Giving Thanks

There are so many things to be thankful for in life, and not just on Thanksgiving, but it's hard to forget. so I decided to it down, and really think about all the things I had to be thankful for, and as I love to do, make a list of it. This really has become a tradition.

I am thankful for:

1. My parent's support while I stress over my last year in high school and college
2. My dad allowing me to record epic shows such as Switched at Birth and The Vampire Diaries when I can't watch them on the weekdays.
3. An amazing mentor who believes I can get into my dream school even when I don't.
4. An english teacher who sees me as a leader inside and outside the classroom as she opens my eyes to what a college English and philosophy will look like.
5. A teacher's assistant who has helped what used to be my broken spanish evolve into  something, who motivated me to swallow my fear and take AP Spanish this year, who has inspired to dream of learning and teaching spanish in the future.
6. A little sister who I can call nicknames like squishy head, and count on to annoy me to the point of insanity, but only because she cares
7. A family who will take me in during a time of crisis and make me feel as if their home is the closest to a second home I'll ever get
8.  My dad getting me Maroon 5 tickets for my birthday. Bless his soul.
9. For all the nights my mother and I have sat together and watched romantic classics together, something that has become a beautiful tradition.
10. For two best friends who know me better than I myself, and have shown me how supportive and genuine true friends can be.
11. For a year of inspiring classes that have helped me become obsessed with topics like politics and philosophy.
12. For certain underclassman that never cease to amaze me.
13. For peers who have surprised me this year by becoming people I can not only count on, but also people who have made me smile and laugh when I'm on h verge of tears.
14. For artists like Cher Lloyd, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and Green  Day, whose songs I've had on repeat
15. For parents who wish more for me than they had, and do everything in their power to give that to me.

Full of maybes

My college list is broken up into two categories; colleges I can see myself at, and colleges that are actually feasible. It's sad, really, thinking about the fact that my dream school may just be that, a dream. 

And as I finish my college applications, I have this recurring dream, or more specifically, nightmare, where I await college acceptances that never come. 

As morbid as that sounds, I'm sure I'm not the only senior whose had this feeling.

But for the first time, I found a school that didn't fit either of these categories.

For the first time, I see myself at a school, but not only in my dreams, in the future.

And maybe it's a women's school.

Maybe I didn't know about it until the school gave me a merit scholarship.

All I know is, after having an hour long conversation with a freshman at Bay Path College it  just replaced Syracuse University as my number one school. 

Because I love Syracuse university. Hell, I'd sell my soul to go there, if I had the chance.

But it's my dream school. That school that I'd go to if I didn't have to think about anything.

But the reality is, I have a lot to think about. I have to think about how my parents are going to cosign on my loans, parents who want to move out of the projects of Far Rockaway About how I have a litle sister who needs to go to college as well.

And maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe I'll finally get to wear that Syracuse  sweater I stole from my ex-boyfriend on its campus next fall. Maybe a letter from Posse got lost in the mail, and I'm actually a finalist. Maybe University of Pennsylvania's need based financial aid isn't actually a myth and my acceptance letter will  be accompanied with an immense of money that I won't be able to refuse. Maybe I'm the future mayor of New York who is a professor of political science on the weekends. Maybe I'll come back to Uncommon to teach Spanish.

And maybe I'll go to Bay Path College.

Realization Strikes

It's easy to think that my world is the only one that exists,  and forget how fast it can expand.

And as my world has been becoming more and more real with the anticipation of college, I can feel it expanding, as I meet new people and start to truly understand that I will no longer be in high school in a few months. 

I've been waiting for this realization for what seems like forever, but honestly, my initial reaction seems to be wrong, because what was supposed to be excitement and composure has actually turned out to be intimidation.

I'm a person who likes to be prepared for things, at least know a general outline of what to expect, but my life doesn't seem to be going in a general and expected outline.

I expected to get into Syracuse University and go to Newhouse, but now the excitement of that  acceptance letter is diminishing along with my dream of working for the New York Times, and  my intended major of journalism has been replaced with a major in psychology and minor in Spanish.
 And getting to the realization that there are other places to go than Syracuse, and that I may no longer want to be a journalist was not an easy one.

But isn't that what life is about? Changing your mind as your world expands, and as you continue to challenge yourself in every way possible? Isn't it about continuing to grow as a person, even if it's immensely exhausting?
I find myself realizing that I am no longer a child,  because I'm growing up at an exponential rate right before my eyes, as I prepare for my Posse interview, as I take a college class, as I yearn for stimulating conversations that don't end in me getting asked out in a text message, or playing another game of 21 questions, as I realize that I can now partake in adult conversations I was initially shunned from.

And it seems as if throughout all of this, my written words are the one point of clarity, the one thing that ensures I can stop my world from spinning nauseatingly as I grow up.   

Side Tracked

I like to believe that true love exists, as I watch my parents still hold hands and catch each other off guard with the words, "I love you", at the simplest of moments.

But it seems as if there's this uncanny need for people to someone they want something from the exact thing they want to hear, which makes love seem completely extinct as it becomes an entire exchange on Facebook or text messages.

I just want someone to challenge me, emotionally, socially, mentally, someone who will provide me with a mutual respect and not throw the word love around like it doesn't mean anything, someone who will tell me how they feel when things get rough, instead of turning to my best friend for "emotional support" I'm apparently not providing.

I don't want someone to try and rationalize why we should be friends with benefits. 

And I'm tired of this conversation:

Hey.

Hey.

Wyd?

Homework.

Y?

Cuz I have a lot.

Wow, ok sure.

What?

Nun.

Smh.

Y?

Because. 

(20 minutes later):Well anyways babe we should go out.

The lack of substance in that conversation isn't the only thing that bores me, it's the fact that I'm getting asked out by the end. Am I supposed to feel flattered by that last text message? because I'm pretty sure the rest of the conversation put me to sleep.

And when did I become your babe?

What about talking about politics, or your views on religion? Or  an honest conversation about how what your aspirations are, your biggest fears and insecurities?

So no, I don't want to play 21 questions, in which every question is a variation of whether I'd date you, or how much I like you.

I want to be challenged to think differently, to think deeply about things like whether I'm Catholic because I was born into it, or whether  my love for writing defines me.

So why do continue to get side tracked by the people who call me babe and play 21 questions to see how I feel about them before they ask me out in a text message?

Conquering Fear

I often wonder how people conquer their fears, how they are able to do things they know they can do, but are intimidated by.
I started this year ruminating that, and telling myself that this year  will only be an extension of the last few months of junior year, when I finally realized that college was real, and started working up to my full potential.
And now here I am, in the beginning of my last year of high school, and I'm wondering about people conquering fear.
Because I have a fear.
It's more of intimidation, but nevertheless, it's something I know I have to overcome.
And that intimidation is the rigor of AP Spanish.
(It feels better getting that off my chest.)
Now I knew it was going to be difficult.
But now that I'm here, taking the class, I feel myself asking why did I take this class?
I would have so much less stress if my last period was study hall.
But as I think about this, I go back the initial question:
 How do people conquer fear?
By confronting it.
I know I can do well in this class. I just have to believe  it. I have to speak more spanish at home. I have to annotate the back of spanish books sometimes. I have to watch the news in spanish, and sometimes switch my indie rock playlist for some salsa while I do my homework. And lastly, I have to stop being deathly terrified of messing up my conjugations when I speak spanish in class.

I know I can do well in this class, because of people like Mr. Baker and Ms. Leach who have told me so, and because I refuse to do any less than I am capable of.

So this is me, pledging to swallow the intimidation I feel and accept the challenge. Who knows, maybe I'll trade in my old dreams of becoming a famous journalist and teach spanish instead.


*by the way, if you're interested in reading about a day in the life of a saber in spanish, feel free to check out my new blog:http://thisurlshouldbeinspanish.blogspot.com/
Comentarios son apreciados.

Senior Year..It's Here

So it's official. Summer came and went before i could complete all of the things on my summer bucket list. Seriously, it feels as if I went to sleep on the first day of summer and next thing I know, my alarm went off at five thirty because it was the first day of my senior year.
Wow that feels weird, saying that.
I'm still calling the new juniors sophomores, and yesterday I wrote OSU for my house on my Environmental Science Do Now.
But no, it's true. I spent my entire first day of school defining the word citizenship and strategizing how to sell my school on Twitter.
And soon enough, I'll be going upstairs during lunch for office hours, after school in Essay clinic workshops, and spending my nights sitting at my dining room table, doing homework.
Just like junior year.
But it isn't like junior year, because college is no longer this distant dream I can fantasize about, it's something I actually have to apply for. I can no longer say, "Well there's always next time," because there's barely any time left.
Life has suddenly become terrifyingly real and the opposite of what I expected it to be.
I didn't expect to have collegiate prep first period. I didn't expect to have to write an essay in spanish on the second day of school. I didn't expect to be advised to apply to a community college as a safety school. I didn't expect to see so many unfamiliar faces in my school this year. I didn't expect to be thinking about going to a CUNY for at least two years before attending my dream school.
But I guess that's what happens  when you become a senior and you have to make these life changing decisions that didn't  seem real until about a month ago.

Confession Time

I have a confession to make.
When people ask me questions about the future, it scares me.
They ask me something like what  my major would be if i got into the University of Rochester and I freeze.
My teeth clench and my chest tightens.
Because I don't know.
I have no direction and, that to me, is the scariest thing in the world.
Because it's not about knowing my future major.
It's about the fact that I've always wanted to be a writer, ever since I could remember, that I've never imagined, I mean really thought about what else I would do with my life.
And now all of that has changed.
And the days are getting closer to senior year, to when I have to apply to college, to those acceptance letters, to me stepping on a college campus.
And I have all these questions that I don't have the answers to, and instead of trying to answer them, I avoid them.
Until I can't anymore, and I have to think about my future, the reality of it. Of leaving home. Of thinking of yearly salaries of jobs I'm interested in.
My future is no longer this montage I can imagine and wonder about. It's something I really have to make decisions about.
And that scares me.
But the fact is that I'm going to college sooner than I really understand, and that I have to think about all the things that I thought only grownups thought of, and stop avoiding them like a plague.
So here's me saying that i'm really going to take my future seriously now, stop breaking down when someone asks me questions about it, and get rid of that montage I keep changing and replaying in my head.

It's Killing Me

So I'm freaking out here.
My friends are calling me, saying, "Oh my god I got my AP scores in the mail!! What did you get?"
And what do I respond with?
"....I didn't get my scores yet."
And I've been trying to be patient, thinking maybe it's just because Far Rockaway is extremely far away from everywhere else (I mean it's in the name), but this is just getting ridiculous. It's been days now, and I don't even get an email. Where's the courtesy?
Let me just say, I read hundreds of pages on American history, made countless flashcards on biological processes that I could barely pronounce the names of, wrote either a document based or free response essay almost every Friday of every week  for a year, and sacrificed precious sleep in the morning to go to Independent study.
Don't I deserve to know my scores? Don't I deserve to have my anxiety quelled as I  sit here and wonder? Don't I deserve to be able to gloat like everyone else instead  of saying, "...I didn't get my scores yet"? For god sakes, my handwriting was the neatest it has ever been in my entire life in those history essays.
Have mercy College Board.

I'm Not a Bragger

I don't like to brag about myself.

It's weird right? I can hear myself in my head and can't help but  think, jeez shut up will you?  So I usually refrain from bragging, unless I have to.

And when do I have to?

When I'm writing a college essay.

If you didn't already know, writing a college essay means you basically have to sell yourself without making it obvious, in less than six hundred words, to someone who knows nothing about you but your name and and your GPA, which they got off of your transcript by the way. 

How can I tell you everything about myself in less than 500 words?
How can I tell you that my name is Michelle Elisabeth Soto, that I'm obsessed with Indie rock, that I want to move Chicago and own a studio apartment, that my favorite food is my mother's rice beans and chicken, that my new past time is spending hours making abstract paintings, that I narrate my life in my mind like a blog just like the main character of the show Awkward, that I'm a hopeless romantic and cry when I watch movies like The Notebook and The Time Traveler's Wife, that exposing every part of myself on stage is simultaneously  the most terrifying and most addictive thing I've ever done?
I mean, can't I just give them the link to this blog post?
That would be much easier than fitting 16 years of experiences, growth, and epiphanies onto one page of words.
Maybe I can use a smaller font than size twelve.

I'm a Changed Person

After flying across the ocean and spending nine days in Scotland, I feel...older. Wiser.
It was exhilarating, going to a place full of rolling hills, and meeting people who seem worlds apart, but love indie rock as much as I do.
It's almost overwhelming, being exposed to a place that initially seems almost opposite of mine; different accents, food, steering wheels of cars on the right side instead of the left.
It blew my mind.
But I've never felt so alive.
I've never felt so out of my element.
I mean I've been to camp, gone places where I've known absolutely no one. but that's not the same.
I've never had the realization that the world is much larger than New York City.
Until now.
There's a whole other world out there, a whole world that I have yet to explore.
I made so many memories from Scotland that i can't help but want to go back, and make so many more, to plan to explore other countries and cultures in the future.
I'm a changed person.

Wait, I'm a Senior Now?

A few days ago I  got a text message that said:
We're freaking seniors!!!!!!
And my visceral reaction was:
Wait, I'm a Senior now?
The hardest year of my life is over, and it feels weird to think about the fact that I'm not a junior anymore.
I feel so old.
I can't believe I'm almost done with my high school career. It's mind boggling to me, because it shows just how quickly I'll be entering the real world, a world where I actually attend a college instead of visiting them for a day, a world where I have to figure out what I want to do with my life, where I'm going to live after college.
And I know, I still have time to think about this, but jeez, this came quicker than I expected.
I remember the first day of fifth grade, and now look at me.
I'm a senior.
It's crazy isn't it?

Internship Days

It feels weird going back to school. Granted, I spent my internship on the sixth floor of my school building.
 But still.

I was acting.

And if there's one thing I learned in my internship it's that the acting is its own separate world.

It's a world where everyone is their own unique character, where people talk about contracting and expanding their life body, where the Meisner technique is used in everyday conversation.

And spending two weeks of my life immersed in the world of acting was eye opening.

When I was in that dance studio, saying my monologue, singing Amazing grace, or embodying a drunk flapper, the rest of the world didn't exist.

So maybe I don't want to become a renowned actor, and make it a career. But spending two weeks with my fellow interlocutors, and meeting people who were completely different but all shared a love for acting is something most people don't get to experience everyday.

And that experience is something I want to continue to enjoy on Friday, in Scotland, next year, and even in college.

Hey, you never know, maybe I will be an actor in ten years. 

PS. If I didn't make it clear, us Scotlanders are debuting our piece Grab the Land on Friday at five. Hope the dance studio is full,

Michelle

Be Uncommon. Change history.

Junior year started with a karabiner.

“You see these things,” our teachers asked. “They symbolize leadership.”

We have always been assumed the role of leaders, ever since that first handshake with Ms. Kennedy. We are, always have been, and always will be the pioneers of this school, which has provided us with the duty of being not only role models but also leaders.

But junior year has been different. Junior year has AP classes. Junior year has art and leadership class instead of theater and music.

Junior year is the year where college seemed to really become a reality, as we took the SAT for the first time, rewrote drafts of our college essays, and traveled to upstate New York in search of best-fit college. As we ventured off campus and into the real world for two weeks in our internships, doing big things.

And through all this, we remembered the first day of school, and the image of that karabiner, as we asked ourselves the question,

"Am I leading?”

We asked ourselves this question, as we spent breakfast lunch, and our time afterschool in APUSH independent study the week before the AP exam, as we wrote research papers on World War I propaganda, the cult of domesticity, and the Great Depression, as we read the entire American Pageant textbook.

And as the days before graduation dwindle, and the year comes to a close, we realize how much we have actually accomplished. Because throughout this year, we have been teaching ourselves to be intellectual leaders who are prepared for college. Individuals who are educated members of society, who advocate for the children of St. Jude’s Hospital, and for the education of children in impoverished areas. Young adults who can have an eloquent conversation on whether or not racism is in the DNA of America, or what the future of genetic engineering will bring to society.

Junior year has helped us live through the words,

“Be uncommon. Change History.”

Day One

Now if some of you were missing the juniors in school today (which I know you were ), you may have noticed that they weren't school today, and won't be for the next two weeks.
But if you're lucky, you may see  a junior walking up the stairs to the sixth floor.
And if you're wondering what we're doing, we're creating a piece of theater for our trip to Scotland, and we're affectionately known as the Scotland group.
And today was day one of creating our piece of theater.
No I can't say much, and you guys are pretty much going to have to wait till we perform on June 8th.
But  I will say, that beginning of the process of making monologues, and writing two paged scenes on the infrastructure of America has been a unique and exciting challenge.
So the Scotland group has a great start, and I hope that all juniors enjoyed Day One of their internships.
Until next time.

We're Not Done Yet

They say that your high school career never gets harder than the end of junior year. 

I don't whether or not to be relieved or terrified.

Maybe it's safe to be both.

All I know is that I could have sworn that this Monday was the last day of school, because that AP bio test was one of the hardest tests  I took in my entire life.

So hard, in fact, that I had this sudden and burning urge to go home afterwards and immediately start my summer.

But no. AP Bio students trudged downstairs to lunch, through the rest of the day, and the rest of the days left in the week. 

Ad that's when i realized:

We're not done yet. 

It feels like it, but we still have so much left to accomplish this year.

We have a research paper due, internships, the June SAT and SAT II's, Regents exams, finals, AND THEN the end of the year.

So as much as all of us feel like we've never studied as much in our lives as we did for AP exams, and that junior year can't get anymore stressful than that, let's remember:

We're not done yet. 

I Almost forgot I had a blog

Wow talk about ages. How long has it been?  mean, a few people have come up to me in the last few weeks, wondering about my blog but that seems like ancient history now.
Last time I wrote on here I was talking about hair or something. I don't even remember.
It' fourth quarter now. The spring musical came and went, along with the end of quarter three. now I'm drafting a research paper about war propaganda in World war I, and  getting ready for AP exams. Not to mention Internships almost around the corner. Before I know it, I'll be in Scotland.
And it doesn't feel like it.
I still remember the first day, with the speech on leadership, when I met my teachers and marveled at the fact the I was in two AP classes.
Now look at me.A Sunior, getting ready to take the SAT for a second time, making my college list n collegiate prep, hearing about all the classes we'll have next year.
Needless to say, I've been extremely busy, working harder than I've had to work in my whole life. At least that's how it feels.
I'm just glad I remembered that I have my blog, because my life seems to be going faster than the words that I'm typing right now., and trust me, I don't want to miss a thing.

It's just hair.

That's what my dad told me today when I was on the verge of pure outrage as I looked at the disaster called my hair in the mirror, and tried to explain to him these passed two days have been the ugliest my hair has looked in years.

And as I said this, my dad listened calmly, and said:

It's just hair.

And he proceeded in explaining that he understood exactly how I felt .

You have an image in your head of what your hair should look like, but for some reason there''s one piece of hair that sticks out. Or your bangs grew to long on one side, and your hair curls at the ends even after three hours of using your instyler.

And you're like, WHY?!

Hearing my dad speak these words made me feel like, yeah, I'm not the only person that wants to rip their hair out from the roots because of bad hair days.

And it made me think about being a junior in UCHS, but not just a junior, one of the first juniors of UCHS, with no seniors to look up to.

I mean, there's tons of upperclassman that can give me advice, but you have to ask yourself; will they truly understand your experience?

And this, in my opinion, is the biggest disadvantage of bieng in the first class. I have no one to say, yeah, I struggled in Ms. Lehnert's AP bio class last year too. This is what I did. Or, yeah, I remember those APUSH notes, they're torture if you leave them for the night before.

But I don't have that. and every once in a while, I wish I did.

Sometimes I wish I could just write for the newspaper that's already been created, instead of having to start it from almost nothing , so I could know how it feels to have an editor, instead of being one.Sometimes, I wish we could have kids who went to our school come back from college and talk to us about their UCHS days.

And maybe that 's why I can't wait to come back to UCHS. When I'm at University of Rochester, or Syracuse, sit on that stage in the cafetorium, and recount stories about my freshman days, and my first SAT mock test.

Because I want to make sure the students below me understand that even though our school is uncommon, they're not the only ones who experience UCHS.

I want to be able to come back and say, I was right where you are, and even though you're up to your necks in stress and pressure, it is possible, because I did it.

Missing A Day

Missing a day in UCHS is like missing a a week of the most important week of your life.

The classwork, notes, conversation, exams, and homework hat you miss is incredible.

Your whole plan of the week needs to be changed as you have to retake all of these things that you seemed to have missed.

You still have doll the work to do when you miss a day.

It's like that awful feeling you get when you take a test that you know nothing about.

Bu all day.

You come back and you realize, the world has moved on without you, and you have to run twice as fast to catch up.

Even more "That's So High School Moments"

Every so often, I talk about those days when UCHS seems "so high school".
When it feels like things going on at school are just as dramatic and ridiculous as the scenarios I watch every Tuesday in my favorite teen dramas.
And maybe I just have high expectations, but I tend to assume that my school life won't be as intense as the show Switched at Birth.
But here goes one of these things that seems just as cliche as the movies and teen shows.
And that thing is ex boyfriends.
But not just any ex boyfriends.
Ex boyfriends you go to school
with.
Am I the only who feels it's kinda awkward?
Like, the day after you guys break up, and that first time you see each other afterwards.
That awkward hi you can't help but say, but regret once you do.
Or the times your eyes meet, the ones that catch you off guard, that make you wonder, " Could he tell what I was thinking?"
Possibly the worst of the moments, though, is being in the same room, and talking to everyone else but each other; you keep wrestling with whether you should say something, or wait till they come to you. And even if you refuse to admit it, you're half wishing they'll be the one to say something.
So I was wondering, how do you deal with these moments, these moments that you scoffed at in Teen Wolf and Vampire Diaries, but you're now experiencing fo yourself?

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A Look Inside My mind During a Lecture

The lesson about observing your thoughts in Collegiate Prep got me to thinking I should try it.

I mean I already zone out constantly, why not observe and record what thoughts cross my mind when I'm doing something like listening to a lecture?

So I did.

*Note: This is not to say that I didn't pay attention. You can check my notes if you don't believe me.

1. My eye feels like it wants to explode
2. I can't believe Cappie and Casey broke up in that episode of Greek that I watched last week
3. Who makes one homework assignment 300 points?!
4. I'm seriously obsessed with romantic books with vampires
5. Smash is on today :)
6. Round and yellow, round and yellow
7. Can you major in making up songs about biology processes?
8. How do teachers know so much info off the top of their head during lectures?

Comments, Questions, Please?

Ever since I've created this blog, there's been this obsession by my readers for me to post more than I do.

And I'm a pretty busy person. Most of my readers should know, especially the ones who are teachers at UCHS.

You know how it is.

So sometimes I forget to post, or I don't have the time or motivation. I'm stressed out, dealing with "this is so high school" moments, and so forth.

And I wasn't aware that my blog was apparently so famous. I thought only my mom and Ms. Roth read it. I didn't it went viral in the education world.

Bu it apparently has.

Which is awesome and I love that.

But it makes me wonder what people think of what I'm writing.

Not saying I would change my opinion or write differently, because I wouldn't. If you don't already know, I have my own style of writing that isn't going to change any time soon, trust me.

Even if the editor of chief of the mighty New York Times tells me something, I'll sneak it in somehow.

It actually makes me wonder why nobody ever comments on what I write. Personally, I want to know what my readers think. Do you agree on what I write? Disagree? Do you hate the titles of my posts?

Seriously I really want to know.

Is there something that would be interesting for me to write about?

I mean this isn't about me changing how I write or what I think. It's just plain curiosity. If I ask a question in my post, really, it would be great if someone answered it.

I mean, I know my readers have opinions about what I write. I just want to know what they are.

Besides, it will prepare me for when I start getting mail from my fans and faithful readers about my articles in the New York Times or the Chicago Tribune.

The Countdown Begins

This Saturday was a monumental day for the Juniors, as we sat for four hours, writing essays, correcting sentences, and girding in answers on the SAT

This Saturday was not the first time we took it of of course. That's not how our school works.

They made sure to prepare in every way they could think of; SAT prep every Wednesday,buying us the Bespoke book to practice.

They even sang us a spectacular song the day before.

And if no one has said it, thank you, UCHS, Mr. Campbell, Ms. Liao, Ms. Goda, and everyone else who helped us SAT prep.

The fact is, the SAT is extremely important.

It's not the only ticket to getting into but it's something that should be taken seriously.

And honestly, we didn't always take it seriously, but I can surely say that we did this Saturday.

Now, let's hope that we all did well, so I can send my score to Syracuse and the University of Rochester.

This SAT just proved how close we are to college, to life after college, adulthood.

The countdown to March 29th, the day we get our scores back, begins.

Making History

I only have fond memories of the Pass It On trip. It was arguably one of the best times of my life, where I was lucky enough to learn about history, life, about myself.

And looking back to those two weeks, watching not only twelve year old me but also some of the most important in my life on that screen this weekend brought me back, to how amazing and life changing that trip was. It still is.

Because it wasn't just a bunch of kids piling into a bus and driving all over the South. It was about what that trip meant, seeing history, with our eyes, not reading about it, talking to people who conducted miracles because they witnessed discrimination, and realizing that it's still there.

And it's our responsibility, as the next generation, as people of society, to make sure that those people who fought for blacks to be able to sit in the front of the bus, to be able to go to the same school as whites, aren't forgotten. But even though they made these grand strides in history that should be forever revered, there's still more to be done.

Watching that movie made me remember that, because sometimes you forget about the world around you, because you're too busy being consumed in your own life.

I'm in awe, at how remarkable we are, and were back then, so remarkable, that I can't help but be inspired by what occurred that summer.

And even though I can't go back and relive those days, I know that they'll always be in my memory, and that they helped make me who I am today.

That dream of mine

I've spent most of my life feeling different, but I've accepted it over the years, and one of these things that me feel different is my passion for writing, to which most people are boggled and awed at my determination to have my very own words in the New York Times.

In fact one person even predicted my future and told me I'd be a poor writer living in a crappy apartment and working odd jobs in between articles I write.

To which I responded, So I'll write about how I live in a crappy apartment and work odd jobs, what's your point? Besides, who says that's actually going to happen? Last I checked you aren't fortune teller.

Needless to say, it's been a dream of mine to meet someone who loves writing as much as I do. To not be met with this fear or surprise of my aspirations, but to be understood.

And today, as I read my best friend's new blog, I realized that I've known that person all along, because our love for writing is the same.

She writes,

"When I ask the question, why make a blog when probably no one will read this, and I might be talking to myself. Well, it is because eventually with all the sardonic and absolute non sencesical things I might say, someone will read it, some strange person will somehow find this blog on Google, and then I will be heard."

And reading these eloquent words, I was reminded of why I write, and how different it is from hers, and how it didn't matter. Because all in all, the passion is the same. The love is there.

And it made me realize just how different and similar people can be, how you and someone else can love the same thing, but for contrasting reasons.

So no, Kinyanna and I don't write about the same things, and we have voices that are our very own, but knowing that we both have the dream of seeing our name in print one day, of making writing something we can spend our lives doing, it's inspiring.

And she's right; her voice does deserve to be heard, and can be at:

http://myhumblejourneyasajournalist.blogspot.com

Maybe you'll be inspired too.

Let's Face it

It's taken me a while to discover that the only person making sure I don't succeed is me. That every time I tell myself that I'm not good at math, or anything else, I'm ensuring that it comes true, because I've made up my mind before I've given myself a chance.

But everyone does that. They tell themselves that they're good at some things and horrible at others, and they accept it. When they fail, they chalk it up to the excuse that it's not one of their strengths.

But who says its not?

Who says that I'm awful at math?

Last time I checked it was only me.

And maybe that's part of why it's so hard, because I've already told myself that it will be. All I'm doing is putting myself into a paradigm.

I don't want to be in that box anymore. I don't want to say I can't do well in precalc, because of the fact that I'm a writer, and writers and math don't go together.

Now I'm just restricting myself.

Because I'm not just a writer. I'm so much more than that.

Those Days When Life Seems "So High School"

I've never been able to understand the concept of not saying what you mean. Maybe it's because my parents have taught me to be direct, especially to the people you care about.

So it still boggles my mind when I seem to be surrounded by people who have to sugar coat what they're actually trying to say.

I mean, I've said this before. Mean what you say and say what you mean.

Because right now I feel like I'm the only one trying to be honest, trying to show that I care. But now it just looks I'm the person saying everything that everyone else thinks, but can't or won't say.

And I'm trying to be nice, by just giving advice, just being there.

Because I don't want to pry, or make it seem like the things I'm saying are solely based on how I felt when the same things happened to me.

I just want to be honest, because the worst feeling I've ever had is the feeling of knowing everyone knew something, but no one telling me.

But I guess I'm just supposed to keep my mouth shut and stay out of it, right?

The Pen in my Hand

Today someone told me: Do something because you're passionate about it, not for fame or money. Because fame and money disappear. But passion lasts forever.

And as I think about it, I realize that it's true.

I've loved to write ever since my handwriting became legible, and I got my hands on paper. I loved it before I discovered I wanted to be a journalist. Before I had a blog that people read, or before I had the burning desire to start a school newspaper.

But sometimes I forget that. I get caught up in high school and how fast my life seems o be going that I don't stop to remember why I try so hard. Why I stay up until one in the morning doing homework, why I stress myself out so much.

It's because I want to walk down the stage in a year and a half, in a cap and gown, diploma in my hand, knowing that I'm going to a school that I can spend four years of my life making what initially seemed like a childish dream of being a writer into reality.

And today I remembered that. The reason I write.

I don't write for people to read it. I write because it's the one thing in the world that no matter what happens, I love. The one thing I can't live without. The one thing that keeps me sane.

So it doesn't matter if I'm the only person to read my words, because it's not about that. It's about me never letting go of that pen, never giving up on the dream that I've had since the first person asked me what I want to be when I grow up.

And that's why I'll continue to pick myself up from my bootstraps when I fall , because I know that wherever my future leads, I'll have a pen in my hand.

That class called Leadership? I love it.

It gets overwhelming sometimes, thinking about all of the things that are thrown at you at life. Like high school graduation. And the SAT.

It makes you forget about everything else, except for all the stress that you have, and you have this dreadful feeling that you can't control anything in your life, that your future is flying by you so quickly that you can't do anything about it but watch.

But then you find something that's yours, something that you adore, and you forget about all those things that seem uncontrollable.

Because even though you can't help how you feel about someone, or how quickly your life seems to be passing by, you can control this one thing that you've made yours.

And that, to me, is what leadership is.

I can disregard everything else and think about how amazing it would be to have a newsroom for the newspaper, or how amazing it would be to actually have a newspaper, or meet some high school students from other schools that may have the same struggles I do.

Isn't that spectacular?

So I just want to say thank you, Mr. Baker, for giving me a breather from the roller coaster that I now call my life so I can actually pursue things that I love, and make them a reality.

And that class called leadership? I love it.

New Year Reflection Part 2: The Harsh Realization

Right after making a goal, usually after it's written down, or the first person hears about it, people have the tendency to get really motivated, or if you're like me, you have a montage of success in your mind. But after that initial burst of inspiration, you realize that you actually have to do something.

Which for some people, is a harsh reality.

Now I've always been more of a visionist, starting projects in the middle and abandoning it when I realize that planning needs to be done.

Let me not divulge how many half written books I have written.

But as I get older, and I spend more time in Leadership class, I understand how important action is.

Because anyone can ay their going to do something.

It's actually doing it that counts.

And that, I believe, is the reason so many people tell themselves that goals are useless, that New Years is just a day, that they're exactly the same person they were before.

Of course you are. Nobody changes in one day.

The fact is, a new year isn't about making goals.

That't the easy part.

It's about getting it done. It's about getting farther than the montage of success that rushes through your brian as excitement rushes through you.

It's about finishing that book that you figured out the ending to, but still has plot holes.

That is the harsh realization of the New Year.

New Year Reflection Part 1: Big Egos and distractions

It occurred to me today as I read a chapter of history from a textbook, that something is different on me when it comes to school.

And as I had this thought, I was suddenly brought back to middle school days. Days where I was notorious for good grades. And I asked myself, what's different mow?

Obviously, the work load is more, and the work is harder, but I was thinking about what was different with me.

And then I realized:

I have a bigger ego. Not just about writing, but about school. It used to be that I put in 150% effort in everything that I did, just because I felt I had to.

Now don't get me wrong. My new confidence has helped me realize that I love not fitting in, helped me determine who my friends are, and what my passion is, but it's also made me lazy.

And I think everyone can agree with that at some point in their lives.

But why? It isn't because I'm unaware of the time until graduation, or the level of difficulty of school.

And then, I realized, it's the distractions. The distractions of high school, love, friends, finding myself, and everything else that's happening in my life.

So no, I don't regret having a bigger ego, because I love knowing I have the potential to do anything and everything, but this year I need to figure out how to balance my outside world with what seems to be my entire life: school.

And if that means that I have to put in 150% effort into everything I do to get into the University of Rochester, that's how it has to be.