 2013 have stuck with the "old fashioned" catholic church and maintained their strict and currently unpopular morals. I believe in something worth fighting for. I believe that we are some of the only people left who have maintained a clear head in the glamor of immoral changes to our society and country. I see the catholic church as the last guardians of the true way of nature. As a part of this church I can see the beauty of nature and how our integrity has lasted through the ages. Doesn't it make sense to you that if something was not acceptable today it should stay the same tomorrow? Here is a pretty graphic example of I am trying to say. Currently it is seen as taboo and even illegal to walk around in public with out clothes on. Then one day someone said, out of the blue, just to be different, "Why are clothes necessary? I think that they aren't so I will no longer wear clothes." Then another person thought that this "sans clothes" mentality was cool or novel. So, eventually everyone did it. But yet, today it is not acceptable to be stark naked in public. That is what I am talking about. If something that was previously unthinkable became a norm, would you follow? Or would you continue to hold your beliefs and morals.
ReplyDeleteLots of people would say that what about or women's rights or slavery? Ever since someone decided that it would be a good idea to chain up other humans or be unjust to one half of our population the Catholic Church has held that all human lives are precious and women are very holy. In regards to slavery, During that time in history when slavery was okay, the Catholic Church realized that an evil was being done to these African and Native American people. Every human life is sacred and equal, no one is better than anyone else. We should all treat others with dignity. In regards to women's rights, we have always held women in the highest esteem. We believe that because the woman is the creator of new life that she is to be protected and loved. Think about Mary the mother of Jesus, she is a woman, who in ancient times would have been looked down upon, but who has her holy day in the church calendar on January 1st because she is the most important and she belongs at the head of every calendar. So in a sense, we have kept the natural order of things and just waited out for the rest of society to catch up with our set of morals.
Through out the years it has been difficult for me to hold my current beliefs and morals about life, death and about everything that I hold near and dear is being questioned by others. But then I remind myself that I have something to hold on to. I have a beautiful truth to keep because I know that I am right in my mind and no class distinction or peer pressure can take that away from me.
http://www.daily-times.com/ci_24092755/small-percentage-roman-catholic-priests-sexually-abuse
http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/10/18/14539592-boy-scouts-release-secret-child-abuse-files-the-pain-and-the-anguish-of-thousands?lite
Part 2
-Simon Holden
(PART 1)
ReplyDeleteWe all will or have already gone through many challenges, these challenges shape us into the people we are today and the life we live. Not only does it do that but it puts us in a position of having to make a hard decision, that may or may not effect our lives dramatically, instantly, or in an suitable or unpleasant way. For me making a decision on what career I want to do, and where I want to attend college, these decisions are linked because I figured that once I know what I will do in life I will be able to choose a college that is suited for my career. But since I haven't exactly got my heart dead set on a career, I’m not sure where to go to school or what to expect. The reason this bother’s me so much is because I enjoy planning out everything that is going to happen, it’s like I feel that I’m ahead in life and I don’t feel as stressed. As I have gotten older I have received this dreadful question even more “what do you want to do when you grow up?” and then the other awful question for me follows “what college do you want to go to?” Sometimes I try to avoid the question, or I simply give some unconfident ideas I have about what I would like to do or what college’s I’m seeking out.
Now on to the reason I’m so indecisive about this subject, well first of all when I was younger I had many idea’s about what I wanted to be, but I always seemed to change my mind quickly. I changed my mind based on what other’s had to say about the profession I wanted to go into, when I was 7 I swore up and down that I wanted to be a dentist, but then my aunt at a family dinner added in “so your telling me you want to have your fingers in people’s mouths all day?” of course at 7 I didn't exactly think about it like that. Then at age 12 I thought I had decided that I was going to be a Physical Therapist, but of course the amount of college helped me talk myself out of that career. So as you can tell this has been an ongoing challenge for a long time, and yet I still am not confident on what I want to do in life. Now on to why it is so hard for me to choose some colleges I’m interested in, well my one reason it is difficult for me is because I don’t enjoy school at all and the thought of having to go on to college after high school frightens me, and secondly there are so many schools to choose from, and lastly I cant decide on colleges because I have not chosen my career I want to do yet, and I feel that it is important to pick a college that is known for the type of career you want to do.
When I think of what I want to do for the REST of my life, it scares me not because it feels like my life would full of the same events on repeat but because I also think of how it will please others. For example my dad and I went to a college fair this year and like everyone else we walked around asking questions and gathering information, so it was that moment that my dad and I were standing at a booth when I asked a college rep from Union college if they had a education program, and the woman responded kindly and I took a pamphlet. Then as soon as we got in the awful conversation started, my dad started out by asking me why I had even asked the college rep about any education programs and of course I told him that I had thought about becoming an elementary teacher, and he began giving me a long lecture on how it is not a stable job, and how the children these days are crazy and how most parents don't care anymore, and how the money wasn’t good. My parents excuse for telling me that I shouldn't be a teacher or anything else I might consider is always the same and that is "we are only trying to protect you and help you" well unfortunately its not helping, only making it more confusing.
ReplyDeleteThen of course every time I bring up any college I end up hearing or finding out reasons on why I shouldn’t attend there. It can be helpful to receive a lot of opinions on what colleges I want to attend but on the other hand it can be over whelming. The main things I consider when I look at colleges are the cost of the college, what majors they offer, and how far away the college is. These all help other’s from opinion's on where I should attend college and what for. When I was younger I always thought that I wanted attend the University of Kentucky, but then my cousin told me about how many students are in one class and I realized that I wouldn't want to handle a class with a lot of students in it, then I stayed on UK’s campus for a camp over the summer and figured out that I didn’t like the campus or dorms that much. So as I keep considering college’s my once little challenge becomes more challenging.
So I have finally realized that I need to attempt to figure out my challenge and face it in confidence for once in my life. I feel that this challenge isn't and wont be the biggest challenge in my life but for the time being it is still a very important challenge for me to get through. This challenge I hope to laugh at in 10 years because I know that I will pick the right college and career for myself, because only I know what I want and just how I want to get it. This challenge will affect my life, but that doesn’t worry me as much any more, because getting myself to quit worrying is a challenge all on it’s own, and I know I don't have the time to face that, only time to focus on the present and the future.
“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.” -Henry David Thoreau
~Taylor Gilbert
Here I am again sitting on the side of the pool, beating my head against the wall and slowly going crazy from chlorine withdrawals. Why does this happen to me? First pneumonia which took me out for two and a half months before I was even close to The level of swimming I was at before getting it. Now I've hurt my shoulder which has taken me out of the pool for a month and a half so far and who knows how much longer. Coming back from this is going to be the biggest challenge of my swimming career.
ReplyDeleteIt started as a mild annoyance in the joint over the summer which slowly built and built and built until it was a constant inescapable pain that shot all the way down my arm. I went to the doctor who told me it was just some inflammation so I was given an anti-inflammatory some stretches and a month of rest which helped somewhat.
Then the season started and it came back worse this time. I went back to the doctor who said I needed an MRI which I got. The results came back and said I had a torn tendon I couldn't decide if I wanted to scream or cry or just poop myself in shock. If this was true that meant I needed surgery and a long length of rope to hang myself with because that meant I wouldn't have a season at all.
I went to a shoulder specialist in Lexington who had performed surgery on my dad and had also done Joe Montana's shoulder. He was my saving grace he told me that I hadn't torn a tendon, that I didn't need surgery, and that it could be fixed with physical therapy. I remember thinking this is going to be a ton of work.
Even though I have come back from a similar set back with pneumonia this is completely different. With pneumonia all I had to do was build up my lung capacity and cardio endurance. With this injury I've got to basically start over at ground zero, well not exactly at ground zero but pretty close and build everything back up not just my cardio.
Recovery is always the worst part of an injury. It takes the longest and the time always seems to go by so slow. Even worse I've still got to hang around and watch as other people are doing exactly what I can't and I have to support them and continue to give them encouragement. For me that's the worst part sitting on the sideline watching like some voyeur except I'm not enjoying it.
I'm both looking forward to and dreading getting back into practices. I know its going to be a lot of hard work which I've already gotten a glimpse of from all the physical therapy I've had to go through, but I enjoy a challenge. I know that if I keep going and pushing my limits like I have been I'm going to climb out of this hole I've found myself in. When I get through this I'm going to be much better than what I was before. It's helped me build a stronger work ethic and renewed my dedication to the sport. I know that once I get back from this I'm going to be unstoppable like a freight train from hell.
Admiral General Jacob "Aladeen" Silvernail
One of the big challenges in my life is my introverted personality. For those of you who know me, if you were asked to describe me, one word would probably come to your mind: quiet. It may sound like it wouldn't be a challenge or that it would be easy to “get over”, but it is very difficult. I've been asked many times “Why don’t you ever talk?” or some variation of that impossible question. I wish I had an answer for that, because honestly, I don’t know. Nothing traumatic has ever happened to me, I had a normal upbringing, but I’m still quiet. There is nothing wrong with being quiet, but I would definitely like to become more outgoing. It would make many challenges in life easier to overcome.
ReplyDeleteI can trace being quiet all the way back to elementary school. However, I can still never trace an exact reason. Well, maybe being in speech classes in elementary school caused me in part to be shy (stupid “r” sounds sounding like “w”…), but I do not remember what was going through my head when I was in Kindergarten. Not that the reason matters much anymore, as me being quiet has just become what I’ve accepted. It’s strange to actually consider the reasons why you act the way you do. It’s insane to think that maybe if I was talkative on the first day of Kindergarten, my personality and therefore life could potentially be totally different.
There is nothing physical holding me back from being more outgoing, but everything mentally is. I’d consider myself an anxious person in general. I tend to worry about everything and a lot of situations can make feel uneasy. I am scared that I’ll say something stupid or that someone won’t like me. I’m afraid of being viewed as someone who is awful to be around. Basically, I over think anything and everything. I sweat the small stuff. I sweat the larger stuff too, but the small stuff is more noteworthy.
Despite all of this, I actually enjoy other people. If I’m comfortable in a social situation, I enjoy it immensely. Even if I’m not comfortable, it can be nerve-wracking but at the same time exciting. A lot of the time my mind goes blank in social situations, which I hate, but usually I am still enjoying the interaction with others, even if it doesn't look like it.
Though I’m still a pretty quiet person, I have made some strides since, say, middle school. I try to just relax and not take anything to heart. This has helped greatly as I’m not stressed out about inconsequential things as much. I am definitely more comfortable in social situations, though I’m far from feeling perfect about them. I still have a long way to go. This is part of the reason why I’m applying to GSP. I don’t know what my chances are to get in (due to the insane amount of competition in this junior class), but I think that just throwing me into a new environment would force me to get better at this. Hopefully in the future, I will continue to become more comfortable socially.
- Ethan Aldridge
A challenge that I have faced in my life, recently I should rather say, has been to whether continue playing basketball or to just stop playing all together.
ReplyDeleteI normally love the game of basketball but I must admit that I have been growing bored with playing the game. It's just not the same to me anymore. It's not the same "go out and have fun" game it used to be to me. I have just been getting really bored with it and I actually contemplated leaving the team for good.
The first thing I did when I thought about leaving the team was how upset or disappointed my parents would be. They grew up watching me play sports my whole, more importantly basketball, and I just didn't want to take that away from them. But I ultimately talked to both my mom and dad, and they both supported me, whatever the outcome of the decision was or would have been.
I ultimately ended up staying on the team and playing basketball this year. Even though I had the urge to leave, I stayed playing because I have played since I was 5 and it was just hard to quit. I enjoy playing and playing for any team, it doesn't matter to me.
Ian Teasley
Not having a coach is not something that a lot of athletes have to go through. I mean sure every team has probably not had a coach for s mall period of time, maybe over there off season but not having a coach at all is pretty rare. When I first started pole vaulting I had no idea that there was not a coach out of the 5 track team coaches that had no idea about the one thing that I joined the track team to do.
ReplyDeleteThe first practice was rough, actually the whole first season was rough my “coach” this year was a boy one year older than me that really only knew the basics but we got by with what he knew. Even though I hear the same things at every practice “Run faster!” “Keep your elbow out!” this year was my lucky year because my first year ever pole vaulting getting my personal record of the year at 6’6 I miraculously made it to state. When I was told the news that I would actually be competing at state I was the most excited I think that I’ve ever been. I was also a bit confused and worderd if it was all in my head that I wasn’t very good at my new sport. When I got to state I was a little overwhelmed and I didn’t do as great as I had hoped but that day must have been another lucky day because that was the day that our team finished first in the state and I was actually on the team! I still can’t believe that we won. And even though I ended up 18th in the pole vault I still kinda won.
After going to state I realized that pole vaulting is something that I actually wanted to do my mom and I asked everyone that we knew and looked up everything that we could trying to find me a pole vaulting coach. And sure enough we found someone. When I had my first practice with an actual pole vaulter that knew what they were doing and had jumped for longer than 5 years, thinking about it I don’t think that we actually jumped on a pit the first 5 or 6 weeks that I went there, but when I started I had to re learn everything because the boy that had tried his hardest to try and coach me ended up being a little bit wrong. The one coach that I had ended up being with another guy who ran a whole “team” and coaches other pole vaulters. His team is called fuzion and even though I only get to see him once a week he has really helped me. And not having him at meets (which is the most important thing) is defiantly the hardest but I wouldn’t be where I am today without his help.
My sophomore year of vaulting was a lot better until I got to regional’s and did the worst I did all season. I was very upset about it mainly because my season was over for the year. After I got my mom to sign me up for the bluegrass state games I was ready to go back out there and do what I had newly learned how to do. With my form getting better and better with my one day a week practice I managed to get a new person record at the blue grass state games and also managed to beat the school record. Even though it was only by 3 inches it still counts in my book. I have a lot of goals that I am ready to accomplish this season like going to state and giving myself a really nice cushion on the school record to make sure nobody can break my record. Even if I don’t have a coach I am still determined to do the best that I can.
-Annie Cunningham
Part 1
ReplyDeleteI remember simpler times back in elementary school when everybody got along and nobody judged or bullied anybody. There were no “popular” kids or nerdy ones. We were just simple innocent kids. I don't know what happened, but as we got older everything started to change. What was once barren land became the tallest of mountains and deepest of seas (my metaphorical social ladder). The popular kids inhabited the mountains and took over the land, but it was twisted. When did we decide that to be popular we had to hurt others? It is just stupid to think that way. I was stupid to think that way. I don't know what it was but I loved the mountains and the people that inhabited it. I loved to be accepted and it is what I thought was most important. Isn't that what every parent wants for their kids?
At our school, they taught us that it was good to be different. Maybe we thought that at one time, but everybody has their own limits on what's too different. For us 8 year olds, too different was a kid named Sam (Sam represents all the people we bullied). Sam probably wanted to fit in just like everybody else, but he was too nice and too smart and exceeded the limits of what our 3rd grade brains thought of as different. He was bullied for it. With words we brought him down. We took apart the foundation underneath his feet, stone by stone, word by word, until he fell. What did we do? What did I do? I watched him fall into the sea, preventing him from ever climbing up our mountain. I watched as the rest of my classmates climbed even higher up the mountains. I, somewhere in the middle, did not want to climb any higher; but I did anyway. I have to fit in.
Tariq Onodu
Part 2
ReplyDeleteWhen middle school came, everything changed. I felt distant from everyone. The classmates I grew up with all my life suddenly seemed different. Confused and lost, I was not sure what to do. It wasn't until the sound of my name that I was filled with hope that someone will fill me in on what I missed over the summer. What l thought would be words of reassurance and guidance instead were words of offense, insult, and hate. The words were like a knife, stabbing me in the back. I couldn't breathe. I didn't slip, I was pushed and I was now falling faster than ever before. I was frantically trying to grab hold of anything that could keep me from falling into the sea. I could see my metaphorical mountain disappearing as I got closer to the ground. Until—darkness. No way out.
I hear my name from a distance and I brace myself for even more hateful words. The voice turned out to be the teacher asking me to tell the class about my summer. I stand up but my knees are weak. I start to shake and I can't stop myself, I have no control. I start to speak but my voice shakes just like my knees. My voice is quiet. I feel the eyes of everybody in the class on me, judging me. I start to sweat; I hear my classmates’ voices in my head turning any positive thoughts negative. This is what they do to me. The thoughts are like poison slowly killing me on the inside. I die a little. I put on a mask and promised myself never to take it off. One must not speak, one must not bring attention to themselves, one must never laugh, smile, or show true emotion. Emotion is what they feed on, and I must not give them the satisfaction.
I know deep inside that what they say about me doesn't matter. I am different. Different is good, but different is also bad. I am myself and that's what scares them, but that's also what scares me. The sea is a dark and cold place, but I swim farther and farther down. The sea is where I live now. It is my place of comfort. I have learned to love the silence, I have learned to love the cold, but most importantly I have learned to love the land and the sea and the creatures that dwell within them. My best friend Sam is a dweller of the sea, and so am I. He was the one that taught me to never look down on someone, unless you are picking them up. I swim, even now, to the deepest parts of the sea in search of my own mountain underneath the waters.
Tariq Onodu
Most people have someone they call their best friend. Someone they tell everything to, they do everything with, those two people who always seem to come as a pair. But, my best friend just happened to move twelve hours away in between eighth grade and freshman year, right before the big transition to high school. The change comes from Bethany moving, but the challenge lies in the sudden realization that the people that I hung out with weren't really my friends. They were Bethany’s. Most kids drift apart from the people that they once called their best friend not have them ripped from your grip and thrown miles away, leaving you feeling lost. That feeling where you know you have friends, but you feel very alone.
ReplyDeleteComing back from summer, the first day back I was searching of the sea of people for a familiar face, but I couldn't find one. You make it to your first classroom and look for just one friend to help you survive that class period, but I didn't know most of them. Not only was I searching for someone not there. My classes consisted mostly of people I didn't know and the ones I did, had their own group of friends and I wasn't invited.
Freshman year I felt like the people that were my “friends” held that title simply because we had been in the same group of people for what seemed like forever. Like it was an obligation, honestly, I never knew if they would be there for me when it counted the most. I’m not saying that these people didn't care about me or that we didn't get along, it just felt like they were more of acquaintances than friends. I felt like I was second best to everyone, there was always someone that they would pick over me when it came down to it. But how could I let that upset me when I would always choose Bethany?
Sometimes it is when you feel you’re at lowest, you realize who is there to help you back up. At some point, I came to realize that while I was feeling alone with no one to talk to, I was overlooking the people who were always there for me. Maybe the reason I felt like no one was there to listen, was because I wasn’t talking about it. I had felt like no one understood, but when faced with reality, I’m not the first kid to feel so lost without their “other half” nor will I be the last. Sometimes, when describing my social life as a freshman, I say that I had no friends, when in fact I had lots of them that really cared. I just wasn't looking in the right places.
Courtney Woodyard
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteAll I can say is that we all love you to death and you're getting some hugs when I see you again. Merry Christmas!
DeleteTyler Capman
Thanks Tyler!
Delete-Olivia
Unbroken
ReplyDeleteI was ten years old when my parents got divorced. It was during summer break when they broke the news to me and my sister. Naturally, I started bawling and was completely inconsolable, confused as to why my parents would make this decision. All I knew was that “they did not love each other anymore, and it was not my fault.” At first, I thought it was my fault; that if I had not gone to 4-H camp the week before, I could have stopped this. After a few weeks, I went to divorce care class and had “It’s not your fault,” and “You are still loved,” drilled into my head. I already knew this was true, but for some reason, the repetition of those tiny phrases made me more and more upset. I had very little understanding of the situation, and I thought that my life was shattering around me.
I was wrong.
Reflecting back, my parents fought quite a bit and never seemed to be happy. Now, they are rather happy. Divorce causes many people’s worlds to turn upside down. This is exactly what I expected, too, but I now realize that this is not always the case. My parents did not have the nasty divorce seen in movies, and now they get along very well. When I was ten, I thought that I was going to end up losing one of my parents, but I have grown closer to both of them because of the quality time I get to spend with them each week. There was a transition period where I had to get used to switching houses every week, but I grew to understand that though I was going back and forth, I still had both parents. This allowed me to have the security I needed after such a quick and enormous life change.
I also had to learn to let new people into my life. At first, I was very shy and timid, but I have met many new people and am happy to call them my family. I finally have the brother I have wanted since I was young, plus a sister-in-law and a new nephew. I love getting to see them every week and watching my two month old nephew, Liam, grow up.
My family has learned several lessons in the last six years, but the main lesson is that even when the strongest support system in life is broken apart; it can always be rebuilt into something even stronger. C. Joybell C. said, “There is no such thing as a ‘broken family’. Family is family, and is not determined by marriage certificates, divorce papers, or adoption documents. Families are made in the heart.” My life is better, and I have learned so many new things from the divorce. I grew as an individual and grew closer to my family. We are not “broken”.
-Hannah Webber
PART THE FIRST
ReplyDeleteAllow me to introduce myself. Hi there, I’m the really smart kid with the messed-up lip.
Whew. Thank God that’s off my chest.
As long as I can remember, my life has been an ongoing, subconscious challenge to make the most of being eternally labeled by those two features of me.
Let me address the second feature first. In sixth grade basketball, after a particularly respectable game (I was inexplicably good at basketball in middle school) I might have been rewarded by overhearing an opponent mutter, “the kid with the messed up lip was a good player,” or something along those lines. Not number 20; not the point guard; not the kid awkwardly sporting a t-shirt under his jersey. No, that dazzlingly perceptive sixth grader knew me as the kid with the messed up lip.
Now, I would be remiss not to clarify for those of you who haven’t had the displeasure of talking to me up close, or didn’t see Bobby G and others call me out for it on the Twitters. I was born with a cleft lip, and when I was a baby I had surgery to fix it. It’s the petite indentation on the left (I actually just had to check which side it was on—that’s how little I think about it) side of my upper lip. Judging by the hundreds of times that I have been asked, “what happened to your lip?” it must be my most profound feature. I can’t help but giggle at that prospect.
In the same vein, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing when I read on twitter that evidently I can’t “mess up that clef lip anymore.” Or when someone called me “cleffy.” Or when someone told me in a text that I can take my “ugly clef lip ass on somewhere.” Of course, the main reason for my laughter is that evidently the word “cleft” is very easily confused with a music symbol. But I also laughed because of the incredible shallowness of these depraved people. If that’s truly the best insult that you can come up with about me, I’m flattered.
As I’ve gotten older, fewer people have asked me about my lip (yet, amusingly, more people insult me about it). Yet I suppose, for some reason, I have grown up to feel cheated out of my identity when I’m remembered for a miniscule facial feature. It’s not insecurity by any means—that would have made for a terrible childhood. It is a sense of underestimation that I grew accustomed to as a child, and now the natural reaction to being identified by my lip is to provide a hundred great reasons to identify me by something else. I promise there are more significant parts of me.
If you do in fact identify me by something else, please do not be that person who calls me “the smart kid.” Yes, I grin and nod and shrug when people tell me I’m too smart or that I’m going to make more money by the time I’m twenty-five than they will make their whole lives. But on the inside, the eye roll is absolute.
I swear, if I had a dime for every time someone has told me I just succeed because I’m smart, I would fulfill the prophecy of making more money by the time I'm 25 than (person) in their whole life. Perhaps these people honestly believe that they’re paying me a compliment. They aren’t. Anyone who says something like that to me is both undercutting the hard work that I have—believe it or not—put in throughout my education and making excuses for themselves.
PART THE SECOND
ReplyDeleteI have been blessed with parents who have made me learn about the world, who have made me apply myself, who have paid thousands to send me to a fantastic private school until ninth grade, and that is a debt which I may never be able to repay. Yet the scores that I have received, the awards that I have won, are not merely a sum of genetics and upbringing. I had to take those tests. I had to study (or, pay enough attention to absorb the information). I did not become good at Quick Recall by accident. It has taken countless hours of work to get to where I am—to be able to excel while appearing not to try. If I don’t work hard enough at some step of the educational process, I feel like an idiot, and perform like one. Honestly—just ask anyone in my lab group in AP Chem.
Anyone who attributes my success to pure intellect is making excuses for their failures. It’s not my problem if I beat you on a test or if my presentation makes yours look bad. That’s your problem. It has nothing to do with me being smarter than you, because I’m probably not. I just worked harder than you at some point—either in elementary and middle school, where I learned ninety percent of all social studies and humanities information that I know today, or on the homework that you didn’t do or that you BSed or that you got off the Internet. I’m looking at you, 2012-13 APUSH class.
It’s worth noting that I don’t take—and never have taken—“nerd” as an insult.* This post is not to defend myself from such comments. It could be because I was raised in an environment where academic success got you praise from students and faculty alike, or it could be that I think making fun of someone for being smart is extraordinarily ignorant, provincial, and lazy, but those around me quickly learn that “nerd” or anything similar will not faze me whatsoever. However, I still feel slighted when I’m labeled by my intelligence because that limits me.
I’m many things. I’m a son, a brother, a cousin, a nephew, a teammate, and most importantly a friend. I’m a goalkeeper. I’m a Son of Gondor (Dol Amroth, to be specific)** at heart. I’m an academic team captain. I’m a very average piano player. I’m a student. I’m a liberal Democrat. And I’m a smart kid with a messed-up lip. So call me Andrew, Bates, Andy, Master, BTG, or cleffy (at your own embarrassment). But if you label me, I will accept no liability for a hurt ego when I prove you wrong.
Andrew “BTG” Bates
*I feel the same about “cocky bastard”; it’s lazy and jealous. Besides, I am in fact immensely grateful for the tools that I’ve been given, and I have been humbled many times over by such forces of nature as the Dunbar academic team and Anita Tope.
**If you understand this reference we can be friends—tall and fair swan friends in shining robes of deep blue and silver guided by the noble Prince Imrahil.
Im originally from california thats where my family and friends live. But in 210 when i was in 7th grade my mom got a call from my cousin cutia saying that my uncle max was saling my great grandmothers property. Earlier that year she had passed away thats why he was saling it.
ReplyDeleteAt the moment my family werent doing so good, but anyways at first she didn't want to but i really wanted to go because i have never been to kentucky before. I knew that my moms side of the family lived here so i really wanted to meet them so i tired to convince her to move here.
At first my mom wasnt having it, but after a little while she thought it over and decided she wanted to come out here too. At first i was excited to as the time went by i started to get little sad because i realized i wasnt going to be able to see my family evey other day anymore or see my friends so that part really sucked. my last day in clifornia was probably the sadest day of my life because my brothers and sisters were being all dramatic and every was in tears.
Now that iv been here for about four years i dont like it as much as califronia. i realized that im not the same person that i was the day i left. i was always excited to go to school because it was actually fun. Here i cant stand coming to school, its so small and the school day is so much longer. Another thing that i really miss is seeing my dad every wekend and going to my sisters house evey other day. Hopefully one day i can actually move back .
quanesha clay
As high school began, so did the preposterous amount of questions. I have been asked questions about history and math and science and health and English and French and every other subject I failed to mention. Yet I could study for these, I could cram in the last bit of information, at 2:30 at night, to feel prepared for the questions I faced the next day. I would actually know what to say and how to say it; but there is always one question I am never ready for. One of the hardest questions to answer.
ReplyDeleteYeah, I know the answer. It’s a simple yes or no. But how do I explain it? How do I say it without looking silly? How can I answer it, the way I want, without being judged? To me it’s one of the world’s toughest questions, and no matter how many times its been asked, I am always scared to answer.
“Wanna come drink at my house tonight?” They would say. “Come on Keenan, let’s go get wasted.” Person after person, “You going to that party tonight?” High school was an infantry of soldiers, all fighting for the wrong goal, and I felt like the objective. Every question was a shot trying to get me to succumb; but I have to be relentless in my effort, I have to say no.
It’s not a parental choice, even though they hounded me about it. It’s not a choice that my teachers or some of my peers urge me to say. It’s not even a choice that can easily change. I choose not to drink alcohol, because it’s the choice I want to make. No matter how many of my friends are doing it, I stay unyielding in my decision, and for many reasons.
It’s not worth the risk! Time after time we hear of teens that have lost their lives in horrible ways under the influence of alcohol. We see athletes who lose the ability to play the game they love, due to accidents caused by alcohol. We see some of the most talented students lose their scholarships, to some of the best schools in the United States, due to incidences with alcohol. It’s not worth risking everything I have studied for, trained for, and aspired for my whole life just to have a “great” night with friends. It just isn’t worth it, and won’t worth it at this age.
This simple, yet toilsome to answer question, frightens me to this day. I never know when it will be asked, who will ask it, how they will ask it. A copious amount of x-factors, but only one answer for me. Some people may judge me for it, some may shame me for it, some may even vote me off the island, but it won’t change my views; it hasn’t changed my views. I aim to stay strong, no matter how many bullets are being fired, because I know the dangers. I know of the horrible, life-changing things that could happen in a brief moment, a single bad decision. The battle will never be over, the battle will never change, and neither will my answer. I can wait. I will wait. And I choose to wait. I say not to alcohol.
-Keenan Jones-
This is going to be rather odd. I’m going to tell you all about a choice or challenge or change I am making as I am writing this. I will save it until the end to see who can figure out what the choice is, turning this assignment into a game.
ReplyDeleteI found it rather difficult to think of a choice or challenge or change that was worth writing about. And yes while Hill told us it would be fine to write about something simple, I just couldn’t bring myself to write about what I had eaten for breakfast this morning. I have come to the realization that our choices, challenges, and changes, while they may seem important at the time, may not be such important moments in our lives. While I am in no way saying that some of the posts here aren’t important, but in the long run they may not be defining moments in our lives. Especially with the fact that we have most of our lives left.
As I sit here on my bed, looking at the computer screen breathing and wondering if this will be long enough waiting to get done so I can eat and play xbox and thinking about how much time I wasted today just relaxing when I should have been writing this and just thinking about what I’m writing, I realized that thinking about all the things you’re doing at one time is astronomical. But you’ll be doing it all for the rest of your life.
So you may not think this had been a “story” about a time I made a choice or dealt with a change or took on a challenge. But it is. In the 30 seconds of my life that I have described I have done all three. I made a choice to write this about a simple moment in my life, I have described my change in perception on how much we really do in a single moment, and I took the challenge to do this a few hours before it was due like I’m sure many of my classmates have done. So how many of you guessed it right?
Courageous. Enthusiastic. Gregarious. Industrious, most importantly, Confident.
ReplyDeleteI used to believe in myself. I might have been the most self-assured person you would come across,
back then.
I used to be self-disciplined. Even when there wasn’t practice, I practiced.
I used to be full of life. Always running to have attention, entertaining the biggest crowd,
back then.
I used to be obedient. You told me to jump, I’d ask how high.
I used to be a leader. When you need someone to step up, I was always there,
back then.
Softball. That’s me, my calling you could say. But one of the most crucial years of my career, everything changed.
Who would have thought that I, #5, would let someone, a coach, get in my head.
Who would have thought that I, “princess makay”, would let someone ones words take me down.
Who would have thought that I, Makayla Hawkins, would let someone dull my shine.
Your words hurt. Hurt more than I thought words could.
You said I’d never amount to much.
I never left the bench.
You said I wasn’t good enough, and you were right,
I never thought I was.
Cowardly. Apathetic. Timid. Indolent, and most importantly, unsure.
Now, I am misunderstood. I have it in me, I just don’t know where.
Now, I am weak. I have no drive, I can’t push myself.
Now, I am scared. Attention makes me quiver.
Now, I am uncertain. You tell me to jump. I say I can’t.
Now, I am hidden. I can’t lead others until I can lead myself.
You haven’t completely controlled me.
I still am a great catcher,
I still can earn my spot.
I still am a great teammate,
I still can cheer others on.
I am not who I used to be. And for some, you never knew, because part of my final fight was to not let this show through. I didn’t want to change as a person, I liked the life I lived, but for some reason I couldn’t hold on. But there was one thing I could do. I pretended for so long that I was the same athlete that I was. But I wasn’t. And I’m still not. My abilities are the same, greater you could say. I can throw the ball quicker and hit it farther, that’s one thing I kept. My game is still mine.
Makayla Hawkins
“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.” –Winnie the Pooh
ReplyDeleteI tend to think of myself as a person who always wants a routine, but on the night of March 9, 2013, that idea came to a tragic stop. March 9th started as any other day it was a Friday and I went to school, after school my mom picked me up to go to her work as usual. But when I arrived my Aunt Chrystal who worked with my mom was gone. I asked my mom where she was because my usual routine was to come in and go talk to her. My mom told me she wasn’t feeling well and had stayed home to rest. My “talks” with Aunt Chrystal were a highlight of my day she helped me with anything and everything I needed. She was a strong Christian woman who I knew I could get good, meaningful advice from, she hadn’t only been my Aunt my whole life, she had been a best friend.
My most favorite memories of Aunt Chrystal were the years she worked at my grandparents flower shop. She taught me how to design flowers and how to make my first arrangement. She became a role model to me and I would always look forward to seeing her there. My favorite of all times was on Valentine’s Day, which is the busiest holiday at the flower shop. We would stay late preparing, most the time it was midnight before we all would leave. Everyone would always crack jokes to lighten the stress, but Aunt Chrystal and Uncle Ronnie’s bickering jokes were the best. Aunt Chrystal could really get a crowd laughing. She could change someone’s life by just being around to brighten there day.
The memories and talks I shared with Aunt Chrystal were a life changing event she helped me become a strong Christian women and a better person. What I wish I would have known was on March 8th 2013 in her office that would be the last talk I ever had with Aunt Chrystal. At 8:00 o’clock at night on Friday, March 9th 2013, my mom got a call as we were walking outside of a restaurant it was my cousin Megan, Aunt Chrystal’s daughter. As my mom stood pale and motionless her eyes started to water I had no idea what was going on and it was rare to ever she my mom cry. As I stood there next to her she screamed “Megan, Megan! What’s going on?!” I stood in terror I knew it was Aunt Chrystal something had happened. What I didn’t know was at that moment she had stopped breathing and her organs were shutting down. At that moment in the middle of a parking lot I wanted to fall to my knees in tears as my mom told me, she was gone. All I could do was stand still in shock and feel as if the world had to hit a sudden stop.
Part
Ashton Chaney
After March 9th 2013, my life changed, for the next week I cried for hours straight I even broke down at school. I couldn’t handle the idea of her being gone, but the worst of all was we didn’t know why she had stopped breathing or why her organs had failed. Because of that I felt as if I couldn’t get any closure. After the doctors had examined her and studied to figure out what had happened, we had her funeral. Never in my life did I think that I would lose someone so young and so close to me, so suddenly. Aunt Chrystal was the first person I had ever lost that was this close to me. Finally after a couple of days we learned what had happened to her, her pancreas had failed. The pancreas the only organ that you cannot have replaced and the main organ that supports the insulin flow in your blood stream and keeps you alive. After finding out why it just made me more and more angry, I couldn’t understand why such as good women like her could die of something like that. She was healthy why her why so suddenly. Those questions were never answered. All I know is that God must have really needed another angel.
ReplyDeleteAunt Chrystal created memories that I will never forget and that have changed my life in the best possible way. Not only did her memories change my life so did her passing, it was the most tragic change that has happened so suddenly in my life. She was their one day and gone the next. It felt unreal because I had just been with her the Wednesday before she passed away. We had hung out all day, just me and Aunt Chrystal that was a memory that I will never forget. That is the last memory and the last time I ever talked to my Aunt, she was my role model and a woman that changed my life. I will forever miss her until I see her again.
“ Yeah, when I get where I’m going, There’ll be only happy tears , I’ll shed the sins and struggles , I have carried all these years, And I’ll leave my heart wide open , I will love and have no fear, Yeah when I get where I’m going , Don’t cry for me down here.” (Brad Paisley & Dolly Parton)
Part 2
Ashton Chaney
i like how you opened and closed your essay with quotes. we all are afraid of change and comfortable in our comfort zone, but the comes a time when we have no choice and there is no turning back. There are always questions that can't be answered when someone good passes away, like "why now?", "why her?", especially someone we are use to. Incredible story loved it.
DeleteNerisia Ngum
Part 1
ReplyDeleteThere’s a lot to be said for the power of adrenaline. Some people find adrenaline when bungee jumping or sky-diving. Others find adrenaline in those last 20 seconds of the match when all the pressure is on them, all eyes on them, everyone eagerly anticipating those final moments of truth. I find adrenaline as I lace up my cleats, mentally and physically preparing for the game. I find adrenaline as I step on the field and get lost in the game, lost in the feel of the ball at my feet. When you’re on an adrenaline high, you’re faster, stronger, smarter, and more in-tune than your opponent. Nothing can faze you, nothing can touch you. Trust me, there’s a lot to be said for the power of adrenaline.
The struggle comes when adrenaline is no longer enough to cover the pain, the fatigue, the lack of strength. For 8 months I played with a torn labrum in my hip. For 3 months I played off adrenaline. Sure, it would hurt but as soon as I got into the game the pain faded away and I just could focus on each touch, each tackle. Being injured didn’t faze me, it’s part of being an athlete. After a few months though, a sharp, stabbing pain began to seep its way through the haze of adrenaline and into my game. Shortly thereafter, I started taking an Advil (or two) before the game, after the game, during the day, whenever the pain resurrected. It was scary how much I began to rely on pain killers, so I pretended not to notice. I didn’t think twice about taking them, anything to stop the pain. I swore that ice could heal anything as it placated my pain. Briefly. Ice relieved the pain briefly. Those cold, numbing cubes became my new best friend, and with Advil of course.
Adrenaline. Advil. Ice. Combined, those three things bought me another few months. I could still play the game I love and I could continue the only life I knew. Sure, I felt some pain when they wore off, but I was fine. I was fine. I just wouldn’t run track this year, I didn’t like it that much anyway. There was no reason to stop playing. Physical therapy didn’t work; I tried that. Surgery wasn’t an option, not when I was still able to play. So I was fine. Honestly, nothing was going to stop me from playing. I felt invincible when I had the ball at my feet and my teammates protecting me back; it only made sense that I thought my body to be invincible as well.
Those three magical things, they only served to put a Band-Aid on the physical pain. The thing that lingered, that ate me inside, was mental, but I admitted that to only the ones who knew me better than they know themselves. As much as I wanted to believe that I was fine and they were wrong, worry and doubt crept into my mind. I wondered if I was good enough. I started to feel less than up to par, out of place and undeserving, on the field with such elite players. In fear I pushed harder, trained more, and ignored the voices of reason. 10 more shots, 15 more crosses, 20 more sprints. Of course my “cure” only led to more ice, more Advil, but I was fine.
Except maybe I wasn’t. The semi-finals of State Cup were close. I just had to make it a few more weeks and I could rest. Except the adrenaline, that adrenaline that kept me going for so long, I didn’t feel it any more. When I laced up my cleats and stepped on the field all I felt was dread. I dreaded playing. I dreaded everything. I knew it would hurt. Every step and every shot and every pass and every run and every single thing I did, would bring pain. The sweet power of adrenaline that carried me in its’ arms for months wasn’t enough. That’s when I made my choice. The truth I had been evading for so long, it caught up to me and now it was time to face it.
Part 2
ReplyDeleteThe week after the semi-finals I went to see a hip specialist to get some MRIs done and figure out how to fix it, fix me. I diligently sat the allotted 6 weeks out. I didn’t touch a ball, I didn’t lace up my cleats, I didn’t even protest that much. Yet the pain was still there, dully throbbing in the background of my body, prone to sudden and unexplainable flares of anger much like a high school girl. At the end of the 6 weeks I faced the truth that had building in me for 10 months now; I needed surgery. I wouldn’t play for another 6-8 months, 5 at best.
What no one seems to understand is that the pain doesn’t fade away with surgery, it merely shifts. The physical pain intensifies the first few weeks after surgery and then it slowly begins to heal with a lot of PT and not to mention the sudden unexpected flare ups. What takes place of the physical pain is stronger; it cuts deeper than any surgical knife ever could. The thing is, when I was playing with the pain, I was playing. I was playing. Sitting on the bench, powerless to help your team, powerless to dictate the game like you once did, powerless to everything it seems like hurts like hell. The beautiful escape the field used to give me was taken from me, swiftly and abruptly. It’s hard to explain how scary it is to lose the thing you love, to lose the one thing that kept you grounded. I clung hard to those around me because soccer, the one thing that never failed me, was no longer an option.
Even now when I’m back on the field playing, slowly learning to love the game again, the same question lingers. Did I make the right choice all those months back? Should I have gone to the doctor when I first felt the pain? Or maybe when the adrenaline wore off and the pain began to linger? Should I even be playing now? Is this what I love? Every single day I chose to evade the inevitable. I chose to stick to what I knew, what I loved, instead of listening to those who knew more. Yes, I have my happy ending. I’m on the field playing, my body took surgery well and I came back fast. I’ll never know if I could’ve avoided surgery by going in when it first began. I’ll never know what the right choice was. I’ll never know, but I find it’s best not to focus on questions with answers I’ll never find. I just take one day at a time and hope I make the “right” choice this time around. There’s a lot to be said for adrenaline but there’s also a lot to be said for facing the truth.
Once upon a time, there was a little innocent girl, probably in the second grade, around 7 or 8 years old. She was a sweet, obedient, pleasant little child. In these early moments of her life, her and her sisters were staying with her dad and celebrating Christmas with him. Now, she absolutely loved Christmas. She loved the ideas of presents and families and sweets and snow. She still believed in Santa Claus, still adored Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman.
ReplyDeleteHer sisters off playing, she was left alone in the living room with her dad. They were having a casual conversation when he brought up Santa Claus. He asked “Do you still believe in Santa, Darb?” This is when he lifted up his foot. Of course, the remark went right over the little girls head, and the little girl replied with a why-would-you-even-ask-that-question look and a “Yes, Daddy” Her Dad got a little smirk on his face and said, “He’s not real honey…” That’s when he shoved his foot in his mouth. The young child had heard the rumors about this tragic misunderstanding, but she never even considered believing in them. I mean, you have to believe in Santa in order for him to be real, right? But why would your dad tell you this, I mean if he does buy the presents and put them under the tree then wouldn’t he definitely know if this ‘Santa’ thing is real or not? She was shocked at this random outburst of crazy talk from her Dad, and zoned out as he continued to explain Santa’s lack of existence, and her parents’ part in Santa’s role. I will never really understand what brought him to tell me this, I mean I was a child. Still young, naïve, pure, there was no reason for such an early disappointment.
Later on, I considered asking my mom about the validity of my father’s accusations, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She believed that I believed, and I honestly did want to believe, but I now had too many doubts. I think that my mom, just this past year or two, finally realized that I knew Santa wasn’t real. Even now, I would still love for Santa Claus to be a real thing. He brings so much happiness, hope, and faith to everyone; I don’t understand why someone would start this tradition just to get everyone’s hopes up.
To most high school kids now, Santa Claus is nothing but a far off childhood story, stored and packaged away in the back of our brains. To me, the realization of Santa Claus’s non-existence was kind of my first reality check. It is a lie, even if the concept only has good intentions. I am a Christian, and Christians typically categorize lying in the sin category, and teach children that lying is never okay. Why then, exactly, do we tell this dream-crushing lie to all of our children? Why not bring families closer together and just tell them that the gifts are from you? Better yet, why don’t we just celebrate without any gifts? Just appreciate the time we have with our family and celebrate Jesus’ birth (or Hanukkah or any other beliefs you honor during the holiday season).
Anyways, back to my reality check. I guess what I’m trying to say is that although this experience was unavoidable, I kind of wish that it had never happened. It’d be nice to still have those childish beliefs and that trouble-free lifestyle. Realizing Santa Claus wasn’t real wasn’t just realizing that Santa Claus wasn't real. It was more like realizing that there is a much bigger picture. There is a whole big earth out there, with more problems than can be named; there are millions-no billions of other people out there, also with more problems than can be named. I can no longer say that I am naïve, young, or innocent. I am aware of the bad things in life.
Once upon a time, a child grew up... and stopped believing in Santa Claus.
Darby Taylor
Part 1
ReplyDeleteSchools in Cameroon, Africa, stereotypically are smaller, accommodating large numbers of students, less furnished (mostly public schools), which limits teacher-student interaction. Even though the students have the zeal to learn and acquire the little knowledge they can get, is hard because the teachers are not well paid and don’t see the need to put in as much effort. To make this even better it is not required to go school, so those students who feel they aren’t learning don’t go to school, but instead find a “job”. Schools still used chalk board and every school has its own uniform, which every student has to wear. Very few and competitive scholarship awards, most schools don’t have computers, which affected me, as I didn’t learn how to type until I was ten. I was blessed to have gone to a private, which is not a whole great, but better. It’s amazing how contented I was and most others, though doing all we could and hoping for the better. My dream has always been to pediatrician, I knew it was going to be hard to get a job after school (as is often the case), but I still hold on to that dream.
It was a cold winter evening, 5:40 PM 0n Wednesday, October 26th 2011, when I arrived the United States of America, Lexington, Kentucky to be specific from Yaoundé Cameroon, Africa. I was in form five, which is freshmen year in America. I didn’t start that academic year, because I was soon leaving for the U.S. I went to a bordering school; an average student, didn’t care about so much. Two days before I had to leave for the U.S., I went about my city, saying farewell to all my family and love ones; it was very hard, I couldn’t control my eyes from oozing out as a waterfall. We had already given our house away and almost all of our belongings; spending the last two days at my aunt’s place. The next day we had to pack all what we were leaving with. Almost all of my family member traveled in, to see my mom and I off the next night. It didn’t hit me yet that I was leaving the place and the people I had known all my life, for one I had no imagination of, which was a scary feeling.
Nerisia Ngum
Part 2
ReplyDeleteThe day and time had come for my mom and I to go catch I flight, we said our prayers and drove to the airport. Everyone was there, that was my last time of seeing my whole family. I kept trying to say something to each of them, for the last time, face-to-face, but I was speechless and trying not to cry a lot. My mom and I gave our last hugs and kisses, waving and going to get checked and board the plane. That was my first time on a plane, which was a scary feeling. When we reached, we were picked up at the airport by my mom’s friend, which we lived with for a little. It was so different; the time difference of 5 hours backwards from what I was used to, which made it hard for me to take naps. The food too was new to me, but I ventured everyone I came across. I spoke both English and French as official languages back home, but what I heard was unlike like that. It took me some time to be able to understand and calculate the money currency.
On October 31st 2011, was when I first experienced the “American system” of school, I knew it was going to be as hard as a rock, since I was a shy and quiet person and I didn’t know anyone. New World, New School. It was unusual; as the students had to move from class to class, while I was use to the teacher moving from class to class while the students say put in one class, and also because different grades could take the same classes. I made 5 friends on my first day in school, which was impressive. My name was and still is so hard for people to pronounce. The day was so long and I keep having migraines the first few weeks. I dislike when people would say “what did you say?” when I said something, I knew I was would have to get used to it. Every year as I get more familiar with the environment and the people around me, I feel like I open up my shell more.
It was a big change for me and my mom too, but we keep learning something new every day. I Know it might sound like I missed out on a lot, but I’m trying to catch up gradually. I have made and still making a lot of friends now and adapted, but not fully to the climate. Even though I miss my family and hope to see them soon, I don’t regret the change I made; but hope to dare greatly and get out of my comfort zone more.
Nerisia Ngum (*,*)
Part I
ReplyDeleteI sit in my desk, my hands clenched into fists, sweat gathering on my palms. A student is finishing up a spectacular presentation, and I do not envy the person who has to follow it up. Even as I am thinking this and the rest of the class is clapping for the student, I hear the teacher call across the room, "Will, you're next." I freeze. I have a sick feeling in my stomach. My throat feels constricted; I don't know if I'll be able to talk. The teacher calls for me again, more forcefully, assuming that I hadn't heard my name the first time. "Will, it's your turn." With those words, my trance is broken. I slowly get to my feet and walk to the front of the classroom. Now the trembling begins. I hope that the rest of the class can't see my paper shaking in my hands. I look out at the other students, to see if they have noticed.
That was a mistake.
Now I am flooded with a hundred worrisome thoughts. Are they judging me? What will they think of my presentation? They'll probably think that it's idiotic, stupid, boring, pointless. What if I mess up? Will they laugh at me? Or will they not even care? Is my presentation so boring that they won't even listen? Will I just end up putting them to sleep? All of these thoughts and more come into my head in a split second. But I know I have to give this presentation. It is for a grade, after all.
I begin speaking. "I read the book..." is what I'm trying to say, but I'm mumbling, so all they hear is, "Irethook...". The teacher interrupts me and curtly says, "Speak up." I stop, look at the teacher, and nod. I start again, louder, but now I'm rambling, talking faster and faster and I just want to get it over with so I can sit down and not feel like I'm being judged or like I'm doing a horrible job and that I'm boring and I can't think about anything but how I must sound so stupid and helpless and how I keep messing up and everything is just going wrong and I just really want it to be over... And then, as suddenly as it started, it was finished. I look back out at the class, and I hear nothing, I see no reactions. Does that mean that it was boring? It was horrible, wasn't it? It was idiotic and stupid and boring and pointless. But then I hear clapping, and I let out the breath that I have been holding all this time without even realizing it. I walk back to my desk and sit down, glad that I'm finished.
But it's not over.
Now I start berating myself. Why was I so nervous? I should have talked more slowly, been more confident in myself. And why do I worry about whether or not people will judge me? I have no right to think that they will take time out of their lives to focus on my shortcomings or mistakes. Why would they care? I'm not that important to everyone. I shouldn't be so conceited, to think that people will pay attention to every move that I make and judge me for it. Then I hear someone tell me, "Good job." I thank them, but on the inside, I'm wondering why they felt the need to tell me that. Was my presentation really that terrible? Do I emit this vibe, like I'm this wounded animal that needs to be cared for and consoled? I keep thinking these things over and over, until the bell rings. But when I leave the classroom, these thoughts follow me. They periodically come to the front of my mind throughout the day, and I can't seem to get rid of them. It becomes harder and harder for me to focus on my other classes; I'm too worried about one insignificant presentation. A miniscule moment in my life has me so unnerved, so frightened...
Part II
ReplyDeleteEven now as I'm writing this blog post, I wonder what people will think of it. I don't know why I've always been so nervous in front of people, or why I worry about their opinions of me. Maybe it's because I am not very self-confident. Perhaps it's because I'm not good at opening up to others and sharing my own opinions, and that affects other aspects of my life. Either way, this is a challenge that I still face. I have gotten a little better about dealing with it, though. I've learned not to worry so much; I've realized that I need to focus on making myself into who I want to be, not who others think I should be. I think I'm finally starting to gain more confidence in myself and my abilities as well, and that has helped me tremendously. I'm not as afraid to say what I think, although I do still freeze sometimes when I'm asked a question or giving a presentation. I think part of my growth has also come from coming to public school. At Good Shepherd, we had twenty-seven students in our whole eighth grade. This meant that we spent much more time with the same people, so I was afraid that they were all the more likely to judge me. Now, in high school, there are so many different people, all with their diverse opinions and outlooks on life. The diversity at Western Hills has really made me want to be my own person as well. I'm still not quite as outgoing and comfortable as I'd like to be, but by meeting new people and experiencing new points of view, I'm slowly finding my way there.
Will Grasch
Part 1
ReplyDeleteElementary school was a breeze for me, didn’t get on the Academic Team? No problem, you can work the computer. Forgot your homework at school? Don’t worry, you can see theirs. Forgot your lunch money? Just take use their account. Don’t want to walk up the driveway alone? Don’t worry there’s 3 of you. This was elementary school, I was called both Harper and sometimes Keenan, I could switch seats and the teacher wouldn’t know the difference. The transition from elementary school to middle is an exciting time; you get to wake up later, ride a different bus, and just be somewhere new for the next three years of your life.
My first day of middle school was probably the second scariest day of my life. Imagine, you have spent your whole life, with two other people, your family, every class, every lunch, every after school activity. The whole 9 yards. On my first day of middle school I was without my lifeline, my support. When I got my schedule I remember thinking this isn’t that bad, and then, I compared it to theirs, my siblings. At first I thought yay this will be fun, I’ll make my own friends, have my own classes and my own homework. That “yay” was not the case. I walked into the theatre on that fateful day and realized that I was scared to death. I sat down in Mrs. Stewart’s row dreading the day ahead. We walked to our first class, quiet and shy. I remember this teacher, at the back to school bash, she and another teacher (Mrs. Fryman) argued who had the best triplet, Keenan or MacKenzie? Did it even really matter? Neither of the teachers had talked to us for more than five minutes, but was determined that one was ultimately better than the other.
Part 2
ReplyDeleteHaving recalled that memory, I felt a little more comfortable, maybe I was the best, a least in her eyes I was. When the first bell rang, walking into the hallway I’ll admit to scanning for their faces, and hoping that somehow they would get changed into my next class. Mrs. Crask, Mr. Shepard, Mrs. Fryman. Zip. Zilch. Nada. No siblings in there. When lunch approached I was sure to see them. They weren’t at my lunch table, or any one close to it, Harper absorbed talking to her new and old friends at the third table, and Keenan surrounded by the guys at the 8th table. I had a seemingly perfect view of each of them, near the middle of the room, on the aisle. I watched them attentively hoping to catch their eyes, a sense of recognition, a sense of desperation and confusion. Anything. But alas nothing, nothing but smiling faces and ignorance of their forgotten sister, the one they had no clue who needed them. I moped my way through the rest of lunch, and walked grudgingly back to class. After the 4th bell, we were free to go to enrichment. I rushed out of my classroom, standing in the middle of the hallway like a kid lost in the store. Looking for a familiar face, I looked up the hall, and harper was escaping with Keenan up the ramp and away from me. I frantically tried to catch up, but they were gone. I had lost my chance to talk to them, to see how they were coping. I finished off my day in silence. Contemplating the horribly tragedy middle school seemed to be, and how could the others before me gotten it so wrong.
I was utterly alone; how they could have left me behind, not telling me they were moving on. Words cannot describe how abandoned I felt, how helpless that first day was for me. I had them with me every step of the way and all the sudden they were gone. I never did ask them how those first few days were for them, maybe they were feeling the same insecurities that I was, I can’t say I was never tempted to ask, but at the same time. Maybe I don’t want to know; maybe I could be content and stop worrying about them and how we compare for once in my life.
Middle school helped me to realize that you never really know the good things you have until they are gone. Those are exactly what they were and still are; good things. That first day of middle school was a big change for me as well as a challenge. I’ve grown as a person because of that first day, which subsequently was a first of a lot of firsts. I became involved in agriculture, I ran all alone on the cross country team, I joined the basketball team and started to become the person I am today. I’ve come to realize that I made myself so different from them, willingly distancing myself from them as well as their activities and came to realize who I was as a person. I became my OWN individual. I became MacKenzie Jones. A triplet; but not one of the triplets.
About 55% of people play sports in high school. Well, I used to be a part of that statistic. I have been an avid sports fan all my life. Sports used to be to me. Throughout my elementary and middle school years I had all the fun in the world. Then high school came around and sports weren’t all that they used to be. Sports for me used to be about social aspects and just having fun. When you hit high school it’s just competition and competition and more competition.
ReplyDeleteI use to be a huge lover of playing basketball. Basketball was life, everything involved me and basketball. In fact, I won the state championship free throw competition in 2011. Sports have been huge through school, as I have played for Bondurant's basketball team every single year, and played for Hill's team my freshman year. I used to constantly practice outside and at the gym as many chances as I could. I made many friendships throughout these years and wouldn’t trade them for anything.
Sports are supposed to be fun. That is the exact opposite of what I was feeling after middle school. We obsess over sports too much, and don't enjoy them anymore. We take them way too seriously. For example, I used to always see parents fight over the games. Like honestly, this is just a game, Your children are just trying to have fun. Not to mention, all sports are is politics anymore. Whoever knows someone that is in the hierarchy of the sport makes the team. People are just too worried about sports when they are our age. I mean come on, where is a sport going to get you unless you’re just somehow spectacular at your sport, and at Hills, that usually doesn’t happen.
My life with sports were full of stress, always wanting to be better than someone else, always wanting to be the best at everything involved with the sport. I have met a happy state in my life at this point. No sports have made my life very calm and a lot happier. But with this being said, I feel like not playing a sport in high school dissociates you with others. I feel people don't feel as highly of you if you don't play a sport. Don't get me wrong, I could care less, but I know that others do. I honestly think this should not be happening, considering how happy I am without playing sports. Sports are a happy time in middle school, but in high school it’s all about competition. There is no fun to the sport anymore.
Don't get me wrong, I do still love to play sports for fun and to watch them, but I feel so much happier without playing on a high school team. It filled my life with stress, and envy. This choice that I made ended up making my life better, and I have ended up doing better in school, and I am just a happier person in general. Although sports are huge in today’s society, I think we need to take a step back and look at what is going on in the sports world. Sports are supposed to be about fun in high school, but lately they have been the total opposite of fun. Come on world; let’s make those 55% experience what sports really should be, fun.
- Dallas Taylor
Have you ever wished you were out of your parents' house? That they would just leave you be sometimes? Yeah, me too until I realize I really don't have both of my parents. My mom works 10 hours a day then comes home and slaves over the stove for hours to make us happy, while my dad is living with his mother, acting as if he is a sponge sucking all her money from her, selling all of her antiques and all of his kids stuff so he can make a quick buck.
ReplyDeleteMy dad is a chronic crack-cocain and heroin user, and he never wants anything to do with me. I see my father maybe once a week, even when I'm at his house all weekend. He never calls me to tell me he loves me, ask how I'm doing, or even come to a single one of my tennis matches. The only interaction I have with my father is when he's asking me for something or barking orders, and when he doesn't get what he wants, he goes off and separates himself from everyone, making it hard to get through to him. Whenever he gets off of his high, he always takes it out on others, usually me, threatening to take their stuff away, probably to sell it for drug money, or to kick them out of the house he doesn't own nor have any jurisdiction over. He always claims he "never feels good" when I ask him to do stuff with me, not realizing that I know the real truth to why he won't. My past birthday, we were going out to celebrate it with the whole family, and when it came down to the last hour, I caught him getting high off his heroin and then he said he was sick and couldn't. He ended up staying home that day and when he found out that my aunt had taken me instead, he through a fit, saying he was always pitted against and that no one really wanted him. From the time I walk in the doors over there at 4:15 pm on friday after school to when I have to leave Sunday night at 7, I probably have spoken to him once.
So here is my challenge: to help my father better himself so that we don't have to worry about his future. My older sister and two of my aunts have been discussing it lately and we feel that an intervention is what's going to have to happen. In my opinion, though, it's much deeper than what we think. I feel like some time away in an institution or a rehabilitation center would be fantastic. I know my father and I know he won't like being confronted by a big group of people, especially when he's getting called out. He'll say that there's "nothing wrong" with him, that he's "clean".
Honestly, I'm just scared for his future. If he continues on the road he's traveling now, I'm worried he'll end up in a halfway house, over dosing on pills and even worse. My father is a huge part of my life, but if he continues to neglect me, I will refuse to see him until he betters himself.
There are many different topics I could talk about that have changed my life, but there is one in particular that I would like to share with you, which is the divorce of my parents. Now I know this is a very common topic to talk about, but this is the biggest change I’ve had to face in my life so far. Most teenagers whose parents are still together think that a divorce isn’t a huge deal, but they don’t have the feel for what it is actually like.
ReplyDeleteMy whole life growing up, my parents would fight all the time. At least two or three times a week, I would have to listen to them going back and forth. It was usually my dad who would start the arguments. He is a control freak, so if something doesn’t go his way, he snaps which quickly results to him screaming at the top of his lungs. I’m pretty sure he has an anger issue. After a month of nothing but fighting, my dad decided to move out for a month or so to see if he could calm his anger down. Once he was back in the house again, everything seemed as if had resolved itself. They were getting along greatly and he wasn’t yelling at all. I couldn’t be happier with what I was seeing. I would soon figure out that this wouldn’t last forever. Things started to get bad again and before too long, they were as worse as they had ever been. My dad was constantly yelling and we couldn’t seem to find any solution to it so my mom finally decided to take charge.
In the middle of my sixth grade year, my mom decided that she was going to move out, but this time, for good. Of course my dad was not in favor of her choice, but there was nothing he was going to do to stop her. After school one day, they sat down my brother and I to tell us the news. Even though we weren’t shocked, we were still heartbroken. After she moved out, I just felt kind of lost in the world. Moving from house to house every few days was really hard to get used to. I would forget things I needed for school all the time which would make my dad angry that he would have to go back. Every time I went to his house, we would always end up arguing over something stupid. I knew that my dad had just been through a divorce, but I still didn’t think that was the way I needed to be treated. He needed to be there for me just as much as I did for him.
I honestly never thought that my parents would be where they are today. They still rarely talk, but they don’t fight with each other as much anymore. My dad has finally calmed down a little bit, even though he can still have a bit of an anger issue at times. My dad and I have started to get along which is what I’ve been wanting for years. My mom and I never fight which is a relationship that every teenager should have the opportunity for. Since they got a divorce, my life is kind of stressful at times, but so much easier as a whole. I don’t have to listen to constant yelling between my parents and get to come home every day to a great environment. My mom remarried a couple of years ago to a great guy. He treats her great which is exactly what she deserves. I’m glad that my mom met him because she is finally happy, which in fact, makes me happy too. I hope the kids’ whose parents are together stay together because going through a divorce as a teenager is definitely not something you want to see happen. It will change your life dramatically, and not in a good way.
-Grayson Arnold
I’m sure that you all could guess right off the bat that I am going to write about soccer. Well duh, it’s my life. When one thing occupies 90% of your life it is very easy to be faced with many changes and challenges. I have many years to look back over to determine a “major change” or challenge. The unique thing about my topic is that it is both a change and a challenge. Here is my story.
ReplyDeleteI have had a soccer ball at my feet since I could walk. I have played competitively since I was 3. Until recently, I hadn’t noticed my true talent for the game. I have played for many well-known teams around the state of Kentucky, all of which consist of a tryout. AC United, Commonwealth, and LFC have all done amazing things for the development of my game.
All of those seasons, however, I have had very bad, painful, and severe injuries. Ranging from a broken wrist, broken knee, broken ankle, high ankle sprain, and the most recent, a torn hip flexor. Each of these injuries requires me to sit out for AT LEAST 6-8 weeks (maybe not the wrist). That is 6-8 weeks that I am losing that I can spend time practicing and getting myself prepared for my future.
I have had mixed emotions about this scenario. I have considered quitting competitive soccer, playing a different sport, or just sports in general. Did I choose that? Hell No. I took it as motivation and put in the work to make up for those lost months that injury brought upon me. Without the beautiful game, I would be lost in life. That is how you know you are dedicated; if you are willing to fight the battle and get better no matter what.
Personally, I believe that if I had not gotten injured, I would be a much better player. It has completely changed my view on the game, but not my mentality. I am more cautious, but I will continue to work until I make it big. Anything that comes in between me and my game, such as an injury, will only make me push through it and get better.
Currently, I have been invited to play for the River City Rovers, an academy team in Louisville. This club has no tryout. You get scouted and they ask you to come play. When I was invited, I thought to myself, only the best of the best get in, I am going to make a name for myself and play as if I had never been injured at all. Next weekend is my test, as I have already received emails from UNC and Georgetown interested in seeing me play. I am traveling to Florida for a college showcase, where hundreds of coaches will be present. Playing teams from all around the world is going to be very tough. But you all know me, I sure as hell will never let down. I am going to make the coaches notice me, and you all never forget me.
-C.Rogers
CR10
PART I
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love tennis. It's taken over a large part of my life, what with the school season, summer leagues, weekly lessons, and now, even teaching tennis. It's a game that has not only pushed me physically, but tested my mentality. It's challenged me and rewarded me. It's something I honestly never tire of and can always look forward to. Also, I've made some of my best friends through tennis. All in all, it seems as though tennis has been nothing but good to me.
Except.
I remember the moment itself so clearly; I was in the middle of a heated match, and I was winning, feeling good, confident. Then, I went for one awkward shot that had an unfortunate ending. My follow through felt very odd; as my arm twisted and raised itself too high, I felt a sickening pop, and suddenly, my arm felt completely immobilized. It was stuck. I didn't know what I did wrong. I didn't know what to do next. I panicked. Instinctively, I reached my other hand up and pushed my shoulder back down into its socket. A searing pain shot through me as I did so and my entire arm felt limp. What had I done?
Absolute agony followed after that incident. I could hardly move my shoulder for the next several days and most of my free time was spent lying down with an ice pack over my shoulder. Eventually, though, the pain subsided. I was relieved- it seemed like it was nothing, after all. I tried to push the unpleasant memory out of my mind. However, not surprisingly, the same thing happened again, and then again. Three times total so far, I've partially dislocated my shoulder while playing tennis.
I've never been one to go to the doctor at any mere sign of something being wrong, so I was adamant about just toughing it out. But, as the pain and discomfort grew, my mother decided to bring up the subject to my doctor at my next physical. After examining me, my doctor shared the conclusion she had come to: I am a weirdly "double jointed" person, meaning I have lots of hyper-mobile joints throughout my body. Basically, this causes my joints to be much looser than normal, typically resulting in increased flexibility. However, because I work my right shoulder a lot due to playing tennis, I've loosened that joint even further, to the point where my shoulder no longer stays in its socket- a subluxation.
Diana Rudic
PART II
ReplyDeleteI was referred to physical therapy, where for 2-3 days a week for about three months, I had half hour sessions dedicated to strengthening the muscles in my shoulder to help battle my weak joints and hold my shoulder in place. In addition to that, I had frequent chiropractic appointments, where my chiropractor worked to push my shoulder back in place. I'll admit I was kind of scared, not knowing how this would change me. Amidst all of this, I was suddenly faced with a choice: do I continue playing tennis and risk harming myself further, or do I take the safer, easier alternative and quit altogether?
I don't regret my choice.
I continue to play tennis to this day. Many of you reading this may disagree with my choice, and I can understand that. However, to me, the pros of playing tennis far outweigh the cons. To be honest, it hasn't been easy- even now, I still have to get my shoulder regularly adjusted, I'm physically incapable of moving my arm certain ways, and I have to be careful to not push myself too hard, not reach too far, and not lift things that are too heavy for me. These boundaries go beyond tennis and into daily activities. Also, I have the added frustration of dealing with people who simply don't understand my physical limitations. Despite all of this, I still love the sport and cannot imagine giving up tennis.
I stand by my choice to face the challenge that changed my life. I'm lucky to have had the support of my parents, friends, teammates, and tennis coach throughout this whole ordeal. I've accepted that this a problem that'll never be completely fixed and that I'll have to deal with for the rest of my life, so I might as well make the most of it, right? Tennis is an individual sport that can be played at any age, so I plan I continue playing it for as long as possible. I know my limits and my weaknesses, but I'm learning to be careful and work around them. If anything, this experience has made me stronger rather than weakened me.
Diana Rudic
Part 1
ReplyDeleteI’m sure almost everyone can say that they’ve been through a challenge of some sort, had a type of change in their life, or had to sit down and take the time to make a choice. These three things are constantly happening within our lives. I would like to share a something personal that has happened in my life where all three of the “C’s” came into play. Not a lot of people know what I am about to write and I’m sure of you all will be shocked by it too. Here it goes…
First, let me explain how people see me. The girl who is very talkative. The girl who doesn’t have any problems. The girl who has it pretty good. The girl who can take people’s jokes but it really does hurt her deep down. The girl who will straight up how it is regardless. Some of those assumptions are right and some are mistaken by many. There has been one constant struggle that I’ve hidden pretty much my entire life.
My dad and I haven’t had much of a relationship pretty much my entire life. Yes, my parents are still married and we all live together, but my dad and I never really talk. As a child, all of my good and fun memories are with my mom. As I began to grow up I finally started to understand why my dad and I didn’t have a good relationship, why he was hardly ever there for me. My dad is an alcoholic. He is not physically abusive but more emotionally. Just imagine, someone who is supposed to love you and protect you and raise you into the adult you will be one day calling you worthless, saying they wished they never had you as a daughter. Telling you that you were a mistake. Yes, it hurts more than anyone can ever imagine. That little saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” is total bullshit. Words hurt. I’m pretty sure everyone can agree to that. There have been countless of times where I would believe the things that he has said. I would question things like “Why am I here if he hates me so much? How could my mom let him do this to me? If I am so worthless why am I even alive?” Needless to say I have overcome the struggle of asking myself those questions. Yes, it has affected who I am as a person but it does not define me. It is the reason why I usually keep things all bottled up inside. The reason why it’s hard for me to trust people. The reason I am so hesitant to let people into my life because I’m scared they’re going to just walk out on me whenever it is convenient for them. Most people couldn’t even imagine that this would be going on in my life. I try to be a happy, positive person who always has a smile upon her face. I tend to not share personal things with people because I feel as though I will look weak or be judged. This would be considered the challenge/change I have faced my entire life and I am still facing it to this day.
My dad’s problem has obviously made me make various choices. As a teenager I have learned that I cannot let my dad’s problem stop me from being Hannah. I can’t let it stop me from achieving my future goals in my life. I can’t let it determine my future and my life. Statistics do show that alcoholism does indeed run in families. I am not going to let some silly statistic tell me that I am going to one day end up like my father. The biggest and most important choice I have made with this situation is coming to terms with my dad’s problem and accepting it. Very few people know this but I have actually been attending therapy to just have someone different to talk to. No, just because I go and see a therapist doesn’t mean I’m psychotic or anything like that. I just simply have someone else to talk to about my situation other than my mom and various friends who I chose to share with. Learning to accept my dad’s problem and knowing that I can’t stop it no matter how hard I try.
Part 2
ReplyDeleteBasically, I have been through hell and back in my sixteen years of living. Not going to lie about that. I have finally accepted the fact that you cannot help someone who wants to be helped or change someone who doesn’t want to change. I have realized that his problem is not because of me. Many of times I have questioned if it was. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my dad more than anything. I have begged him countless of times to stop or to try and get help. He says he will but let me tell you, actions DO speak louder than words. He will always be my dad and I cannot change that. Now that I have accepted my dad’s problem, it has lifted a million pound weight off my shoulders. Now I worry about Hannah and Hannah only. I am now focused on only my problems and only my future. My dad’s problem has helped me grow up really fast and face the not so pretty side of reality early in life. Do I think other problems won’t affect me in the future? Heck no. I’m not that naïve. I feel like learning how to deal with this problem, I will be able to deal with problems in my future more maturely.
The change, choice, and challenge that I deal with even today made many differences in my life an in those of peoples' around me. To get the full picture though, I have to take you all way back, back to middle school. That's when things started, and please, blame testosterone.
ReplyDeleteYou see, I was an overall nice, bubbly kid. But with puberty came the need to make myself seem like I belonged, and at the same time show that I didn't need anyone. But at the same time, I had friends like Bethany that I stood up for in everything, and she stood up for me. Even when I was, honestly, undeserving. I was just angry all the time, unless I was around her or my family. My thoughts were, are, always jumbled and running into each other like trains on a collision course, and move too fast for me to keep up sometimes. She helped keep me under control, and in check. However, it didn't last; she moved away at the end of 8th grade. So it was just me.
Now, everyone knows I'm a weird guy, and so are my friends. But some of them are the nicest, most supportive people you could know, if you give them the time to show you. Quentin especially. Now my change in life, the jumbled thoughts and anger, all poured out into me not holding my tongue. And Quentin, well, he likes to talk as much as I do. He’s a big guy, incredibly random, and says some of the most offensive, strange, and completely hilarious jokes. But he’s my friend, and a good friend at that, and I wouldn’t change a thing about him. You see, I’ve never gotten along with guys at all, but Quentin is just such a goodhearted friend, you wouldn’t be able to help it but want be nice to him. But that wasn’t how I felt two years ago. I would pick on him, call him names, instigate him try to make him mad. I bullied him, basically. I was an asshole. There were times where I said too much, and it made him visibly angry. He never spoke out, not one word against me. I kept egging him on, enjoying angering him in some sick way. And through everything I said to him, he never once said anything back, never got openly angry, never lashed out at me. All he ever did, was be nice to me, and try to make me smile. To be completely honest, I don’t know why I did what I did. But I know one day I took it too far, and caused the chain reaction that made who I am today.
Quentin, a group of friends, and I all hanging out in the hallways before school. We were all talking, and Quentin said another one of his far-fetched jokes we’ve never heard of. In response, I said
“You need to stop that dude, this is why you can’t get a girlfriend”
I deserved to get the daylight knocked out of my self-righteous ass. But he just turned around and walked away. I was actually angry at him, for turning his back on me and walking off. I was told later that I had gone too far by a mutual friend, and I said I didn’t know what they were talking about. They told me what he had said to them, and how he was stressed out, crying, he felt no one wanted him around. I knew I had to talk to him.
I sat through the day mulling over my thoughts on the occurrence. I finally decided to talk to Quentin about it. I went to apologize to him later that day, and he explained to me how the stresses of his family life had brought him down, how he’s been feeling lost as of late. I felt horrible, I hated myself. I had to give the guy a hug and just say,
“I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry.
It’s because of the heart inside that man that I wanted a CHANGE in my life, a CHOICE I made on my own, and a CHALLENGE I face every day. He’s one of my closest friends, and even though I can’t tell you why I was that person, I can honestly say I won’t be him again.
Tyler Chapman
I care for everyone in this class, and no one deserves to be treated badly or left alone.
Have a merry Christmas guys ^-^
As most of you all may know, I'm on the Western Hills dance team. Every time before I'm about to perform, I look at the crowd sitting in the stands. I see the basketball parents that are at every game, the band parents, the cheer moms, and the dance moms that are at every dance team activity. I also notice those handful of parents that come to every single little game, it even seems like they have their own seat that is reserved for them. Guys— I envy you all that have parents like that.
ReplyDeleteIn my six years of dancing, my parents have never seen me dance — their faces were never present when I looked up and skim the crowd. Not at the 50+ basketball games and football games, not at the 10+ competitions I've competed in since middle school.
It hurts looking out seeing the other dancers have parents that are willing to travel to competitions with us knowing they'll be sitting on the bleachers the whole day.
They're not bad parents by many means, I'm more than blessed. I assume a lot of things comes from where they were raised, Cambodia. After the Khmer Rouge (similar to Holocaust, but Cambodians instead of the Jewish) my parents were raised to work hard and make sure me and my brothers work have a better life than they had. Sometimes I don't realize how lucky I am and don't look at the bigger picture, they came to America with nothing and worked for everything we have now— a beautiful home, being able to provide my two brothers an education at the University of Kentucky and everything in between. My parents have own their own nail salon for 13 years and they didn't understand one word in English while opening up their own business.
Those family days most of you all have with your family— if it was planning a weekend to go out of town, going to pick out a Christmas tree to cut down and put up to decorate that night, I've never had. If my mom goes with me somewhere, my dad has to stay back and manage the salon, vice versa. I schedule my own ACT test dates, my own college visits, I check up on my own grades to keep myself on track, and I find my own rides to games, community service for dance, etc. because if it's busy at work, my parents can't leave and take me. At this teenage age, we often think we're "too cool" to hang around our parents. While you guys can't wait for your mom to get out of your room and stop asking questions, I wish mine would come in and ask how my day was. It's the littlest things in life like that.
- Ling Lo
I’m struggling guys. I can honestly say that I have faced a challenge when trying to decide on what to write. If you know me, I’m an open book, but I’m not one to get touchy-feely and sensitive and spill my emotions onto a screen as I confess the reasons why I am who I am today. However, I was thinking of that last statement, “the reasons why I am who I am today”, and I think I’ve found my challenge leading to change.
ReplyDeleteAs many of you know, I was pleasantly in a relationship with a young man who I found to not exactly be “my type”. He pushed me in finding out who I really am and what really makes me happy and where I want to go in life and the things I think I might want years down the road. He pushed me in defining parts of myself, parts of my morals, my faith, etc. as he took me to church, family outings, frog-gigging, baseball games, and to my first time shooting a rifle. As we watched Duck Dynasty and listened to country music in his truck and as he begged me to hunt with him. The dooming question that eventually resulted in the end of our relationship was how can we make each other so happy, yet be so different?
Throughout this relationship, I was asked to define parts of myself that I haven’t ventured to do so before. My mind is not one that wanders 10 years into the future; I prefer to live in the present. Thus, a huge challenge for me was competing with his sense of future awareness, and my constant concern with the busy week ahead of me. With this junior year, full of challenging classes, a GSP application, an all-state audition, a pageant, a campaign for an office at a conference, and strenuous extracurriculars, I don’t take a breath to think about my future past college and past an occupational label. He challenged me to define who I am, and I just did not want to be defined.
After the relationship ended, I took a step back to look at my life. What consumed most of it, what I enjoyed doing, where I could possibly see myself in the future. I contemplated things like where my morals originated from, what I really think will happen to me when I pass away, and whether or not I am living the life I want to live. This mere relationship changed me, in ways that I probably wouldn’t have seen if it weren’t for him, so I have nothing but thanks to give.
No, I still have not defined the things he wanted me to, but now attempting to define them for different reasons. I develop morals daily as I have just joined the twitter-sphere and am subject to see contradicting, eye-opening, moral-shaping ideas thrown around. I develop my future plans as I complete my GSP application and take and register for ACT tests. I develop my goals for the future as I narrow down where I want that future to take place, college wise. I develop a sense of what I like and who I want to surround myself with when I graduate as I participate in many things and hang out with friends. Most importantly though, through this challenge and change, I have developed the confidence to say that I don’t need these definite things in my life. Even though I work to define more of myself, I learned to be content and pleased with the person I am without these certainties.
Morgan Gay
I had unexplained bruises and scars on my knees and elbows in early elementary school but thought nothing of it given I was very active. They continued through elementary and into middle school. We would ask doctors if it was anything to worry about and they didn't seem concerned. It wasn't until I had Mononucleosis in that we realized there was something more to the scars and bruises. Turned out that I have Juvenile Dermatomyositis (JDM) a 3 in 1,000,000 autoimmune disease.
ReplyDeleteMy immune system began fighting off the bacteria from mono which took a few weeks but after getting rid of the mono, never went back to functioning normally. My immune system was still acting like there was something it need to get rid of, but there wasn't. It started eating away at muscle tissue. Soon I was by far the slowest my player on my soccer and couldn't lift my arms over my head. To put a shirt on I would throw it up and catch it on my head then pull it the rest of the way on. I began medication, tests, physical therapy, and my road to recovery during my first couple years in middle school.
During my recovery one of the medications I was on ate a hole in my stomach and almost ruptured my spleen forcing me into emergency surgery. Nothing ruptured and everything ended up being okay. At the time the disease was active in my body I didn't know that it was unsure if I would walk in the future or how long I would even live. It wasn't until I was in remission that I found out. I think that was very important in the process of my recovery, not having a doubt that I wouldn't recover and keeping a positive attitude.
Today I have been in remission for a little over a year. With the help of doctors who diagnosed me and led me on the path to recovery as well as many physical therapists and my rheumatoid arthritis specialist in Louisville who helped me through the medication and continues to check up on me annually. I am now healthier and stronger than I was before and most couldn't tell anything was ever wrong with me. Sometimes I even forget I went through all of it
Eli Sutton
Sixteen candles on the cake, burning, as you breathe in to prepare yourself to extinguish them. Turning sixteen was a milestone that I had looked forward to ever since I could remember. I built it up in my mind. I believed that this one day, this one birthday in particular, could transform my life. It did bring about a change, one that I never could have expected.
ReplyDeleteExcitement had filled me as I stood in line at the county clerk’s office, waiting to fill out the necessary paperwork to take the drivers permit test. My legs were shaking as the lady behind the counter asked for two forms of identification. The necessary paperwork was filled out, and my sister and I were told to proceed down the hallway to find the testing room. Having read the drivers manual carefully, I felt confident in my ability to pass the test. I walked into the room and was told to sit down, that I would be taking the vision test now. “Easy”, I thought to myself. My last visit to the eye doctor had given me comfort in this portion of the test as I had left the office with twenty-twenty vision in both eyes. I pressed my head against the bar. Everything was blurry. Something had to be wrong with the machine. I pressed my forehead against the bar with more pressure this time. Nothing changed. I was asked to read the first row. I recited what I saw with caution. What had happened? What had changed in two years? Why was I not able to decipher the letters and numbers? I had to leave the testing room, feeling defeated, as Rachel went on to pass and receive her permit. My mom tried to comfort me by telling me nothing was wrong. Something had to be wrong. I was told that before I could retake my test I would have to get my eyes checked. So an appointment was made.
I arrived at the eye doctor’s office terrified. I was positive that I would leave that building with horrible news. My mind always wanders to the most extreme conclusions, and it had not skipped this opportunity. The appointment started like all the others. I was placed in a room to stare at a wall and describe the letters and numbers I saw. My left eye, like usual, had no problem reading the last row. Then, it was the right eye’s turn. The ease transitioned to struggle. I was only able to read a few lines. It was shocking to see the dramatic difference that covering one eye could make. With my mind creating stories, I felt as if I was going to throw up. The numbing of my eyes came next, which I usually hate, but with everything else that was going on, it seemed like a piece of cake. Sitting in the waiting room, silently, eyes dilated, thinking about how ironic it is that they have magazines laying here, I finally accepted that no matter the outcome, I would have to live with it.
Part 1
~Madison Wallace
Part 2
ReplyDeleteThe doctor motioned for us to follow him for an additional examination. He waited until the very end of the appointment to even mention the rapid change that my right eye had gone through. He wasn’t certain but his diagnosis was keratoconus. I listened intently as he described it. “Keratoconus,” he said, “is a disease that affects the shape of the cornea. With this disease, the normal clear, dome shape of the cornea transitions into a thin, cone shape. This causes blurred vision and sensitivity to light. It continues to get gradually worse. At the beginning, its effects can be partially mediated by glasses, but as time goes on it can require a corneal transplant.” Me being the squeamish person that I am, hearing the word transplant caused my heart to skip a beat. Additional testing was needed for a certain diagnosis, but at that time glasses were the answer.
With glasses ordered the next step was specific testing to map my eye. Appointments were set up, tests were completed, and the results were in. Now I had a visual to explain the difference between my left eye and my diseased eye. I had visuals that showed the difference in elevation between an eye with kertoconus and one without. The proof was right there in the red, hourglass shaped regions. This was not the birthday surprise that I had been hoping for. The realization that at some point I may lose the remaining vision in my right eye hit me. I felt numb.
At the age of sixteen I am faced with a change and a challenge that 1 in every 1,500 experience. In these situations there is nothing to do but accept and live your life. I was ready to move on and determined to obtain my driver’s permit. I entered the county clerk’s office with my glasses on. I pressed the bar down and to my relief the blurry images from before were now clear. I received my drivers permit.
Kertoconus will continue to affect me, but I won’t let it confine me.
~Madison Wallace
As you may know I am not a very talkative or loud person, I like to keep to myself unless I know you very well and feel very comfortable around you. I’m not what you would call a “people person” and is that such a bad thing? I’m not going to walk right up to you and be the best of friends with you. I like to figure out what makes you tick and how you approach things before I let my wall down towards you. It takes a while for me to warm up to you, that doesn’t mean I’m going to be rude to you right from the beginning- you’ll just be at arm’s length.
ReplyDeleteBeing a quiet person is not classified as being socially impaired in my book. Rather someone who choses to watch first then do. I want to be social and have friends but at time-yes, I don’t want to constantly be talking to someone or to be the center of attention. I don’t mind people asking “why are you so quiet?”, “why don’t you talk much?”, or “your just a quiet person, I understand” because really if they actually knew me, you would know that I’m a different person than that.
My constant challenge day to day is trying to have a middle ground between a “quiet person” and a “social person." Some people think that if you are a quiet person you automatically don’t have any friends or social skills and this may be true for some people but not for me. It is a struggle for me to have a equal balance between being more vocal and my current personality. I don’t want people to think I’m a stuck up person because I don’t speak to them or I don’t like them. I just don’t at that time have anything in particular to say, so I feel like I shouldn’t say anything at all.
I’d like to right my wrongs to anyone that thinks I don’t like them; I just have trouble with letting people in before I know them.This conflict also applies to my quiet personality, where I don't feel comfortable small talking, let alone listening to your life story. In these situations I find myself uncomfortable at times; my awkwardness paired with my unwillingness to talk probably affects you as well. I do come out of my shell every now and then and I am proud of myself when I do. I admit I am not an easy person to like or to be friends with but is it such a bad thing to only have a few close friends or people rather than a bunch of people who say they are your friends but not really?
I like to think that my personality is almost a defense mechanism that lets me think that I am staying away from the people that will mostly like hurt me or have some sort of that outcome. In reality it’s just a way to hide my real personality from other people. I can truthfully say I act different when I’m with my friends or family than I do at when I’m with my peers.
To overcome this challenge of being an unbalanced person with two different personalities I became involved in many clubs and organizations through my high school years. The most impactful one was being thoroughly involved with FFA, it has truly changed my life in many different ways. Through this I am able to be more vocal of my thoughts and opinions as well as forming new relationships with many people so that I can truly come out of my shell. FFA has not only improved my public speaking skills but also my communication skills towards my peers which in the long run benefits my two sided personality. Becoming a officer of our FFA chapter and participating in Senior Parliamentary Procedures team or Beef Impromptu speaking contests I am guided to many different situations that require me to adapt to a more out going personality.
I don’t want to be known as the “quiet girl” but as the quiet girl that was also social and friendly. Some people may not classify this as a challenge for them but it is for me. I try each and every day to balance my personality rather than being an extreme of one or the other. This may always be a challenge for me but that doesn’t mean it should hold me back from being who I am.
Bailey Bishop
PART 1
ReplyDeleteTo some my story may not seem like much, to others, it's just as important to them as it is to me. It's a serious matter and stressful; sometimes more than others but the thought never leaves my mind, ever.
We've all been there more than once and for some of us its our least favorite time of the year (aside from finals of course, these past two days were horrid). Then you have me, the one who gets a migraine just hearing the words "grow up" then it gets even worse hearing the full dreadful sentence that I'm always expecting but never prepared for "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I could get sick at how overly used this question is but I could die knowing that I myself don't know what my exact answer is.
I remember it being such a simple, fun question that empowered me and gave me a drive of believing I could be anything I wanted to be every time I answered it, well you know what there are limits; I can't be a princess now can I? Didn't think so. Though now feeling the pressure to answer it belittles me every time it's asked. It strikes with a strong winding wind of fear into me, it worries me, it devastates me. Telling this story the last thing I care to hear is "it's just a question". Well so be it. That question easily runs my life it could "make or brake me" to say. This question is bigger than anything I face currently, this question will define me when I submit my final answer; which will have to be given very soon being a high school junior and that strikes terror in me in the blink of an eye.
It's so crazy how much this question disturbs me on the daily, relentlessly. You would never think those words, one question could have so much power over you and never let up because it's not exactly what I like to call poetry. You would think I could get rid of it, or shove it to the back of my mind but I can't. This question, those words, control me. This question, these 10 words can run my life without hesitation whether answered sufficiently or not. And the worst part for me is that I need my final answer by next year. The time for explorations on careers is near end and I'm still in a maze.
I don't take many things to seriously or care to much about anything which has now come to backfire at me. I wish for the sake of me and my health I would have known before. I wish I could go back and get serious more rapidly. Then maybe it wouldn't be such a heart attack for me this year. Though now I'm having more health problems than ever I know there was a way I could of tried and prevented this, pace it all out instead of pushing it all back and now having it all flow out at once.
I don't think I've ever shared this with anyone but immediate family and close friends because it's a big stress reminder itself. I have benign tremors (essential tremor[s]) it's the most common forms of abnormal tremors for many ages over 25-30. It's very embarrassing and obviously noticeable most of the time, It's caused by stress and my stress is caused by overthinking things which is what happens anytime my mind wanders off. The tremors cannot be treated on me correctly because there is no medication for my age range whereas it's uncommon for people my age. It's not to bad unless it goes on for over a few seconds, then it starts to send me a really sharp pain. My hands start to shake uncontrollably I can rarely do anything but cry or just space out. Luckily, it happens seldom in class but when it does I try to make the shaking shift down to my legs, I still space out but many of us do in class and many of us shake our legs so I never have to make a big scene unless I lose control which has only happened once and scared my Mom to death. Though once it's over I come to the realization of how overly stressed I am. Terrible cycle, right?
-Kendra Harris
PART 2
ReplyDeleteIt's happened more than ever this year but I know the reason, I played around these past two years and seeing my run is almost up I know I have to get it all together though from the point I'm at and the time I have left I need to speed it up.
But maybe some thing's will never change. Maybe when I get my career going and after working for 20 years I'll still wonder if it's for me. So I guess the worries for me will never go away, and as for my mind with it's overthinking I suppose it will never rest.
-Kendra Harris
Going back through the time line of my life, my split family connects to so many dashes. Growing up, my father would threaten leaving again and again, fulfilling his words on multiple occasions. At age six, I remember that pattern of threatening, returning, and then threatening again ended with a divorce. From then on, my life changed even more. Joint custody where my two sisters and I had to switch back and forth every other day and weekend influenced everything I did and shaped my character. My stepmom and half-brother came along shortly after altering my life even more. These changes, like blocks, kept building off each other and resulted in a character that I am proud of.
ReplyDeleteThis all started when my small first grade mind had to try and comprehend why my mommy and daddy wouldn’t live with each other anymore and why I had to continuously switch from house to house. I was lucky to have my two sisters as a backbone to help me adjust, but it still seemed hectic and confusing. Being passed off between houses, I had a hard time keeping up with my things. If I left something at my dad’s house, like my glasses or some homework, I couldn’t get it back until his next designated day. For any of you who wear glasses or contacts, you probably know the kind of headache you get for not wearing them for a day or two. I had to become organized and less forgetful. This was a lesson I learned fast. If I forgot to bring something from house to house, I would have to live without it until I got the opportunity to retrieve it.
I finally saw the divorce as final when my dad proposed to Missy. They got married a few years after my parent’s separation. I don’t really remember my reaction to getting a new stepmom but I remember being at the small ceremony that created a new family dynamic. Missy wasn’t the only acquired family member. Jeff has been part of my life since third grade, and always knows what to say to make my day better.
My little brother came shortly after. I was ecstatic to be getting a little brother. I remember watching Jacob as a baby. I remember going to the hospital and getting to hold him for the first time. He was so small and cute with little chubby cheeks. I tried to be careful not to break him. The memories of watching or helping your little siblings grow up is what makes having a younger sibling so great, even though there was a stinky diaper or two. It’s hard to imagine that if my parents didn’t split up, Jacob wouldn’t be here.
I started participating in dance classes at a young age and continued on for many years until our schedules just got too hectic. Having to switch back and forth made it difficult to do activities. If I wanted to take a class that was on my dad’s night, I wouldn’t get the chance to dance that year. Having to commute between Frankfort and Versailles, later Frankfort and Lawrenceburg, made scheduling hard. Neither of my parents wanted to give up their precious time with the three of us. As time progressed we figured out a schedule that worked more efficiently, giving us the opportunity to do more activities.
Remembering whose holiday is whose and keeping schedules straight are difficult, especially with my sisters and I being the messengers between my mom and dad. Divorce and joint custody has its ups and downs, but it resulted in some personal growth. I have become more organized throughout this experience, especially having to keep schedules straight and having to keep up with my things. Through the divorce, I have gained so many new people that care about me. I have also had the joy of watching my now 7 year old brother grow up. I learned what my priorities are, especially when I have to coordinate my schedule with both parts of my family. I may not get to do everything I want, but I make time for the most important people in my life.
Rachel Wallace
PART 1
ReplyDeleteI knew I would be a lifeguard at Juniper Hills ever since about sixth grade and started working there last summer. I swam for about 9 years and was already certified besides the pay was good for my first job. The only thing I was really concerned with was trying not to get sunburnt too bad, too many times.
Most guards go their entire career without having to jump in to save someone. Some jumped in to help kids to the edge of the pool if they couldn't make it. It was never too extreme. They would fill out an incident report and the day would continue. It was my first year as a guard, what was the chance that I would have to jump in? The job was simple, until it wasn't. I remember the build up to seeing the girl all too clearly. I just finished telling some young boys not to flip into the pool from the three foot, I started to scan the pool just like we are trained to do. When I saw her my heart vaporized. She was floating on the surface of the pool, arms in front of her head. At first I panicked, then I told myself to calm down, I had seen kids do it at least fifty times before, the dreaded “dead man float” that the guards loathe because we never know if they are faking or not. Children will put their face in the water to blow bubbles and look at the bottom of the pool. If I waited a few more seconds she would come up, but that icky feeling in my stomach didn’t leave. I waited for what felt like an eternity, but at that point adrenaline had replaced my blood. Time felt like it was moving so slow from that point when in fact it all happened ing a matter of two or three minutes. I stood and blew the whistle as loud as I could. I heard it echo around for just a moment. The entire pool turn around and looked at me in horror. I would like to tell you I swooped down from the chair, seized the guard tube from the chair, and flew to her like the superhero I wish I was. But I didn’t. I stumbled from the chair, seemed to play tug o’ war with the chair over the guard tube, and jumped into the water. When I got to her I threw her over the tube and went back to find everyone surrounding us. Anger and fear erupted from me. These people were in the way and I couldn’t have that. I started yelling, “EVERYBODY GET BACK!” And they parted like the red sea. I turned the girl around and put her hands up for a fellow guard and her day care teacher to get her out of the pool. When we got her out of the pool. I called Kirsten who yelling at someone to call 911 the poor guy couldn’t get through the mass of people, “I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU AREN’T RUNNING RIGHT NOW!” I remember her saying. Not gonna lie, I yelled at a lot of little kids that day. “EVERYONE MOVE!” when they did the guard did run. Kirsten then came over to me, took her pulse and check for breathing. I didn’t need to, she was already blue, most of the guards thought she was already dead. For some reason I didn’t, my mind was running fast but that thought didn’t turn up. Then the wailing started, tens of kids just started bawling, and in that moment I wanted to do the same. If she died it would all be on me. “No,” I thought, “I’m not living with that for the rest of my life. God, if you have taken her, you are going to give her back. She is young, she has so much to live for, I can’t be the reason that she doesn’t.” Kirsten walked over to me, I didn’t even ask if she showed signs of life, I pointed to her, “Chest compressions.” I said. Then to myself, “Breathing.” She nodded her head and we went to work.
Dove DeNigris
PART 2
ReplyDeleteSomeone brought me a breathing mask, and Kirsten began compressing her chest. After the appropriate number of chest compressions I attempted to do rescue breaths but she started vomiting into the mask. I couldn’t continue doing that otherwise I would force her to choke on her own vomit. So I took off the mask and started sweeping the vomit from her mouth. Kirsten continued doing chest compressions and I was wondering where on heaven and earth the ambulance was. Our manager, Mrs. Caldwell, came up and helped us revive her. I started yelling at the young girl, trying to call her back into the world. The day care teacher was saying “Come on Hannah! It’s your birthday! You are seven today!” That shattered my heart. Wouldn’t that be ironic? On the same day she came into the world she leaves it. I was really getting sick and tired of the irony of the situation, I was substituting for someone, that’s why I was there that day; It was Kirsten’s first day back at the pool; It was the girl’s 7th birthday, the number of completeness. At that point my mind was playing elevator music because I sure wasn’t there. Everything I was doing was like a heartbeat. You don’t mean to do it you just do, even when you take the heart from the body it still beats. The sirens brought me back and I thanked God in heaven when I heard them. Then she took a breath and her eyes fluttered open. It was like she was a machine turning back on after being dead. I took a deep breath and realized I hadn’t for a while. A few seconds later, an EMT came running in, took her in his arms, and just as quickly was gone. Me, Kirsten, and Mrs. Caldwell got to our feet and just stood there for a while. Every part of my body ached, my back my knees, my legs had fallen asleep at some point during the commotion. The guards came up to us and consulted with us about the ordeal. We were swapping stories and saying what was going through our minds at the moment. People were hugging me thanking me and I was just thankful that we got a happy ending. I started to go into shock, I was shaking and got really cold. Kirsten and I went to the bathroom to wash our hands and a woman came in telling us that the police were wanting to know what happened. We went out there and told the story, then the hospital called wanting to know how long she was unconscious, I told them as best as I could, they told me she was fine, that she was breathing before she got into the ambulance. Kirsten gave me a long sleeve shirt since I was freezing and when it all settled down, we went and filled out an incident report. When that was done, we sat at the guard table. The pool decided to close for the day, but there was a party that night so they were going to bring in some guards for that. I can’t count the number of hugs I got that day, or the ones I gave out. Fact is I just wanted to be held and told everything was alright. People were shocked when they found out it was me. My blood family and church family were amazed at the strength I showed. People asked me if I was there when it happened and I would shyly say I was the one that got her out of the water. This incident in my life was all three of these. It was a change, a turning point in my life. Kirsten and I got a lot of recognition for it. It is the most important thing that has ever happened to me. It was a challenge that got thrust upon me. I wasn’t sure if I could deliver this young back to the land of the living when she was floating in between it and whatever you want to think you go to when you die, I like to think heaven. I like to think that God had it all planned out, that she had unfinished business here that He wanted her to carry out. It was my choice to not give up when everyone thought she was gone.
Dove DeNigris
Being compared to your older siblings is a challenge for most of us, I'm sure. I'm the same way, except that it's the opposite of what people normally think when I say that "I don't want to be compared to my older brother."
ReplyDeleteMy older brother barely graduated high school, passing in many classes with a D. He's smart, but due to multiple family issues that were happening a couple years ago that I care not to disclose back when he was in high school and I was in middle school, he ended up not caring about his future. He dropped his clubs, including band and some sport that I don't care much about to list, and focused purely on video games. He even had a child with his old significant other, although he won't say that the child is his because he's in denial. I'm not proud of that, but I do love my niece and am glad that he made those mistakes happen that got her here when he was younger. He then began living with my father, who stays at home to work and never had any reason to go outside unless it was to take the animals outside or buy food, and did nothing but sleep and play video games. He was slowly throwing his life away until recently, when he moved out and got his own apartment to live in thanks to help from my mother.
Obviously I'm not proud of my male family members - I've probably been outside more this week than my father has, if you don't consider the animals in this equation, and most likely even my brother. My mother still favours him over me in all aspects, besides the fact that I "am better to shop for", and barely has a moment where she's not talking about him. However, she does know when she's going too far, and chides on me to do something with my life. That has gotten me stressed out with all of the homework I have to do everyday because of school, but I'm good with handling stress - pushing it down and pretending it's not there is very helpful and definitely works.
She wants me to consider going to colleges around where she lives, not even considering the fact that she moves around so often. She wants me to do "what I want", as long as it pays well and secures my future. She wants me to have children that I accept, when I know that it will complicate my dream job - my entire future. She wants me to do so many things that I don't want to do, but I'm afraid of saying no and forcing her to give me "that look" and making me feel guilty about doing something that she doesn't approve of.
As I finish writing this, I can now see I added two challenges that I face - being compared to my older brother, and facing my mother. I'm probably never going to tell my mother the truth of exactly what I want to do, and many little things about myself, but the problem will go away with time. Or at least until I graduate high school and start heading off to college. It would be too late to change my mind about a career path by then.
Aurora Strider
Honestly, the biggest challenge I've had in my life is the balancing act called my life. With so many things going on in my life, it's just as calm as Ms Hill's desk is organized. While every individual part of my life is a challenge, when you put them all together my life is like a never ending wind-up toy.
ReplyDeleteThe first aspect of my life that is difficult to juggle would be my extra-curricular activities. The three main activities that take up m time are archery, academic team and band. Truthfully, archery is something that calms me down and takes me away from the stress of the aspects of my life. However, academic team and band are completely different stories. Both of these activities require so much preparation that I hardly have time for, but it also seems like all of their events conflict with each other. This forces me to constantly choose: band or academic team.
The other main component of my challenging schedule is my course load. With four extremely difficult AP classes (as well as band... more preparation). It wouldn't be very difficult if it was just the classes, but the true killer is the homework. With an average of two hours of homework a day, as well as instrumental practice and voice practice, my average sleep time is about five to six hours a night. Between probable sleep deprivation and the stress of taking four AP classes, I’m even surprised that I’ve been able to stay afloat.
One of the best examples of when all of this stress has taken a toll on me would be just this week. Not only did I have to deal with my normal stresses, but I also had to deal with the stress caused by the deadline for my GSP application and the stress of having six midterms and the setback of being sick. With so much to do and so much to turn in I had to literally work for almost 24 hours a day. The average amount of sleep I got per night this week would probably be close to three hours a night. Sadly, this caused me to become slower and slower the following days, forcing me to stay up longer each night. Also, one thing that I feel fairly bad about is that I often have to put my education before my family; this means that instead of eating a nice family dinner, we often have a quick fast-food dinner, if that.
Many of you are probably wondering why I would still partake in all of these activities and classes if they cause such a gain in stress and loss in sleep. That question would have two fairly simple answers. The first would be that I know that pushing myself now will make it easier for me later down the road. The second answer would be that I wouldn’t have a clue of what to do with myself. Honestly, as I sit here I have a difficult time of coming up with something that I could do in this thing called “free-time”.
If trying to survive with busy my schedule isn’t challenging then I don't know what is. One thing that always goes through my head is that as long as I work hard now, I won’t have to work nearly as hard in the future because I know that every inch helps. My life is like a speeding train that goes nonstop. Even if I derail, I have to find a way to get going again because I know that every inch that I go will help later on down the tracks.
Todd Stetler
ReplyDeleteTo believe in something is to stand for it even when others are against it and yourself. This belief that we must follow the standards set upon us by those made only for themselves and their beliefs has been weaved tightly into our thoughts since childhood. We learn and lead by example. For some it seems that they were born with the ability to go forth in the world and do what they want. For others it seems they play it safe and follow the straight and narrow, a path that they never want to stray from, a path that they will take to the end, a path that they see only whats in front of them and will continue because that is what they know and only what they want to know.
"Who I Am, Where I'm Goin"
There is nothing wrong with the person that you are. It becomes wrong when you believe and become something you're not. I wish to not do what is the trend only because it is. The solid barriers built to keep me safe from the unknown are crumbling. The dust from the destruction is slowly falling to now silent echo of what once was. Constrictions put upon what is right and wrong and at what time each is qualified, are slipping loose. Sliding to the cold and brutally honest floor of the world around me. Realizations of what I truly want to believe in and consider wrong are pushed to the center. The center where the true me starts.
"Dream on, Dream on, Dream on, Dream Until Your Dreams Come True"
Follow your dreams. This is what we are told we need to do in order to make the unrealistic possible. The three words we want to hear a person say to us. Everyone I believe starts somewhere. The small glimmer of hope in a childs eye that one day they will conquer the world. A dream. A dream that with slightest possibility the smallest wish is possible. The heartbreaking wake-up is when the glimmer of hope starts to dull, dwindling into non-existence. We forget about the dreams and childish fantasies that we so desperately wanted to have happen to us.
"Woah, We Are Strong, No One Can Tell Us We're Wrong"
What happened? The practice of falling into a daily routine becomes the only thing that is practiced. It seems that I feel unable to step out of the confines of the box that surrounds me. The large four walls put in place from the first sighting of The Daily Routine. Constructing itself into a masterpiece. And all great masterpieces have a reason for being built. The foundation of which it stands is that of solid and unmoving beliefs that is my only center. I like to think that what I believe, shapes and defines who I truly am.
"Don't Be Discouraged Oh I Realize It's Hard To Take Courage"
Going after what you want is easier said then done. The push I gave myself to take the leap of faith in the unknowing is an event in my life I won't forget. I fought the restraints of following and looking over my shoulder for others and straining to hear what they thought, that's even if they paid attention to begin with. The shallow thought processes I put myself through to accomplish what I thought I needed, was a very sad existence to be living. I would like to think I'm not the only one that has had this thought.
"It's My Life, It's Now Or Never. I Ain't Gonna Live Forever"
Resolutions are broken every year once they have been set. If I break my promises to myself, then I think it would only be worse to promise in the first place. I want to be able to break out of the confines I have around me. About everyone wants to travel the world. They want to live out their dreams and experience that once and life time feeling. I don't really want the long bucket list, but I want new experiences and visit places big or small, extraordinary or unnoticeable, and just live. Break out of the cages we have built that we consider the norm. I want to start living to my own expectations only.
I have faced a challenge where I would always wish to just hideaway and to just not be around people. I mostly feel that way when I have a performance or just a big event going on. But I have found that I face that challenge almost every day that I live and breathe. I have found that one thing that can get me through this daily challenge is to talk to a guy about it.
ReplyDeleteI know it sounds strange but I know that it’s one of the only ways that I can be able to feel comfortable and myself. I faced this challenge sometime in the beginning of freshman year when everybody, including me, were hitting puberty and I didn’t feel like I could tell my friends everything. But it was because a majority of my friends were girls. My two best friends were two girls I could tell everything to. But I felt that I wanted to be able to tell someone else this stuff as well. That’s when I was able to find a guy that I felt like I could tell as much as I told Dove and Hannah. He was kind and trusting to me as I was to him. But sometime last year was when I knew that this guy was someone that I needed to stay in my life. Many of our friends keep assuming that we are a couple and we both still hear the randomly asked question if we were dating (mostly I think from the choir). I still laugh at that question because if I saw it from someone else’s eyes. I would probably ask that same question repeatedly too. But neither of us have any intention to date each other, but to still be close and still make people assume that we are a couple. But we do love each other. It’s our friendship that we love.
Victoria C. Word
P.S. Love Ya Tyler!!!
Softball is not just a sport to me, it is something I have a desire to do throughout my college career. My entire life I have either played shortstop or catcher.softball brings out a better me and the real me. Without softball I feel like I wouldn't have half the people I have in my life now, it keeps me focused on my grades, and more importantly keeps me out of the trouble I could get myself in. But one practice..... Might now seem to you like changed a lot for me, but to myself, it did change a lot.
ReplyDeleteOne day my coach decides he wants to switch me to second base, which isnt much of a difference than shortstop, but it is still different and was very uncomfortable for me at first and still is to this day. I've never been the type of person to say anything back to my coach or question them about anything they are doing for me, I just simply go with it. I remember this day so well, it was summer ball and he says "Hey Mackenzee, we really need you to play second while one of our pitchers is not pitching so she can play shortstop."
Me being the willing person I am, I start to practice there that day just like he had asked. As practice goes on I start to get more and more frustrated with myself and somewhat at my coaches because I was not sure what to do on some plays. I am the type of person that beats myself up when I am not doing something right....well only on the softball field. So I start to tear up and completely give up on that spot and myself but no one really starts to see it just yet becasue I am not showing it to the team or coaches, just myself. Over the past year an half I have practiced at second and improved a lot but it is still not a comfort zone to me. Shortstop is the spot I have a desire to play and improve at, but once again I do as my coach ask and I have played there all fall ball this past fall.
Also another challenge I have overcome would be how I beat myself up so much or how bad I drop my head. I did that up until about sophomore year. I realized that dropping your head all because you made a mistake will not do anything for you but make you make another error/mistake. Last year seaon I completely shut down after I knew someone else had the spot I wanted and I completely regret it. That is why now, I work hard at whatever spot I am put at, becasue either way I am going to do my best I can to achieve my goal. Nothing and no one will stand in my way now, all because I've learned from the mistake of giving up and having to live with that regret for a whole year.
Mackenzee Sawyer
The most difficult thing I think anyone could have to face is having to watch someone they love, get hurt. I'm pretty strong, I don't really get upset about much, and generally I'm able to hind my feelings and paint a smile on my face. But my challenge isn't even my challenge, my challenge is that I have to watch as my dad is separated from his family and as he misses out on his children growing up. I can only imagine how hard that must be for him. And being someone who loves him more than anything, that hurts.
ReplyDeleteJust hearing the tone in his voice when he calls reveals how distressed he is and how terribly he misses everyone, and I can do nothing to change that. The worst part of all is that the pain that I feel for him, probably doesn't even equal up to what he feels. He says that everything is okay and that he has gotten used to it by now, but could you honestly ever get used to not seeing your family? I know he just says that so that we won't worry about him. I just get to sit back day in and day out and watch him be sad.
I have a little brother named Mason and he will turn 3 in January. During these 3 years my dad has been sent to Afghanistan for a year and 2 months and to Texas for a year and 1 month. He has missed most of my little brothers life so far and it tears my dad up, which in return tears me up. It's not only my dad either, when my 2 year old brother wakes up and says "where's daddy?" I can't help but feel terrible. Or when he cries for dad and all there is to do is put him to sleep so that he hopefully will forget who he was crying for, isn't as easy as it sounds.
And how do you explain to a 2 year old that his daddy, who supposedly loves him more than anything in the world, didn't just leave him? You can't. All there is to do is hope for the best and pray that it doesn't effect Mason and my dad's relationship in the future.
I face a lot of other issues but this is definitely was hurts me the most. Because even though my dad may come home in May, the time he spent away is gone and he will never be able to get it back.
-Emily Evans-
As a child I was told " I was the lucky one," "I was lucky 'she' walked out when 'she' did," "I was lucky I never had time to bond with my mother." I was told "Austin had time to bond,you never did." That was all just a lie. I bonded to a point. No I didn't remember her. I couldn't tell you her hair color, her height, or tell you about her smile. I never was shown a photo of her. But on the inside I had bonded because when she left I lost part of my heart I can never get back. A part of me that I never knew, and a part of me I will never know.
ReplyDeleteAs a child I never really ever felt lucky. I always felt like I was the reason 'she' left. I remember asking questions about the subject, only to be told to run along and play, or i was told I wasn't old enough to understand. (Trust me never tell a kid they wont understand, because it only makes them wonder and blame themselves even more) The worst thing I think they ever told us was that when she left she took me. She told my brother and father she wanted nothing to do with austin. Yeah she kept me for a couple of months longer than she did him. But she finally just chose to abandon both of us. Austin and I always blamed our selves; but when they finally told us that she wanted one of us over the other, that only made us blame ourselves even more. he blamed himself because he thought I lost my chance at a to grow up with our 'mother;' i blamed myself for not holding on, not fighting to stay, for being to weak to have her keep us both.(No Austin and I never hated each other over this subject. We never said that it was one or the others fault. We blamed ourselves. We never once each other)
Part I - JW
I grew up with pain. I grew up knowing betrayal. I grew up knowing exactly how it felt to have your life crumble. To have no one to lean on. No answers to why your life has to hurt so much. No answers to why it had to happen to you. I never once got a single answer. I never once was sat down and told the whole story.. instead I was left to live my life trying to crawl my way out. This wasn't the worst I had in store. No it was the very beginning... I was about to lose everything. I was about to change in a way that I could never be 'normal' again. (If i ever was normal to begin with) Better yet I was about to become someone totally different, and there
ReplyDeletewas no turning back. This was a change i had no control over.
My dad married again when I was 3ish.. this time marring the devil herself. She put us through hell. We were not aloud to speak of our mom or sisters. This was a rule we learned not to break very early on, because if we did break this rule, if we merely mentioned 'her' name we would be locked in our rooms for the rest of the day. Austin is the one who challenged her. He was the strong one...but as soon as he challenged that devil he meet a great deal of pain. He was grounded, he had to sit in a chair facing the wall for two weeks..doing nothing.(besides eating, school, and going to the bathroom) After years of her abuse to us, cheating on our father and her drug abuse my father left her. I was in 4th grade at the time. This was the same year my life took its fatal fall. This is when i really lost everything. This is when my pap-paw died. My pap-paw was everything to me. I talked for hours to that man. He was my best friend, and when he died i lost everything. I had no one to talk to. No one to go to. I had nothing. This was the same year, and around the same time my mother chose to be a mother.
Part II - JW
She stayed around for about a year. She let us meet our two older sisters, I found out I had a younger brother.. (this was the only child she ever choose to raise.. this only made me wonder more...why i wasn't good enough to be raised by my mother. What had i done so wrong for her to hate me so much..why was she the only person i never could please..) I also found out i even had a niece...and a nephew on the way.. (my niece is probably in middle school and my nephew should be either in first grade.)
ReplyDeleteIn the beginning she would come every saturday and every sunday for hours. We would hang out with her for what felt like ever, finally being able to have a 'normal life.' This continued for a while. One day we asked her why she left, she didn't answer us but i remember what she told our granny when she thought we couldn't hear. "I don't know why they blame me, they need to get over that. It was the past, I forgave them. They should be able to forgive me." This added to the pain I felt, it made me blame myself even more. It made me crave forgiveness. I wanted to forgive her, but there was a part of me that couldn't a part of me that knew the truth. a part of me that knew it wasn't my fault, that part wouldn't let me forgive her. After a while, she started to only come on sunday, and soon later she quit coming all together.
She basically stayed long enough for us to re bond, then she left without saying goodbye. She left, leaving us with the loss again.
Part II - JW
Leaving us craving her attention all over again. This time the betrayal was to much. This time it hurt bad enough that it took all of my power to just get up and go though a 'normal' routine day. I walked through life like a zombie. ignoring the people around me, blocking out any type relationships, terrified to be close to anyone. Terrified that everyone was going to betray me the way she did. Scared that everyone could see "her" in me. The pain started consuming me, more each day.
ReplyDeleteIt keep building up and building up. Finally I Broke my freshman year. I turned to alcohol to get away from the pain. IT numbed the pain I felt, it aloud me to be able to be around other people. It didn't take away the pain, it only made it livable. It allowed me to be able to do the things I enjoyed, and once the alcohol wasn't enough I turned to drugs. No turning to drugs wasn't the best choice I could have made, but at the time it was my only choice. The outcome was that i got two of the best guy friends i could ever ask for.
By the time sophomore year's winter break came around my pain turned to hatred. I'm not sure why my pain ever turned into hatred but im glad it did. When it turned into hatred it was as if i had found a ladder in the darkest, deepest holl ever. It helped me, it made it to wear I could go days with out drinking. Days soon turned to weeks. Weeks to months.
I face this hatred daily. I get up and sometimes I face pain instead. On those days its a challenge to just get dressed. Its a challenge to put a smile on my face. On those days, I feel weak. I feel as if its my fault, I blame my self on those days, I blame myself that I don't reach out to her, I tell myself that if I would just act like a 'normal' daughter she would come back. Then i wake up and realize it never was my fault, i fight down the pain so that I can live. I don't fake who I am. I prefer to hide my true feelings. I prefer to build up walls and not let people in. I do this because of pain. Pain can either consume you or shape you. I chose to accept the pain in ways others wouldn't. I chose to make it hatred. I chose to keep it, since after all I couldn't really leave it behind. No I don't let it define me but I also won't tell you it isn't apart of me.
Yes i see her everywhere, we don't acknowledge each other, Austin tries to but he wastes his time. Because she could care less, and she never did care. I tried to tell him this, just like he tried to tell me she did. Finally we settled on just leaving the other alone. This has been my biggest challenge ever. I over came a pain, that has shaped my life, a pain that has made me not want to keep on going. It turned into something that would give me a reason to keep on going. I wont forgive her, and but I wont blame myself ever again either. She walked out, I didn't.
-Jennifer Lynn White
The first day of school is always the best when you're in elementary school. You've just spent two full months away from your best friends. You can't wait to hear all about their summers and tell all about yours. To put the icing on the cake, it was fifth grade year. THIS is the year you are on top of the school, nothing could hold you back. Okay, maybe one thing. Frankfort is a small town. It seems like everybody knows everybody. When your new, you tend to stick out like a sore thumb. For me, the first day was the hardest. I walked in, found my cubby, my seat, and my fear of new people. I can't even imagine how others looked at me. Whether it "oooo new kid" or "who is that" I'm sure I looked like a lost puppy.
ReplyDeleteTo be honest, I don't remember all of the day, or even actually walking in. I do remember an icebreaker where Mr. Lovell when we were doing ice breakers "pick someone you don't know very well" and of course every rushed over to me. It happened to be a paper you were supposed to fill out with the other persons information. I am shy and don't tend to make friends easily, but I will talk to anyone who is willing to talk to me first. I guess that I made a good choice because it seemed I had met a mirror of my personality. It was then that I knew I had met my best friend. Despite making new friends, I still felt lost and unconnected to my friends and life that I had left in Florida.
In Florida, I was used to being the kid that everybody knew. My mom had been a crossing guard since I was a baby. I literally grew up in my car seat. None the less, I was the kid that most students and teachers knew around school. The last day of fourth grade I made sure to have everyone sign my yearbook and give me numbers and addresses, you know, because writing to your friend via snail mail was cool in 2006/2007. Anyway there were very few instances where, still to this day, that I have communicated with anyone that I went to elementary school with. When we walk across that stage next year to graduate, many of you have spent all grades of school together. Sometimes I struggle with the idea that I on the other hand, will never get to walk across the stage with anyone I started school with.
Moving wasn't all bad. With social media nowadays, I am able to see what my old "friends" are up to. Often I remind myself that I am much better here. The "good" children I hung out with, grew up. I have no idea who those people are. I'm not calling them sluts but their clothes sure don't cover a whole lot. I could never see myself where they are now. Lifestyle and values are higher in Kentucky too. Education wise, I'd say Western Hills is about 1/5 the size of a normal or typical high school, no exaggeration. That means much smaller classes and a better learning base. I'm not dissing Florida's education system, I just think there is better life opportunity in Kentucky.
Overall, I realized that although change is hard in the beginning, it's generally for the better in the long run. I held a lot of anger, for lack of a better word, inside because I didn't know anything other than Florida. As I've grown, I've become grateful for the opportunities and the changes that have occurred around me and for me.
Shannon McCutcheon
"Florida"
"New chick in the red sweater"
"Jackie"
Shannon
When coming to high school you should expect new changes, new experiences, new friends, and a whole new level of choices you're eventually going to have to face. I was a freshmen in high school when the choice of drinking knocked on my front door. Of course, like any new freshmen in high school, I think you can guess what my choice was and the outcome was not pretty. But as they say the worst decisions make the best stories. This story is one my friends and I will indeed, never forget.
ReplyDeleteIt all started when one of my friend's had gotten the alcohol and asked me and another friend if we wanted to drink that night. I had never gotten drunk before and couldn't think of a better way to do it than with some friends. So the three of us went back to my house and patiently waited for my mom to go to sleep. Waiting for her to fall asleep seemed like an eternity. Once she was asleep, the "fun" began. The moment we opened the bottle of cheap liquor my heart raced and adrenaline rushed through my veins. We drank and drank and drank. I'm sure you can assume that this didn't end so well. Not knowing my limits, I drank till I blacked out. Like a light switch, my memories were turned off just like that. To this day I still don't recall that nights crazy events. Thank goodness I don't either because there's a factor that comes into play that we didn't even think about being young and stupid; My mother. At this point one of my friends has initially peed her pants and needs to be cleaned up. So as my other friend takes care of the one who peed her pants they leave me behind in my room. This is where it all went wrong. I bust through the door and attempt to run through out the rest of the house chasing after my friends. Apparently I was a tad bit too loud and ran into a couple of walls, this resulted in my mother waking up in a not so pleasant mood. Apparently my other two friends got an earful from my mom, thankfully I don't remember a thing.
The next morning was a nightmare. I woke up light headed and confused on my bathroom floor. My anxiety level was at an all time high. I sat up quick hoping I hadn't woken up my mother by coming to the bathroom at some point that night, from which I don't remember. Panic overwhelmed me and my heart dropped when my mother called my name from her room. Caught. I was caught. After a very drawn out punishment and many underaged drinking lectures from my mother we have finally put this situation in the past. Long story short, we made a stupid decision and got into a large amount of trouble for it. But now that we look back on it we joke around about that night all the time, including my mom. The point is everyone is going to make the wrong choice but our choices make us who we are today. We learn from our mistakes and make some pretty good memories along the way. That's what life is all about, right? To me, that's all that matters.
Whitley Bardroff
Part #1
ReplyDeleteAbout seven years ago, I faced one of the biggest changes I have ever faced and probably will ever face. Somebody very close to my heart became addicted to prescription pain killers. Five and a half years ago, during fall break of my sixth grade year at Bondurant, she then decided that she was going to start making trips to Florida once a month to the pain clinic to get the prescription pain killers at a higher dosage because her body had become immune to the ones they prescribe here in Kentucky.
This one change has led me to make choices, face challenges, and deal with multiple changes.
The challenges that I was faced with in the midst of all of this being in action ranged from praying that the electric would be on when I got home, to not being able to tell anybody what was happening. I worried about little things, and big things. Was I going to get dinner that day? Was I going to have clean or even different clothes to wear to school the next day? Would I have electric and hot water that night? Would I get picked up from school, or was she arrested? Where would I be sleeping that night? I faced physical challenges like these, but I also faced other problems. Problems with not feeling safe riding in the car with her, or hoping she would stay awake long enough to actually carry on a simple conversation with me. Would her brain be working at all that day? Only if I was lucky. After facing all of these challenges on my own, without telling anybody because I didn’t want to be torn away from my “best friend” , something bigger happened. The police showed up at my house, the SWAT team looking for her and her boyfriend because they were in trouble. I finally realized that we weren’t staying other places because our house was cold; it was because they were hiding and they just drug me with them.
~KALI WHITAKER
Part #2
ReplyDeleteIt was time that I made a choice, before things got any worse. I told my grandmother what was happening and she talked her into letting me stay with her until she was for sure out of trouble. Staying at Meme’s (my grandmother’s) turned into moving in. It was my choice but it lead to challenges of being sacred to go to school because she might try to check me out to get me back, or being scared to go into public because I might run into her or she might try to find me. It was an everyday fight for her to let me stay at Meme’s where I was safe because she despised us with that choice, she did anything to try to get me back. It eventually turned into a forever thing because I made the choice to allow Meme to take it to the court system to get custody, in May of 2013 she officially gained custody and I no longer had to worry about anything but grades, friends, and normal 16 year old stuff; so I thought.
“One of the hardest lessons in life is letting go: Whether it’s guilt, anger, love, loss, etc. Change is never easy, you fight to hold on, and you fight to let go.” –Unknown
There is guilt from not telling somebody earlier so she could maybe get help before everything kept getting worse.
There is anger, just from not knowing why. Why do people feel the need to turn to stuff like that? Why do they like it? What is the point of throwing your life away like that?
There is love, and always will be because she was one of the most important people in my life, and I watched her push everybody away just from one change.
There is loss, because I basically lost her, she’s not the same anymore and she never will be the same. She has permanent affects from them.
I fought for five and a half years on my own, and then fought for her with the family for 2 years because we continued to hold on to the idea that she would wake up one day and realize what she has done; to herself, to her family, and to her life. I still have hopes that she might make something out of it, but I lose more and more hope every day.
I fought to let go, I am still fighting to let go. I have finally begun to realize that I am not doing any good by worrying more than she is. I have to let go. My family and I have done everything in our power to make her realize what she has done and what she is doing, but it just doesn’t work. She refuses to listen. I will never forget when she looked at me and said “I could quit if I wanted to, but I don’t want to. I like it.” That is when I realized that I have to let go, I still haven’t completely, but I am getting there.
I have finally come to the realization that she is the only one that can change this. Nobody else can help her. I finally quit trying, I moved on, I let go, and I’m just worrying about myself. I don’t have the power to change her, but I still held on and tried to. It was the hardest thing I have ever done to finally let her go, but it had to be done. I hope that one day myself and my family will get the chance of meeting the cheerful, happy, outgoing, inspirable sides of her all over again. If I could have just one wish it would be to go back to seven years ago and give it another chance. TO see if she would make the same choices all over again.
~KALI WHITAKER
So we're supposed to write about a challenge we have faced, well if you would have asked me todo this 3 month ago I would have been clueless about what to write about, but my life has changed dramatically since he first day of junior year. After a long and happy 17 years of marriage, my parents have decided to get a divorce. Those of you who's parents have been divorced since you were little are provably thinking "That's not a challenge" Well to you I may but be but for me I think that tho is the biggest challenge I'm ever gonna face in life.
ReplyDeleteFor as long as I can remember my parents have been happy. They've had that type of relationship that everyone dreams about. They never fought in front of people, heck you would think that they didn't even fight at all. Then one day someone stopped trying in there relationship. Someone fell out of love with the other parson.
I can remember the day like it was yesterday, I got home from school and as soon as I walked in I could tell something was wrong. My mom and dad were both sitting on opposite ends of the couch, not even looking at each other, and the tv was off. (The tv is never off in my house). My mom looked at me and said we need to have a talk. I thought maybe they were mad about one of my grades or something. Never in a million years would I have guessed that the next words that would come out of her mouth was going to be "your dad and I have decided to get a divorce." I didn't believer her at first, I just stood there dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say or do. I thought that maybe I was the reason that they were doing this. Maybe it was all my fault. Maybe I had done something that tore there relationship apart. They assured me that was not the reason. The next week or so was the hardest if my life. My dad moving out, my mom always upset and crying. It was really hard on me to just sit back and watch this happen.
The next few weeks took a toll on me. My dad got an apartment in Lawrenceburg and me and my older sister helped him move in and get settled in. I spent the night with him that first night it was kind of awkward at first, being in a strange place with only one of my parents, but after a few more times of going over there it got more "homie" to me. I like going to me dads but I feel bad that I leave my mom at home all alone, in a way it kind of makes me feel guilty. I know that things will get better and soon ill be used to it all but right now I'm still getting used to the fact that my parents are never gonna be together again. This Christmas is also gonna be weird for me because it's the first Christmas Eve that I'm not going to be able to wake up and spend the day with both of my parents together. It's going to be hard at first but I'm sure it will get easier with time.
~Christina Wray
Im sure that at least once in your life you have been forced to do something that you had no say in. Something that would effect the way you do things for the rest of your life. I know I have and it has affected me both in a good way but negatively as well. Moving to the public school system after spending your entire childhood in private schooling is a dramatic change and full of new experiences.
ReplyDeleteAny kind of change can be hard on a child, but placing them in a completely new environment that they are forced to get used to is aways hard. I never realized how different it could be moving to a different school, or that my definition of school could be so different from others. Being a shy person, public schooling really helped me to come out of my comfort zone. While knowing every single person in my private school, on a friendly level because there was so few of us, it took some getting used to. Meeting many new people, and getting involved in activities with people you had never seen before was very different for me but I grew to love it and thats what made the experience that much better. Not even having the option before to join various clubs and sports, public schooling really open new doors for me.
While always having those little regrets after making a big decision, I find myself occasionally looking back to think what would have been different now if my parents made the decision to keep me in private schooling? I definitely would not have been exposed to things in the same way. Private schooling is very strict and controlling, you have to be well behaved or there were very strict consequences. I didn't have a since of independence, because there weren't many decisions to make on your own. It was all pretty much laid out for you. In a private school I feel there was no individuality, everyone wares the same uniform everyday, only interacting with a total of twenty students everyday, having very few sports and clubs to get involved in. How would you ever know what you like and don't like?
This change has effected my life in many ways when it came to getting to know myself. I never was involved in any activities to take my mind off school. It was always just the focus of God and school. I had a very limited amount of friends, being only twelve in my class. I had a very simple view on things, only knowing the up scale, clean, healthy, focused, structured environment I was raised in.
Bottom line is if I had the chance to go back and could change my parents decision of moving me to public schooling I wouldn't change it for anything. Everything in the end has turned out just as I would have wanted it too. I have had the experience of both environments and had the chance to compare them unlike a lot of others.
-Brooke N. Spaulding
Self-Doubt, what is it? It is a deceptively simple term. Its meaning can change from person to person, its significance just the same. When I chose to write my essay about self-doubt, its significance changed for me.
ReplyDeleteI took up a daunting task: Determining its significance and role in society today. How does self-doubt affect people? How does it pertain to us? I have asked myself these questions time and time again, and have settled upon the belief that it is vital in all humans, just not in the form we are born with. One thing that is evident throughout history is that humans are manipulable, from both criticism and persuasion.
Up until freshman year, I didn’t have a care in the world for my grades. It was easy to get by with all A’s and B’s in middle school and goof off with your friends all day. Was I going to actually work in high school? At the time it didn’t seem like a heavy matter, but now I realize that it is, and thank myself for making the decision to apply myself more and more everyday.
I’m not writing this essay to explain to you how I have turned my life around, but to show how my decision, then and there, altered how I would make all of the decisions in my future. That decision meant giving up “friends.” That decision meant having to work for a good GPA, but the work ethic, the confidence, and the self reliance—all of these things that I gained in making this one decision were phenomenal, and stood out to me.
I guess you could say I am sharing my personal advice, and want you all to make decisions with care, to have confidence in yourself, without being manipulated by others beliefs. Within reason, you should do what is good for you and your goals. Consider others, but not be swayed by the negative criticism that comes your way, for it is only temporary.
The decisions that we make, big and small, make us who we are. People say that we are the product of our surroundings, but ultimately, we are the product of our decisions.
-Parker Buckley
Imagine if you will, that no matter how hard you try, you’re not good enough. You want to sleep forever because it’s better than the reality you have to face every day. Your life is so full of darkness that the brightest of lights can’t bring you to the end of the tunnel. You’ve lost all hope in your life because you feel like you’ve been dragged through Hell and back; you are on the verge of giving up everything.
ReplyDeleteThe things that I am about to tell you are words that have never been uttered before to such an array of people, yet in writing, I feel comfortable sharing this challenge I have faced in my life because it is a factor that contributes to who I am today. In the past, I had struggled with depression; a severe feeling of dejection and despondency. For about two years I was drowning in black liquid and I couldn’t quite make it to the surface to get a breath of air. This is one of the biggest challenges I have ever had to overcome.
It all started about when I was twelve and ended when I was fourteen. I grew up in one of those happy homes that everyone dreams about; the utopia of early livelihood yet, something wasn’t right about me. I didn’t feel the warm happy feelings that everyone else did every day. I often felt alone and I lived in a state of dysphoria. I developed anxiety problems – extreme anxiety problems – that affected how I lived. I was literally afraid to talk to people, I felt no desire to wake up in the morning, I developed insomnia-like tendencies, and I cried a lot (that’s a bit harder to let out). My life was ending before it had even truly begun. People watched me crumble right before their eyes and they didn’t even realize it was happening. Something had to change or else I wouldn’t have made it out of the black liquid to be who I am today.
Yes, I eventually overcame this bout in my life. I had to make the decision to want to get better. It was a hard decision to make because I was battling an inner demon; to reveal this destructive force within me or to keep it bottled up inside. I decided that it was for the best, no matter the circumstances. It was scary telling my parents because I was afraid that they wouldn’t believe me or tell me that it was normal for my age. After pushing my fears aside and coming forth, they were not as reluctant as I believed they would be. They were supportive; I went to counseling (that is also a bit unnerving to release), I changed who I was for the better and I escaped from the black liquid with barely a moment to spare. Within months of my treatment, my thoughts regarding life had started to change. I started to feel happy again and life was good again. I returned to the world I had once lived in as a child.
I can never see the world as a utopia again after seeing its true colors. The world in which we live is imperfect and to this day it places a weight on my shoulders that I have to bear. I believe that some people are blind; the world as we know it is not a happy place. There’s death and destruction and war and societal pressures. The world is hell but not everyone can see it.
Conquering this has impacted my life greatly, I’ve became a more independent minded person and I’m very headstrong in my ways. I used to be very dependent on other people to help me through but now I’m extremely independent in everything I do. I was once devoid of hope and adequacy but after climbing my mountains I earned my freedom from the chains that once bound me to the cold hard ground. As Aristotle once said, “hope is a waking dream,” and we have to chase that dream no matter how dark it is in our lives because the only thing that’ll brighten the way is hope.
-Amanda LeMay
A challenge that I have faced in my life was to pick up an instrument. I remember always wanting to play guitar but whenever I would sit down and try it just never worked out. After many failed attempts at the basics I decided if I was going to learn an instrument that I should try something else. I finally decided on the piano and it was on of the best choices I have ever made.
ReplyDeleteI don't feel I need to explain why exactly learning an instrument is a challenge. Ask any band member and they will tell you that it is difficult trying to pick up an instrument especially because you don't know if two months later you will even enjoy it or not. Thankfully when I started learning I started playing at my church so I wasn't going to get booed off the stage.
For the first six months or so it was all me learning on my own. I would sit down at my computer and look for a song that I was interested in and then try to learn it through videos or just by ear. It would be expected that during this time when I had no one else to help me out that it would be the hardest time. Honestly it was the best time. Ignorance is bliss. I didn't understand why chords worked together the way they could, hell I couldn't even read sheet music. But I had no expectations thrown upon me.
Sophomore year I decided that I wanted to take our piano class at school. I went into the class with a very cocky attitude because I assumed most everyone that was taking the class probably hadn't even touched a piano before. I was about half right. There were some in the class that honestly didn't understand anything about it, then there were a few that had been doing music with the band since sixth grade and one even had lessons for five years. I knew I had my work cut out for me.
I pushed myself in that class harder than any other. Any chance I got I was in the choir room either on the piano or the keyboards trying to master that song that was way harder than I was used to. All of this was just to show that I was the best in the class. That was my number one goal.
I ended the year with all of my hardest pieces finally coming together perfectly. I go the award in the class for “Most Outstanding” I believe and plan to get it again this year.
Since I picked piano up it has been a challenge, I always pushed myself to keep going and I hope that anyone else that plays an instrument keeps pushing themselves as well. The rewards that I have gotten far out cede the obstacles.
Dillon Smith
I was always a child who dwelt within myself. Having no siblings I learned to keep myself entertained in quiet ways. Drawing and reading and acting out scenes with figurines. That never left me. And in that way, my father and I were kindred spirits. He was a solitary, quiet man who would rather stay home and read a book than anything. I think that's why it took him a while to warm up to me; a baby was the opposite of his cup of tea, a whining, confused toddler the same.
ReplyDeleteIt wasn't that he didn't like me. I was just so foreign to him. A small, breakable package that required complete attention and made noises.
He didn't realize that I was a chip off the old block until after he and my mother divorced and I was three; I stayed at his apartment after school while my mom was at work. I wanted to watch T.V. Having nothing else, I suppose, he popped a documentary into the VCR. I was enchanted with it, and he with my curiosity.
Hearing the sweeping opening chords of “Walking With Dinosaurs” still pulls me to emotional shreds.
Not long after that, He began to take advantage of his bi-weekly weekend custody of me. He got a new house and I had my own room there and it was good.
He started reading Harry Potter to me, and Lord of the Rings. I reminded him how much he loved cartoons and we watched them all together every other Saturday. He introduced me to computers, another section of his personal paradise, and they quickly became part of my own. He taught me basic HTML coding- I remember the pride on his face as I first caught on. He'd play music from his youth,the 60's, and sing along with a soft voice in the car. “Lemon tree, very pretty, and the lemon flower is sweet, but the fruit of the poor lemon, is impossible to eat.”
On days when it was his turn to take me home, he'd get me a little present; a tube of bubbles or a new pony or a story book. He'd put it in my closet. And so every other Friday when I came in the front door I'd ask “Is there a surprise for me?”
He's always say “Maybe” with a gentle smile. And he would always mean yes.
I think all the gifts he gave me were, at least somewhat, to make up for the lack of time he gave me. He could have gotten 50/50 custody, but he didn't. He chose solitude, and that's alright; he gave more of himself to me than he did to anyone else. I forgive him.
In second grade, when I got my first pair of glasses, I was upset. I thought I looked silly. I came in and slumped on his couch and asked him if he thought so too. He gave me a pensive, concentrated look.
“You look studious.” He said with a smile.
I never worried about my glasses again.
We read all of the Lord of the Rings books, Hobbit included. We watched many a movie together; Three Amigos, Jurassic Park, Planet Earth. We got all the way to the sixth Harry Potter.
Then my mom got off the phone one day. Her brow was furrowed. She told me he had gone to the doctor.
I was in fifth grade.
“Will he be alright, though? He'll get better.”
“We don't know.” She was caringly honest as she always is. I am thankful for that. “He has cancer, and that's very bad.”
His disease progressed slowly after that, but it seemed so fast. Soon he couldn't read to me anymore, not feeling well enough. Soon he would get up to go to the bathroom and be gone for two hours. I would sit on the couch and keep watching Angry Beavers like the naïve, innocent idiot I was. Soon he went to the hospital and stayed. Soon he couldn't talk anymore. I wish to God I could remember the last thing he said to me, but when you refuse to believe any words are the final ones you don't pay them as much mind. Even when my mom was kind and brave enough to tell me that yes, he was going to die I wouldn't accept it. Not for a moment.
He liked cats. I'd get books about cats and leave them at his bedside like he could read them. I'd draw cats in the back of them, as a surprise for when he finished. He never saw the drawings, of course. He couldn't lift a pencil anymore.
Samantha Hensley
He'd smile, croak a “Thank you” when he still could.
ReplyDeleteSoon he came back home. A hospital bed looks so out of place in a living room. So does an unresponsive parent. I was still too stupid to think he would die.
I saw him die.
That sounds jarring but it wasn't so much, just the idea of it. All I saw was a comatose, frail and sunken silhouette that could have been my dad, I guess, in a crueler world. A heart monitor that gave a steady beep instead of the pulsing rhythm that had been there before. After that I don't remember much. I don't remember the next few weeks, except the funeral. It wasn't that bad. I cried some, not much. My great aunt or something gave me a hideous angel doll and I never saw her, or most of the people there, again. Before they closed the coffin, I stepped up to it, sniffling, and placed a stuffed cat at his side. It hadn't set in yet.
So there is the change and challenge; the choice was how to deal with it. It took a while to set in.
I had just finished reading 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. I realized that the number in the title was not the depth, but the distance the characters had traveled. I'll have to tell Daddy that, I thought to myself. Then it set in. I was in hysterics that evening.
Eventually I regained my footing and I only cried when things suddenly reminded me of him like tripping and falling face first into a memory.
Plastic dinosaurs, lemons, denim shirts, the smell of old paper backs and the sound of a dated windows pc booting up. Little senseless things.
I chose to get stronger.
No day to day problem compares to facing death. Less phases you when you've been phased to the breaking point. I'm not a goofy kid anymore. I'm goofy kid with a shifted paradigm. I don't complain much anymore. I'm naïve and lighthearted and I laugh and smile most of the time. I'm also tough and cold and real. More than real, Corporeal. People see me as a jester, and it's a guise I'm willing to accept, but I am a knight. My sword is intellect, I sharpen it each day; my armor is keen tenacity and it hardens with every blow.
When I doubt myself, worry that a challenge is too great, or feel that I am not strong enough, I remember what I made it through. That is something I will always carry with me.
I tell people my dad is dead when it seems appropriate. When people are sharing parent stories and waiting for my input, or when I use the past tense in reference to him and they ask why. They're usually shocked, then pitying, nursing. That's nice of them but I don't need it.
Not that I'm not sensitive; I want a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to be lent, and I will always, I promise you, do the same. But I want something else too: respect.
I want you to remember that Samantha Hensley is more than meets the eye.
Samantha Hensley
Cheer has been a big part of my life since I was a little girl. From the time that I can remember I have always said "I want to be a UK cheerleader, they are the best of the best." I have over come so many challenges, and made a lot of choices in order to be where I am today with my goal of being a UK cheerleader. My biggest challenge that I have come across is all the problems I have had with my knee. Of course this will be one challenge that I will have to face for the rest of life sadly, but I have learned how to stretch it properly and also I go to therapy and from there I get certain exercises that also helps with my knee problems.
ReplyDeleteLast year when I hurt my knee I was doing a hand, hand full and landed on it wrong after my full. After that fall I was so scared to throw my full again, but then I thought if I don’t throw this full I will never be able to reach my goal/dream of being a UK cheerleader. After telling myself over and over that I could do it I finally did it, this made me realize even though I hurt my knee once on a tumbling pass dose not mean to be afraid of it, it actually made me want to work harder so that I could have a perfect, and clean landing.
Another challenge I have had to over come is learning how to coed stunt. I have always been on an all girl team so I never got to coed stunt because we never had any guys. Of course I have always been a flyer but with all girl you have three and maybe four people under you but with coed you have one guy under you and that is it. Me and my mom sat down one night and called up the UK cheer coach and asked if any cheerleaders were willing to give me lessons and he said that they would love to. My first lesson I was so scared but my coach, Matej, told me not to worry he wouldn’t drop me, and he would be there to help me every step of the way. Come to find out when I finally over came the challenge of coed stunting it made me realize that I am actually better with coed stunting then all girl . A lot of people say that coed stunting is harder than all girl and yes I agree with that but for some reason coed came very easily to me which will be great for cheering at UK.
Miranda Gunn, part 1
Along with my challenges I have had to make a some choices. One of my biggest choices I have had to make was to quit all-star cheer and spend more time training with the UK cheerleaders or keep cheering for an all-star squad and don’t go up to UK as much. I decided that it would be better for me to quit cheering for an all-star team and go train with the UK cheerleaders more than I did. I am very happy with this choice that I made, at the time it was very hard for me but now that time has past I have realized it was so much better for me to train more with the UK cheerleaders and will help more in the long run.
ReplyDeleteSince I have been training with the cheerleaders the coaches have got to know me and know my talent level, they are always impressed with my hard work and determination. If I were to stick with all-star cheering I would not have got the chance to get so close to the coaches and cheerleaders. They are always telling me if I keep up my hard work I will be able to reach my dream of being a UK cheerleader and that’s exactly what I want to hear.
Another choice I made was having to give up a lot of my free time. I enjoy hanging out with my friends and I still get to it's just not as much time as I used to spend with them. When people would ask me to hang out and I had to say no because I had training I would sometimes wish that I wouldn’t have started training with UK cheerleaders, but then I started to think and there are thousands of cheerleaders out there that would kill for a spot on the UK cheer squad and if I just stopped my training then that is giving them a chance to be better than me and possibly take my future spot.
With every challenge and choice that I have came across it has made me a better cheerleader and even a better person all around. I have learned to never let a challenge or choice come in between me and my dream of being a UK cheerleader.
**Miranda Gunn
That slender neck attached to the smooth, shiny body. Expertly tuned to make the paradisiac sounds when connected to its other half that helps it achieve it’s voice. It can bring a melody so fine it makes my heart feel the tranquility it longs for.
ReplyDeleteReading this you might think that I have tasted the bitter-sweet hard work it takes to play fulfilling sounds that rev the soul. That I can communicate in a way other than words. Actually I only played the guitar for a month until it was sold at a pawn shop. I was forced to give it up before I could even attain a morsel of what I wished. I didn't detest that I couldn’t play that wonderful assassin guitar more than the simple ‘Skip to My Lou’. I simply had no opinion on it. I was mute. My life has been an endless line of selling that dreamy guitar. I sold so many guitars that it ended up becoming a part of my personality.
Actually writing this, I'm starting to feel hungry. Talking about how I never fully enjoyed anything to its fullest. Just a taste never the whole meal. Have you ever had dinner with your stomach thundering with the anticipation of consuming everything on the table until your bursting with satisfaction? I have. But what can you eat without a fork? You just stare at it until you lose your zeal for it. Finally I put the napkin in my lap; grabbed the fork staring down at the food daring it to run away; poising the knife in the other hand daring others to try to take it. Using my fork, I take a bite. It was delectable. Chewing the juicy, tender stake my mind began to wonder. I began to notice my surroundings and I discovered something shocking. The knife I had gripped in my right hand, the one poised for attack. It was nothing but a butter knife. What can you protect with a butter knife? As I slowly chewed my steak it began to taste like a dollar burger that you could easily get from McDonalds. That what I praised so much for its rich taste was nothing more than a common 3,000 calorie burger.
Are my taste buds broken? Am I completely out of my mind? I guess that’s why I like to put peanut butter on my steaks. But I suppose it makes sense. Why desire something that will be taken away anyways? It’s better to give it up first with dignity than to have it stolen. It got to the point that I would end up losing my appetite as soon as the food was in my reach. I hope you know that I’m not actually talking about food. I typically eat three meals a day. My way of thinking became a repetition and it doesn't only affect me it affects others around me. Whether I’m talking about friends, love, or something like learning how to play the guitar it all turns out the same. It’s because of things and choices that happened in the past led me to make this decision that was done unconsciously and in turn became a bad habit.
But if that is true why do I keep on buying that wistful electric guitar? It reminds me of the story that Virginia Wolf describes. That moth that probably compared itself to the butterfly like the others did. It knew it wouldn’t amount to much. It knew its time was dwindling. But looking at that lush, miraculous, world it didn’t give up. The moth ended up battered and died longing for those green planes of grass.
Sharon Hockensmith
DeleteBlog post: challenge
ReplyDeleteAs high school student I have been faced with many challenges in my life. The challenge I want to talk about is one I still am trying to overcome. It began my freshmen year when I decided to join the western hills baseball team. When I began playing I had no incredible skills on the field or with the bat. It was difficult to go from an easy league to this one as well.
As a freshmen, I played J.V., I did not start every game, I was nothing special yet. But I did look up to the varsity that year. I wanted to be that great ballplayer that every one talks about for hills. I would watch the varsity game before every jv game in the dugout. Though I was not that good my coaches told us to strive to play varsity regardless of who is playing in your spot.
I worked hard to become the best player I could be, but I never really could outplay those who played varsity. But if there is one thing I love about my coaches it’s that they wanted everyone to be a part of the team. So they really encouraged us to cheer on those who were on the field and just be a good team mate. That year I tried to keep my team in the game at all times. I wanted to make myself the loudest in the dugout and the brightest.
I made the JV championship and did not play in it. Though I didn’t get to play I still was a part of the game by cheering on my team. We would lose the game. As for the varsity that year they lost first round of districts to Woodford. I cheered for them to win but they lost by two runs. Many of the seniors cried after their last game of high school ball. I couldn’t help but feel terrible for them.
The next year I kept my need for being a good teammate but I wanted to be a bigger part of the game for my team with more actions. I still played jv but I found what kind of player I was. I am just a get on base and run kind of player. As I played I developed the nastiest drag but the team had ever seen. It became a weapon for us as almost every at bat I was bunting. But ninety percent of the time if I was bunting it was almost an automatic single.
I didn’t play varsity much but pinch running that year but I knew I was going to take my new skills into the next season. That year the jv won the district while our varsity had the same result as last year. Our seniors shed their tears again and that’s when I decided I was tired of it. This year I will work myself to help our team win the district.
Davis Nesselrode