Molly’s Weblog

12 Months

            Today is May 17^th, 2009. Almost exactly a year ago, I made a decision that has been affecting my life every day: I became vegan. Although I know I’ve written other ILEARN entries about veganism before this, I felt that I should commemorate the fact that I have now officially been vegan for 365 days. The last time I ate even a bite of meat was more than a year and a half ago, and though I can’t say I have been perfect about my veganism, I believe I have done well. It has gotten easier with time to resist such temptations as baked goods and chocolate, where the non-vegan items aren’t visible. Additionally, I rarely forget now to mention to wait-staff at restaurants that I can’t have cheese; when I first went vegan, my most common mistake at restaurants was to forget to mention this and then find myself with a perfectly vegan meal with cheese sprinkled on top.

            In the last year, I feel that I have learned a lot, and I have grown as a person—though of course, not just because of my veganism. There are, however, things I may never have learned if I hadn’t become vegan. I would probably never have learned how to bake gluten free bread, sourdough bread, fat-free brownies; I may never have bothered learning how to make my own hummus, baba ganoush, or bagels; I would never have bothered making vegan cream cheese two different ways, vegan chocolate-chip cookies, tofu scrambles, vegan pancakes, egg-free date-pinwheels, or raw-vegan all-natural sugar-free chocolate pudding. There are things I never would have bought also; almond butter, cashew butter, tempeh, Puffins cereal, soymilk, rice milk, almond milk, oat milk, hemp milk, ice cream made of coconut milk, all-natural fig Newton knock-offs, and an assortment of energy bars. Being vegan has forced me to read food labels and be constantly conscious of what I’m putting in my body. I’ve learned to understand what different vitamins do, why high-fructose corn syrup, sugar, and hydrogenated oils are bad, what saturated, trans, and poly-unsaturated fats are, as well as how much protein is a lot of protein and what sugars are okay and what sugars are not so great.

            I’ve learned in other areas as well, and since I am looking over the last twelve months, I might as well discuss my other changes as well. I’ve come a long ways towards accepting myself as I am. I’ve learned that saying you are best friends with someone means nothing, but doing something as small as sending a text when someone’s having a bad day can make a world of difference. I’ve learned that I have some true friends who can put up with me on my worst days, but I’ve also learned that just because someone is fun, that doesn’t mean they will be a good friend to you. I’ve learned to forgive someone after they repeatedly were unkind, though I’ve found this is far, far, far from easy. I’ve learned that text-messaging is a absurd form of communication, but it is convenient. I’ve learned that not all Freshman are as ridiculous as I probably was, but some are certainly even more ridiculous. I learned that I love helping someone to understand something, and that if teaching is my future I will not complain. I have come to realize that drama kids love drama no matter how much they say they hate it, and that it is simply a part of life when involved in theatre. I have learned that there are a few exceptions to this rule, and that those people are worth sticking with. I have learned how to play in thumb-position on the cello, though I am far from mastering it. I have learned various topics in Calculus, how to calculate momentum in physics, and rhetorical terms. Apparently, I have not learned how to shut up when I need to, however, and so I will end my list here. 

Hospital Rooms, among other things

May 3rd, 2009

Love, or something

April 26, 2009

What is it about someone that draws you to them? I’ve been wondering about this since my Freshman year, which was the first time I ever liked someone enough to feel truly hurt when he didn’t feel the same way about me. I’m hesitant to post this blog online; however, I highly doubt that any of my classmates will be reading it.

I’ve never been in a relationship, so I can’t exactly say I’ve been in love, but I have liked someone enough to understand a taste of what it might be like. It seems fairly inexplicable to me; none of the boys I’ve ever liked have been boys who are necessarily the exact boy I’m looking for and would like to one day be with; none have been perfect. What I’m wondering is, why, if these boys aren’t actually what I’m looking for, do I like them? My parents are surely two of the worst matched people that could have been put together—yet they fell in love, started a business, and had three children. Granted, their marriage didn’t last. But that didn’t stop them from loving each other initially. How does this happen?

I actually wrote a log (Legacy 2000 paper) my Sophomore year about love and how it worked. The answer was scientific and unsatisfying, especially because at the time I was trying with all my might to stop thinking about a boy who I had liked since that time the year before. Understanding that it was a chemical release in the brain did not explain why he wouldn’t stop appearing in my dreams; learning about hormones and human evolution couldn’t explain what it was about him that made me yearn for him when I had never so much as held his hand. I won’t post his name, but it is enough to say that, though I am over him, he still appears in my dreams sometimes. Even just hearing his name still makes me glance over at whoever is speaking. How can someone that I barely know make so much of an impact upon me? I know I am surely not the only person who has ever felt this. I am no emotional anomaly; I like to think I am above average in most areas, but when it comes to this, I am no closer to understanding than any girl my age.

Perhaps one day I will be able to understand the effect that this boy had over me, and why I, for so long, was unable to get him out of my head. He was the inspiration for a great number of poems and the best portrait I’ve ever drawn. I sometimes wished I could show him, but I now hope that he never knows just how deeply I felt about him. He will be graduating in less than a month, and I know I probably will never see him again. This doesn’t actually bother me; I’ve moved on as much as I think I am ever going to.

Yoga

April 19, 2009

Recently, my mother and I started going to a yoga studio not far from Legacy. My mom did yoga when she was younger, so she already is familiar with many of the poses, but I’ve never done it before. But after two weeks of going, I’m becoming more comfortable with the structure of the class and holding the different stances. I didn’t expect it to be a workout; my mother suggested it because it’s stress-relieving—but it definitely is exercise. The studio we’ve been going to, Corepower, holds the classes in warm—not too hot, but definitely warm—rooms, which helps with flexibility, but also helps get your heart-rate up quickly. The classes range between about ten to twenty people, most of them women, and so far I am definitely the youngest participant. This hasn’t bothered me, and I’m not surprised, but I definitely think it’s very helpful. I would recommend at least trying yoga to a couple of my friends. The atmosphere is very calm and relaxed, and I can honestly say that after a class anything I was worrying about before seems a lot less stressful. This is not to say that I come home no longer caring about my homework or an upcoming performance; it simply puts it in perspective.

I have cancelled my membership at Lifetime Fitness, not because I don’t like it—because I do—but because during the summer I know I’m not going to use it, as I haven’t felt like going to the gym since it’s been warm enough to run outside. Additionally, the price of Corepower is comparable to that of Lifetime, at least for a student, and I feel that I can get more out of yoga than I can from a gym. I love to run, but that’s basically the only thing I do at the gym. I rarely use other machines or weight machines, although I do sometimes swim—but there is no point in paying that much money for a fancy gym when I could pay a much smaller amount to run on the treadmills at the rec-center when I can’t run outside. What I’m getting from yoga is not something I get from a gym: that is, something that’s not only new and different, but stress-relieving as well as muscle-building. I’ve already noticed a difference in my body, not in my appearance necessarily, but in how I feel. I can tell that I’ve built muscle—and feeling strong does wonders for my body-image. I think it has to do with feeling like I’m the one in control, not my body, and not my cravings, which is something that I—as well as many other girls, I’m sure—have struggled with in the past.

The Seniors’ Final Show is Now Over

April 12, 2009

I was fine one moment. Then next I was crying, my thick makeup smearing, my mascara turning to clumps on my lashes, my arms clutching you and trying to keep you here. You’re here, physically, for another four weeks—but mentally you are already far away. Already you’re a new person, one who cares not about the politics of high school or what the class of ’09 thinks of you. Already you’ve moved out, and you’re living somewhere far away, but certainly not at home. And I may be crying and clutching you and mourning the end of my time with you, but you are flying away. I would not hold you back from this, for even if I could I would not want to. You’re life awaits you—for outside of this auditorium is a much larger stage, one with different players and a script awaiting your pen. I fear that I may not be a part of that cast, and a large part of me wishes to weep at this knowledge. But I know that I will not forget you, and I will savor the fleeting days ahead, the few remaining weeks I have with you. One day I, too, will bid farewell to this dimly lit stage, this theater where my soul has dwelt now for three year years. For it won’t be long until it is my turn, and perhaps then I will more fully understand how it was that you felt tonight. I will miss you, and I hope you will miss me as well. But I too will leave, for life cannot be postponed. I wish you good luck, and I wish you courage, but most of all I wish that your wildest dreams will be fulfilled.

This is not a final goodbye, for nothing so dramatic as that will be occurring any time soon. But things cannot remain the same, not when you will be living in such a drastically different world. I’ll visit as often as I can manage, for Boulder is not surely too far to voyage, and I hope that you will visit me as well. But while I complete the last stretch of my journey here, you will be adventuring, and your mind will be occupied by better things. Perhaps I romanticize, and when you leave your experience will not be grand escapade I have imagined. But whatever it turns out to be, I only hope we may stay in contact; I hope we will stay friends; I’ll do all I can to have it be so.

Note: There were a few seniors I had particularly in mind while writing this, but it applies to most of the seniors in the drama department, though not all of them are going to CU. Last night, the 11^th, concluded my final show with them. There are three in particular that I’m very close with, and they are three of my very best friends. I know I may be making this more dramatic than it needs to be, as they haven’t graduated yet—but I rarely see them outside of productions, and drama is what we’ve lived for all through high school. I can’t even imagine doing a production without them. But at the same time, I’m excited for them, and I can only hope we stay in touch.

Something’s Gotta Give

April 5, 2009

This week is dress week for the production Love, Death, and the Prom, this year’s prom-themed one-acts. However, there are only three rehearsals this week instead of the regular four, and a major choir field trip falls on Tuesday, meaning I—and half the cast–will only be at two. This is anything but ideal, and I will admit I’m a little worried. But generally these things work out, so I’m trying not to stress too much. We perform Thursday and Saturday, and I’m hoping we can get a good crowd. The first show has a few serious scenes and a few ridiculous scenes, but the second act is pure hilarity. I’m part of the second act and I play a mother who shows up at the prom in a hideous dress, along with my sister and mother. Needless to say we embarrass my ‘daughter’ far more than any mother should ever be allowed to do, but it works out in the end. It’s going to be a good show, funny if not highly professional, and I’d like people to come see it.

I love doing the one-acts; they are fun without being too much of a commitment, overly serious, or stressful. Unlike the musical, rehearsals only last an average of four weeks, but it feels like two. It’s also a very nice change from our last actual play, The Crucible, which was highly exhausting. However, I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to do the one-acts next year. It depends on a few things.

I had a serious talk with my cello teacher, Courtney, about possibly pursuing music, if not as a playing career, then as a teaching career. She told me that if I intend to continue playing after high school, I need to be practicing far more than I am. I have been honest with her that I haven’t been practicing very much for the last few weeks; I’ve been very busy. Courtney told me what I’ve been needing to hear for a while: something’s gotta give. I cannot do everything next year: 3 AP classes, choir, Calc III at Front Range, all three plays and the musical, and expect to be able to practice for 45 minutes to an hour everyday, like I should be doing—at least, I cannot do all these things well and stay healthy. I’m considering dropping choir, which honestly doesn’t lighten my load very much, but it will give me an off-hour in which I could practice at school, if I wanted to. The thing is, I don’t want to drop choir. I like to sing. My friends are in choir. If I had to make the choice between cello and any one of the things I listed above, I would choose cello. But this doesn’t mean I’m going to be overjoyed about doing it.

Snow

March 28, 2009

 

As I’m writing this, it is cold in my house, and there is snow piled outside of my door and on my lawn. By the calendar, it is springtime—indeed, it’s Spring Break currently, but we’ve received enough snow that we probably wouldn’t have had school anyway. I’ve heard a decent number of my friends say that they hate snow, that they wish it would go away, and that if it was going to snow it should have waited til next week. A part of me is tempted to agree; the snow is somewhat annoying. But a larger part of me honestly doesn’t care. Hating the snow won’t make it go away, and being angry that you don’t get a snow day isn’t going to give you a snow day. There’s just no point in actively hating something that you have absolutely no control over, such as the weather. I’m a bit disappointed that it snowed so much this Thursday rather than next Thursday. But I’m not bitter. I had plans that day that were cancelled; instead I stayed inside most of the day and did some things I’ve really been wanting to do. I played cello; I baked pita bread and bagels; I got some homework done; I even got a chance to read a novel of my own choosing. It was a productive day and I’m glad that I had the chance to do it.

On the other hand, spring is my favorite season. I’m not one to hate winter—winter can be good. I love Christmas, and new years. I love sledding and snowboarding. I don’t even mind the cold. But there is something magical about spring; the birds begin singing and things start to grow. Even plants that are kept indoors suddenly know that it’s time to put forth new growth. My dad has some land, and in the spring one can often see rabbits dashing to and fro across the orchard. The fruit trees at my dad’s house are amazingly beautiful in the spring; green leaves hide behind the white or yellow buds that, hopefully, will turn into fruit. Spring is also perfect for running; when it’s cool, it’s not so cold that it hurts the lungs and throat, and when it’s warm, it’s not so hot that running is dangerous. For this reason, I understand the general dislike of winter and of the snow. But I figure that spring would never be truly wonderful if it didn’t follow winter; besides, winter is not so bad. Getting a little taste of winter right before spring really begins builds appreciation. So when the snow melts, I’ll welcome spring. But until then, I can’t bring myself to hate it.

 

Changes

March 22, 2009

 

The coke machines were sneezing; it was hot in the office, and mommy was working, putting numbers in a calculator and writing things down, and daddy was roasting coffee beans in the coffee beans roasting machine, and the coke machines were sneezing. Are they cold? I wondered, staring at them. Are they sick? Mommy didn’t seem to be so worried that the coke machines were sneezing. They sneezed a lot. They always had. I wondered what would fix them, and why they were sneezing in the first place. I drew pictures, mostly of kitties, but also of flowers, trees, and clouds. And mommy kept working, and daddy kept roasting, and the smell filled the whole building and leaked outside, roasting coffee and smoke. And the coke machines sneezed.

 

The coke machines were sneezing. Momma was talking to a lady about wine, because things were different now and we sold wine, as well as coke and coffee. And now there was a computer in the office, and a better fan—but the office was still hot and the coke machines still sneezed. Dad was home, or somewhere else. I didn’t know who was roasting, but the smell was the same. I had brought Momma’s laptop, and in boredom I climbed atop the walk-in freezer and sat, writing for hours: it was a story about cat’s, or something like them. They were magical. I tuned out Momma and the lady and the talk of wine, but every once in a while, my thoughts were interrupted by the sneeze of the coke machines.

 

I sat at the counter, writing; no one was roasting, but Mom was somewhere, talking to someone, I was sure. Dad—well honestly, I didn’t know, I wasn’t with him that week. The laws were changing, and people were outraged that they soon wouldn’t be allowed to smoke inside. No, no, I sometimes said. We’re special. You can still smoke here. I sat at the counter and talked to people and drank coke; but I couldn’t hear the coke machines sneezing.

 

It’s hot in the office; I just got off work. Mom’s at home, with her boyfriend; Dad’s at my childhood home, his home, where I live only during the summer months. I’m writing, but it’s homework. Maybe when I have thirty minutes to myself I will write for myself, a story of my own creation. But for now I’m working. And the coke machines are sneezing.

 

A note about this independent writing: It’s an experiment, and it’s about Paris. The coke machines are kept in the office, and they occasionally release carbon dioxide; the sound is quite similar to a human sneeze.

 

Gluten Free Baking

March 8th, 2009

As most of my friends are aware, I’m vegan, and I love to bake. One thing that I’ve been exploring lately is gluten-free baking; that is, baking without the use of wheat flour. I’m interested not because I’m allergic to wheat—I’m not—but simply because I know of people who are and am interested in seeing if it’s possible to be gluten-free and vegan. So far I’ve made gluten-free bread and gluten-free bagels, although I haven’t tried baking any sweets yet. The problem with gluten-free baking is that even if it tastes good, it’s nearly impossible to reproduce the texture exactly. Texture is the largest complaint with vegan baking as well, so I am definitely fighting an uphill battle. Everyone who tried my gluten-free bread agreed that it was good—but the bagels were a flop. They were good when they were fresh out of the oven, but even the next morning they became tough and chewy, not like bagels at all.

Another problem that I have is that gluten helps dough stick together—anyone who has ever made bread at home will understand what I’m saying. When regular bread dough is kneaded, it forms a ball that holds together very well. Not so with other flours (brown rice flour, oat, millet, soy, corn, flaxseed, etc). To help with this, something sticky must usually be used—specifically, cornstarch and tapioca starch are often used. Unfortunately, I can’t stand the taste of tapioca, but it seems to be more effective than cornstarch, and is so used in more recipes. I’m going to have to find something else to use, because tapioca gives my baking a funny aftertaste. Some may not mind the taste, but I hate it. I’ve had tapioca pudding before, and I don’t remember disliking it, but tapioca starch is a different story. I’m considering trying arrowroot starch, or something called xanthan gum, but I’m not sure if they can simply be used interchangeably with tapioca. And since I have to alter recipes to make them vegan anyway, I’m not sure how much I can change a recipe without changing the outcome.

But I like experimenting. It’ll be an adventure.

 

 

 

Working at Paris

March 1st, 2009

 

Over the summer, I waited tables at my parent’s café, Paris on the Platte. It’s located on 15^th and Platte in Denver, and we attract a different crowd than most restaurants. Additionally, we have a number of devoted regulars that come in if not every day then at least once or twice a week. Since I worked regularly during the summer, I began to recognize a fair number of them. Since then I’ve only worked a couple of times, although I will now be working every Sunday, starting today. I found it interesting how many of them recognized me today and remarked about how I was never around. One said something along the lines of, “What happened? We were best friends and then you disappeared!” Since most of our waitstaff is either is college or working on other degrees, I generally have to explain that I’m still in high school and very busy. The other factor is that I live a good thirty minutes away and that my mom doesn’t want me driving on I-25 after dark in the winter, but I often leave that out.

I’m very glad to be waiting tables again. It’s something that I actually really enjoy, and not just because I’m getting paid. Obviously I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t making money, but I would much rather be waiting tables than working at a clothing store or movie theater. I enjoy interacting with people. Because a large portion of our clientele are still in high school, it’s often very easy to joke around without being rude or obnoxious, and I generally have a good time talking with people. When it’s slow I can learn a customer’s name and have an actual conversation, or catch up if he or she is a regular. It’s always nice to see someone familiar, someone who will understand if the food is taking a while or of it’s so busy that service is slow. Paris is not an expensive or fancy restaurant; it’s very casual, and I’m sorry to say that some of our waiters and waitresses are not the best around. For this reason, some of our regulars have come to expect slow service. On the one hand, this means that most of them are still friendly and nice if their food takes a while; on the other, it means that we need to change our system.

As I am my parent’s daughter, I have the perfect opportunity to make suggestions. The woman I worked with today, for example, should probably not be a waitress. While I do not like gossip and don’t want to talk bad about her, I feel that it is not the same thing if I inform my parents that one of their employees is not doing a good job. I have a greater interest in the overall success of this company than most of the people who work here; it is not just my paycheck that suffers if we’re not doing well—it’s my parent’s. So even though I like most of my fellow workers, I won’t hesitate to tell my mom what happened while I worked.

 

 

Fate

2/25/09

Do humans control their own fates? This is a question that people have asked for ages, and naturally the answer can never be known. Personally, I have always had the impression that you are in control of your future, to a degree; that is, in regards to the factors that you can control, the choices you make, you have free will. Your choices are not predetermined. But does this mean you control your fate? Not necessarily. It may be that although you have the ability to make your own choices, factors outside of your control will lead you down a certain path no matter what you do to try and change them. My brother has a theory that I find interesting: there is no fate and no god, but despite this our choices are predetermined. That is, although you have the choice to murder someone tonight, unless you are a psychopath, you won’t, and you never will and never would. And when you are angry about something, you have the choice to act to change something, if you can, and you have the option not to. But being the person you are, your choice is probably already made, you just don’t know it yet.

Although this makes sense to me, I do not subscribe to this belief. Small things may affect your life in ways you are not aware of. For example, my mother met my father while waitressing in a bar called My Brother’s Bar, which my father frequented at the time. But what if my mother hadn’t been hired at Brother’s? What if she had done what she had planned on doing all along, and gone to California after saving some money? She stayed in Colorado because she had no money, not because she had made the choice to. But I don’t think it was somehow fated for her to meet and marry my father; they never really got along, and I’m honestly not sure why they ever married. Had she continued to Cali, had she worked somewhere else, I wouldn’t be here—and I consider myself lucky, because either possibility could easily have occurred.

 

Computer Literacy and Verbal Literacy

2/22/09

While computer literacy may be becoming more and more important, I do not think that it has surpassed the importance of verbal literacy. Reading books and literature is not just a leisure activity. Think of Shakespeare and the Bible; reading these gives a person a greater understanding of humanity that cannot be gained without reading the texts themselves. There may be a vast number of summaries on the internet, along with debates and discussions and watered-down versions of the originals, but to fully understand Christianity or Romeo and Juliet one must read the Bible or the play itself.

Being able to use the internet well is an important skill in today’s world. Newspapers and magazines often publish their articles online as well as in print; countless blogs hold countless opinions, from ideas about current politics to diary entries. Being able to discern between the relevant and the irrelevant is a necessary skill; knowing how to find what you are looking for on the internet is important; discerning what sources are reliable and which are not has proven to be a very useful ability.

But more important than the ability to use the internet is the ability to understand technology in general. I can clearly remember teaching my mom how to program contacts into her phone, forward an email, rip a CD, update her iPod, and change her ringtone. My mom is not a stupid woman, which I am sure is why technology can be so very frustrating. To her credit, in recent years she has not needed my help with technology nearly as often as she used to. But the fact still stands that technology is not her strongpoint. She is often appalled at the things my peers will post on their facebook and myspace pages, things which I am used to.

So is it more important to be computer-literate than verbal-literate? I still don’t think so. I think it certainly gives someone power—my mother, for example, had to rely on me, but once she understood something she had the power to do it herself. However I still think that the most important type of knowledge has to do with understanding people, not things—and that means reading books.

 

2/15/09

 

 

The musical performance is in two weeks. It’s Back To the ’80s, and all of the music is from the ’80s—Material Girl, Footloose, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, Love Shack, and more. It’s a very fun, upbeat musical; but I’m not really in it. I’m doing tech crew, and I’m starting to wish I hadn’t. I won’t quit, because when I take something on I don’t just give it up because I’m bored or because I’m tired of it. We have eight rehearsals until our first performance, and even though they don’t need me very badly, I would feel horrible quitting.

 

 

When I signed up for tech crew, I was expecting Titanic; last year, there was tons of tech work to be done, props to be changed nearly every scene, a huge cast, and lots of details. For example, during the first scene a huge ramp had be pulled onstage, then it had to be pushed off in the time of a scene change (less than thirty seconds) and the next scene had to be set up. Tables, chairs and silverware had to be set up, and it couldn’t look sloppy—it had to represent the first class. Doors and rooms had to be pulled on and off, and the middle and front curtains had to be changed nearly every other scene. In stark contrast to this, Back To the ’80s requires almost no tech work. Risers have to be turned around or pushed back—but other than that the only things we have to do are take on a podium, a bed and a table. I’m not complaining; in the time between scenes, I have learned to solve a 4×4x4 rubik’s cube and I’ve managed to get some of my homework done, both which would have been impossible during Titanic. I’ve gotten to be better friends with the cast and the rest of the tech crew—but often everyone is tired and bored and I often feel as though I’m wasting my time and that they don’t really need me.

 

 

My intent in writing this was not to complain, although I am sure it sounds that’s what I’m doing. I’m glad I’m a part of this production, and I like to think that I’ve done something. I helped reorganize the prop room and tear down the sets from older productions; along with Sam, Molly, and Kylee (other tech staff) we cleared out a ton of scrap wood from the shop so that the sets could be built. I’ve run lights and sound a few times and I’ve helped bring things on and off stage. But the truth of the matter is that four techies are too many. I refuse to back out now, but I doubt that I’ll be doing the musical next year.

 

 

Independant Writing #3: Choices

 

 

Sunday, February 8, 2009

 

 

I’ve never had the problem of not knowing what I want to do with my life. Instead I’ve had the problem of what not to do. I have about a million interests: I’m nerdy, I love math, but I also enjoy writing; I love music—I love my cello, and I enjoy singing; but also I sometimes think I could be perfectly contented to open a vegan bakery or restaurant; in my free time I love trying new recipes and altering ones that I already use. I have two off-hours, but I’ve managed to fill both of them: I wanted to learn to play bass, so now during fifth-hour I play with the lower orchestra. I’m not very good, but I like it. During fourth-hour I help Ms. Villani, who teaches Math II. The class is mostly freshman. Sometimes I do T.A. work, like grading papers, but sometimes she has me help a student one-on-one, which is what I really like to do. I’ve only been doing this about a month, but it has shown me what I already suspected: I really like at least one aspect of teaching. I enjoy helping students. (I already sort of knew this—I have a cello student; but that’s different than helping with math homework.)

 

 

I know that I have a year and a half before I’ll be going anywhere, but I feel that I should at least have some idea of what I’d like to do before going to college. Maybe not; maybe I’m being silly. I know a lot of people change their minds once they get to college. But I don’t want do apply to Berkeley, take out a bunch of student loans, get a math degree, and then decide to open a bakery. And I don’t want to be a music major only to decide later that I’d rather teach math. Although I’m part of the drama program and have been in many of the Legacy productions, I’m fairly certain that I don’t want to pursue this as a career—but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it. I might like to continue being part of productions while I’m in college, but I’m not sure if that’s feasible.

 

 

I’m pretty busy now, so I know I’ll be even busier in college. The problem is that I don’t want to give any of it up.

 

 

 

Posted Topic #2: Inspiring Quote

 

 

Sunday, February 1, 2009

 

 

“I’m a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work, the more I have of it.”

 

 

This quote is attributed to Thomas Jefferson, the third president of the United States and primary author of the Declaration of Independence. Jefferson was a strong supporter of the Separation of Church and State and wrote a bill declaring religious freedom. He was a tireless supporter of liberty and is generally considered one of the best presidents America has had.

 

 

I chose this quote because I feel it is a powerful statement about the relationship between hard work and success. If a one succeeds and attributes the success to luck, then the accomplishment is worth less. A personal example of this is the fact that I currently sit first chair of my section in orchestra, which is something I am very proud of. If this had happened last year, I would have attributed it to luck and it wouldn’t have meant as much; but I feel that I’ve worked harder this year and that the reason I am able to sit where I sit is because of the time and effort I have put into practicing. Some things, of course, can be attributed to luck; for example, I consider myself lucky to live in America. But my great-grandparents did not live in America; they lived in Ireland, and when they came to America it was not because of a lucky break. They did not do well in America because of luck, either. They did well because they were willing to work. It may have been lucky that they found each other and that they had my grandmother, because or else I wouldn’t exist; but the point is that my luck—living here—is based on their hard work. I feel no one should rely on luck to get him (or her) to where he wishes to go, but instead be willing to work for what he wants.

 

 

Independent Writing #2:

 

 

Sen Shin no Gyo

 

 

January 25, 2009

 

 

When I was younger I did Aikido, which is a martial art that few know much about. It is Japanese and it is all about self defense; using your opponent’s energy against himself, rather than extending your own energy to harm. The point is not to hurt your opponent in order to defend yourself; in deflecting an attack, you should not hurt the attacker, but merely make it impossible for him (or her) to hurt you. My mother practiced for a long time but stopped when she became pregnant the first time. I quit when I became too busy; I wish I hadn’t, and now that I understand it more and can appreciate it, I would like to go back. Unfortunately, I am no less busy, and the dojo is no closer than it was when I was younger. Perhaps when the musical is over I will go back; I haven’t decided yet.

 

 

Every year, the Rocky Mountain Ki Society rings in the new year with something called Sen Shin no Gyo, which basically means going to the Boulder Creek, breaking the ice, stripping down to a bathing suit, and wading in. Everyone in the group holds hands, stands in a circle, and dips into the water several times before exiting and returning to the dojo. Even though I haven’t done Aikido for several years, I chose this year to accompany my friend to Sen Shin no Gyo. We had to get up very early in order to get there on time, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to do it, but now that it’s over I’m glad that I did. I will say that I have never been so cold in my entire life and that I would not wish it upon anybody. However, if you are up for it, it is quite an amazing experience. It puts things in perspective, certainly, and it’s neat to be able to say that you’ve done something like that at least once.

 

 

Everyone that I’ve spoken to about it thinks that I’m crazy, and maybe I am. But Aikido makes a lot of sense to me, and I feel if I’m going to get back into it then I am going to do all of it, not just the easy stuff.

 

 

(Note: not all dojos do this; most don’t. Also, no one is ever completely submerged; that would be stupid and dangerous. We only get wet up to about our shoulders.)

 

 

Posted Topic #1: How teenagers can save money

 

 

Tuesday, January 2oth (late)

 

 

Many teenagers can be quite wasteful with resources, particularly those that they don’t directly have to pay for. To help their parents save money, teenagers could easily cut back on several things. Girls, for example, often take very long showers; over time, the extra water used will add money to parents’ water bills. Some teenagers are also less likely to turn off unneeded lights, or they may forget and leave lights on when they go out. In my family, my parents would get angry at my brother, sister, and I for turning the heat up, rather than just putting on a sweater. Many teenagers also go over their minutes or their texts on their phones, which costs parents money. If teenagers could cut back on these things, they could potentially save their parents a decent amount of money. However, since the heating, water, electric, and phone bills are paid for by parents, some teenagers simply forget or don’t think about what they could be doing to save money.

 

 

Of course, teenagers waste a lot of their own money too. Instead of saving up, many students my age would rather have spending money. I know from experience that most purchases are superfluous—clothes especially. I don’t need any more clothes, but that still seems to be where most of my money goes. Going out to eat and going to see movies also waste a lot of money. I know that I can have a perfectly good time cooking dinner with some friends and then watching a movie at the house—in fact, I think this is often more fun than going to the movies, because we don’t have to worry about being loud or obnoxious. However, it seems more customary to go out and spend money. Going to a friend’s house would not only save money on food and entertainment, it could potentially save on gas, which saves money.

 

 

Souls; Religion

January 11, 2009

 

 

I, personally, am not religious. I used to be very religious, however this was a very personal decision that was neither endorsed nor encouraged by my parents. I was nine and my sister was fifteen when she began dating a boy named Danny, who was Christian. Eventually, my sister began attending church with him, and when I was about eleven I began going with her. My mother, who was raised religious and considers herself spiritual, understood why we were seeking God in our lives. My father, however, doesn’t like most organized religions, and would tell us that the church was trying to brainwash us. He even said that Danny, who had been part of the church his entire life, was brainwashed. At that point in time my parents had just divorced; looking back, I think my dad’s dislike of organized religion was one thing that made me want to go to church. Additionally I think I was seeking a place where things were stable, rather than the chaos of my home life.

 

 

I’m not saying all people seek religion for this reason, but those were my reasons. Just over two years later, five days after my sister and Danny were married, I lost my faith. It is difficult for me to describe why I suddenly and without prelude ceased to believe in the God of Christianity. I clearly remember being unable to fall asleep, and thinking about something I had just read in my Bible, when suddenly none of it made sense. In the three years since then, my sister and Danny have stopped going to church and divorced, Danny has become an unshakable atheist, and my sister and I have separately developed ideas of our own. It was difficult, at first, for me to explain to people that I was no longer a member of Victory church; that in fact I did not believe in Jesus; and that I had no idea where I was going after I died, and that this wasn’t a problem.

 

 

In the three years that have passed, I have gone through phases of thinking that God exists and thinking that perhaps there is no God. The closest thing to describing what I am is agnostic. I don’t know any of the answers that Religion is supposed to answer, and that is perfectly acceptable. This, however, is not completely true. It is true that I don’t know, and that I don’t mind not knowing—but I still have ideas. My problem is this: I am a very logical person. I love math and science, and these occasionally conflict with things that make sense to my romantic side. Logic tells me that consciousness occurs because of a very complicated, delicate, intricate system of cells and neurons that none of us fully comprehend. But for no reason I also think that we have souls. I have read about ideas that explain away near-death experiences, clairvoyance, and dreams through science and reason, but for some reason that I can’t explain to myself, or anyone, I feel as though humans must have souls, even if that term really does not explain what it is I believe we have.