February Writers!!!!

Happy February :)

Our blog has been updated with the February Writers.  Please take the time to read all submissions.  Choose three of them and leave helpful feedback.  Be kind and courteous.  Remember this is for a grade.  Your comments are due Thursday, March 7th.

Have a great week and I'll see you in class.

xo,

Mrs. Solano

Image by alex80 on Pixabay

How To Glow Up-Gaby

How To Glow Up:
Glowing up should be about being the best version of yourself. Glowing up isn't just something physical, but also emotional and spiritual. I known that many of us have seen those glow up challenges on social media including the most recent one the ten year challenge but that is just a portion to what glowing up means . A lot of times people focus only on the physical aspect of glowing up which is just a part of it but there is lots more to understand. Therefore here are ten easy tips that can be incorporated in your life, within these steps everyone can interpret them differently because they may speak to us individually. These tips are not the definite steps that must be followed to glow up rather they can be personalized to our needs, there is many others ways to glow up but these are some I find important to spread positivity. Tips :
Tip 1 : Hold yourself high
(This means you shouldn't feel less than others because it's the foundation of your confidence.) 

Source fanaticsexposed.tumblr
Tip 2: Don't compare yourself to others
(everyone is unique and you shouldn't feel the need to feel do the things they are doing.) 

Source laurengleisberg.com
Tip 3: Distance yourself from negative people

( one of the most important tips is to surround yourself with positive encouraging people because those people can influence how you feel, sometimes you have to cut out people.) 

Source funnybeaver.com
Tip 4: Your happiness matter
( If worrying about your physical appearance does create happiness and confidence you should go ahead and be yourself.)
Tip 5: Manifestation
( manifestation is important because believing in your goals is crucial, seeing is believing.) 

Source selfmadeladies.com
Tip 6: Promote healthy habits
( this can be very versatile such as anything you consider healthy for you to continue doing ex: exercise,hobby,mediating. )
Tip 7: Don't seek revenge
(focus the energy on yourself not on getting even, this will encourage more positivity.) 

Source twitter.com
Tip 8: Failure is part of your success
( you shouldn't be so hard on yourself because you can't live a perfect life you have to accept the bumps on the road.)
Tip 9: Accept yourself, love yourself
( This may seem Cliché but there is nothing better then not caring what others think.) 

Source livepurposefullynow.com
Tip 10: Don't dim others shine
( someone's else success should encourage you rather than making you upset because there is room for everyone,that being said no one is you and that is your superpower.)

Calling For Change And Being A Better Ally--Diana

In my now 18 years of life, I’ve seen a lot. I’ve seen Scooby, Shaggy, Daphne, Velma, and Fred solve countless mysteries, I’ve seen Dora and Boots go on adventures, I’ve seen Hannah take off her wig and reveal her identity, I’ve seen Raven’s visions. I’ve also seen Michael Brown in his cap and gown, I’ve seen Eric Garner yelling “I can’t breathe” while a cop shoved his knee into his chest, I’ve seen Sandra Bland slammed onto the floor during a traffic stop, I’ve seen Alton Sterling get shot while being pinned to the floor, I’ve seen the pictures of the Las Vegas shooting, I’ve seen the 49 victims of the Pulse Nightclub shooting, I’ve seen myself in the 17 Parkland shooting Victims. I’ve seen countless of injustices and no change. I’ve seen white people run and fake out cops and not get shot and I wondered why they didn’t shoot them. I don’t wonder anymore because I know. Black people are more likely to die for a traffic stop than a white person is when they point a gun at officers. Black people live with that fear. No, I’m not discrediting everyone’s experiences with cops, I’m recognizing the dangers black people face when they simply exist. I’m not going to say I know what it feels like, because yes, while I do feel fear when I see a cop, I know it doesn’t come close to the fear black people feel when they go out. I’m not going to act like I know what it feels like, and it’d be stupid if I did. Instead, I ask that you listen to your black peers and listen to them. Do not try to pick up their burdens, do not try to say “well, actually,” just listen to them. Listen to marginalized people when they speak. If you ever wonder or think about what marginalized people experience, start listening to them. If you’re white, recognize the power you have. People are more likely to listen when white people agree. When I say I see myself in shooting victims, it’s because school shootings are becoming more and more common. I’m horrified when I hear the doors in the J building slam, I’m horrified when someone reaches into their bag for an extended period of time, I’m horrified when I hear any loud noise at any given time during the school day. Even if you try to say that the likelihood of a school shooting is low, you can’t deny the deafening silence you hear when someone pops a bag of chips or there’s a loud bang during lunch or one of your classes. We can all be victims when there’s nothing stopping us from becoming another mass shooting on the news. We need change, simply put. As grateful as I am that I haven’t experienced a school shooting in my 4+ years of attending school, I have 3 months left. I am not out of the woods. My friends who have 1, 2, or 3 years left aren’t out of the woods. The countless number of kids barely going into school aren’t out of the woods. Circling back around, if you want to be a good ally for anything, listen. If you’re not sure about something, ask someone. There’s nothing wrong in wanting to better understand something and wanting clarification. And most importantly, ask yourself: Are you speaking with them or over them?

HOW TO MAKE YOUR OWN STUFFED ANIMAL--Celina

HOW TO MAKE YOUR OWN STUFFED ANIMAL
Ever since I created my first mole in AP Chemistry last year, it’s like I fell in love with sewing. It fit right into my niche and as a result I went a little crazy and made 2 more moles to create a mole family. Thus, now obviously I had to continue this little passion of mine and fabricated another little sewing project: a cute little teddy bear. Designing and making your little stuffed animal is a great way to practice your sewing skills or to have some fun for a couple of hours. *side note-If you decide to keep the shape simple for that stuffed animal, you don't have to necessarily make a bear. You can follow these steps and create anything you desire! However, these are the basic instructions for making the cute bear.
WHAT YOU WILL NEED:

• -  White and Brown fleece
  
• -  Black felt
  
• -  Paper
  
• -  Scissors
  
• -  Sewing pins and needle
  
• -  Brown, white, and black thread
  
• -  Stuffing
  
• -  Black sharpie
  
• -  Red ribbon
  
• -  Sewing needle 
  
  
  
  STEP 1: Create a template and cut out the fabric
  Decide on how large you want to make the bear and draw a simple outline of it. Lay your template on top of the fleece and secure it with sewing pins. This ensures that you will cut out an
  

accurate outline of the template. Cut out 2 pieces of white fleece for the front and back. You will also need to draw out the snout, stomach, and ear area as well. Cut out 1 piece of brown fleece for each part.
- Make sure the overall pattern is 1⁄2 inch bigger all the way around since it the fabric tends to cave in after you stitched it up. 

STEP 2: The Front
Once you have all your pieces, decide which of the 2 white fabric that’s going to be your front. Place the snout and stomach pieces in the center and the ear area close to the edge of the ears on the white fleece and secure it with sewing pins. This ensures that the fabric pieces will stay lined up correctly while you’re sewing. Before you begin sewing, thread a needle and tie a knot at the end. Start sewing a simple back and forth stitch with the brown thread. Start from the back and place your needle 1/16 inch inside the brown area and finish the stitch at the outline of the brown area. Repeat this process until you stitched up the entire part. 

STEP 3: The Face
Using your black felt, cut out 2 circles for the eyes and 1 nose.
- Optional: You can draw a template of the eyes and nose on a piece of paper or roughly
cut out the pieces just like me. 

STEP 4: The mouth
Take your eyes and nose, roughly place them where you want them to be and secure them with sewing pins. Sew using the back and forth stitch with black thread. To create the mouth, use your black sharpie, draw a rough sketch of the mouth and start sewing with a back stitch. 

STEP 5: Sew the pattern
Get your 2 pieces of white fleece with the pattern, place the front side facing the inside since we are going to flip it inside out to stuff the bear later and secure it with multiple sewing pins. Sew a simple running stitch all around the sides with white thread.

- Sometimes it takes too long to go back and forth one by one; thus, you can sew it partially back and forth multiple times and pull the string through to make the process faster. 

Step 6: Turn the stuffed animal inside out
Once you only have a few inches left, flip the animal inside out and start stuffing it.

• -  Now the raw stitching should be hidden and the front will be visible.
  
• -  If you have difficulty stuffing the animal, use the end of a wooden spoon, chopstick or a
  stick of some sort to help push the stuffing to places where it is hard to stuff like the ear, arm or leg section. 
  
  
  
  

STEP 7: Finish the bear
After you finished stuffing it, close the hole with a zig zag stitch using a white thread. - This should not take a lot of thread. 

STEP 8: Accessorize
Once the basic foundation of the bear is done, I decided to add a red ribbon to add some color and decorate the bear. At this point, feel free to use any available at home items such as a scarf, bow, marker to embellish your creation. 

Hope you had as much fun as I did making this. Enjoy!

Here is a link as a reference for all the stitches I used. https://www.mybluprint.com/article/top-10-must-know-hand-embroidery-stitches

Happy go lucky Hannah--Michaela

I was born into a family of six people. I have an amazing mom and dad, an older brother, and two older sisters all of which I don’t know what I would do without. One of my sisters, Hannah, was born special needs. For the longest time doctors said that she had cerebral palsy which is a disorder that messes with someone’s ability to move around. Although that diagnosis didn’t quite make sense because of the many other problems she had that were not a part of cerebral palsy. Eventually, about four years ago, doctors gave her the new diagnosis of “chromosome anomaly” which basically means there is no one else like her and they don’t know what to do. She can not talk, she has many disorders from epilepsy to osteopenia, she can no longer walk on her own and despite some days where she has an attitude like everyone in my family, she is one of the happiest people you will ever meet.
Eleven years ago in September 2007 due to a Hamburger recall that got to my family a little too late my sister Hannah got E. coli. It began with her throwing up and my mom taking her to the hospital knowing something was wrong but the doctors sent her home twice saying “it’s just the flu.” As things worsened, her eyes turned yellow and my mom went back, the doctors finally listened. I remember thinking that this was just another one of Hannah’s doctor appointments that happen all the time, accept this one she didn’t come home from right away. My grandparents came to stay with me and my other siblings who were only eight and eleven at the time, that is when I realized that there was something wrong. My mom and my dad would

trade “night shifts” at the hospital with Hannah. I remember my mom always putting on this brave face like everything was going to be okay, even though we all kind of knew that it wasn’t okay at all. My mom and dad would always just tell us to pray. The first time we went to go see her me and my sister Aly gathered all of Hannah’s favorite toys, her most favorite being her balloons, and prepared for our task of going to make Hannah happy. Though, as soon as we walked in the room and saw our sister with an NG tube in her nose, IVs in and in a hospital gown asleep, we did not know what to do. However, we watched as when she woke up Hannah was still the happy go lucky girl we love so much and she began to mess around and play with her balloon like she always did. The next visit me and my sister prepared to go and again do our task of making Hannah happy. However this time Hannah was not quite as happy go lucky as we knew her to be. The next visit after that, the Hannah in the bed didn’t even seem like our sister anymore. She was always sleeping and if she was actually awake she was whining and not happy at all. Visiting Hannah went from a fun task of going to make that hospital room bright, to trying not to let that now very quiet hospital room get to you. At this point doctors told all of us to say our goodbyes.
At the time this happened I couldn’t comprehend what that even meant. I knew that it was bad and Hannah was sick and mom and dad were sad and I knew that Hannah might not make it but I couldn’t imagine that happening. I remember crying and not really knowing why, I just knew everyone else was crying and I knew Hannah was not okay. For some reason when she was sick and I was sad I felt the need to hide but my brother found me and would just hug me and say it’s going to be okay. The day after doctors told us to say our goodbyes, miraculously, Hannah started improving. Doctors could not explain what was happening and did not understand it at all, but as we learned a while after this, Hannah has a gift for stumping doctors. Happy go lucky Hannah makes a full recovery and is sent home. When she was home

people would come to see her. My parents one day were talking to one of our family friends about a prayer they prayed the night the doctors said to say our goodbyes. They both said they prayed and ask God either heal her now or take her to be with you because we can’t watch her suffer like this anymore. My mom was at the hospital that night and my dad was at home. They were in completely separate places praying the same thing. The day after this is when Hannah started improving.
This whole situation didn’t affect me as much in the moment as it does now. After this hospital stay Hannah has had way more and as I get older it becomes more and more real to me what could happen. This affects me now because I realize what all those little things I noticed when I was younger meant. My mom and dad being sad was because they thought they were going to lose their child, my mom saying pray was because doctors couldn’t even help at that point, and all those tubes that Hannah was connected to were literally keeping her alive, and all of this happened because of some burgers we wanted to try. This made the value of life real to me and it made the value of family real to me. Every time Hannah gets sick now I see how everyone takes kind of the same role as they did that first time. My mom and dad take care of Hannah, me and my sister try to make sure that everyone is happy and try to keep the mood light. My brother is there when someone starts to fall apart. It also taught me that no matter how dark and horrible things look they can turn around in the blink of an eye.

The serene ship--Jacob

The bow of the ship silently skidded along the soft sand. The pine planks creaked as the ship halted to a stop, the intricate carvings adorning the bow were discolored from years of weathering do to the Scandinavian sea, and the harsh waters it was known for. This was routine for most of the Warriors on the ship, as war was a prominent part of their culture, this could be seen by a sense of calmness and serenity through the ship. One boy, or young man as he preferred to be called, did not share this same sense of serenity, but was instead petrified.
This young man was not like the other burley warriors, with broad frames who had been training for this moments since they were kids, instead he was different. He grew up in a small coastal village, the offspring of a fisherman, and instead of growing up learning the skills of a warrior like his comrades, he instead was adorned with skills of a fisherman, tying knots, making nets, skills that did not seem very practical on the battlefield. Though this young man, given the name Wade by his parents would find himself in the midst of battle very shortly. Sadly Wade grew up in a time of war, and his town, being a prominent coastal city was one of the first to be attacked, Wade was one of the few that were able to survive, his family was not so lucky. At that very moment Wade decided to help fight this war, to not only avenge the death of his parents, but prevent others from going through the same pain he felt. Though Wade was undersized, his hard work and effort made him formidable comrade in the battlefield.
The ship he was currently on was not like the ships he had grown up on, the fishing ships he was accustomed to were small, and rarely ventured out farther than the bay. This new ship was grand, and relied on both the power of oars and winds, making it war more versatile. Though Wade had spent his whole life on boats, this one was different, this one wasn’t to provide food for the family, but instead was used for war, something that Wade did not now if he truly agreed with, something he was still struggling with the idea of.
The warriors on board looked around, making sure they had not been seen by any of the members of the town, and when the coast was clear the ship's captain began to count down. 3... sweat begin to slowly drip down wades face, he knew he needed to find a way to calm down. 2.. his heart rapidly beated. 1... he took a deep breath, he was ready. After that, the captain yelled something that Wade did not quite understand, the roar of the warriors was so loud that Wade couldn’t comprehend what the captain said, but he knew that this is the moment he had been waiting for, he leaped of the edge of the boat, landing sharply in the soft sand.

What is Forgiveness--Abrianna

“The weak can never forgive, forgiveness is the attitude of the strong.” Psychologists typically define forgiveness as a conscious, deliberate decision to release feelings of resentment or vengeance toward those who have harmed you, regardless of whether they actually deserve your forgiveness. As humans we are hardwired to retaliate when we have have been hurt by someone or something. Forgiveness has huge impact on our own health and emotional well being, the act of forgiving is less about the other person as it is about our own hearts. Forgiveness is for our own growth and happiness. When we hold on to hurt, pain, resentment, anger etc. it harms us more than it harms the offender. Forgiveness frees us to live in the present, reliving the wrong that has been done keeps us living in the past and missing the present. Forgiveness also lets us regain our own personal power, which was given to the other person through our anger hatred and regret. Resentment can cloud our thoughts and perspective of other people, but forgiveness can clear that up so we are able to see the good again.

Not only does forgiveness benefit us emotionally, but physically and mentally as well. It can boost your immune system, forgiveness has been known to enhance the production of antibodies. Strengthen relationships, research has shown that forgiveness works in many ways to promote healthier and happier relationships. It can improve sleep, improved sleep quality has been linked to forgiveness. It can lighten your load physically, studies have shown that forgiveness can change your physical perceptions and abilities. Supports heart health, an attitude of forgiveness has been shown to reduce blood pressure and heart rate. And lastly it can improve cognitive function, when someone is feeling forgiving brain scans revealed higher activity in the frontal lobes.
Forgiveness is a courageous act. It symbolizes maturity, realization, and strength. It’s an act that does not come easy to anyone and is differently defined by everyone. Although it is important to know what forgiveness is , it is just as important to know what it is not . Forgiveness does not mean easily forgetting, nor does it mean excusing wrongdoings. Though forgiveness can help repair damaged circumstances, it does not obligate reconciliation. So is the phrase “forgive and forget” a good motto to live by or does it just allow those to get away with the actions that needed to be forgiven in the first place? There are many outlooks and perspectives on what it means to forgive, and although there are many associations of forgiveness, there is a common identification of what it is not. Forgiveness is not forgetting or pretending it didn’t happen, it is not excusing, it is not giving permission or condong to continue hurtful behaviors, and it is not reconciliation. Forgiveness may not right the wrongs of the past, but it will prevent the wrongs of the future.
Quote 1 - Mahatma Gandhi

Special Olympics--Serina

On July 27, 2018 I volunteered as I do every year with my family for the special

olympics which is held at Cal State Long Beach. The Special Olympics is an event for those with mental, physical, and learning disabilities to participate in different sporting events. My family and I have been going ever since 2010 with my dad’s job, Frito Lay. On this Friday morning I remember when my family and I arrived there was a slight overcast and it was very humid. As we started to unload the car we grabbed the boxes of chips as well as the mascot costume ,Chester the Cheetah, as we were unloading the car we saw all of the competitors arriving with big similes on all of their faces and waving to us. When I saw all of these young adults excited to be there to compete i could not help but get be just as excited as they were to be there. After we unloaded the car my family and I made our way to the Frito Lay booth which was surrounded by many others and started to set up the beanbag game toss station as well as the facepaint area. While I was doing that, my older brother, Matt, got into the Chester the Cheetah costume and got ready to walk around and take pictures with all that came to the event. At around 8:00 pm the sun was shining bright and it was warming up and tons of people were arriving and going to all the different booths and having fun gaining prizes, taking pictures, playing games, but most importantly going supporting the athletes. As I was walking around Chester the Cheetah many of the competitors were ecstatic to see “the Cheeto guy.” They would come up to him with big smiles and my

brother would give them hugs and high fives as they came up to him. Seeing how everyone was reacting to him gave me a feeling of happiness and I felt so fortunate to be there. And, after awhile of walking we would take a break and go to a sporting event and cheer on everyone competing. This past year particularly was even more special to me because my uncle,who has down syndrome, was participating in the basketball event. Seeing him and his teammates compete and show off their skills was so amazing to watch and it gave me such a great feeling that knowing everyone in the audience was there supporting all of them. It almost was a shock for me seeing all these people there in support for them because I have seen many people look down upon those who have a disability. Growing up with a special needs uncle many people do not understand what discrimination they go through and how people want to limit them because they think they can not comprehend anything. However, they are some of the most smartest and strongest people I know. From these events it also taught me how a community of people can come together and support everyone and teach us that we should not limit anyone because everyone is capable of anything. This event also has steered me to my path of wanting to give back to these wonderful people who have disabilities and become a special needs teacher to teach them that no matter what disability they have they can do amazing things.

January Writers!!!

Yes, the Blog has finally been updated!!!!

We have our batch of January Writers.  Please read all submissions.  We have eleven this month.  Your blog comments are due Wednesday, February 20.

Leave helpful, constructive comments.  State what you like about the piece and/or what you find intriguing.  Be respectful, kind and courteous.

Feed Your Soul,

Mrs. Solano

Shame--Janelle

Ah, March... where this month at this time of year represents the month of luck. St.

Patrick’s day is just around the corner and almost everyone wants to celebrate with a boatload of money from their paychecks, have a glass of rum or beer to celebrate the luck of the Irish, and or maybe find their stack of ‘gold’ at the end of the rainbow. Not for me, though. Instead, I find a pot of coal sitting at the edge of the cliff of the colorless rainbow whose colors tend to fade out a bit, like the soul crushing, countless, and hell provoking days a human being or maybe even a leprechaun can’t seem to dwindle upon. Everything came crashing down with my heart striving for a sense of... love? The drumbeat of my heart aching for a relationship. Clich é at most, but ‘love’ has been the peak of my downfall. Balancing out where I fit on the spectrum of my sexuality almost felt like I was on pins and needles. The memories crashing down of my mother constantly screaming in my ear, as if balancing out getting good grades in school wasn’t already enough. Finding out, the perfect little filipino girl that she had hopes and dreams for were shattered into a painful distraught of uncertainty and misconception. The furious, sorrowful tears streaming down her rosy cheeks had taken a toll on her behalf. Doors slamming and names yelled out to one another almost felt like the pile of bricks between my barrier of safeness has been dismayed and the weight slowly crushing me. I knew I have made the worst decision of my

life, just telling her... I was, in fact, dating a girl. A gender that was the exact opposite of what she expected it should’ve, in her eyes, wanted that ‘person’ to turn out to be a boy. The amount of disconnecting all from social media and one click of a ‘block’ to this girl, put me through heartbreak. It felt like I was running a marathon with loopholes and misconduct, jumping hurdle after hurdle...finding out later in the end there is no hope for crossing that finish line. The audience in the bleachers screaming for you to surpass that person in first place managed to end up booing you for being distracted by the numbing, distracting, eerie thoughts rushing through your brain. Every hurdle that I jumped seemed to let me trip and fall struggling to make my way through the runner ups who was my inner battles of depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts. Like, every accomplishment and courage built up inside this introverted sixteen year old teenager, at the time, felt meaningless. Hair follicles being ripped off by my claws of my wretched nails in irritability and stress have become an utter nuisance to me and my mental health. Every waking moment, felt like a ticking time bomb was strapped to my back and I wouldn’t have cared if it managed to blow up and just let all my burning flesh and organs rot into a decaying gush of...nothing. Unbearable, and reluctant pain rushing through my blood vessels as if the disconnection from my family, who was always there to support me has become an enemy I had to overcome, as if I was in some sort of video game with no particular way of beating it or even speed running through it. On top of all the icing on the cake, being pushed away by your spirit lifting best friend really sliced a cut even deeper in the wound that I was almost close to bleeding out... It felt like all hell broke loose and it made me physically and emotionally with one snap of a finger just wanting to end it all, or maybe even consuming a poison apple could’ve let all my numbness and my slowly decayed rotting soul just disintegrate into thin air. Although,

something kept me to keep going. My therapist. Therapy session after therapy session has kept me going those last couple weeks when March was slowly coming to a close. Maybe, there was gonna be light or that pot of ‘gold’ at the end of my rainbow. Whether you believe in Allah or Jesus or evolution or parallel universes there is only one thing we know for sure. That life is now.

What Is Courage?--Stephanie

When people are afraid, they either run or fight, but when backed into a corner, or when I feel scared, I always run. Sometimes it’s because I don’t have the energy to fight back or it’s because I convinced myself that I know I’ll lose. There are everyday situations, like public speaking, that I don’t think I will ever be completely comfortable with, but that doesn’t mean I don’t try. Courage is climbing up onto that bike for the first time, even though you’re afraid to fall over. It’s getting behind the wheel of a car for the first time, even though you have no idea what you're doing. Courage isn't about not being afraid, it's about not letting fear stop you from living your life, and there’s strength in doing things that scare you. Children are some of the most courageous people, and it’s unfortunate how so many of us lose some of that fearlessness as time passes. Children are unafraid of saying exactly what’s on their minds, unafraid to ask questions regardless if they're considered silly questions. They are completely honest, but what happens when we lose that sense of courage? The loss can be small, like being afraid of horror movies, or that tiny twinge of fear before a presentation that you’re completely unprepared for where your voice starts to shake. However, those small losses can add up and lead to sleepless nights filled with worry. I struggle with being courageous and strong, with standing my ground in disagreements or being strong when someone yells at me and not crumbling onto the floor. However, there needs to be a balance, being afraid to run into the middle of the street is a normal type of fear. I don’t think we’re meant to live life in complete fearlessness but we’re supposed to be content with the outcome of our choices. For some, courage is hard to have, but doing things that you’re scared of and overcoming it in the end is the best feeling. Sometimes it’s hard to just go for it and be unafraid to do things that terrify you, but when you let your fears consume you it can take over your life. The one thing I want to do before the year ends is to be more fearless and courageous, because if not then I am letting my fears win.

The Apple That Fell Far Away--Richard

-Smack-

An unexpected bright red apple plops and awakens him, who was sleeping under the apple tree, flourishing bright green during the Spring season. The sun’s golden rays straight above scatter through the rustling, flowing leaves. He gets up, apple in hand, and heads into the house.
“My god Richard, what happened to your face?!” said his mom.
“It’s nothing major; this apple just fell on my face. It might leave a bruise.” he replied. “How are you supposed to find a nice girlfriend getting your face all messed up like that.
Remember I want some beautiful grandchildren to take care off when I’m old and when you’re a doctor curing cancer.” she says jokingly.
“I know. I know. You always say that. What if I don’t have a wife in the future?”
“Don’t say things like that. A real man needs a loving wife. It’s what God would want.” “Ok.”, he says reluctantly.
“Remember, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Your dad was pretty popular himself
in high school. Look at the beautiful wife he has now.”
“Okok, I get it. I’m gonna go check out that new pet shop.”
“Have you cleaned your room?”
“Yes.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. On your way out, toss out these apples in the dumpster for me.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“They probably fell too far away from the tree; they’re bruised. We don’t want to eat
those apples.” “Alright.”
“Alright?!”
“Yes, mom.”
“That’s better.”
On the way to the store, he notices a large, black figure soaring through the skies; its
vigilant nature suggests it’s looking for prey. He doesn’t think much of it and proceeds. He reads “Pets Kingdom! Where you can find a part of yourself in every pet!”, owned by Lindsey Greene and Ben Turner. Richard steps in and sees the owners. Ben Turner easily reaches the upper shelves, seemingly restocking heavy boxes. His beard can probably house a couple pets. Towards the right of the store, Lindsey at the counter notices Richard step in. She has the brightest, most-welcoming smile accompanied by her golden, flowing hair.
“Hey there kiddo! How can I help ya out?” “Oh, I’m just looking around.”

“Well alright. If you need anything, just holler.”
He traverses throughout the store like a curious cat, uninterested in the basic array of hamsters, dogs, pets, and snakes, until he notices a bright, stocky, petite bird flaunting what seems to be every color of the rainbow.
“Lindsey! What type of bird is this?” he asks.
“Oh this one? It’s the painted bunting. Pretty fella ain’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“Be careful though. These fellas can be very territorial and aggressive. They’re hard to
care for at first, but can be some of the most beautiful, amazing pets you can ever find when you look beyond their initial behaviors.”
He ponders about how his strict, adamant mom would react to him bringing a pet home. However, he looks at the stocky avian and feels an odd connection to it.
“I’ll take him.” he says.
“Good choice.” Lindsey replies.
Richard returns home, cage with the painted bunting in his right hand and the apple in his
left hand.
“What is that?!” exclaimed his mom.
“An apple.”
“I’m not kidding around!”
“It’s a painted bunting. Isn’t he pretty?”
“Who gave you permission to get one?! Return it immediately! My god, what will your
dad say when he gets home.”
“What’s wrong with us keeping a bird? I’ll take care of it with my own money. You guys
won’t even have to worry about it.”
“Even if we keep it, didn’t you hear there’s a owl flying around preying on people’s
pets.”
“Oh, I think I saw it earlier.”
“They call it Orion. That’s besides the point. Why don’t you get a normal pet? Get one that isn’t so colorful and won’t draw so much attention from who knows what might be out there.”
“What’s wrong with being different? Don’t you think it’s sad that not a lot of people are willing to take care of it because it just happens to be slightly different. It’s like the apples you waste everyday. Just because they’re a little bruised, that doesn’t mean they aren’t perfectly good apples to eat.”
“I suppose. Fine, you can keep that. Just keep it caged until we know it’s safe okay?” “Ok.”
“What did you say?”
“Yes, mom.”
“Better.”

It takes a couple days for the authorities to capture Orion. Reports say the pugnacious avian preyed on a good amount of pets around the neighborhood. With it caught, everyone is relieved to be able to release their pets outdoors. After being territorial and aggressive for a couple days, like Lindsey had warned, the painted bunting warms up to Richard and his family. - Pluck-
An unexpected rainbow-colored, stocky bird pecks him on the face and awakens him. “Hey there, Love. Hungry?”
The bird perches on his finger. He grabs a bruised apple that fell far away and feeds it to
Love. There lies the boy, bird, and apple that fell far away from the tree.

Telomerase--Sadaf

She stood in front of the tank, the one with a lobster inside. Interesting, she thought. She didn’t prefer the crustaceans, but thought lobsters had their virtues. Her eyes gazed onto a plaque which read,
“Homarus Americanus, known as Lobsters, are one of the larger crustaceans of the ocean. They are invertebrates with hard exoskeletons. In the wild, they can live up to 45-50 years, the longevity of their lifespans is attributed to the Telomerase enzyme which repairs long repetitive sections of DNA sequences at the ends of chromosomes”.
Interesting, she thought again, Very interesting. If she understood biology correctly, she reasoned that humans aged because their DNA and cells get damaged when they overturn, but a lobster’s DNA doesn’t get damaged; it repairs, meaning they’d only die from external sources or damage involving their exoskeleton. She smiled as she was getting an idea. How interesting.
After some time, she decided she needed a pet. She wanted inspiration and company, and thought a pet would suffice. But what’d be best? She was allergic to cats and dogs, didn’t like birds or rodents, finding no interest in animals who’re so noisy, even at night, and didn’t care about reptiles. She needed something that’d suit her, that wouldn’t give her allergic reactions, that made little noise, that she cared about. Something she found interesting. She figured it was odd, that she’d be judged, but she didn’t care.
I have bigger things to care about . With that in mind, she took herself to the seafood market, bought an American Lobster, and instead of cooking and serving it with butter, she put it into a tank and made her new pet feel welcome.
Life with Sandra was what she expected; interesting. Sandra was her lobster’s name. She figured he wouldn’t mind having a female name since he was a lobster and had no concept of gendered names, or names at all. Not that names mattered, he was just a pet. Maybe less that that, it’s not like he’d form an emotional attachment to her or love her. Their relationship was more practical. You see, she didn’t need a pet. She didn’t really want one, either. Sandra was, to an outsider, her

pet; but to her, he was helping with research. Her experiment. Since the visit to the aquarium and reading about lobsters, she figured it out. Her hypothesis that’d change everything,
If there’s a way to incorporate indefinitely activated Telomerase enzyme from lobsters into human DNA, then we’d theoretically be immortal.
Immortality? From Lobsters? One would call her crazy, insane, delusioned, but she pressed on, determined.
If I pull this off, the only way we’d die is if we were killed or had terminal illnesses. There’d be no death from old age because our DNA wouldn’t age, WE wouldn’t age.
Life with Sandra changed her, she became obsessed with studying him and taking samples of his DNA to study in her makeshift lab. It’s all so interesting, she thought, So, so interesting.
Over time, she acquired more research, more pets. Some of them would die because her experiments were too much, but she continued, not being emotional and not growing attached to her pets. Her apartment had been overtaken by lobster tanks, and her mind had been overtaken by lobsters.
DNA creation starts at the moment of life, how would I put indefinitely activated Telomerase enzyme into already forming DNA? Could I put it in as a fetus develops? What about injecting it in bodies over time? What about manipulating human Telomerase Enzymes so they never become inactive?
These questions plagued her mind but she had no answers. She even turned to her lobsters, desperate for an explanation from the creatures who had what she wanted, but they didn’t bother sharing their secrets. Talking to them eventually turned into a habit.
Please, s he begged, tell me, how’re you made this way? Who helped you discover this amazing thing? Can’t you help me? Can’t you tell me? I’ve cared for you for so long, please tell me this one thing. Please, please, please...

Her lobsters would blink, not understanding her foreign words from the outside of their tanks. She stopped talking to them eventually, her reason being that lobsters were selfish and wanted to keep the secret of immortality all to themselves.
She’d done all the research she could, she had too many theories and questions, all unanswered. She had to test something out, to try and see if she was on the right track. It wouldn’t hurt. The result could be interesting.
She went to her lobsters and thanked them for all they’d done for her, though they’d been selfish. She was particularly grateful towards Sandra, who was her longest lasting pet and who’d been there since the beginning.
Her lab was a mess with vials of lobster DNA scattered about, and she grabbed one and emptied it into a syringe with a needle attached. This is it, she thought, a ll my research and time have gone into this. I’ve lost so many lobsters and so much of my sanity. I need answers and the only way I’ll get them is by testing and trying. It’s now or never.
She took the syringe and looked at Sandra who was in his tank. She really looked and saw how lovely he was. He had thoughts, feelings, and was her friend. She felt a prickle of love for him in that moment.
With a smile on her face and no hesitation, she took the syringe of lobster DNA and injected it into herself. Minutes passed and she felt nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. She was disappointed, but secretly relieved. She took the needle out of her arm and placed it down. She decided to get back to work, to do more research, to learn why she failed. As she started, she felt off, like something was wrong. The room felt hot, it was getting hard to stand, then suddenly she was on the floor unable to feel her body. She looked up and saw Sandra and her lobsters gazing at her before she closed her eyes.
What an interesting result, she thought, right before losing consciousness.

Extended Book Review- The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test--Mason

It is 1964, you are fueling up at a gas station in San Jose on a hot summer day
when a school bus pulls up to the pump next to you. Though this vehicle was a standard International Harvester, this was no ordinary bus. Instead of the classic yellow, this charter boasted an outer shell of every fluorescent and neon color there was, all swirling together in psychedelic shapes and patterns, and was brimming with a large group of long-haired crazy-eyed individuals. Belonging to the Ken Kesey, author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest , and an iconic image of the 60’s, the bus was known as “Furthur” and carried a group of nomadic hippies who called themselves the Merry Pranksters, whom in 1964, started a road trip across the country. Tom Wolfe’s The Electric Kool-Aid Test, published by Farrar, Straus, and Giroux in 1968, is a autobiographical recount of Wolfe’s travels on this bus. The book documents a first hand experience of the psychedelic movement and gives insight to the lives of those at the forefront of the counterculture revolution in the early 60’s. 

We follow the narrator, Wolfe himself, in his story of his experience on Furthur, and his subsequent encounters with leading figures in beat generation, music, and various rising authors. The story starts briefly after Kesey’s release from imprisonment for possession of illegal drugs, and explores the freakish and wild lifestyles that were commonly seen in the wandering youth. We are introduced to characters such as Kesey’s family, Black Maria, Neal Cassady, and Hell’s Angel’s Freewheeling Frank. This

group continues their journey across the nation, in which massive amounts of LSD, psilocybin, mescaline, and other psychoactive drugs where used in attempts to reach what was known as Acid Test Graduation, where partakers would reach a mind state in which psychedelics were no longer needed to “transcend human consciousness”. The Pranksters begin broadcasting this behavior to the general public under the name of the Acid Test, which leads to increasing amounts of followers. Through these infamous actions, Kesey becomes well known, and began to receive recognition from not only the Hells Angels and Allen Ginsberg of The Grateful Dead, but also the police. A fateful arrest for possession of marijuana leads to Kesey and the group to flee to Mexico. Upon arrival, the group tries to recreate their experience in using drugs, but was unsuccessful, citing the desert climate as the main issue. Pretty soon, Kesey return to the United States, in which his status has skyrocketed to the likes of a celebrity. Despite being hunted by the FBI, Kesey nonchalantly accepts interviews for TV and radio channels, spreading his ideals. Unsurprisingly, he gets caught and, landing himself jail time for his attempted escape and numerous non-violent crimes. Keysey reluctantly goes to a work camp in California, marking the end of his association with the group. The pranksters continues along, but were swept up in a storm of drug abuse as they continue their cross country trip. Their arrival at the Woodstock Festival of 1969 marked the end of their campaign, where Furthur meets its final resting place of Kesey’s backyard.
Tom Wolfe’s novel was a pioneer to a style of writing known as New Journalism, in which unconventional phrases and techniques are used within the story. This is seen throughout the novel in the form of irregular indentation for emphasis, heavy use of slang, and run on and free flowing sentence structure. In doing so, Wolfe crafts a narrative that parallel the thoughts and conversations of an average person. By utilizing

this form of storytelling, helps immerse the reader in the story, as this particular style reflects the culture of the time. In addition to this, Wolfe includes descriptive imagery of his surroundings to explain or develop the plot and its characters. This in turn, creates a realisting recount of a journalist’s travels during his youth in America’s most controversial time period. 

I would recommend this book to anyone interested in the 60’s counterculture. Tom Wolfe’s story shows the origin of art and music of that time, much of which is still relevant today. This novel can serve as a historical window into a rebellious time period in which people took peace and love to the extremes. This book provided a refreshing view of the 1960s, in which the creative side of society was shown instead of the violent Vietnam War that was going on at the time.

Extended Book Review--The Impossible Knife of Memory--Victoria

Post traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, is a very serious disorder. There are more than 3 million U.S. cases per year. This is why it is important for people to see PTSD as not just another disorder, but something that is real and happening right now. PTSD is a psychiatric disorder that may occur after experiencing life threatening events such as military combat, natural disasters, terrorist attacks, serious accidents, or physical or sexual assault as a child or an adult. For example, in the book The Impossible Knife of Memory by Laurie Halse Anderson, Hayley’s dad, Andy, suffers from PTSD because of his experiences in the military. Although fiction is “fake” and doesn’t provide factual information, it still needs to be included in the curriculum because it gives examples of real life issues in our society such as PTSD. 

For example, although The Impossible Knife of Memory is a fictional story it still provides the reader with a better understanding of PTSD, which is a real life disorder that people suffer from everyday. This touching story provides the reader with heartbreaking, realistic fiction. At one point in the story, Hayley says, “I flashed on the way he had hugged me before I left: sudden and fierce, a true dad hug. A goodbye hug.” Hayley is having a flashback of the way her dad hugged her before he tried to commit suicide. Thankfully, Hayley realized what her dad was about to do before it was too late. This is a prime example of how the author of this book does an amazing job at channeling the reader’s mind and heart. She makes the reader see things through the character’s perspective thus putting oneself in another’s shoes. The author gives the reader a real, unfortunate situation to discover throughout the

book, which makes the reader understand what it is like to actually go through such a terrible experience. This is why it is important for fictional stories to be a part of the curriculum because they open our eyes into another’s perspective. 

Many children have parents who are veterans and have gone through traumatic experiences resulting in PTSD. Not only does this disorder affect the person who has it, but it also affects the people around them, especially their kids. For example in the book The Impossible Knife of Memory , the main character, Hayley, is very affected by her father’s disorder. At one point she even says to her father, “I’ve been standing on the edge with you for years.” When she says this, she is indicating that she has also been experiencing all this pain that her father carries as well. Another quote from the book is when Hayley’s boyfriend, Finn, says “You take care of him more than he takes care of you,” He sees how much Hayley takes care of her dad. She cooks for him, cleans, washes his clothes. At one point she even has to drive to a sketchy bar and pick him up after a woman who works there called her saying he was drunk and got in a fight. Although it seems like her dad is a horrible father, the way he is acting is completely out of his control. It is one of the symptoms of PTSD. People with this disorder do whatever they can to get the painful memories out of their head. Unfortunately, Hayley’s dad does this by drinking. Everything Hayley and her dad are going through in this book can happen in real life, and in fact, it is happening in real life at this very moment. This is why it is important for students to read more fiction because it gives great examples of these real world issues such as PTSD.
Another vital reason why we need to take PTSD more seriously is because it can lead to other disorders or mental illnesses. A few examples are suicidal ideation, substance abuse, depression, personality disorder, anxiety and the list goes on. The online article, “Signs & Symptoms of Suicidal Ideation” quotes, “suicidal ideations are often a symptom or result of undiagnosed or untreated mental

health disorders.” We cannot let these disorders go undiagnosed or untreated. Some people who have this disorder may not feel like it is important enough for them to treat it and get help. Which is why we need to take PTSD more seriously and inform people of all the risks that come with the disorder, so people can get the help they need before it is too late.
Fiction needs to be a part of the curriculum because it gives examples of real life issues in our society such as PTSD. For example, although The Impossible Knife of Memory is a fictional story, it still provides the reader with a better understanding of a real world issue. Not only does
this disorder affect the person who has it, but it also affects their family and friends. PTSD and other disorders need to be taken more seriously. We can do this by informing more people about these disorders. Students already understand the issue through facts, but it is important to show them through heartfelt stories as well, which is mostly found in fiction.

My Journey with the Black & White Keys--Celeste

I was four years old when I gained an interest of playing piano. My sister, at six years old, would sit in front of the wooden contraption with black and white keys, practicing what her teacher assigned her for that week. I bothered her every time I heard a sound coming from the piano, begging her to teach me a song. She finally did. The beginning of the song went like “CCGGAAG-FFEEDDC-.” I was four years old, playing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,”-- Man, I thought I was a tiny prodigy. Any time I got the chance, I would show off my skills. “Mommy! Mommy! Look what Ate taught me: *plays the song*.” The following Thursday at my sister’s weekly lesson, I performed the song to her teacher. As I finished, I turned my head, looked at the teacher, and saw a big, bright smile. At that moment, I constantly asked my parents to enroll me in her piano class. Once I turned five, the lessons began.
I had a notebook. In that notebook were pieces I had to practice and twenty-one ticks per piece, three ticks per day, that I had to cross off every time I finished a song. I began learning out of the “orange lesson book.” Then came the “green book,” “red book,” “yellow book,” “pink book,” “blue book,” and finally, the “brown book.” Alongside of those came a corresponding recital book. Each perfected song from the recital book was taped on a new, but used, cassette tape. My goal was to reach my sister’s level; have as many taped pieces as she did, but she was always one or two books ahead of me. As my sister and I both advanced, we started playing more difficult pieces. Pieces such as Sonatinas and variations from “Piano Pieces for Children- revised and edited by Maxwell Eckstein.” Around this time is when I decided to make a major decision.
The older I got, I had fewer taped pieces a year. The older I got, the less I wanted to cross the ticks in my notebook. The older I got, the more exposed I was to other extra curricular activities. Playing the piano felt more like a chore rather than pure enjoyment. At the age of twelve, I decided to end my lessons. It was hard to tell my parents and my sister because it ended in an argument. It was even harder to tell my piano teacher. When the topic came up, my chest tightened up and it suddenly became more difficult to breath. Trying to gulp down tears over something I wanted to have happen was confusing, but I somehow understood it. Though, I never determined whether I was feeling guilt or sadness when I left.
Throughout the period I was no longer taking lessons, about a year, my former piano teacher became ill. She passed on her students to her daughter, my sister included. My friends in middle school reminded me how much I loved playing, so I picked up lessons again, but, obviously, with her daughter. She always told me how her mom was so glad that I was playing the piano again. She would set up recitals for her, recitals I would participate in. I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to see my former piano teacher one last time, but I am glad I did. In fact, I was able to see her twice.
This woman I met when I was four was an amazing sight reader. She was able to play a piece at first glance, perfectly, because of her vast knowledge of music theory. The most talented

pianist I knew, Gladys Sitompul, or as I would call her, “Mrs. Sitompul,” my piano teacher. She passed away on September 15, 2017 at the age of eighty-five. She lived a long and healthy life filled with love and happiness. When I attended her viewing, I didn’t shed a tear although I was sad. I regret missing one last year I could have had with her as my teacher. I wish I could show her how thankful I am for teaching me everything I know. When I admitted this to myself, that was when tears fell from my face. I realized too late that I neglected the time and effort Mrs. Sitompul dedicated to me to learn how to combine the black and white keys to create beautiful sounds. It was not about the money for her, it was the knowledge she was able to pass on before it was her time. To this day, when I place a finger on any of the keys, I think of Mrs. Sitompul-- I dedicate the pieces to her.