Woman

What's powerful to me about Rupi Kaur's poetry is her refusal to apologize; to make excuses for those that see her as less than she is; to allow her spirit to be extinguished. She is one of my favorite poets, and as a girl, I read her poetry and feel closer to being a woman- I feel someone is saying that which I am incapable of, and eloquently at that. I've walked away from situations with men and women alike that have left a feeling of unsettlement regarding my experience as a female. I've been laughed at by a man for saying I was unsure of having children; I've been asked if an all girls summer camp is only for braiding hair; I've been met with shock when I say I've shot a gun, not because of the gun, but because I'm a girl behind the trigger. Feminism, and understanding what it means to me, is a substantial part of my identity, and it plays a role in my treatment of others and my conduct- when my father says I'm beautiful, I ask him if he thinks I'm brilliant too. When my mother says you'll understand when you have children, when you get married, I say how do you know I will? Kaur questions and regards her experiences as a woman in a way that resonates in me so deeply it feels like I am praying to her by the end of her poems.

Video Games: A Gateway

I started playing video games seriously in freshman year. I dabbled briefly in games before, but I got my first console in 9^th grade. I was a little afraid because of the negative things I had heard about the community; specially directed to women in the community. Because of my fear I played mostly solo games. I became enthralled by the experience. People look down on video games because of the problems in the community and the elitist views in it. There is a constant argument about video games being art or not. I, personally, play video games for the same reasons you read fiction books. It’s the new world that you exist in when you play video games. In the games I enjoy what I want really matters. I can make a choice and what it plays out. This may be stressful in real life, sometimes it is in games, but you can change your decision and try it again. I play video games for the same reason I act; to be someone else, to experience a different life, to explore a new world. Maybe video games aren’t for everyone, but they are important to the players, to me. I say don’t knock it till you try it.

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Life Advice

• Never walk into a shallow end of a pool, you just have to jump.
• How people treat wait staff says a lot about them.
• If you have to force it, then don't. Relationships, friendships, ponytails...
• Wear sunscreen, and don't think you can get away without it. 
• When you ask how someone is doing, really want to know.
• Wake up as early as possible and go to bed as late as possible.
• Always think before you speak.
• Its better to be alone than to be lonely in a group of people.
• Put on fuzzy socks and slide through the house like you did when you were younger.
• Understanding is a lot harder than just judging.
• Build forts at sleepovers.
• Buy lots of presents, for birthdays and for no reason.
• It's easy to hate, but it takes strength to be kind.
• Take photos of everything. 
• "Half of seeming clever is keeping your mouth shut at the right times" - Patrick Rothfuss
• Always tip.
• Read lots of books, all kinds, and read them again and again.
• Get at least 1 hug a day.
• When you're home alone, blast your music and have a dance party in your room.
• Always have a water bottle in your car.
• Your life becomes less complicated the less you care about what other people think.
• Order something different at the restaurant you've been to 3 times.
• Always choose not dying from lack of sleep over getting a C on a test.
• You never have to apologize or come up with an excuse for how you feel. 
• Write down the jokes that make you laugh the hardest, you will want to remember them later.
• Write down everything you want to remember.
• "What you see and what you hear depends a great deal on where you are standing. It also depends on what sort of person you are." - C.S. Lewis

Fall of Giants

Fall of Giants

England, Russia, Germany, Austria, The United States, etc.… What do these countries (and more) have in common? World War I. In Ken Follett’s novel and first book in the Century Series, Fall of Giants he takes different people and families throughout the world and shows the reader how their lives intertwine in the mess that was WWI. What happens when a British Lady and a German solider fall in love? How does a miner named Billy become a hero? Follett explores the tangled lives of each of his characters and takes the reader right into their world and brings their experiences to life. He captures the confusion of the war in the way he tells the story of their lives. It is a wonderful mix of history, romance, fighting, politics, and so many other topics. As a historical fiction novel it does an amazing job of keeping the truth in historical events and making fictional events or conversations seem realistic. During this time period many of the things might have seemed unrealistic prior to the war, however once the constant fear of death takes over many people’s lives all other priorities fall down the drain. It is impossible not to get wrapped up in the characters’ lives and want to read on and on.

Follett is a wonderful writer and someone I think we could all learn from. I would highly recommend reading any of his books that you can get your hands on.

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Henry David Thoreau

"To be awake is to be alive. I have never yet met a man who was quite awake."
-Henry David Thoreau

I first heard this quote last year in American Literature. I also think it might be hanging in our Creative Writing classroom as well! This quote has always caught my eye and stuck out in my mind because of the way it is phrased. It seems to be quite a simple quote but it has such a deep and important meaning. I think that everyone can interpret this quote in their own way. My interpretation is that the quote is saying that you have to live life to the fullest, doing things that make you feel alive. If you don't spend your life doing what makes you happy then the only reason your living is just to be awake. I think about this quote often. It really inspires me to be "quite awake" and do the things that I want to do. You enter this world with nothing and leave with nothing, so you might as well take in all the happiness that you can while you have the chance. As cheesy as it sounds, it really does mean something.

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Since Feeling is First - E.E. Cummings

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

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If you read this poem and were confused by the poor grammar, that's the point. It's one of the reasons, among others, that I like this poem so much. The first lines state the importance of feeling, and then remark on the unimportance of syntax (which is appropriate because the syntax is incorrect). I like this because the poem is giving meaning to itself by saying that the reader needs to focus on the feelings that the poem evokes for them personally, not the direct words of the author. You could read it as "who pays attention to the syntax of things," or as "the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you," or you could separate the thoughts completely. The lines "kisses are a better fate / than wisdom," also reinforce his idea that the feelings are more important than anything else. The ending lines are by far my favorite part of the poem. After the description of the way being with the girl he loves makes him feel, he says "life's not a paragraph," which means something to the effect of life is not short or simple like a paragraph or that life is more than just the words on a page. The last line "death i think is no parenthesis," could mean that death is a reality, not an extra not added in parenthesis. However, it could also mean that the life one has lived is not bound by the parentheses that death is.

Thank you to my soccer team

As my favorite season of all time is nearly coming to an end, I have been reflecting and thinking about the great times I've had the past 3 months.
Being on the soccer team at Weston High School through out my years, has allowed me to collect thousands of memories that I consider some of my favorites. For me being on a team and experiencing the trust, venerability, and love that comes with that has changed me in the best ways possible. I believe that some of the lessons I have learned about friendship, life and drive, I would not have learned if I had not participated in what I now call my favorite sport. You pour out your heart and soul, and use every ounce of your energy in a work out or a game and you are able to do that because you know the girls around you are doing the same thing. You learn to deeply trust people and work hard for something you believe.
As a senior this year I was lucky enough to be voted captain of the team. I was very flattered because it reassured me that I was doing the right things and people respected me for it. Now having been a captain for 3 months I can say that it has been one of the most rewarding things I have ever done. The underclassmen really do look up to you and they don't even know how much it means to watch them grow into the team, as I see myself as a little freshman in all of them. But there is one thing that I will never forget from my senior year being a captain of the soccer team. After one game, when I was down on myself because I had thought I had played poorly, one freshman came up to me and said "I think you played really well, don't be hard on yourself, I think you are great" That made my day and when I think about it now it makes my day all over again.
So as I said before being apart of a team like this has changed me in many ways and I am so grateful I have the opportunity to be apart of something so special. Without soccer and all the girls I have met along the way that have been on my teams, I truly believe I would be a different person than I am today.

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Eye in the Window

He stares into my eyes and I feel violated, like a doll as someone leans down to peer into my dollhouse window, their eye so huge, their eye lashes heavy enough to blow me away with one blink. I used to stare into his too, to marvel at his soul. Now I am disinterested in it, but do not want to go through the misery I went through without him, so I accept the violations. I let him see little bits of me. I do not tell him about the mosquito in my ear. I whisper little "I love you"s and breathe flowers, but he can see the difference. I say I forgive him. Maybe I forgave, but I didn't forget. I should try to forget, I should really try to forget. He didn't mean to. It's okay. things can be the way they were before. And before that other time. Anyway. We'll see. It'll fade. It was my own fault in various ways. I can forget. I can change. I can fix myself for next time.



Observed, yet Alone

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Button Poetry - OCD

I'm sure a lot of people have seen this, but I think this poem is really beautiful. I think that watching the author speak it adds another layer. You really are forced to hear the emotion in a way that you wouldn't get just reading it, the way the author reads it changes the way the words register in your mind. I think all of the ticks the author has when he reads add to the poem. When you read a poem it is up to you as the reader to interpret the poem how you want to, but with the author reading it to you, you are forced to see the poem through his eyes, I really think it adds another layer.

Tarot Cards

This weekend I went to Salem and got my tarot cards read. If any one doesn't know tarot cards are, they are used for fortune telling. There are usually 78 in a pack and each card has a different meaning. For example, there are cards of love and death and depending on which order they are placed, that will supposedly tell your future. Going into this, I was somewhat skeptical as someone would usually be about fortune telling. Once I sat down with my "fortune teller," she told me what was most important, a difficult decision in my education. The cards said that I was torn and wanted to either go one way, or another. And of course, that was spot on. I was going through a really difficult decision in my life, if I wanted to go to art school or study psychology, and to my surprise, these are the choices that she said. As we continued the session, she was either spot on about certain things, or completely off. As she gave me advice, she said two confusing things. One of them being something is going to happen in two years that could change my life for the better or for the worse, and someone names Barbara is going to come into my life and change it somehow. I'm eager to see if this is true, and see if the tarot cards can really predict your future.

What I actually learn at WHS

           Weston High School is a very prestigious, competitive school filled with intelligent students that most likely attend a good college or even an ivy league. (This is a generalization, but you get my point.)

My mental notes from WHS; What I've learned. 

            Students learn so much in classrooms such as how to find the area of a triangle, what the color yellow means in The Great Gatsby, how to take an AP Spanish test, and that there is more protein in an egg white than in the yolk (DNA class).

            Even though this information is important I want to focus on what I actually have learned from showing up to school for the past three years.    

-Weston Road Café is not a creepy hole in the wall, but actually has the best ice coffee that melts in your mouth with every sip.

-When going a considerably safe amount over the speed limit, I can get to school in seven minutes flat.

-Schmoop is better than sparknotes.

-“Sauced” is not the action of putting something on your pasta, but it’s Weston vernacular for when someone gets dissed. 

-The rope swing near my house is safe to jump off of and has a safe depth of water for landing.

-Linden has good sandwiches and isn’t a random office building.

-There is a Dunkin Donuts at Regis College.

-When someone says “optional” or “recommended” it most likely means “necessary unless you want an F.”

            To me WHS is not just where I attend school, do everything I can to succeed in classes and create relationships, it’s where I discover the world around me. Everyone focuses on what the students at WHS have learned in the classrooms and how well they do, but I wanted to, for once, focus on what students learn outside of the classroom.

Dreamers Can Dream

"She's gonna be famous one day," my Grandma said in the front seat, as she turned back to look at me, two years old, humming myself to sleep. At five years old, I found myself behind the piano with my older sister's beginners book. They thought I was too young to play, so I taught myself! A briefcase full of scattered pieces of paper, all of which included love song lyrics that I starting writing as soon as I began talking.

"She's gonna be famous one day," my Mom said, as she overlooked me playing with my baby dolls, singing them to sleep.

I aspired to be Hilary Duff. Stockings filled with her CD’s every Christmas, and an unhappy six year old, when I didn’t receive the outfit she wore in The Lizzie McGuire movie.

“I’m gonna be famous one day,” I told myself, hairbrush in hand, behind locked doors, singing in the mirror.

I am not famous, clearly, and I am not Hilary Duff. However, music is as important to me then, as it is now. After I showed my sister’s piano teacher what I had learned, she had no choice but to give me lessons. A few years later, I picked up guitar. And although my love songs were about my love for my baby dolls, or my love for my parents, writing music has continued.

While my siblings may be great writers, or athletes, music is the only thing that has come easy for me and the one thing that is mine. High School can be a cruel and scary place. I believe one song has the ability to affect an individual’s day or change one’s mood in an instant. A song’s lyrics are capable of reaching out to someone when that person needs reassurance or strength. I use music as an escape and as a way to express myself. I will never be famous, but dreamers can dream!

B16 Year

I’ve been a senior for almost two full months now but I have not felt like a senior until just a couple days ago. (Except for the first day of school). Even walking through the halls at school everyday, passing all the underclassmen and not looking up to anyone, I have not felt like a senior.

-       We have open campus and can leave school grounds, so what?

-       We sit in the senior section now, so what?

-       All the freshmen look up to us the most, so what?

It just has not felt like we were seniors until the other day when my friends and I were trying to decide on a good Halloween costume and figure out plans for Halloween night. My friend said that we should have out “annual sleepover” and then it hit me. This would be our last Halloween together. How crazy is that!? And how sad it that? It's so weird that after so many years of dressing up and going out together on Halloween, this was my last year doing that with all my friends. The “lasts” of everything are the things that make me feel like a senior.

-The last first day of school

-The last Halloween

-The last home Friday night football game

Even thinking about the upcoming things that will be the last things of high school ...

-The last formal dance

-The last New Years Eve

-The last Winter/February/April vacation

-The last day of school

Every year goes by so fast to me but everyone, and I mean every upperclassman that I have ever talked to, says that senior year flies by. So I can’t imagine how I’ll feel on graduation. It’s already been two months, which is weird because I feel like we just started.

Is This Normal...

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Is this normal?

“I have a perfect score”

“This is so stressful”

“Should I do subject tests!”

Well, I don't think that junior year was too bad. At least, not as bad as I expected. Granted I never took any subject tests and study 24/7 for SAT and ACTs. I have seen my friends get so stressed that they got sick. Stressed to the point of breaking down. Then there is me, cool as a cucumber. 

I am still not stressed.

Most of those people stressing about school don't do much outside. Don't get me wrong people may join clubs, and work while still getting stressed. I work in retail and for myself, I do hair and make up for the plays, and I still manage my school life. 

I am still not stressed

That may not seem like much, but I never have a day at home to do nothing. The most I may have is a few hours in between other events. 

I am still not stressed.

What does this all mean? Well if you ask my mom, I am not good at time management. She thinks that I am the worst procrastinator. So is it just me then?

Metal for the First Time

On the 29th of September, I went to my first metal concert ever. Tuesday night, no idea I was going till the night before. I could say that I knew what it was gonna be like before I went, that I had a basic clue. In reality I knew nothing.
When we walked into the Tsongas center in Lowell, the entire building rocked and pulsed, in the lobby I couldn't hear myself talk. I found myself screaming to my friends just for them to try and hear me. The ticket person strained to hear, "mosh pit" I screamed. Me and my two companions in crime mounted the shaking staircase to the arena. People squished around each other in the pit swayed against each other to the sound of the opening band. People who obviously didn't want to be there stood against the walls. I felt the energy pulse through my bones, the arena was huge. Energy flowed in and out of every person, the music felt alive. I could feel it seeming to beat my heart. We vaulted down the staircase to the pit where we met up with a group of four. Screaming at the top of our lungs we jumped into the pit. Eventually the intro bands wrapped up and a voice screamed over the loud speaker "FIVE FINGER DEATH PUNCH", everyone launched into motion becoming nothing but a blur. The mosh pit started stirring, and soon people were jumping in and being pushed around and it was all power and energy, with no ill intentions. When you fell people picked you up, everyone was pulsing with adrenaline and still courteous, keeping people from getting hurt. Glasses shattered and cups and bottles littered the ground. An elbow to the rib? Just keep on moving, the bruises help you remember the night.

Why I Don’t Keep A Daily Planner

“Why I Don’t Keep A Daily Planner” by Stace Budzko from Hint Fiction:

Written on his calendar the day of my father’s death, these words: Call son.

This is another very short flash fiction piece similar to Ernest Hemingway’s, “For sale, baby shoes, never worn”. Both pieces leave the reader curious and able to create their own context for the story. Although very few words, the story tells dozens of different stories. It makes the reader question the relationship between the father and the son. It also raises curiosity about the significance of the note on the calendar. This short flash fiction piece comes from the book Hint Fiction which consists of short stories all 25 words or fewer. This piece, however, is not as famous as Hemingway’s baby shoe story. Stace Budzko is a lecturer in the Department of English at Emmanuel College in Boston. Unlike Hemingway, Budzko is certainly not a famous American novelist. Although different types of writers, both pieces demonstrate amazing and short flash fiction pieces.

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Postcard from the Mojave

           
  In the blazing desert of Nevada things stand still. The plants don’t the wave in wind for there is none, the air is stagnant. Birds don’t fly unless they are circling prey. And the road stays right where it was placed. There is no movement now, but in the distance… a figure- a girl- trudging along the motionless scenery. Her hair is matted down and her shirt sags with sweat, but her face doesn’t bare the same weathering. While she walked the sun had risen and begun to set. She holds a determined stare like she is willing the desert to end.  Somehow she looks unbothered by the deserts cruel nature. Her gaze is strong, following the road for miles. In those miles ahead she seems to find what she’s looking for because her hard gaze softens. A house. It sits waving like water in the distance. The girl is no longer trudging; her footsteps are light and quick. The house is old and wooden; a forest in the desert. A fence that has seen better days protects the house, from what, who can say. With her goal ahead of her she takes a breather on the fence, sitting on the decaying wood as a breeze blows by. The first movement of air that she has felt all day; her eyes are closed just feeling the wind blow her hair from against her skin and her shirt move, pushing the sweat inside against her, but she doesn’t mind. The wind dies down and she sags, having lost her energy, but she is so close to her goal. The wind blows again and she stands. She carefully steps until she is in the shade of the house.  The house’s shadow is stretching longer across the wastes. She walked until she is standing right in front of the porch.

            The wind wasn’t refreshing anymore. The sweat from her exodus across the desert was cold and clammy. Then the wind stopped and the desert was still. The light on the porch flicks on, casting the darkening day in a dull yellow glow. A car that she hadn’t seen when she was approaching sat beside the house covered in rust and sand and dust. The steps creaked under her weight. Old wood boards bent below her, but refused to give out. Only a few more steps and she would be at the door. From the porch she couldn’t see any light on in the house. The outer door was an old screen that seemed like it was fraying perhaps from age, perhaps from use. That creaked too when she opened it. The main door was plain.

The Diary

The Diary is a concept I have always struggled with. It's why I took this class- I've taken a stab at writing about my life and writing for passion, but I just don't know how to start on my own. The Diary has been an elusive figure throughout my life; it has collected, emptily and massively, on my shelves, gifts from aunts who don't know me nearly as well as they should and friends who, frankly, should have known better. The Diary is dangerous to me because you open it and you hold a whole life in your hands, regardless of whether you deserve to. It's hard for me to imagine someone picking up my diary and getting sucked into it without cringing. I don't think there could be an invasion of privacy more grossly unforgivable than setting up camp in someone's mind without letting them know, and I hate to be the victim, so I've kept well away from The Diary. If you've ever read The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, which I'm sure many of you have, you'll know it is a work of fiction, loosely based on his time in the Vietnam War. Before he wrote it, he had an autobiography published, but it didn't make the reader feel what he wanted them to. In using fiction to get across the honesty of his experience, he uses lies to tell the truth. That's how I'm coming to terms with the idea of The Diary- my fiction has parts of me hidden in it, and because I'm not writing as myself, I feel I can capture what my life is at the present moment more honestly. In short, I am trying to open my mind to the possibility that maybe I've been wrong not to write all along, and I may not be good, but it certainly does feel good.