Thursday, October 27
I have exciting news. As of today-- seriously, as of today; I checked last night after my birthday dinner-- I have been accepted at the University of Iowa!
My little brother really wants me to attend and my parents joke that I can move in with my older brother and cook for him in his tiny little apartment. They claim it's smaller than my bedroom but I have yet to see it. Iowa was the second school I applied too and the second one I was admitted to.
After I already applied to Iowa we found out that they have an award for their journalism program, which is great and something to consider.
I finished my last two college essays today and these should be the last ones I ever need to write. And pretty soon, maybe even by the end of the busy weekend, I should be done with college applications for good as well. Five applications done by the end of October? I'd say that's pretty nice. It seems too soon to be finished but some people I know have already picked a school, and I see no reason to continue when I already can't pick a favorite. I'm leaning towards a big school, but you never know what I'll decide.
I walked by the window today at my house and what did I see? Balloons. My first thought? Pete. Today is my mom's 50th birthday and tomorrow I turn 18. It's a big year. It's a big week!
We just bought two new vehicles: an Aviator, which I love, and some SUV that I always forget the name of. My little brother ended soccer and started basketball games. My older brother is coming home from the weekend too! Our school won conference for soccer and football. The boys' soccer team has never gotten this far and we're all so proud of them. The football team is expected to win on Saturday, which would mean another home game next Saturday.
Birthday and college applications and "In Time" on Friday, football game and our school play "Harvey" on Saturday, everything else on Sunday... crazy! And next week just seems to get crazier. Yes, Iowa, I'd love to see you at 8:30 in the A.M.! Hello early morning...
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
I always tell people that I write all the time. And I do, constantly, but it's not the same. I was writing this blog in my head this morning as I got ready for school. I tend to do that: write in my head... It's what works for me though because you see, if I don't remember something by the time I go to write it down then it must not have been good or important enough.
I'm weird about my writing. I have folders of stories and poems on my computers at home that I've written but no one gets to read them because I write for my own benefit, just because I enjoy the process of writing and the difficulty of describing the "perfect" scene.
I used to be really into poetry. In sixth grade I entered a poetry contest and my poem was about candy. All I remember from that poem is, "I love candy. It really is so dandy." That's when I thought poetry had to rhyme. It makes me laugh looking back on that because now I think of it as a dumb, silly poem. But that short, lyrical piece got published in a book.
I tend to forget how happy that made me, being published. "My poem is in a book!" I recall telling possibly everyone at the time. My English teacher Mrs. O. had switched to a local high school and she hadn't gotten to see the book so I carried it around with me for the longest time in hopes of seeing her. And one day I finally did.
Writing is something I've loved ever since I had Mrs. O. as my sixth grade English teacher. That's probably the only thing that hasn't changed in the past six years, and I love that it hasn't.
I decided, today, that I'm going to write. And I'm going to share what I write, as much as it may scare me. But I know where I'm going to start:
I always tell people that I write all the time. And I do, constantly, but it's not the same. I was writing this blog in my head this morning as I got ready for school. I tend to do that: write in my head... It's what works for me though because you see, if I don't remember something by the time I go to write it down then it must not have been good or important enough.
I'm weird about my writing. I have folders of stories and poems on my computers at home that I've written but no one gets to read them because I write for my own benefit, just because I enjoy the process of writing and the difficulty of describing the "perfect" scene.
I used to be really into poetry. In sixth grade I entered a poetry contest and my poem was about candy. All I remember from that poem is, "I love candy. It really is so dandy." That's when I thought poetry had to rhyme. It makes me laugh looking back on that because now I think of it as a dumb, silly poem. But that short, lyrical piece got published in a book.
I tend to forget how happy that made me, being published. "My poem is in a book!" I recall telling possibly everyone at the time. My English teacher Mrs. O. had switched to a local high school and she hadn't gotten to see the book so I carried it around with me for the longest time in hopes of seeing her. And one day I finally did.
Writing is something I've loved ever since I had Mrs. O. as my sixth grade English teacher. That's probably the only thing that hasn't changed in the past six years, and I love that it hasn't.
I decided, today, that I'm going to write. And I'm going to share what I write, as much as it may scare me. But I know where I'm going to start:
Upon this wall
Sits a friend;
A friend as loving and sweet as they come
This beautiful person with
Lessons to teach,
Hundreds of hearts to fill.
Upon this wall
Sits a play mate,
A friend with whom
Tea parties were a routine.
From the pretend tea to the
Delicate cookies we would prepare,
Everything was required
To meet our satisfaction,
As picky as we were about presentation.
Girl time commences,
The men on another golf outing.
Pink and purple dresses accompanied with
Floral hats set the perfect scene.
Teddy bears and dolls
Make their appearance
Like our prominent smiles.
Casual conversations and
Her cheerful laughter
Ring through the air
As the birds outside
Sing in the summer sun.
A calm breeze blows
Through the open windows,
Sending our hair blowing in the wind
Like butterflies with nowhere to go.
Hours of fun packed into
A simple scene,
A simple but significant memory.
Upon this wall
Sits my guardian angel,
Watching over me silently
As I live and learn.
She catches my eye,
That beautiful gleam in hers.
She is my eyes and my heart
When I am lacking faith,
When in need of a friend.
Upon this wall
Sits a gentle woman,
A kind touch that could make
The hardest hearts melt.
A beautiful soul
In the highest of heavens;
A place of the unforgotten.
Upon this wall
Sits a priceless memory,
A photo showing love
Worth a thousand words;
A time when everything
Seemed peaceful and sweet,
A time when every birthday was celebrated
With cake, family, and friends.
Upon this wall
Sits a photo of remembrance
For the tears that flowed
When it was time to say “adieu.”
Her gift of a floral tea set draws me back;
Back to our lives together,
To the tea parties I used to
Look forward to for months.
Upon this wall
She remains whole,
A memoir in my heart forever.
With love, I will always miss her so,
She remains whole,
A memoir in my heart forever.
With love, I will always miss her so,
My dearest grandmother.
I know I've shared this before but it's where I'm going to start because this poem/narrative truly means a lot to me. I cried when I read it at the reading night for our class. That's what poetry should be though, letting out emotions and stories. That's why my new, non-class blog url is after the most emotional song I've heard.
I know I've shared this before but it's where I'm going to start because this poem/narrative truly means a lot to me. I cried when I read it at the reading night for our class. That's what poetry should be though, letting out emotions and stories. That's why my new, non-class blog url is after the most emotional song I've heard.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Well lately I've been seeing some guys at school, specifically soccer guys, with some new blondish coloring to their hair. I'm not really sure what's up with that but I saw a freshman in college yesterday with that same blonde in his "faux hawk" (also a soccer thing it seems). And yes, he used to be a soccer player at my school.
Hair changes seem to be a sports team trend, not that everybody does it. This summer my brother's soccer team went to Florida for a tournament and a few days beforehand they decided that they wanted their hair to "match." My brother and a few of the other guys shaved their heads, getting their numbers and stars designed in the minimal amount of hair left. That was a BIG deal for my brother because, well, we usually have to bribe him to cut his hair. And it freaked my mom out a little too because I was the one watching the barber do his job. But I'll admit it turned out pretty cool and some high schoolers (and celebrities) even have similar hair. Several of the boys and others sported "faux hawks" as well. Maybe they're supporting David Beckham? I'm glad they decided to do that rather than temporarily dye their hair green, especially since their team colors are yellow and blue.
Our high school boys swim team usually enjoys the green dye though, as it's become expected that each year they bleach their hair and then later dye it. Green, pink, blue, red, purple... you name it, the team will have someone with that color hair! That can be pretty fun to see, especially when it doesn't completely disappear by prom. But hey, that's what you do for your team! The girls team didn't go all out, but this past year they died the tips various colors.
Anyways, this is one form of team spirit you can see nowadays and it's nice because a lot of people say we have no school pride. But who's to say they're wrong?
Hair changes seem to be a sports team trend, not that everybody does it. This summer my brother's soccer team went to Florida for a tournament and a few days beforehand they decided that they wanted their hair to "match." My brother and a few of the other guys shaved their heads, getting their numbers and stars designed in the minimal amount of hair left. That was a BIG deal for my brother because, well, we usually have to bribe him to cut his hair. And it freaked my mom out a little too because I was the one watching the barber do his job. But I'll admit it turned out pretty cool and some high schoolers (and celebrities) even have similar hair. Several of the boys and others sported "faux hawks" as well. Maybe they're supporting David Beckham? I'm glad they decided to do that rather than temporarily dye their hair green, especially since their team colors are yellow and blue.
Our high school boys swim team usually enjoys the green dye though, as it's become expected that each year they bleach their hair and then later dye it. Green, pink, blue, red, purple... you name it, the team will have someone with that color hair! That can be pretty fun to see, especially when it doesn't completely disappear by prom. But hey, that's what you do for your team! The girls team didn't go all out, but this past year they died the tips various colors.
Anyways, this is one form of team spirit you can see nowadays and it's nice because a lot of people say we have no school pride. But who's to say they're wrong?
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Yesterday I went to downtown Chicago to check out Roosevelt University. While we were there, my dad and I went to the Gage, another building with RU. We didn't stay long but we stopped by the gallery on the main level like a counselor suggested because it related to photojournalism, something I really hope to study. We also found the room where the school newspaper, the Torch, is made. Although it wasn't open, there was a sign in the window that barely caught my eye. It read "DON'T CALL ME ARIEL MY NAME IS HELVETICA" with a picture of Ariel, the little mermaid, on it. Bahaha. Don't get the joke? Well that's a bummer. Mrs. D, my high school publications class teacher, got a kick out of the picture like I thought she would. Oh, the joys of publications humor.
Publictaions is one of those classes that you either love or hate. I, for one, nearly cried when I found out I had to take math instead. Buh-bye AP Stats, hello publications for the third year in a row! Woo!
Due to my publications class being totally amazing, I have developed an interest in journalism and hopefully the skills for a future career in it. Sure I worked on the newspaper in middle school, but this gave a whole new meaning to it.
I've always had a love for photography whether looking at pictures or taking them, so when my french pen pal last year told me about photojournalism I was instantly hooked. This isn't an easy career but it sounds like exactly what I want. Journalism, photography, travel... What's not to like? For those of you who don't know what photojournalists do, they are photographers for sports and magazines as well as other things. They photograph athletic events and protests and even wars. That sounds exciting to me and I would get paid to do what I love.
I suppose you could say I'm a photojournalist now. I know I'm not a professional but hundreds of people see my pictures in the school newspaper and yearbook already, as well as other places. Working on the newspaper in middle school got me into my high school publications class. And that class, at the time of graduation, will be on my transcript five times out of a total of six due to the fact that you can't take this class as a freshman.
Publications class has been good to me. I learned some tips on writing, specifically regarding news, became more outgoing, met many new people, discovered I actually have some photography skills, and found what I want to do with my life. I want to learn and teach about what's happening in the world. I want my photography to be seen and not just for the image but also for the meaning behind it, the 1000 words a picture is said to be worth. Stories need to be told in any way, shape, or form, and I want to be the one to do that. I want people to stop and look at my pictures and not continue to flip through the thin pages of their magazines. I hope to be a journalist and I'm determined to be just that.
Yesterday I went to downtown Chicago to check out Roosevelt University. While we were there, my dad and I went to the Gage, another building with RU. We didn't stay long but we stopped by the gallery on the main level like a counselor suggested because it related to photojournalism, something I really hope to study. We also found the room where the school newspaper, the Torch, is made. Although it wasn't open, there was a sign in the window that barely caught my eye. It read "DON'T CALL ME ARIEL MY NAME IS HELVETICA" with a picture of Ariel, the little mermaid, on it. Bahaha. Don't get the joke? Well that's a bummer. Mrs. D, my high school publications class teacher, got a kick out of the picture like I thought she would. Oh, the joys of publications humor.
Publictaions is one of those classes that you either love or hate. I, for one, nearly cried when I found out I had to take math instead. Buh-bye AP Stats, hello publications for the third year in a row! Woo!
Due to my publications class being totally amazing, I have developed an interest in journalism and hopefully the skills for a future career in it. Sure I worked on the newspaper in middle school, but this gave a whole new meaning to it.
I've always had a love for photography whether looking at pictures or taking them, so when my french pen pal last year told me about photojournalism I was instantly hooked. This isn't an easy career but it sounds like exactly what I want. Journalism, photography, travel... What's not to like? For those of you who don't know what photojournalists do, they are photographers for sports and magazines as well as other things. They photograph athletic events and protests and even wars. That sounds exciting to me and I would get paid to do what I love.
I suppose you could say I'm a photojournalist now. I know I'm not a professional but hundreds of people see my pictures in the school newspaper and yearbook already, as well as other places. Working on the newspaper in middle school got me into my high school publications class. And that class, at the time of graduation, will be on my transcript five times out of a total of six due to the fact that you can't take this class as a freshman.
Publications class has been good to me. I learned some tips on writing, specifically regarding news, became more outgoing, met many new people, discovered I actually have some photography skills, and found what I want to do with my life. I want to learn and teach about what's happening in the world. I want my photography to be seen and not just for the image but also for the meaning behind it, the 1000 words a picture is said to be worth. Stories need to be told in any way, shape, or form, and I want to be the one to do that. I want people to stop and look at my pictures and not continue to flip through the thin pages of their magazines. I hope to be a journalist and I'm determined to be just that.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
There are far too many things going on... I'm getting headaches again, feeling like I'm going to fall over I'm so dizzy. College stuff is already stressing me out and I haven't been focused on it long, especially since our internet hasn't been working right.
On top of physically feeling horrible I mentally feel the same, if not worse. Last Friday , September 9, was the three year anniversary of Ian's death. Yesterday, September 11, was the ten year anniversary of 911, the terrorist attack nearly everyone knows about. And even more, Madi died two years ago today on September 12, 2009.
I was babysitting my neighbors Gretchen and Grace when I got a phone call from my friend Terriann. She told me that Madison F. had committed suicide. I couldn't believe it. "No, no... She was a happy girl," I assured myself as tears rolled down my cheeks. The girls were scared and worried for me because they didn't know what was happening. I had to contain myself. When my friend and neighbor Heather messaged me to see if I was okay I lost it. When my family got home from dinner my mom came over to babysit so I could be with Alyssa and Heather back at her house.
That's when everything sunk in. Madi was really gone. Even though I had gone through Ian's death a year before, this day coming exactly a year after the day on which he was buried, it just wasn't the same. It couldn't be. This girl was one I had known nearly my whole life. She was in my kindergarten class with Mrs. B. and I carry around a picture of our class. We all miss her. We all love her.
I fell off my bike several years later and messed up my knee pretty bad just before Madi's birthday. I was afraid of being the only one not swimming at her party but I wanted to go because she was my friend. And as I sat by the side of the pool with my big princess Cinderella band-aid on my knee I wasn't alone. Madi was right there for me. I just wish she could have known that all these years later I was here for her.
The day before we lost Madi there was a football game. Her brother Jameson and his friend Alex, even though I was a band geek, as awesome as we are, raced over to me at the game just to see who got to high-five me first. Jameson was so happy and to know the next day he lost his big sister just breaks my heart. I see him all the time now because he's in my study hall. Madi had Chemistry with me sophomore year, but only for the first few weeks of school. I miss that class and I miss having it with her. I miss her laugh.
I recently watched our play from eighth grade. Madi was a pilgrim and she absolutely could not say Eduardo's character name, the one that started with an "S". But she nailed it when it came down to our Valentine's Day performance. It makes me sad when I watch that DVD and when I look at our Washington, D.C. pictures because she was there, but now she's not here physically.
Madi,
You'll always be with us no matter what. We'll all see you and your smiling face again one day but for now it's in our memories. You're a part of this class, my class, the class of 2012... Until we meet again, I just want to thank you for watching over me and all of my friends. Despite all the sadness I felt after your passing, I made it through. I love you, Madi. Forever in our hearts...
Rachel
There are far too many things going on... I'm getting headaches again, feeling like I'm going to fall over I'm so dizzy. College stuff is already stressing me out and I haven't been focused on it long, especially since our internet hasn't been working right.
On top of physically feeling horrible I mentally feel the same, if not worse. Last Friday , September 9, was the three year anniversary of Ian's death. Yesterday, September 11, was the ten year anniversary of 911, the terrorist attack nearly everyone knows about. And even more, Madi died two years ago today on September 12, 2009.
I was babysitting my neighbors Gretchen and Grace when I got a phone call from my friend Terriann. She told me that Madison F. had committed suicide. I couldn't believe it. "No, no... She was a happy girl," I assured myself as tears rolled down my cheeks. The girls were scared and worried for me because they didn't know what was happening. I had to contain myself. When my friend and neighbor Heather messaged me to see if I was okay I lost it. When my family got home from dinner my mom came over to babysit so I could be with Alyssa and Heather back at her house.
That's when everything sunk in. Madi was really gone. Even though I had gone through Ian's death a year before, this day coming exactly a year after the day on which he was buried, it just wasn't the same. It couldn't be. This girl was one I had known nearly my whole life. She was in my kindergarten class with Mrs. B. and I carry around a picture of our class. We all miss her. We all love her.
I fell off my bike several years later and messed up my knee pretty bad just before Madi's birthday. I was afraid of being the only one not swimming at her party but I wanted to go because she was my friend. And as I sat by the side of the pool with my big princess Cinderella band-aid on my knee I wasn't alone. Madi was right there for me. I just wish she could have known that all these years later I was here for her.
The day before we lost Madi there was a football game. Her brother Jameson and his friend Alex, even though I was a band geek, as awesome as we are, raced over to me at the game just to see who got to high-five me first. Jameson was so happy and to know the next day he lost his big sister just breaks my heart. I see him all the time now because he's in my study hall. Madi had Chemistry with me sophomore year, but only for the first few weeks of school. I miss that class and I miss having it with her. I miss her laugh.
I recently watched our play from eighth grade. Madi was a pilgrim and she absolutely could not say Eduardo's character name, the one that started with an "S". But she nailed it when it came down to our Valentine's Day performance. It makes me sad when I watch that DVD and when I look at our Washington, D.C. pictures because she was there, but now she's not here physically.
Madi,
You'll always be with us no matter what. We'll all see you and your smiling face again one day but for now it's in our memories. You're a part of this class, my class, the class of 2012... Until we meet again, I just want to thank you for watching over me and all of my friends. Despite all the sadness I felt after your passing, I made it through. I love you, Madi. Forever in our hearts...
Rachel
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
9-9-08: it was a horrible way to start off high school. We lost a friend and a classmate that day... Ian H. He was young, far too young to be done living at only 16. It's been three years since that night when he decided to end his own life. He affected so many people positively, which everyone who was in band at the time would know.
9-10-08: there was a bad feeling all over the school that morning. I remember I was standing outside of the French room waiting for Mrs. K.- Miss P. at the time- when a girl walked by me crying. Feeling clueless, I asked somebody if they knew what had happened. "I don't know. Some guy named Ian committed suicide," was similar to their response. My heart sank. "Ian? Ian H.?" I questioned. "Yeah, him!" was the reply I received, but it wasn't the answer I wanted. No one wated this to happen.
But unlike my classmate I know Ian H. Not only that, but he was also one of my brother's best friends. And they were supposed to hang out on 9-10, the day after a young life was taken.
9-9-11: I sit here today in my Ian memorial t-shirt, orange with a blue and white outlined "I", for the University of Illinois, but with an added "an" inside for his first name while his last name graces the back. Whenever I see "H." written in those bold letters I am reminded of baseball and how the boys' last names would be written across the backs of their jerseys. That makes me happy because that's how I met Ian: through sports.
As Mr. M has told us before, when days like this roll around we need to remember all of the good memories of Ian we have. So every year I think back to 9-10-08, specifically band class when we sat together for a whole class period telling stories of the veloved drummer. Even though not everyone knew Ian or that he was even in band, they cried with us. And not just because the death of a 16 year old is tragic no matter what. They realized that Ian wuold be remembered forever.
Despite all the good things in life you can get down time after time. Later that year I found the song "Life Left to Go" by a band called SafetySuit. And like the name, they give safety. Listening to this song more than any other one and sharing it with many of my friends for years, I wonder whether it would have helped Ian through whatever it was he was going through.
"Sometimes the edge serves as more than a friend than you thought it would be. And the pages you write in your journal each night are your only release. And the mask you put on, it's like words in a song but there's more to be seen. And the failures you see don't seem failues to me here at all..."
Was someone there to play that song for Ian? I don't know. But I promise to share that song, like I'm doing now, just in case I come across even one person who may benefit from it.
We love you, Ian. Rest in peace...
9-9-08: it was a horrible way to start off high school. We lost a friend and a classmate that day... Ian H. He was young, far too young to be done living at only 16. It's been three years since that night when he decided to end his own life. He affected so many people positively, which everyone who was in band at the time would know.
9-10-08: there was a bad feeling all over the school that morning. I remember I was standing outside of the French room waiting for Mrs. K.- Miss P. at the time- when a girl walked by me crying. Feeling clueless, I asked somebody if they knew what had happened. "I don't know. Some guy named Ian committed suicide," was similar to their response. My heart sank. "Ian? Ian H.?" I questioned. "Yeah, him!" was the reply I received, but it wasn't the answer I wanted. No one wated this to happen.
But unlike my classmate I know Ian H. Not only that, but he was also one of my brother's best friends. And they were supposed to hang out on 9-10, the day after a young life was taken.
9-9-11: I sit here today in my Ian memorial t-shirt, orange with a blue and white outlined "I", for the University of Illinois, but with an added "an" inside for his first name while his last name graces the back. Whenever I see "H." written in those bold letters I am reminded of baseball and how the boys' last names would be written across the backs of their jerseys. That makes me happy because that's how I met Ian: through sports.
As Mr. M has told us before, when days like this roll around we need to remember all of the good memories of Ian we have. So every year I think back to 9-10-08, specifically band class when we sat together for a whole class period telling stories of the veloved drummer. Even though not everyone knew Ian or that he was even in band, they cried with us. And not just because the death of a 16 year old is tragic no matter what. They realized that Ian wuold be remembered forever.
Despite all the good things in life you can get down time after time. Later that year I found the song "Life Left to Go" by a band called SafetySuit. And like the name, they give safety. Listening to this song more than any other one and sharing it with many of my friends for years, I wonder whether it would have helped Ian through whatever it was he was going through.
"Sometimes the edge serves as more than a friend than you thought it would be. And the pages you write in your journal each night are your only release. And the mask you put on, it's like words in a song but there's more to be seen. And the failures you see don't seem failues to me here at all..."
Was someone there to play that song for Ian? I don't know. But I promise to share that song, like I'm doing now, just in case I come across even one person who may benefit from it.
We love you, Ian. Rest in peace...
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