Smoking Disrespect

    Yesterday was one of my annual Christmas present deliveries to the families in need. Although the ending to the story is delightful the process of getting to the house was insane. I'm going to skip ahead a few details just spare you some craziness. Ultimately I ended up in a snow bank on the families driveway. Three teenage boys smoking got out of their car to help me and my friends. Instead of reacting in thanks when we were freed, we reacted in disgust, to their smoke. We were unthankful and reflecting upon that feeling, I am disgraced with myself. I could've at least said thank you.

    But then I got to thinking about how not very many teenagers smoke cigarettes anymore. How a few years it was a craze, but since kindergarten it has been pounded into my head that cigarettes are bad, to the point that I can't even respect someone who is smoking. Also, public smoking bands are making people hate those who smoke more and more daily. So is the strategy working? In a sense yes, as I know I will never smoke. In another sense, no, as am no discriminating against these people. Can't there be a happy medium?

    Click here to see what others say.

Your Choice: Part II

    I met her a few years back. I was attending a leadership conference in Washington, D.C. I knew no one who was going to the conference, and was randomly paired with a roommate. When walking into our hotel room, her stuff was already settled. Since my bus broke down I was obviously late, and had to hurry and drop my stuff in a big old pile before leaving.

    It was not until entering the room later that night that I met her. When I first saw her I didn't know what to think. This trip I had a goal in mind to meet as many different people as possible and just be a friendly person. My roommate (M we will call her for the purpose of this post), had streaks of pink in her hair. She was wearing mostly black and her eyes were surrounded by a smoky dark makeup. There was nothing natural about her look. Trying not to judge I introduced my self and we exchanged basic information such as what we like to do in our free time and where we live. I'm not going to lie; I pretty much wrote her off for the next few days, not purposefully, but enough so that I didn't really see her that much.

    A few nights later lying wide awake in bed, and pretty tired, I began to talk to M. I'm not completely sure what prompted me to do so, maybe it was my lack of sleep, but I did. Somewhere in our twisted conversations I fell asleep. The following morning, though, I felt like a whole new person who had learned so much about someone so different from myself.

    Turned out, that night we had an early bed time. Still not really tired, the two of us, M and I, kept that lights on in our room and began to talk. And as M talked, my whole perception on bad situations changed. M received a call from her mother, and M put her on speakerphone. Her mother did not sound like one at all. She cussed ever other word and talked about things teenage girls would gossip about. After the phone call I asked M was that always the case, and from there her story unraveled.

    M grew up in a home where both her mother and father did drugs and were clearly addicted. There would be nights that her parents would throw parties after she was in bed and she would wake up and walk down stairs, witnessing her parents injecting themselves. At the time M was so young she didn't know what was going on. Then her mom was arrested, and her dad decided to clean up his life while her mother was in jail. Her father dumped M at his parents' house and left with no further explanation. And that is where she grew up.

    At school she was already with "that" crowd. They were the kids that did drugs and drank uncontrollably, possibly to fit in, possibly because it was in her blood. Her grandparents knew, and she was never allowed to do that stuff. Seeing the direct correlation with her parents she chose the right decision, but became the designated driver. She explained to me how her friend first began drinking in elementary school, as that is what her friends witnessed her parents do. In a detailed explanation, M told me about the first time at recess her friend got drunk and she had to hold her friend's hair and take care of the drunkenness as her friend puked. How disturbing.

    When her mother finally was released from jail, M did not want to return. She wanted her mom to get her act together first. Around the same time M heard from her dad. He was sober and started a new family. M made the decision to move to that new family and start on a clean slate. Her mom still calls her weekly with her teenage gossip, but according to M, they are really close.

    As M told me this horrific story, tears were a constant stream upon my cheeks. She truly made me realize the importance of my family and just how much they have done to make my life the best it can be. I told M she was my hero; all that she has done is heroic.

    A few days later while still in Washington, D.C. my grandfather died a few thousand miles away from me. I never was able to say goodbye due to being I was part of the leadership program. Never in my life have I felt so greedy. My roommate was a girl who never even had parents or a support system, and I had everything. M was the reason I got through my grandfather's funeral and was capable of speaking at it.

    M's lesson didn't just teach me about heroism or to never drink and do drugs, but she told me about the true meaning of life. You can chose to be friends with whomever you'd like, but ultimately it is your decision to say no in bad situations and not use illegal substances. I hope to be just like M, and stay clean my entire life.

Your Choice: Part I

    The news recently reported Iowa football players suspended for drugs. A student at my high school was recently caught with drugs in his car with intent to sell, and who knows where he is now. I was recently asked to write an essay about prejudices I see in our community and I chose the topic of drugs and how people who are of lower incomes levels are portrayed by media sources as "druggies". The issue of drug abuse and use throughout the community and country has risen. The question isn't whether drugs should be legalized because they are illegal for a reason. The question is what we can do to solve these problems in multiple individuals.

    Just this last weekend I attended a meeting where a group of high school students got together and talked about problems we see in our schools. Coming from very diverse schools in our communities we all had different opinions and major problems we saw. Among the biggest were drug use and alcohol consumption issues. These problems have been around for years but have recently inclined. If the problems have been around for years, why haven't they been solved? And all this drug talk reminds me of a person I met a while back to defined resistance and power. Her story encouraged me to not fall into peer pressure and not follow the crowd.

Christmas: The Time to Give

    There's no doubt about it. It's all over news channels, plastered in newspapers, and talked about at company meetings; Christmas is the time for giving. But hearing this makes me wonder, why are other times throughout the year not a time for giving? Don't get me wrong, it's good for everyone to give, but why not the whole year long?

    Being involved in many volunteer clubs and organizations, Christmas is by far our busiest time of the year. We ring the bell for the Salvation Army until our toes go numb. We have thousands of dollars to spend on needy families throughout the community. We wrap presents to help raise money for different organizations. All of this stops at the ending of Christmas. Granted a lot of these things can only be done during the Holiday season, but why don't we find things to do throughout the year? People who are in need don't just stop being in need after the holidays are over.

    Another thing that amazes me is how all children want to do is get. My sister comes home from school talking about what she wants for Christmas and not what she wants to give others for Christmas. However last year me and her had a very memorable experience of giving. We bought thousands of dollars in presents for a single mother war veteran and her two children who had just escaped domestic abuse from the father who denied the children their toys. As we watched the women sob, unwrapping her presents and being so grateful for everything we had done for her, we somehow felt connected. I would think my sister would remember this when being so greedy. But she doesn't. Is this because that time of giving has ended for her? After a year passes without helping the community, she forgets. She forgets that there are so many needs in the community.

Wouldn't it be great if we could instill this giving sense throughout the year? Not just only in children, but in everyone. So I ask you, the reader, keep the giving spirit alive after Christmas. This task may be hard but I know you can do it. And myself, as the writer, will try to do the same.

Real Heroes of the World: Part II

    Sal Giunta came back to his hometown and a parade was thrown in his honor. I decided it was my duty to go and show my support with my friends. Turns out it was "too cold" for some of them to go. I ended up only going with one of my friends, freezing my butt off the whole time. It got to the point where I could no longer feel my toes. The truth is, though, my friends should have gone. Giunta could have easily said that it was too dangerous to serve in the armed forces. He took four bullets for our country! And some of my friends thought it was "too cold" to support him. Yeah right.

    To an even bigger disappointment, when walking to the parade route, all I saw was elderly people. I didn't run into a single person from my school. Giunta graduated from MY HIGHSCHOOL and no one from there came. Where is our patriotism, people? The older generations seem to understand the importance of protecting the country, but what will it take for my generation to? Although the answer to this question is undefined, any change has to start with me. I need to boost my patriotism and show my respect for those who have fought and are fighting. This can start with a simple letter thanking them for their service.

    Sal Giunta was without a doubt, a hero. He deserved the Medal of Honor, but when receiving it, he denied its value. He felt that everyone who serves in the war should get one, because anyone would do what he did if put in that situation. But being an even bigger person, he said it was a message to all the soldiers; it was all of theirs. Because without them, Giunta would not have been able to do what he did. Giunta gave others credit before taking any credit for himself. That is a true American.

    Someday I hope to meet Giunta and not just wave at him riding along in a parade. He's inspired all of us to become better Americans, whether we know it or not. Most importantly, though, he is a true hero for all of us to look up to.

Here is a link I found that shows just how important what Giunta did is to our country:

http://www.kcrg.com/news/local/Hiawatha-Parade-Honors-Staff-Sergeant-Sal-Giunta-110284029.html

 

Real Heroes of the World: Part I

    Within the last month I became intrigued and mystified by a story of a soldier who went above the call of duty. It wasn't so much of the selfless act he preformed that surprised me. It was more of how the public and audience reacted to what was happening and how media coverage, especially in my hometown, was dealt with.

    Staff Sergeant Sal Giunta recently received the Medal of Honor for his bravery and valor in the War in Afghanistan. The event that occurred in which he received this honor happened in 2007. As his platoon was returning back to their home base through a valley at night, they became under attacked by a group of Taliban soldiers. The formation of the Taliban was an "L" so the Americans faced fire from two sides. While under this attacked Giunta realized that a member of his group was missing and went to go look for him, Brennan. Facing continuous gun fire, he continued to go further and realized that there were three people ahead of him. Soon, it came to his attention that two Taliban soldiers were dragging Brennan, severely injured, away. Giunta continued to face the fire and killed one of the Taliban soldiers and injured the other. The Taliban's fled and Giunta recovered Brennan to carry him back. The incident lasted no more than three minutes. Giunta had been shot four times and survived. Brennan was pronounced dead later, after having surgery.

    Not only was Giunta the first to receive the Medal of Honor since the Vietnam War, but he also sent a powerful message to all. The message was that today, the military continues to make sacrifices for our freedom, and we owe them some respect.

    Growing up I have always respected the men and women in the armed forces. Daily, they make incredible sacrifices for our freedoms that we take for granted. They risk their lives for the future of Americans. In middle school I helped with them in an Adopt-A-Soldier program. The soldier that we wrote to frequently, was killed in a plane crash. It became reality for me then, the harshness of the war. But many students today do not thank those in uniform enough. They classify those who join as people who didn't do the greatest in high school and are just looking for something to do with their life. This assumption, however true it may be, is not the way we need to respect people fighting to keep our country alive.

    Sal Giunta was a graduate of my high school. My school newspaper put an article in it about Giunta, but I glanced over it as just another solider. I didn't truly know the extent of what he did until the day he was given the Medal of Honor. In one of my classes we watched a program about him and I was intrigued. To my disappointment, my other teacher didn't believe the importance of what was happening and we didn't even get to watch him receive the honor. How sad.

Never Give Up

    I recently finished the autobiography by Lance Armstrong called It's Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life. Not only was this book quite inspirational, but it also brought up a good topic of never giving up. Is there a time in life when giving up is necessary, or should one always go for their dreams, not matter the struggle? Personally, I believe that giving up is the worst possible solution. One must always try to go after what they believe in.

    Let's take Lance Armstrong for explain. He was diagnosed with testicular cancer that had a 3% rate of survival. In other words he was almost pronounced dead in the hospital. Not only was he determined to fight his cancer, but he wanted to do so in a way that would allow him to bike once again. After reading his story it was plainly obvious that there were days that he truly just wanted to die. He was in so much pain and struggling to the extreme that it almost wasn't worth it anymore. But through all of this he continued up the very steep mountain ahead of him and soon he fought off the ferocious disease and survived.

    Armstrong was always like that, though. As a boy he was very determined to accomplish his dreams. There was a time when he had a race coming up and was hit by a car training and had to get stitches. His doctor told him he couldn't participate in the race due to the accident. This did not stop Armstrong, though. Regardless of what the doctor said he went into the race, after cutting out his stitches with a pair of nail clippers. Crazy, right? Yeah and that was only the beginning.

    Armstrong had everything against him. When he was first diagnosed with cancer, he was going through a change in sponsors and was not covered under an insurance. Cancer is not cheap, and not having the money to pay for the treatment put an even bigger burden on him. Somehow he continued to pull through.

    But I think the biggest accomplishment of Armstrong was winning the Tour de France, probably the most strenuous and tiring races in the world. Biking up the Alps at top speeds and pulling oneself to continuously win the battle had to be hard. Through all of Armstrong's battles he was able to never give up, a true winner. Someday I would like to meet Lance Armstrong, and thank him for showing Americans what fighting really means. We all know that Armstrong was a fighter and had a sense of persistence that lacks in many individuals, but the true question is if giving up is ever okay.

    As said before, I stick to my claim of no. It is those people who never give up that accomplish the most in their lives and inspire so many others. They are the ones that we look up to in society. So giving up is fine if you don't plan on making a true difference in the world, except I plan on never giving up.

Strangers That Make the World Go Round: Part II

My dad arrived and took over the helping part, as I was probably not the best suited for such a job. Before I knew it, two other cars stopped and men got out to help too. They weren't men I recognized and the whole process took a half an hour, but they all helped. There were plenty of cars that passed the ditch in which my car rest. They didn't stop to see if we needed anything, but they were not obligated to. Soon, my car was rescued and everyone left.

    I was able to thank one of the men before he left, but I never got the chance to thank all of them. Now reflecting on what happened and the men (who I will never know their names) who helped me "just to be nice", I wonder in a situation like this, will I be one to stop and help that person, stuck and hopelessly lost, or will I be one to drive on, hoping that the next driver may stop and help. I want to be the one to stop, help, and make that person's day. I will never forget the events of today. The men who helped me are engrained in my mind. Their acts of kindness will never be forgotten. Because it is men like those, who truly make the world a better place, but most of all, make the world go round.

Strangers That Make the World Go Round: Part I

    Today, for the first time ever in a car, I saw my life flash before my eyes. Well, let me start at the beginning. This morning I went for a run. It was quite a long run and I took some back roads to get more mileage. While I was running I saw a car in the ditch. At that point I seriously wondered how in the world the car ended up in the ditch as, although last night was the first "real" snowfall of the season, while running it didn't seem too slippery to me.

    Later this morning while backing out of my driveway my car definitely skidded a little. As I went down the many hills around my house, I began to realize just how slippery it really was outside. I began to become extremely cautious and drove slowly, along with calling my mom asking her if there were snow tires on my car and telling her just how slippery it was outside. Immediately after getting off the phone with my mom I came across the hill where I saw the car in the ditch earlier this morning. When approaching the hill I put on my breaks knowing it was going to be hard to stop. I continuously put pressure on the breaks, but my car would not stop. Before I knew it, I was entering the ditch and I still could not get my car to stop. The car finally jolted to a stop, hitting a tree with a big "thump". The circumstance hit me immediately and I began to sob. I always knew I was a good driver. I'm always very cautious and have never gotten any tickets or into accidents for over a year since I began to drive. But here I was, in this ditch, in the back roads near my house, and I had no way out.

    I tried to calm down to call my mom so she wouldn't worry, but I ended up calling her sobbing anyway. I could hear the worry laced in her voice, but I told her to send my dad and that I was safe, not hurt. As I was talking to my mom a stranger pulled up at the top of the ditch. He came down through the weeds and knocked on my window. I opened the door, as he asked me if I was okay. I told him I was and he informed me that he could help me get out of the ditch. I took up his offer and he began to attach a connector to my car.

    I had never seen this man before, nor had I seen his truck. He was clearly a father; his son peaked over a seat into the back. The man probably had better things to do than rescue a "stupid teenage driver" from a ditch. Yet, through all of this, he spent his time to help me.

More Than Winning a Sporting Event: Part II

The men underground were all heroes. Each and every one of them proved to the world a unique ability found only within our species. The ability to have hope. There were some of the stories that struck me hard.

    Of the 33 men underground, one was a physician and another was a physical trainer. This may have been one of the multiple reasons the men survived. The physician did a physical check up on each male every day. This checkup was to ensure their health and make sure no one got sick. One of the miners was diabetic. The fact that he survived to be healthy is incredible. The physical trainer, kept the miners in shape. Being in such a confined area, the miners spent much of their day sitting. By making all of the men do a workout each day, the trainer kept their muscles working and capable of performing tasks. The physical trainer helped in the weight loss part for some men to make sure they would be able to escape through the canister that everyone else would ride to the surface in.

    In the face of all the events with the miners, there is one story that made me question whether experiences like this bring out the good. Supposedly, all of the families of the miners would hold their pictures. The wife of one of the men, realized that another lady she did not know was holding up a picture of her husband. The wife asked the lady how she knew her husband. As it turned out the other lady was her husband's girlfriend of five years, that she did not know about. This situation must have been extraordinarily depressing for the wife. Learning that not only her husband was stuck underground, but had been cheating on her for five years, she must have been furious. It was clear that her husband was lying to her, but did this situation bring out such horrible news? Needless to say, the wife was nowhere to be found when her husband was rescued.

    Then again, there were heartwarming stories. One man's child was born while he was underground. Being unable to witness such an important part of his life, the man did make some remarkable decisions. He decided to name his daughter Esparonza, meaning hope. The only thing he wanted, was to be able to eventually meet his daughter one day, that day eventually came.

    The miners were told they would not be rescued until at least Christmas. The workers prevailed against the dangers of our earth and were able to rescue them much sooner. When deciding who was to go to the surface of the earth first, numbers were drawn. A member of the rescue team was descended into the ground to help with the rescue efforts below. What if he was to be stuck under there forever? What if the machine broke and multiple more months passed before seeing daylight again? Good thing these things didn't happen, but they had to be crossing the worker's mind. And as each individual person was rescued, one at a time, an hour for each, the men resumed their lives.

    The events that occurred with the miners is a milestone for our world and the people involved. The rescue process shows the technological advances of today's society. Even closer, the rescue proves to the world that anything is possible. The miners proved to the world so much more. They proved that hope truly can make a difference. They showed us the result of never giving up this quality. The miners are all heroes. Enduring the impossible, at the time, to live. I really hope to confront one of the miners one day. So that maybe someday I will meet every person, especially the ones who have showed so much to the world.

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/bestoftv/2010/10/13/ps.miner.33rd.final.rescued.cnn

More Than Winning a Sporting Event: Part I

They said it was like winning a sporting event. But it wasn't. The event in history was more – so much more. As you may be aware, as it is all over the news, the Chilean miners who had been trapped underground for 69 days were just rescued this last week. Let me reiterate that concept. MINERS WERE UNDERGROUND FOR 69 AND SURVIVED! Crazy, right? The stories they told were even crazier.

The miners adventure began on August 5, 2010. Although the details or reasoning of the trap has not been investigated fully, they miners were trapped 2,300 feet underground with no way of escaping. This is half of a mile. As a cross country runner I'm thinking, "Oh, that is not too far," but as soon as I remind myself that this is depth and not width or laps around the track the distance seems so much longer. There were 33 men below the surface of the earth. These men were not found for 17 days. They had no idea if they would ever be rescued or escape. Let's just imagine this for a second. You are underground with your colleagues. Many of them you may not particularly care for or get along with. And you are stuck. There isn't another room you can escape to or someone to tell all of your feelings to about how much you don't like this fellow colleague. There is NO escape. To me this sounds like a nightmare, and for many of the men, it was.

After 17 days, they were found, though. Although the hole through the surface of the earth they drilled to get to the men was small, it provided the men with food and nourishment. I was told by one of my teachers that the men were only allowed to have liquid nourishments as they had to A, lose weight in order to fit in the canister that would come to rescue them and B, they were not allowed to bend over while in the canister and if they had solids and got sick, they would bend over to vomit and break the canister.

http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/americas/09/22/chile.miners.day/index.html

Leadership: Step Up

As a cross country runner, leadership is hard to come by on our team. Runners usually are a certain caliber. We all tend to do quite well in school and most of us are the top of our class. Many of us are also quiet, though. And those of us who are not quiet, are not very fast. So the top runners tend to lead by example. This is fair enough, but when it comes to meets, a runner who is vocal is needed.

    Our coach takes the initiative to appoint a leader. And leadership is not a position that can be appointed. A person either has good leadership skills or does not. It is as simple as that. The girl he appoints is a horrible leader. She is a senior and thinks she is all that. She treats us as if our opinions don't matter, and whatever she says our coach agrees with, which only encourages her to make us even more mad. Let me give you an example. Before one of our races, when getting off the bus a bunch of us had to use the restroom. She told us all to hold it and we would go after we warmed up, and of course our coach agreed. Well about a fourth of the way through the warm up, a bunch of us ditched to go use the restroom. Within five minutes she came to the restroom too. This got us all really mad because she was the one who said to wait until we were finished to use the restroom. Even worse, when she was in the bathroom she told us to wait for her, but once she was done she wouldn't wait for some of the girls who weren't finished. All of us being mad at her during the race didn't help, as we were so frustrated we couldn't concentrate. I'm not putting a blame of our performance on anyone, but it just seems that one of the girls who is a leader, should step up and not let the situation continue. It's that easy.

I will…make it.

In the end, I will work my butt off. I will try to find scholarships that I can apply for. I will study for tests that seem worthless. I will be involved in everything. I will not get any sleep. And with all this, I will make it into college. One that I want to be at and will one day help me to meet more people that encourage and change my life.

This Leads Me To…College

All of this leads me to the stress over college right now. College is not cheap. Especially when you plan on going to an out of state school. And although scholarships out there are plentiful, there are not as many as they make it seem. And even with those scholarships they have all these strange requirements and you have to be a certain ethnicity or you have to play a certain instrument, none of which usually apply to me. In all this categorizing, I feel though as if segregation is as strong as ever. By telling someone they can't apply for something just because they aren't a certain skin color… doesn't that seem a bit racist?

All of the financial need stuff is also driving me crazy. My mom works hard and has worked hard her whole life. Growing up in a poorer family and being the first to graduate from college was a big deal. She makes a fair amount of money and I will most likely not qualify for financial aid. For some reason they schools think that if a child's parent has enough money to live, than the child will have plenty of money to pay for school. This is WRONG. Just because my mom could pay for my school doesn't mean she is going to. So the children who get a bunch of financial aid won't have loans to pay off once they graduate but those who have more money to begin with still have to get loans that will need to be paid off after graduation. This situation could be detrimental to their future. Is this really right? Like I realize that people need help in paying for college and I think it's good that the government will help, but there comes a point where discrimination is all throughout the process. And the process seems altogether corrupt.

Choosing a college is hard. There are so many colleges out there that I could go to and would probably work for me. When trying to decide what college will be the right fit, I have no clue. Everyone says when I see it, I will know. But to be completely honest, I don't think that will happen. I've spent way too many hours of my life on my computer doing research. I do realize college is four years of my life I will never get back, but I can adjust. I think I know exactly what I want to do with my life. And I'm a flexible person. I make friends easily and am capable of fitting into most situations. So why is this so hard? Is it because my mother had heard way too many "my daughter hated where she was at so much she had to come home" stories? I don't know. But whatever it is, life should not be this complicated.

Everything I do in high school seems like it's necessary for college, but once I get into college none of it matters. I can be the most involved person, but when I get to college people look at me with new eyes. No one will know me and my reputation I have worked so hard to build. Yet, I wouldn't trade everything I'm involved in now for anything (well maybe some more sleep would be nice, but still). Everything I do and accomplish makes me a stronger and better person. Yet, I just don't understand why so much hard work is required to get into college. Is studying for the ACT and SAT really worth my time? When in the future will what I study for those tests be used. I mean come on. The least they could do is give us a test over how to drive or something that you actually need to know in order to survive in today's society.

Insight for My Future

    So my journey of meeting new people continued throughout the summer. Through different learning opportunities I experience, there are, of course, mentors. The mentors in the programs have this burning passion for the program and have this unconditional love for what they teach that typically isn't found in the classroom. (This is the case, usually, because these teachers are teaching kids who want to learn and be there.) One mentor I had this past summer was not the typical teacher type (I will refer to him as C).

    First off, let me describe to you his appearance. He was extremely tall and extremely skinny. Like so skinny that it was most likely dangerous to his health. He was also a vegetarian, which might have something to do with how skinny he was. C had longer hair, as for a guy. The hair was long enough to pull back into a pony tail, enough said. His clothing was the hiker type. Like the lets throw on a t-shirt and cargo shorts with hike boots in the morning before I go to work. This style is also known as the "I like to wake up five minutes before walking out the door." And when first meeting him, I seriously thought I was talking to this really laid back guy, almost hippie. Like someone who loved nature to the extreme and couldn't have a care of anything else in the world except for nature.

    When working in the classroom with C, he liked to ask questions. His questions were not to make us repeat memorized information, rather to make us think. This kind of thinking would further be used to solve problems later in life. Finding C as an admirable person for his teaching strategy, among other things, I decided to ask C about his career path; I would like a profession such as the one he holds someday. Before I knew it, we were talking about college.

    C told me how during his senior year of high school he didn't really know what to do with his life. He had always been interested in nature, but beyond that had no idea. One thing he did know was where he wanted to go to school. Not remembering the name, we will call it School A. School A, C had visited multiple times and fell in love with its location and the activities around it. When C finally sent in his application to School A, he was put on a waiting list for acceptance. Devastated, C ended up going to School B. A smaller school and not in the location he had wanted to go. Turned out, though, C fell in love with School B. The people who went to the school were right for him. C fit in well and having a lower teacher to student ratio, C thrived. Needless to say, C loved his college experience and realized it was a blessing in disguise that he did not get into School A. This, in turn, led him to tell me that when looking at schools, look into all the aspects of the school, because the least likely one may be the one you fit in best at.

Mr. Smiles

I currently hold a job at a local grocery store. A main goal at the store, as in almost every store, is to pay attention to the customers and to greet each one with a smile. Working is not always fun, and I find it hard to smile at every customer, especially the ones who have a particular way they want their groceries packed, and complain about the smallest things. Somehow I force a smile on my face for everyone.

    There's one guy, though, that whenever I'm working goes through and yells out to all the employees, "Put your smile on!" Of course all of us immediately smile, not at the sense of this old guy telling us to, but at this funny situation that an old guy seems the need to tell us all to do this simple task. We all kind of laugh at him too. We imply in our laughter, "What is this crazy guy doing."

    One time while walking through the store, the same man made a comment to me like, "How are you doing today beautiful?" I was kind of shocked at this as not many people go through stores calling each other beautiful. I didn't really know how to feel. Was this guy just clearly a creep or was he actually trying to be nice. Looking for the best in everyone I came to the conclusion that this elderly man was just being nice and trying to brighten my day. But further on, I realized that smiles and a happy attitude are contagious. For instance, I try not to surround myself with any people who have negative outlooks on life. Why be upset when you are capable of being happy.

    Doing further research into the subject, I found this NPR posting:

http://www.npr.org/player/v2/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=97848789&m=97848772

So as it turns out, smiles really do spread to others. The more you smile the more the person next to you will smile and the happier the world will be. Smile – it takes less muscles and energy.

Let’s Be Different: Part II

As I rode the bus with T daily, we grew closer in our friendship. I learned that she was a vegetarian. When explaining how she made that decision, I was encouraged to do the same. Being the meat lover that I am, I'm not sure I will ever be able to make that choice, but I will continue to limit my meat consumption. T was the first to introduce me to thai food and the culture of the city. For instance, one weekend she decided to take me to a street fair and get henna tattoos. Although I never anticipate on getting a real tattoo, it was a fun and new experience for me. Another evening we went to this Moonlight Fire Jam, where people within the city congregated at the beaches and watched as professionals twirled fire.

    I think the most influential thing T did for me was introduce me to her friends. Of course she explained her friends as different and of a wide range of backgrounds, but coming into contact with them was a whole new scenario. One girl I met was from a big Mexican family. Being of this decent, everyone was hugged and smiled at. No judgments were made and everything I said was important. Another girl I met was a shy and quiet individual. She didn't really talk in big groups but really opened up when we sat next to each other on the bus. And another girl I met was rambunctious. She didn't care what people thought of her and felt the need to share how she felt about the actions of other people with me, with no mind filter at all.

    After meeting all of T's friends and their different personalities, I came to realize that the differences in each one of us is what makes the world go around. Who cares if everyone is different? It is my choice of who I want to be and everyone else's choice of who they want to be. So let's be different, and cherish each other's true identities.

Let’s Be Different: Part I

M was one incredible person I came into contact with, but so was another girl who made a lasting impact on me. My first day of this camp, I was late. Being a perfectionist and always being early, walking into a room full of unknown companions late is not the way I like to start out my day, I feel it immediately gives me a bad reputation. Of course this situation was not what I had planned as the Taste of Chicago was going on and the buses had been rerouted and I ended up seven miles past my destination. After arriving 30 minutes late, I was embarrassed to walk into the classroom. Of course no one said anything to me about my late arrival, but judgments were already being formed. There was one girl in the class that seemed extremely nice. Throughout the morning I didn't have an opportunity to talk with her. She gave off this positive vibe. As if she was a comforting person and accepting of everyone.

Let me step back a second and explain to you this weird characteristic I have. This characteristic is strange, maybe it is hindsight bias, but when walking into a room, I can pick out people I will get along with and others I will not. I often can walk up to a person and within a minute know if I will get along or become friends with that person. This is the feeling I received about this girl (we will call her T for the purpose of this blog).

Anyways, as the day wore on I finally was able to talk to T. We were doing some sort of experiment and we were matched up as partners. As we began talking, she mentioned how she had seen me this morning and thought I looked lost but she had no idea I was going to this program too. We later figured out that we had the same direction of travel and she got off the train system one stop before me so it would work great to travel back together. This made my day, being I was extremely frightened of getting lost once again in the crazy rerouting of the buses.

Traveling back with T I learned quite a bit about her. She had grown up in Chicago and went to probably the biggest high school in the city. Her parents had divorced when she was younger and her father was not the most positive influence in her life. Her mother had recently had a hip replacement surgery that failed and was forever scared with a limp. The limp required her mother to carry a cane at all times. The high school T attended had a diverse range of people in different economic levels. T told me all about her friends and how different each one of them was. As we passed by the graffiti in the city, T explained to me about how beautiful it was, and how it made the city of Chicago, Chicago. Being a constant rule follower and always abiding by the law, I guess I had never really noticed the graffiti that way. Looking at the city through the eyes of someone who has had different experiences than myself gives me new thoughts to keep in mind.

Be Who You Want: Conclusion

I think I was finally understanding. I need to live life to its fullest. I have so many opportunities in front of me that are unexpected. Although I do need to succeed in school, I need to enjoy the journey while getting to the destination brightly shining in my horizon.

Be Who You Want: Part II

One day during lunch as I was talking to M I learned that his family situation was not ideal. Being from the inner Chicago area, his mother struggled to put food on the table. His younger brother consistently failed school. He was now three years behind projected. This was all because of children making fun of him for his weight. Another day while riding the bus with M, he randomly told me that whatever I do and if I ever become poor, never move my family into the ghetto. Shocked by this remark, I asked him why? He simply said, "I learn from my experiences," implying that his mother currently moved their family into the ghetto. My heart melts and feels for people who are in these circumstances, but are capable of making so much of themselves. As I may have mentioned before we were in a select academic program. By overcoming such adversity in his life, M showed me that you are always capable of working harder than before.

 

M is a ballerina. He is not afraid that people will make fun of him for this hobby of his, because they already do. M told me how a lot of people at his school think his weird and almost inhuman. They treat him like an alien and he usually isn't invited to the local high school parties. He seldom has a group of people to sit with at lunch. M is accepting of this. He told me he doesn't want to hang out with people that don't want him there or don't treat him right. How hard could this be? This is like a high schoolers greatest nightmare. I mean, I get upset when I'm not invited to parties I wish I was invited to, and M doesn't have a care in the world. M exemplifies this unique characteristic, I truly wish I had. I feel that sometimes I'm scared to be myself. That I almost need to change to fit in with the lunch table. This does not need to be the case. I should be able to chose the person I am and stand up for what I believe in.

 

After our camp one day, M invited a bunch of us to go out for a quick snack and meet some of his friends. Knowing that I had 1.5 hours to get home and my time was already down to 2.5 hours I was kind of in a rush. When we got to the restaurant they weren't even open yet. By this point I was starting to get a bit upset. Then when we finally got in, the waitress took forever to get to us. I decided not to order anything and just meet M's friends. That's when M received a text that his friends were running late and wouldn't be there for a while. I needed to catch a bus and was getting really frustrated by M and this situation, that's when I realized who I was with. What I needed to do was take a deep breath and not get upset because things happen. I did just this and left to catch my bus without having met his friends. The situation disappointed me, but there was something about the presence of M that made my inner good side come out in the circumstances that unraveled.

 

M and I shared multiple lunches together during the breaks of our camp. When coming back from lunch one day we were terribly late. Being the on time freak that I am, I told him to hurry up and run. M, casually told me that there was no reason to rush. We were 5 minutes late and by rushing we would only get there a minute faster. I asked him why he didn't care. M explained to me, "It's not that I do not care. It is just that there are some things in life that you cannot control. By being a control freak you are missing out on fun spontaneous and crazy adventures." I then began to walk.

 

On another day after class, M and I along with some fellow classmates chose to go to the beach. Being in the magnificent city of Chicago, at the Lake Michigan beach was a perfect way to end the day. None of us having brought our swim suits, M came up with an idea of going swimming in our clothes. Not really sure about this idea, knowing that I had a 1.5 hour ride home, I was a bit leery. I decided to let go though, and enjoy myself. I did something spontaneous and not planned out. With the group of us holding hands we ran into the freezing cold water. When I say freezing, I mean freezing, as it was close to the coldest water I had been into in a while. But this was so fun! Being able to splash around and let loose and not really care what others thought was a great feeling. I was allowed to be myself.

Be Who You Want: Part I

People are constantly telling one another, do not judge a book by its cover. Of course we all fall into the mistake. Constantly we judge one another based on appearance, ideas, and values. We find others to make fun of to help overcome our own imperfections and differences, just to make us feel better. This last summer, though, I came across someone who inspired me even more so than usual to not judge others.

 

During the time between the school sessions, I find myself constantly learning. I participate in programs where I meet people from various backgrounds and situations. When walking into the room the first day of these programs, I am clueless and lost. I know absolutely no one in the room and to be honest I am extremely scared. I overcome fear by opening up my mind and talking to everyone. This is when I tend to meet the people who change my life.

 

For this particular program last summer I met a guy who seemed incredibly nice. The first thing I noticed about him was an amazing smile. His smile seriously lit up the room. As I began to learn more about this guy (for purposes of this blog I will call him M) it became blatantly obvious that he was gay. Never really having a close interaction with gay people I didn't know what to think. The topic of homosexuality never came up at family dinners. I never spent time talking to my friends about if it was okay for people to make this choice. I really don't know how my church feels about this issue. I guess it was just something I never came across. So after meeting M I was forced to think about how I felt about homosexuality and my opinions on the issue.

 

Within the days I spent with M I decided homosexuality is a fine choice for a person to make. Although others may not agree with my opinion, which is probably the case in most circumstances, I have decided people can make this choice as long as no one is hurt physically. I don't want to observe homosexuals making out in parks, but the same goes for straight people. These actions of public affection do not need to be witnessed by the world. Either way, every person has choices to make in their life, and if someone is more "in love" with their same sex than the opposite, then let them be. Their happiness is not affecting anyone in the process.

Where My Heart Rests

    I grew up in the city. I moved at age 8. After that I didn't quite remember what it was like. That was, until this last summer when I found where my heart had been resting the whole time - Chicago. As a young child, many of us do not remember the detail of different experiences. For instance, you probably could not tell me what you received for your 2^nd birthday. This was the same for living in the city. I could recount certain events, the life altering (at the time) ones, but could not tell you the layout of my bathroom in which I used every day. So this last summer, time was spent recreating memories.

Walking through the city streets gave me a feeling of comfort. The sky scrapers that graced there air, became a blanket while walking. I felt as if I was protected by this city feel; as if nothing at all could really harm me. Lake Michigan provided me with the refreshing water-smelling air. It's beauty was deceiving, though, because the residents of the city did not keep the waters clear. Trash littered some beaches, and going into the water was a mystery for when coming out. The water was freezing, and the windy city nickname was prevalent for those who emerged soaking wet and shivering. None the less, the city had everything I love, helping me to once again find where my heart was resting.

Seattle: Locational Identity

    Throughout my travels to various cities, both big and small, I have noticed that each individual city carries its own identity. Smaller cities tend to have a very strong community feel, holding every person together. Big cities tend to have this fast paced feel, as if everyone who enters them is immediately immersed into this big movie with the fast forward button being held down.

    I recently visited the city of Seattle. Although Seattle is a fast paced city, it also carries another identity. When walking through the streets of the city, I felt that the identity that fit Seattle best was one of the "hippie" type of style. Most people residing in the city were very eco-conscious. Location may be one factor to the cities unique identity. Being so close to the ocean and the surrounding mountains, residents of Seattle can see firsthand the effects of not taking care of the environment. The city streets were crowded with bustling people. These people constantly walked from their homes to work daily. Public transportation within certain city limits was free. This persuaded people to use the bus system instead of driving everywhere.

    Downtown there was Pike's Place Market. Here fresh vegetables, fruits, fish, and homemade crafts were sold. Walking around in this area, an aroma of the ocean was prevalent. These local venders relied on the constant stream of customers to keep their home derived specialties in progress. That being said, the people that called the market their job were talented at what they did. The best nectarine I have ever had was from the market. Upon returning home, nectarines that I would usually consider good, just didn't taste quite right.

    Seattle is known for rain. Not what I would consider as rain in the Midwest, because in Seattle the sky only mists; as in walking around in the "rain" is a fairly dry activity. Mysteriously enough, the days I spent in Seattle were sunny. This perfect sky situation, allowed me to try out some of Seattle's outdoor activities, which help to further the eco-conscious vibe within the city. One such activity included paddle boarding. Being so far north, Seattle's viciously cold water is far from fun to fall into after slipping off of a paddle board. Multiple times when trying to stand up, I found myself landing in the water and frantically scrambling to resume a dry and warmer position on my board. As an aspiring marine biologist myself, I was able to quickly cross off working without a wet suit in Seattle, if that is where I decide to work.

    Visiting Seattle exposed me to a city identity, focused on furthering their positive environmental impact. From this I believe everyone can learn that although one person can take a stand and be a role model, sometimes it takes a community to help others grow in awareness.

City Vibe

This past summer I spent quite a bit of time in major cities in the United States. Having been born in a major city, but now living in a city that is not as big, I know the city vibe. People are constantly moving, and couldn't have a care in the world about what others are doing as long as the motives of others do not hurt them. This summer, though, I was reminded of a city aspect I tend to forget about – the homeless.

Multiple times I found myself walking down streets and noticing how many homeless there were. Many held signs asking for food and thanking the Lord for the donations people gave. Others shared their creative acts with the walking audiences and hoped that their performance was more deserving of money than the person on the street I just walked past. Then there were those that were disabled, the ones that most felt sorry for because they spent their life in a wheelchair roaming the streets.

As I walked down the streets, I also observed different individuals' reaction to the homeless. Numerous children would gawk and stare. Adults would grab their children's hands when walking by, as if a simple grip on a hand could protect their children from the reality stricken cities. Either way, I noticed that no one stopped to ask the homeless their story. Most believe that those people are homeless because on an addiction, whether drinking, drugs, or any other type of abuse that left them on the street. Although this is most likely true with a fair amount of the homeless I passed, I knew there were some who had been laid off or had a family situation that they could no longer deal with. Their stories and situations remain hidden within each homeless person, but as human beings it is our job to help.

Even if the homeless were not good for the city, causing inflation in crime rates and other negative effects, the homeless add something to cities that we should be thankful for. While I wait for different trains to arrive, the homeless illuminate the platforms with music, good and bad. This music becomes the rhythm of the city. When I came to stations where the homeless were not present, I realized how much the homeless added to the city vibe. Without the music, an eerie, awkward silence would float through the air. The homeless make waiting for public transportation bearable.

Although homeless help a city contain its identity, the homeless themselves are hurting. Nightly sleeping outside and constantly being starved of hunger is not a positive experience. I'd be lying if I told you that the homeless have changed my life, but the truth is, the homeless just make all of my problems seem incredibly miniscule. This past summer I was never able to connect with one of the homeless to hear their story, as I wish I had, but I did learn that homeless people do not need to be gawked at, they need to be helped.

Introduction

Throughout my life I have been very fortunate and had many opportunities to travel and meet various individuals with incredible stories. Each individual I have come into contact with has, in some way, had an impact on me as a person. Whether small or big, the many people I have interacted with transform my mindset. I believe that every person has a story to share to help the world grow. This blog will be dedicated to these people that have morphed me and continue to impact me into the person I am today. An emphasis will be made on this blog to highlight the people I have met in my travels. Hopefully, readers will be able to see the need for diversity in the world. After recounting the people I have and continue to meet, I will go on to evaluate places for further travel and the people and cultures I hope to interact with in those countries. The world is a big place with many people to learn from, and maybe, just maybe, someday I'll meet every person...