March Blog Writers!!!!!

Today, I am sending you a BIG virtual hug for I miss you all and it's only Day 2 of the state's school closure.

We will still carry on as bet as we can and our Blog will keep us connected.  This month we have nine (9) submissions for you to read and comment.  You know the rules:  Read ALL pieces, choose the three (3) to write comments.  Include your reason(s) for enjoying the piece.  Be considerate and helpful in your feedback.  Comments are due Wednesday, March 25.

If you are a writer this month, you do not need to leave comments.  Just check back on your page and view the responses.  Feel free to respond if you wish.

Please take care of yourself and others. 

All my love,
Mrs. Solano
xo

"You are FULL of strength, resilience, calm, steadfastness and clarity."--Chandi

p.s.--Happy St. Patrick's Day and Happy Birthday to my Grandma.  She's 93 years young today!!! She's a lucky gal

Machismo--Jewelianna

How to eliminate machismo in your Latinx family?

First off, for all my feministas out there endure all the dirty looks your Tias give you no matter what continue being a strong opinionated Latina and continue to speak out.
Starting off, machismo is simply, strong or aggressive masculinity. In retrospect, it isn’t too bad to be around if you’re normalized to this treatment me, on the other hand, I have never dealt with this bull. 

A little background, into the Latinx community and the dynamics between men and women in a traditional Latinx home, is extremely gender-typical. Women take care of the household and children. While men are able to be more flexible in whatever they chose to endure. The difference is men get to choose their fate where women do not. A man can have the option of going out all night and come home to a home-cooked meal. Women, on the other hand, have to endure the pain of begging their mothers to go out, get told no (may I add aggressively), and have to wake up the next day and clean the house. For a Latinx woman, dealing with machismo is enduring subtle sexism your entire life. It can be as subtle as serving your boy cousins before you can eat or being lectured your entire life to be an angle and to maintain your “purity’’(I’m sure you can imagine what this means). Where your brothers, on the other hand, can turn around and party all night without having to even ask and when they come home hungover you have to wake up early to clean and you best believe there will be breakfast ready when they wake up. My entire life I have gotten in trouble for never putting up with this treatment, I always felt out of place and could never understand why my Tias can deal with this treatment. Was I the only one who was seeing these things? I started to think there was something wrong with me, I wondered why my primos never understood my ideas, or why my Tias gave me dirty looks when I said I never wanted to get married, then after a long deliberation with myself I realized I’m perfectly fine they’re the ones who are numb to this subtle sexism. How was I going to teach Latinas like my Tias who are normalized to this treatment that is was wrong and belittling? Latina’s deserves to be treated so much better, so I decided to make a step by step plan to end this toxicity.

Step 1:​ Every once in a while he can cook for himself ​DO NOT ​allow men to enable themselves because you want to accommodate to their every need or feel you have to. I’m sure he can heat up a tortilla as well as you can and make himself a quesadilla every once in a while.

Step 2:​ Teach men what a mop and fabuloso can do, us woman do not have the special power of making the floor sparkly clean with our minds we have to do a little thing called mopping. I know it sounds a little scary at first, but after a bit of practice, you will learn the proper technique of mopping the floors. ​DO NOT​ forget to clean the mop and change out the water periodically.

Step 3:​ Your chonies do not magically just appear folded and clean we wash them and if we can do it so can you! Make sure you separate your clothes by color than wash them on warm or cold with soap and BOOM your underwear and clothes are sparkly clean with a subtle hint of a floral fragrance. Once you open the dryer and feel the warmth of freshly dried clothes you will never feel more complete in your life.

Step 4:​ When you wake up with a sniffly nose and a bit of a headache, breath, ​DO NOT ​panic everything will be okay. You have a little thing called a cold, not a deadly disease, I repeat you ARE NOT ​going to die. There is this magical thing called Vicks and boy let me tell you that this does wonders. I assure you after five minutes of putting Vicks on your chest, feet, and behind your ears, you will be a whole new person and be prepared to take on the day.

Step 5:​ Next time we woman offer to help around the house just remember we do know what a Philip Screw Driver is. Do not look at us as if we don’t speak the man language that is tools let us help, you don’t have to everything by yourself. This might sound a little funny, but maybe teach us how to do things around the house instead of belittling us with your slow explanations.

Step 6: M​ en do not be afraid to feel. What I mean by that is you’re allowed to have emotions and express them do not keep them inside and deem them as unimportant. You are allowed to cry, you’re allowed to be depressed, sad, anxious, and every other emotion that makes us human you are allowed to feel ​DO NOT​ be afraid to express your emotions because you will seam “soft’’.

For my Latinas out there do not allow yourself to endure subtle sexism know your worth and how you should be treated and when you want to discuss these issues do it calmly and subtly. Please do not forget that progressive little change will add up to a monumental difference. To my Latinos respect us woman as an equal even if you do not mean to be a machismo. Make sure you respect yourself as much as you respect woman, remember to love yourself and take some time for yourself do not care if others think you’re “less’’ than a man, only you can determine your worth.

Open Water--Jessica

The year was 2015. I was in my happy place, my home away from home...Costa Rica. Our yearly trips were undefeated and who knew how unforgettable this trip would be. I wake up one morning to the sound of the birds chirping when my mom yells “apurate ya nos vamos para la playa,” we were headed to the beach! I got ready so fast that I was running out the door almost forgetting my beach towel. We arrived, Playa Blanca, I stepped out of the car and the first thing that hit me was the fresh sea breeze with the sound of the waves crashing down. The excitement caused me to drop everything running to the ocean ready to jump in. I immediately stopped in my tracks...all I see is a bright red flag after flag along the beach. Confused, the lifeguard had approached me with girls on either side of him informing me that there was a high tide and it is dangerous to enter the water. My feet sunk into the sand, I couldn’t believe I couldn’t swim in the crystal clear water that had me so content. My tia saw this written all over my face and asked me, “Can you swim?” I reply with “Yes” then she proceeds to say “Let's go as long as you wear some water shoes so your feet don’t get cut by the coral reefs.” I agreed. Thrilled that I was able to go in the ocean I jumped up ready to head straight for the sea. My tia, 2 older cousins, and I head down to the shore feeling the warm water touch my toes with a big grin following. We had been deep enough where most of our bodies were underwater while still being able to touch the ocean floor. Wave after wave had come and I was having the time of my life being able to dive under and jump over each wave with my family. We had been in the middle of a conversation when my cousin had noticed a massive wave coming our way, all of us right away submerged under the water holding my breath and only feeling the pressure of the wave crashing over me. I pushed myself back up to get above the surface and immediately noticed that my feet no longer touched the ocean floor, but was still able to keep my head above

water without an issue. My tia saw the struggle and asked “Jessica are you touching the floor?” I respond with “no,” my cousin looks at my tia concerned and says, “let's head in closer to shore.” At this moment an unsettling feeling about the ocean overcame me. There was one big wave after another, and no matter how hard we tried to swim back to shore it seemed as if we hadn’t moved at all. The rip current had a hold of us and the only way out was if we swam parallel to the shore to get out of the flow, but the water shoes caused the water to pull me back even more than the others. In this instant, my cousin started to help me by pushing me closer to shore while my tia yelled for help from my cousin Kevin who was on shore taking pictures of shells. Kevin finally turned around only to think we were just waving to say hi so he proceeds to wave back, turn around and take more pictures of shells. With every push, I could feel my cousin becoming weaker and him having to swim for himself. While the rest of my family were in a deep sleep my Tio had decided to take one look up before going to take a nap and had noticed that we were crying for help. While the lifeguard had still been flirting with the girls from earlier my Tio yelled at him, “My family is out there needing help and you're here flirting.” The lifeguard annoyed starts slowly making his way down the beach to help us. Clueless to what was happening onshore I had been taking the deepest breath my lungs could hold and did like Dory once said and just kept swimming. I could feel my body slowly become more worn out with each breath of air I came up for but with this, I could see the lifeguard and Tio come closer and closer. I had gone under the water one last time knowing that when I went back up for air that would be the last time, I was ready to let the ocean win. I went up to take my final breath and this is when the lifeguard and my Tio had been there with the buoy ready for me, I had latched on to it so quickly I hadn’t even blinked. We made it safely back onto the shore explaining to my family what had happened still shaking from the events that had just occurred. Although I still

swim in the ocean freely and am not afraid of it, this day I learned one valuable lesson that has stuck with me since then, do not ignore the red flags.

What Its Like--Victoria

I... am gay. These three words are something I have always struggled to admit to myself and to everyone around me because by saying it, makes it feel all too real. I don’t know what it’s like to be the ideal version of what a woman should be, but I know all too well what it’s like feeling the pressure of trying to be one.

Starting with homecoming on September 14, 2019, this was one of my first opportunities to finally express myself formally and stay true to myself. The thing is that the process of reaching that level has been tedious and has led me to go through constant obstacles in my life. Being gay has handed me automatic hardships in today’s society and made my daily life difficult. Behind the scenes, my clothes are more than just items I wear to impress others and myself and I’m going to explain why. The day before homecoming, I went shopping with my friend at Goodwill to choose something to wear. I picked out a short-sleeve button up with dots on it that fit me perfectly and made me feel comfortable. I purposely avoided going with my mom because I would be too scared to go into the men’s side knowing that she would judge me. I remember her picking me up and showing her the clothes I got and specifically hiding that shirt at the bottom of the bag. I wasn’t able to find any dress pants, so I had to go shopping with my mom at TJ maxx. The good thing about shopping with her is that I don’t have to pay for it, but I had a feeling something would happen so I brought my own money as backup. She had to do work in the car, so I insisted to go in by myself and act quickly before she came inside the store. I felt anxious and rushed to find something I liked in a short amount of time knowing that I had to show her at the end. When she came inside, she saw the pants and asked immediately, “Was that from the girls side?” and I automatically said yes because I didn’t want her to think anything of it. I knew that she knew I lied directly to her since she continued to look for pants and completely ignored my suggestion. I grew tired of looking at her pick out clothes for me that I was not interested in and told her “I rather pay for it myself than having to pay for your judgement.” I felt degraded inside, but expressed frustration at how she thinks she’s doing what's right for me, but does the complete opposite. She kept offering me money and I couldn’t accept it, so I proceeded to the cashier and paid for my pants telling her that I’ll meet her in the car. Right after paying, I left the store and my eyes filled with water knowing that this was all bound to happen the moment I walked into the store.

I’m about to be 18 years old and I still feel the need to please others around me by becoming something I’m not, knowing that I cannot fight it. I stopped expecting compliments from my parents as soon as I branched out to grow my self-identity and self-expression. I will never know what it’s like to go shopping with parents that support what I want to wear and feel genuinely accepted. To most people, this is a normal task that one can simply just do and can continue on their day. This is something I strongly envy as I cannot experience it as much as I desire with the people I love the most. I’m not asking for anyone's pity, but rather an understanding of the importance of being me. It is one thing being a different sexuality than straight, but going against what is today’s gender roles only depthen the troubles one shall never want to face.These hardships pushed me to be the best version of myself everyday as I continue to develop strength, wisdom and gain bravery for taking control of the suffering that has been kept inside of me a majority of my life.​ ​I have grown to accept myself for who I am, express it in ways that make me blossom, and obtain independence instead of simply coexisting. I strayed away from biased opinions and dedicated time to achieving an open mind

that made aspects of my life successful rather than undermining. This helped me gradually overcome the fear of rejection and resulted in finding my voice and becoming powerful by taking this dread and turning it into a rainbow of love for myself.

Pretty Normal Colors--Chloe

It sounds weird to say, but I had a major culture shock when I first came to California. It wasn’t because of anything you would usually associate with it. Instead, it’s something easy to take for granted when you grow up so used to seeing it everywhere: the diversity. It has developed my new norm: color.

The edge of Orlando, Florida isn’t very diverse. The southwestern edge is swallowed by amusement parks and hotels to accommodate mass numbers of summer tourists. But, only 30 minutes away is a small suburb where kids ran around the orange trees and splashed in the lakes. Everyone one was fair-skinned or pale, whichever word you chose, it means the same. European, Latin, Arab, Inter-state immigration, although diverse, everyone followed the same color scheme. The norm there was fair-skin. Being darker than the “golden-Miami tan” was strange. Any shade of brown skin stood out. So why let yourself get dark? Being as pale as possible seemed not only the prettiest thing to do but the normal thing to do.

The bustling city center of Davao, Philippines knows 4 colors: white skin of foreign families, pale skin of beauty ads, tanned skin of natives, and dark skin of foreign students. Giant posters decorate the Pan-Philippine Highway promoting the latest skin whitening creams and growth shakes for kids. My mom always told me that if I stay pale, I won’t need to buy them. I won’t lie, I’ve used whitening products before. I can’t blame my mom for her opinions. This is where she grew up. The beauty aisle is full of endless whitening ingredients, attracting every type of girl. So why let yourself get dark? Being as pale as possible seemed not only the normal thing to do but the prettiest thing to do.

The large suburbs of Fontana and Rancho Cucamonga, California have every color imaginable from palest whites to the darkest darks. Southern California is filled with the dream

of becoming famous. Models from every race. Minority actors moving up to gain more exposure. Most importantly, the people here openly express their happiness of seeing their race represented. Never in my life have I ever seen so much color in one place. Who cares how dark you are? Every color is accounted for, no color is normal, but no color is the prettiest.

Individual experience is what truly defines the norm. My norm was pale skin, everyone around me had it or they wanted to. I spent my time trying to fit into that. I did. My success was only driven out how fast I tanned, but there was always a way around that. My mindset was always surrounded by the “don’t get too dark.” Landing in California, I was shocked to see so many see so much tanned skin in a suburb. From my own experiences, skin tone diversity only existed in the downtowns of big cities. I never thought it was possible in America. Most of my domestic travels out of Florida have been to visit family in majority-white neighborhoods in Iowa, Wisconsin, and Colorado. It was unreal to 10-year-old me. In my head, America was a “melting pot” of lighter skin tones, diversity was something only in the big cities. Now, my norm has evolved to be tanner to match what I’ve been exposed to.

Not All Heroes Wear Capes--Mariam

Most people have heard the phrase “ not all heroes wear capes”, there is even a song on it by Adam Young. What makes a hero? Merriam- Webster defines a hero as “ a person admired for achievements and noble qualities.” Almost everyone has witnessed or heard about a heroic act, where an average being was able to impact someone’s life and show them compassion. The word heroes is used to describe selfless individuals who put others’ needs ahead of their own, they sacrifice their time and efforts to help others. Heroes don’t expect anything back, they just show up, help, with the sole reason to help with whatever you need. First responders are heroes. Firefighters run toward burning buildings, when everyone else runs away, to save people who are stuck in them. EMTs and paramedics save people with life- threatening conditions in the field with limited supplies. A hero can also be someone you admire, who sacrificed many things to you on a personal level, someone who is always there for you, your number one supporter. For example, many people see their dads as a hero for being very supportive and loving which impacts their lives to the better. There is also this story about the twenty- two- year- old female who lifted a BMW 525i off her father who was pinned under, trying to fix a tire. She showed that she would do anything to save her father.

More people need to express their super powers, which is not the same as superpowers. Superpowers would be like Supergirl with her w-ray vision and ability to fly. However to express super powers, means to treat those around you with more compassion, dignity, kindness, and love. Many people around the globe express their humanity through helping communities, providing shelter, and rescuing animals.

Heroes often show vulnerabilities and are not ashamed when it is shown since after all they are humans and all humans have weaknesses. When these heroes need help, most of the people they helped want to try to find a way to give back to them, and would help them in a time like that. A great hero named Najah Bazzy, opened a warehouse which has aisles of food, clothes, toiletries, and furniture for those in need, and the people do not have to pay for the goods. There is another hero named Mark Meyers who believes donkeys are one of the most misunderstood animals, so he and his wife moved to a ranch in San Angelo, Texas to start a non-profit to rescue donkeys and prepare them for adoption. His non- profit rescued 14,000 donkeys and each year, 400 are adopted by the organization. It does not matter how many people you affected their lives, all that matters is that you showed them that you care and they are worth all your efforts. Kindness and dignity make heroes.

Works Cited
BBC Future.​ 1 May 2016, www.bbc.com/future/article/20160501-how-its-possible-for-an-ordinary-person-to-lift-a- car. Accessed 4 Mar. 2020.
CNN Heroes.​ CNN, 2019, www.cnn.com/specials/cnn-heroes-2019-archive. Accessed 4 Mar. 2020.
Merriam- Webster.​ www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hero. Accessed 4 Mar. 2020.

IMARI--Trinity

At the end of July 2018, I can remember just waking up, getting ready for another day in
Thailand. I was out there for two weeks on a mission trip, my parents and I weren’t on the best terms. As i was getting my bed fixed ready to eat breakfast, my mom called me outside with my step dad. I was scared because i thought I was in trouble as their facial expressions were earnest. My mother had made me sit down and said she had something to to tell me. My nerves started going up and thoughts were racing through my mind of what she might say. I just remember her opening up her mouth and the words that poured out, I never could believe what I just heard. She said with tears pouring down her face, “Trinity your aunt died.” I remember just feeling nothing, my body just stayed still and I was in shock. My step dad was crying because of the overwhelming emotions of my mom. She embraced me, and kept saying she was sorry. I didn’t say anything, all i could think of was that someone I knew my whole life and was close with is dead,I didn’t understand why I couldn’t cry. What was wrong with me , Did I feel nothing? Maybe I just express my emotions differently, like I keep it in. I asked my mom how did she die. She said from a brain aneurysm, she was brain dead. You see growing up with my aunt Imari, she had aneurysms since she was a teenager and would get multiple brain surgeries. We were all surprised when she survived the first surgery. Usually it's common for people to die right after the first one. Imagine getting headaches and feeling nauseous all day and everyday, as if maybe you're sick but don’t know what it is that's causing you to feel like that. I was told that she knew she would die someday and as a kid, you dont know better. You don't think of the worst but you pray that that person will be healed and okay. That day I actually forgot about the news because I was so busy with the orphan kids, I mean like I was that selfish of me. To forget about what I was just told and to go on in the day like nothing happened. I couldn’t wait to go home as I wanted so badly to see her and hoped that she didn’t die.

August 1, 2018, I was back home in California and was happy because I wanted to see my aunt and wanted to make sure it was alive, I was in disbelief. I remembered days later my mom had told me she was in the hospital and her baby was in a separate one because you see she was pregnant at the time and was due in a month or so. The doctor had asked her fiance to choose who he wanted to save. He said that he couldn’t choose that he loved both of them inevitably, the doctor made the choice to save the baby since it had so much to live for , while Imari who was an adult had lived a good enough life. How can you do that? How can you determine when you can choose to save someone's life and why not save both. I was infuriated and I asked God that night, “God why didn’t you let my aunt live longer” but my mom reassured me that maybe it was God's plan and she was right. The first week of August, I went to visit the hospital where I had the chance to say goodbye finally. I walked into the hospital and went to the third floor where they had her at. My two cousins were there which were her daughters and they seemed so happy. Two little innocent girls lost their mother before they were 11 and will never get to have their mom walk them down the aisle or b there when they go to college. It broke my heart but I knew that they were in good hands. I embraced them and they squealed with joy. As I turned my head, there was the door to enter the room where she was placed at. My stomach sunked and I started to approach the door with my mom by my side. I reached for the knob and opened the door and before I could even go up to her and I was interrupted by family as they greeted me and started to ask questions all about me. I thought to myself, they need to focus on her not me, she came first like don’t they care. An hour passed, I walked up to the hospital bed she layed in and examined her. People my age would have been traumatized by the way she looked, it's like I wasn’t even looking at my aunt , she looked helpless, tubes were in her mouth and her chest was propped up like she was floating. There was drool on the side of her cheek and she looked like her face was enlarged. Kids my age at the time would've had nightmares and wouldn’t be able to sleep but I felt fine. I had never seen someone dead like that before. I grasped her hand and looked into her eyes as they were open and could just remember saying in my head wake up,wake up, you're fine. She felt warm and mushy, like she had a little bit of life still in her. I wanted to scream for her to wake up, I kept repeating over and over again that God please don’t take her away from me, I was waiting for a sign for her to squeeze my hand to show that she was alive, but nothing happened. At that moment I had realized she was actually dead, brain dead in fact. I kissed her goodbye and went home that night. I layed there thinking, that by the time I wake up tomorrow, they will have already pulled the cord and tonight was the last time I got the chance to see her.

August 13, 2018, was Imari Aburtos memorial service at a church in Whittier. Upon arrival, I felt nothing still and prepared myself for her funeral. Right when I walked into the church, it was packed with friends and family. The one person that I haven’t seen in years was her mother, my abuela. My abuela saw my sister, my mom and I and Right away she screamed in

pain, and started bawling as she hugged us three, they were all crying and there I was comforting them and trying so hard to make myself cry. I was the only time in the funeral service who didn’t shed a tear, nor looked like I was grieving.

Why was it so hard to grieve? People grieve differently, some blame others, others hide what they feel, some of them express themselves and others don’t feel a thing but I learned it’s okay not to feel because it’s a process. It wasn't till a year later when I was cleaning my room and looked at her picture on my dresser and started to feel something about her death. I accepted that she died and it was meant for her to die at age 29 on July 27, 2018. She left behind her three girls and fiance, I can’t imagine what he went through. She was a fighter and it took a toll on her body, it was like her body was overwhelmed with the emotional and physical pain. The time I had with her and the moments she taught me a lesson, was something I was so grateful for and thanked God for allowing her to be in my life. Sometimes we don’t notice the way we express our emotions or let it affect us. Whether you choose the route of depression or to be happy now. It is a choice and choices reflect your actions and what you really let affect you.I know she's not in pain anymore and that I was being selfish of what she might have been going through. I think about her often and the days I don’t I feel bad because I truly don’t want to forget but I know i never will because if you really love someone and they made a big impact in your life then they remain in your heart forever. Until her death was when I really realized to not take life for granted and it was a wake up call for me to just get everything right in life and it’s okay to be sad sometimes. Something that me being a girl i struggle with, is to be emotional. I don’t show what I feel or express sadness, I don’t cry. I tell myself that i’m okay. In my lifetime there will be many deaths and i just have to get comfortable with the fact, people are gonna die and yes you might be mad at God or whatever the situation might be, but maybe it was meant to be for the better. I will never forget her and her beautiful smile, brown skin and long brown curly hair. I was like her child and she was my mentor, someone I looked up to. Im filled with love and now that everyone has a purpose whether you think it’s fulfilled or not. It is in the end, something who you truly are.

Familia--Eddie

In society, having integrity is frowned upon because everyone is trained to engage in
actions that satisfy them each hour of everyday, with no recollection of how it will affect those around them. More specifically within a modeled family everyone is raised to be the prime example of a human being, and the adults are an image of this. However within Jonah's family this is not the case, rather when tragedy hits his family they turn on one another like customers at Costco getting a pallet of water.

It all started when Jonah was at his great-grandma's house one evening like he always was, cracking jokes with her, listening to his great-grandpa argue with her about the dog again, but this night was different. He felt something inside of him, deep within the essence of his spirit telling him cherish these moments because not another day is promised to anyone. So he did exactly that, he made her laugh all night long and she said that it was one of the greatest nights that they all had. She was making tortillas while grandpa was making his deep fried frijoles and famous papitas, Jonah tried to help but was shunned away because of him burning the tortillas last time. They ate, laughed, argued and ultimately enjoyed each other's company, the sun had already faded away and it was time to go home. With an exchange of kisses and hugs from his great-grandma, Jonah was on his way home because he had school the next day and had to get up early.

It was 2:30pm and Jonah was in class waiting for the clock to hit 2:45 so he could get out of school and go to his great-grandma's house. 2:45 hits and he sprints out of the class like a

cheetah, he gets in the car eager to see his bisabuelos but receives the news, she had fallen down the stairs, fractured her skull and was in a coma. But Jonah wasn't worried, she had survived two phases of breast cancer so there was nothing his grandma couldn't handle. Nonetheless, they rush to the hospital, Jonah's dad meets them there and they get to the room where she is lying. He sees her there motionless and doesn't know what to do, everyone around him is crying as if she died already but Jonah is there with hope thinking, “shes strong, she can get through this, why is everyone crying? We just need to pay and everything will be okay.” Then, doing what he always does, he goes to pray with his abuela but as soon as he touches her hand a feeling hits him, it was the feeling in his spirit the night he was at their house. Tears start running down his face and a voice comes saying “ This is the end, her time has come,” and a few days later she passes.

Everyone was in despair but doing what we always do, we meet at her house to eat, mourn, remember her sayings but mostly importantly comfort my bisabuelo. The night continues and then towards the end, the war commences, the children begin to talk about their mothers will and what is going to happen to the house now that she has passed. However unkind words are exchanged amongst them and they are torn apart like The Confederate and United States of America. Gossip spreads and sides are chosen, one side wanting Jonah's great-grandpa to get nothing out of the will and Jonah's grandma fighting for her father to get what her mother would have wanted for them. Eventually the bickering and backstabbing continues all the way down to the grandchildren and people are enraged, but Jonah doesn't understand any of it. How can people he has looked up to his whole life betray one another, they were family, the prime example of what every family should be like. Loving, caring, hopeful and most of all encouraging, yet the months drag on and the court days never stop.

Jonah's great-grandpa just trying to find some peace in his wife's absence; forced to see his daughters and sons face on the other side of the courtroom, desiring to take whatever was left for him. Jonah had to go to court with his grandma one day, destroyed at the fact that this escalated, he waits outside in frustration and pain. Crying because he sees his family split apart, “but over what” Jonah thought, “what can be more important than our family?” He saw all of them as a pillar of hope, a strong foundation that could not have been shaken, but then they all exit the courtroom and he sees the real side of his great- aunts and uncles. All five of them are screaming, yelling, cursing at his grandma because she won't join them and split the sale of the house six ways instead, she stays by her father and fights with him until the end. Then one day, the judge finally decides that the sale of the house would be split unto all of them just how Jonah's great-grandma wanted it. After that it was settled and that was the last time Jonah ever saw his great-uncles and aunts. So destroyed by the fact that all this occured, he never fully healed and always wondered as to how they became that way, how his beautiful loving family broke so easily.

Finding Our Purpose--April

As this year comes to an end, it’s bittersweet that many of us will go our separate
ways, since it’s only the beginning of the end there is plenty of time to discover and wonder about our future. Looking back, high school has been full of ups and downs, trials and tribulations. On the bright side, there has been plenty of great memories made as well. Some of us know exactly what we want to do in life, others possibly have no clue. But that’s okay, personally I’m not sure where my life is going to take me after high school, but I do know each and every one of us has a purpose in life. It’s not an easy task to know what you meant to do in this world. When looking at our class there are future teachers, photographers, archeologists, scientists, fashion designers, and filmmakers who are going to make a difference in this world, and just like them, it’s up to you to find your purpose. When you find your purpose it leads you to a lifelong journey of success. Having a purpose and fulfilling it fills an empty part of ourselves we search for our entire lives. Have you ever questioned “What am I meant to do?”, or “What am I good at?”. But the biggest question is “What impact will it make for others?”. We ask ourselves these questions because we know we’re destined to do something bigger than ourselves. I can’t give a five-step plan to finding your purpose because its a self-journey that you have to

allow yourself to lead. However, the main focus of finding your purpose is to feed your soul. Reading poetry, or music that makes you feel like you can accomplish anything in this world. This allows ideas and positive thinking to flow throughout decision making and your life. Mark Twain said “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born, and the day you find out why”, we don’t realize how much we are worth and that we are truly meant to make an impact on this world. Each and every one of us has a purpose and I know you are all going to find it.

Untitled--Serina

I had always dreaded New Year’s Eve. I always envisioned myself sipping on glamorous cocktails while overlooking the Manhattan skyline in the few minutes before midnight, filled with pride and excitement. It was obviously not a feasible fantasy because:

1. I am only 17 years old.
   
2. I live here, not New York.
   

and
3. The year was never enough.

It was before, though. I had no concept of accomplishment or time as a little girl. So, New Year’s Eve was simply the day of another family gathering where we frolicked around wearing gold paper hats and blowing on cheap party horns. It was enough for me. What I did in the year did not matter and everything else was secondary to my then-present joy. New Year’s Eve did not matter, so I never felt disappointment or regret. As I grew older and the list of responsibilities and plans became longer, I found that New Year’s Eve did matter though. Whatever I felt in the last hour of the year- emptiness, fear, or happiness- was what defined it. Or at least I thought so.

By the time I was 12 years old, I had built up my first bunch of achievements and failures in the year. I gained a best friend. I lost all ties with a family member. I went on an airplane for the first time. It was the year I began to realize both the order and chaos that the rest of my life would bring, both the joys and injustices. Each year since then was always marked by some scarlet letter, some loss or failure that overshadowed all of the other small successes. Sometimes it was a literal letter, like getting a B+ in my honors biology class. Sometimes it was neglecting and losing a friend. I learned to end each year with indifference and blindly hope for better in the next.

2019 was entirely different; it was the year that I dreaded the most. Not only was it the last of the decade, but it was the year I applied to colleges, started my senior year, and virtually planned out the rest of my life. It was the year I felt the most confined but also the most free.

In 2019, I traveled to another continent alone and spoke to people I didn’t know in a foreign tongue. While I was reluctant to talk to strangers before, I found myself waving to people along the Seine and making friends in the crowds of the Louvre. I walked the narrow cobblestone streets with a joie de vivre I never found at home, a zest that somehow never left. It was of course a clich​é- the whole “travel changed me” narrative- but it didn’t matter. People left while places came and I knew that I was destined to go along too.

So, when 2019 New Year’s Eve came along on Tuesday night I was no longer indifferent, no longer desolate. I sat around the living room with my family and donned a gold paper “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” hat and 2020 cutout glasses while blowing on a party horn. I watched the ball drop on the TV and felt my fears, my old routines of the past years drop with it. This year, it was enough. I would move to Paris in 2020 and find home again. The scarlet letters would fade and I knew that the next year would be enough, too.