So I screwed up
Tell me something I don't know

Perhaps something I'm not yet immune to

You expect more
I disappointed you

Well I've heard all this before

Why don't you catch me off guard?
Try something new
Tell me things I haven't heard

Maybe "good job" or "you'll do better next time"

Unless you really want to throw me off

Then "I love you" is your best bet

Is that a waste of breath?

Would you be lying if your words praised me?

Are insults the only truth you speak?

Don't bother answering, I'm sure it's a lie

Or a collection of redundant ways to tell me

I've failed

This much I know

I'm a failure, it's true

Is that why you can't love me?

It doesn't matter

I still love you

21 Gun Salute

21 guns sounded off in goodbye
As you close your eyes
To the reality behind freedom

Do you appreciate what has been done for you?

Soiled combat boots and spilled blood
Still warm
Effigies of your defenders
Being burned at the stake

No one asked these people to lay down their lives
But integrity led them to these places
Where persistent terror would strike

An American flag
Dresses another casket
While you parade around
Clothed by free will

These men were not "fearless"
Per se
But disciplined and brave
In addition, forgotten
Among the people whose freedom they made

So open your eyes and pray for our troops
For the missing and deceased
Active duty and retired too

Because 21 guns sound off in goodbye
For the men and women who surrendered their lives
They did this for you so that you may live free

Is it too much to ask that they stay in memory?

2010-Final Exam

   

     It is fair to say that it is almost impossible to walk a way from a semester and not have learned anything. After 18 weeks every student must have attained some kind of new knowledge or intelligence. Ironically enough, the subject in which I best acquired a firm grasp on in our AP English class this semester is that of the multiple intelligences. There are eight original intelligences. Among these are: kinesthetic, linguistic, logical, interpersonal, intrapersonal, musical, visual/spatial, and naturalistic. Most people have approximately three of these intelligences, but some are naturally gifted with more or all of them. Recognizing our own intelligences may be difficult at times, however, there are recourses available to help us on this journey. Such recourses include reflections, essays, and tests that are made accessible to the public online. I tend to favor in the linguistic, intrapersonal, and musical intelligences. This means I am word, self, and music smart.

    Linguistic intelligence is the ability to use and manipulate words to make a reader or listener better grasp the concept or point that you are trying to convey. Through my poetry I can manipulate, not only my words but my readers as well. I do this by making the reader feel either what I feel/felt, or what I want them to feel. Words flow naturally to me like they have some kind of home or safe heaven hidden in my mind and when they are ready to be found, to be seen by the rest of the world, they make their escape through the tip of my pen. When I write, fiction or non-fiction, I place myself in the specific time and setting in which this particular event(s) has or will occur. I can describe things I have never physically felt or seen using words and I can do it so that the reader or listener will believe it has occurred to me personally. I can also write an essay on a subject matter I have never learned, or take no interest in, and make it a considerably well crafted essay. I do believe I am word smart.

    Intrapersonal intelligence is the intellect that allows you to know yourself. Someone who has conquered this intelligence will know their weaknesses and their strengths. Often these people also keep diaries. I myself am well aware of my limitations and advantages. As a leader in MCJROTC I am encouraged to seek out my weakness and improve them. I am also promoted to know my advantages and use them to the best of my ability in order to ensure proficiency in everything I do. However, I do not keep a diary per se. Rather I have journals upon journals that contain poems, essays, reflections, ad such that I have constructed in my spare time. I suppose these writings could be seen as a diary as they are my vent. They are my anger, impurities, flaws, emotions, and thoughts bleeding themselves onto paper, beseeching my mind for rest. These writings are my understandings of myself and my life. I am self smart.

    In addition to the intelligences listed above, I also consider myself to be musically intelligent. When I hear music, I hear poetry. I hear an event being sung, an artist proclaiming his or her need to be heard. I do not write songs or play an instrument by I can express myself through the writings of other artists. I hear their grief or happiness in the words they use and I understand the moral, the intent of the song they have written. Also, being in MCJROTC and cheerleading has taught me to think in terms of beats. At what beat do we change to alternative beat and transition to the next formation? What note should the second opening stunt hit on? When things get to be too much for me to handle, I put my Ipod on choose music that best describes how I feel or what I am going through at the moment. I am music smart.

    On the contrary, of all the intelligences I have introduced of course there is going to my weaker aspect. Spatial intelligence is not something I am particularly gifted in. This also known as visual intelligence and is the ability to learn from things such as pictures. People who are well off with this intellect may be good at illustrations, mazes, puzzles, graphs, and map reading. It is a common intellect among artists. I cannot say that I fully grasp and under the idea of visual learning because I do not. I need to be heard through writing. All the same, I learn through written material. Images do not speak to me. I am not visually smart.

    Eighteen weeks of school have come and gone and what is left to show of them? Well grades are certainly one thing we can take a look at. Yet it is most accurate to do a self examination. In doing so we should ask ourselves what it is that we learned and why this is of any significance to us. As for me, I learned about the multiple intelligences as well as which intelligences I have a firmer comprehension of and which I do not. I can use this knowledge outside of my English class to better understand the world around me. That being said, nothing we learn within classroom walls is meant to stay encased in the room. I believe everything we are taught has some sort of use in the bigger portrait of the world and life. The information fed to us by our teachers and superiors is not meant to be discarded without any further application of thought. This semester was the beginning of my junior and loaded with new information. However, high school is the beginning of life!

Assignment #20 - My Christmas Story

They kissed goodbye as Lucy struggled for a way to stall. “Promise me you’ll be home for Christmas, Mark. No last minute interventions.” Mark hesitated. He knew he would not return. He was taking this “business” trip so as not to inflict any pain upon his wife as he let go. Still he fumbled for an alternative. “I love you Lucy, but I’m going to miss my flight if I don’t get going.” She handed him his luggage and watched as he was devoured by a crowd of people all awaiting take off. She prayed that by “I love you Lucy” Mark really meant “Of course I’ll be home for Christmas”. But Mark hadn’t told Lucy he’d only bought a one-way. There were a lot of things he hadn’t told her. Like the fact that two weeks ago Mark was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. And three days later when the doctors told him the cancer had progressed too rapidly to treat it, he hid that too. Now he was boarding a one-way to his home town where he planned to die alone. Yet all Lucy knew was that she would be alone in an empty apartment until Mark came home.

Lucy had just returned from work. The phone was ringing and she knew it would Mark. Today was Christmas Eve and he still had not come home. He had called every day that he was away so far and all seemed well but today…today was different. Today Mark sounded weak and tired. Still, Mark reassured her that it was merely bad reception due to the insane whether there. That comforted her…until he continued. “Honey, the snow is piled so thick here; I think I’m going to have to catch another flight.” Lucy felt a tear escape her eye. “Mark!” was all she could manage. “Don’t worry baby. I have to go now but I left something for you with the doorman before I left ok?” They exchanged a sincere “I love you” with each other and hung up. Lucy was so outraged that for a moment she considered leaving whatever Mark had left for her with the doorman. However, at 2:30am Lucy was still tossing and turning. She had to ask.

“Excuse me Javier.” The lobby had been silent up until now. Half startled, Javier wheeled around. Upon seeing Lucy’s familiar face he answered in his usually polite tone, “Yes Madam Lucy? What can I do for you?” She paused a moment before speaking, unsure if she should just turn around and head back to her apartment. “Well Mark said he left something for me the doorman that was on duty before he left. Can you find it for me?” Javier rustled some papers behind the desk before finally slipping a purple envelope into her hands. “Merry Christmas”, was all he said and Lucy retreated back to her empty apartment. For a while she just pressed the envelope into her breasts and curled up in bed to sulk. When she realized the small thing could not bring Mark home, she opened it. What she found, though, was not a Christmas card. Rather she found a short letter folded neatly into quarters. She unfolded it and read:

My beloved Lucy,

Let me start with Merry Christmas. I hope you find some way to enjoy it. I want to apologize as I know it is hard to spend the holidays alone. I am still with you, always, but I am not returning home. Lucy, I have been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer but the doctors did not catch it in time. I’m so sorry baby. Don’t forget that I am here. In the air you breathe and the sun you bathe in, I’m here. The wind that whispers sweet melodies, that’s my love being sent to you on angels wings. My sweet Lucy, as long as you permit me here, I am with you. I’m not saying goodbye because it is not the end. Merry Christmas Lucy! I hope to hear from you soon.

Love Forever,

Mark

Lucy became drenched in her own tears. She started shaking, almost as if her body was surrendering to vicious convulsions. Only one line preserved her consciousness: I hope to hear from you soon. She grabbed the phone and dialed the hotel. Three times the receptionist put Lucy through to Mark’s room ad three times and three times the phone rang endlessly. The receiver fell from Lucy’s hand and hit the floor, still ringing. She reached for the purple envelope and turned it over to see the return address: Heaven. Lucy dropped to her knees silently pleading with God. Then she shrieked with the little amount of oxygen she had allowed herself to take in. “It’s not the end.” She repeated the words she’d read. “Mark said it’s not the end, Lord. Mark said!”



Assignment #19 - Very Short Story

She held her finger up to her lips signaling her younger sister to be quiet. With a short giggle young Sally clasped her hand over her mouth and followed Darleen into the kitchen. Sally was three and Darleen eight. They were going to surprise their parents with breakfast in bed for their anniversary. “Get the eggs,” whispered Darleen, “and be careful!” Sally grabbed the eggs from the fridge and hurried over to Darleen. “Pancake mix,” she requested, and Sally did as asked.  It was 5am and Darleen knew her parents would sleep in as they did every Saturday. Darleen had helped her mom cook a million times before. She placed a skillet over fire and melted butter in it. The eggs cooked fast so she would put those on last. She poured a ladle full of batter into the skillet and then…”Shoot!” she snapped and clutched at her stomach. “What is it?” Sally demanded. “I think I’m going to be sick. Watch the food.” Darleen ran off to the restroom and immediately started puking. The pancake on the stove began to rise. “Uh-oh!” Sally did not know how to use the stove. She was never allowed to touch it but the pancake kept getting bigger and she didn’t know what to do. She pushed a chair up to the stove and threw a cloth over the skillet. She jumped down and ran to Darleen. “Darleen it keeps growing!” Darleen wiped the vomit from her face, “Well turn it off.” Sally froze. Her stomach became weak. Darleen started puking again but this time Sally joined her. Then…a blazing heat swept through the house and the kitchen went up in flames. “Sally what have you done!?” The small child began to cry. “I’m not allowed to use the stove. I can’t work it! I just wanted mommy and daddy to have a good anniversary.” The girls ran out of the house, both of them still sick to their stomachs. “MOM! DAD!” Darleen proclaimed, but they never woke up. All the girls could do was watch as the entire house became engulfed in flames.



AP US History Essay

Topic 2: Analyze the ways in which British imperial policies between 1763 and 1776 intensified colonials' resistance to British rule and their commitment to republican values.

   

    British imperial ways intensified the colonials’ resistance to British rule and their commitment to republican values in many ways between 1763 and 1176. During this time period, and consequently due to difference in opinion between the British and colonials, several major events occurred. Among these are the Navigation Acts, the Sugar Act, and the Stamp Act. These incidents increased the tension between the parties, therefore making resistance to British rule and loyalty to republicanism a more severe deviation.

    During this time the Navigations Acts was already in place. The purpose of this act was to protect English ships and secure profits to England. This was the British’s way of promoting mercantilism. The colonials did not agree with the theory of mercantilism because the British believed that wealth was restricted and that maintaining good wealth came at the expense of other nations. The development of colonies was becoming more and more popular and each colony had its own commodities to offer. England’s power gave them the advantage to control all commerce and further tax, expand, or limit the possessions. The American colonist never appreciated these laws, however, hell began to break lose amongst the British and the Colonists when the Sugar Act of 1773 was passed.

    American colonists had lived civilly amid the British throughout the begging of the Navigations Act. When the Sugar Act came along, though, it was like a blow to the head; strong enough to cause fury but not strong enough to relieve its victim from consciousness. Taxation became higher and thus cultivated rage and rebellion within the colonists. Molasses and other foreign goods such as sugar, wines, pimiento, and coffee were now being taxed. Markets to which the colonists could sell were reduced which caused disruption in their economy. Not only that, but now it became harder to attain enough currency to purchase British goods. It seemed as though the illegitimate abuse of British power would never end.

    By 1765 people realized we needed to settle these expenses and the Stamp Act was passed. This act called for stamps to placed among certain things as proof that proper tax had been paid for them. All funds accumulated from this were intended to support British soldiers but American colonists would not tolerate a direct internal tax. As time progressed, so did the violence. Riots began to break out until the Declaratory Act of 1766 repealed the Stamp Act.

    It is not uncommon for people to hunger for wealth and power. In fact, it is almost normal human behavior for this occur. Still, did the British take this too far by imposing such acts and laws upon American colonists? The American colonists thought so. It is power by which all governments are run by, but early American history suggests that the power should not remain in its entirety to one person. Conversely, it should be equalized in a system of checks and balances.



Memory Lane

She often runs away from here
And no one knows just where she went
Or even that she’s gone

She sits in class
And scribbles notes
Just like a twisted con

If another person cared enough
To look her in the eyes
Maybe then they’d know
Where her skeleton sits
Is not where her conscience lies

She’s taking another
Involuntary trip
Right down Memory LN.

But Memory Lane
Is not always the same
Sometimes it’s Nightmare Rd.

She hates these trips
But it’s not her choice
Past has summoned her again

Memory grabs her
By the hand
And leads into the arms of Past

She tries to resist
Fights like hell
But Past and Memory kick her ass

Assignment #18 - Lifes Hostage

It's the way his fist struck the door

Momma leaving with only two of her kids

The way the police showed up before she came back

The stench of regurgitated alcohol on the floor

The way the tear stained my fathers face

Seeming out of place

It's my "brothers" hand at my throat

And the serrated words he used to cut me

It's my "sister" ceasing to exist for 13 years

Then kissing my cheek like she knew me

It's the way I never feared the dark

Or being punished for my mistakes

The way I never needed to sleep in my parents’ bed

It's the persistent tears I never shed

The way I see people, very much alive

That never seem to live

The way I refuse to show emotion

Be it pain or love

It's the way these things go hand and hand

Never escaping Memory

The way Memory puts a gun to me

And tells me who to be

Smile Stained Mask

Blink away tears never cried
As you lie awake and wonder why
Was it what you did or what you said?
Or are you simply better off dead?

There's no arm to hold you
Not a hand to stop the tears
So just hold it all back
And make it disappear

'Cause it's better to live in a fantasy world
Than to live in a hell
Decided by someone else

Now paint on a smile
Create your own mask
Whatever it takes
To make sure they don't ask

For if you hide the pain
Embeded within
Surely they'll believe
The twisted words of your lips

No explanation needed
Just the fabricated truth
Maybe a smile or giggle will do

If they think you're ok
Then there's no questions asked
You'll always be safe
Behind a smile stained mask

MCJROTC Assignment - Leadership Essay: Introspect of a Leader

    One must be able to honestly examine oneself in order to be an effective leader. If you cannot be honest with yourself you cannot be honest with others. Therefore, in not allowing yourself a truthful introspection, you diminish your ability to make credible decisions for others. As a commanding officer, platoon leader, and officer candidate, I am very aware of the necessity of introspection. The foundations by which Marine Corps cadets are encouraged to construct themselves upon are the Marine Corps leadership traits and principles.

    Endurance is a leadership trait I believe I surpass in. Endurance is the ability to withstand pain, fatigue, stress, and hardship. As a cheerleader I am required to physically persevere throughout every routine no matter what the given conditions are. Yet as a sister, daughter, and leader I have to mentally persist. When my family is mourning a loss or hardship I do not let it reflect on my face in front of them because seeing others grieve only builds the tension. When things could be better at home I do my best to leave my problems at home and deal with them after practice. Leaders have an obligation to their subordinates to always be there for them physically, mentally, and emotionally. All the same, a leader must always be able to make sound and timely decisions for their people.

    The act of enduring ones own discomfort at the expense of the comfort of others is unselfishness. This, too, is a trait in which I have acquired. From sharing my lunch with a friend who could not afford her own to lending my sweater to friends, cadets, and family that forgot theirs, I have displayed this trait often. It is easier to tolerate your own discomfort when you know that it is the cause of someone else’s comfort. Unselfishness becomes difficult when you are in the cold and freezing even as you wear your sweater, and then noticing another person is in need of one. Still, that is trait that enables you to take off your sweater and give it to the person without.

    For everything we excel in, there is another we fall short of. Tact is the ability to deal with others without creating offense. I notice that at times when I am put in a situation where I am already under stress, my tact is not as good as it could be. Despite the fact that my intentions are usually good, sometimes I let my relationship with a person illustrate itself in my reaction to a situation. When I first joined MCJROTC, I could hardly talk to a particular cadet without being snide because that cadet was a constant reminder of a person I have chosen not to associate myself with. While I can now hold a civil conversation with this person, I still catch myself, every now and then, being sarcastic to this person without reason. Consequently, I have become aware of my need to improve on obtaining tact.

    Knowledge, while it is of great importance to the MCJROTC program, is another trait I struggle with. Knowledge consists of several aspects. Among these are: comprehending a science or art, the array of one’s information, and understanding your Marines. The aspect in which I falter most in is that of the array of information. If you give me a topic I am eager to learn about, I can memorize facts and regurgitate them like it’s my second language. However, when it comes to mathematics and other subjects I do not take interest in, it is hard for me to analyze, process, and the understand the given information. Knowledge is crucial to everyone but most importantly to leaders because you cannot expect your followers to learn something you yourself refuse to study.

    Know yourself and seek improvement. This, to me, is a primary principle. No one is perfect. No one will ever so much as near perfection, but it is important to strive to be the absolute best person you possibly can be. I know where my weakness and strengths are and that is important because how can you improve yourself if you do not know what you do and don’t excel at? I do trust that there is always room for improvement; however, I also believe that you should strengthen your weakest links before improving the ones that are already strong. When I make a mistake of course I get frustrated with myself, but I listen to and accept the constructive criticism given to me. Sometimes I know I have made a mistake but I am not told where my mistake was. In this event I look for the mistake myself and if I do not find it I will ask others what I did wrong and how I can correct it. Knowing yourself is how you figure out what to improve. Improving yourself creates a better you.

    On the contrary, I am weakened when it comes to keeping my cadets informed. Keeping your Marines informed is a highly important principle that I must attain a better grasp on. There have been several occasions in our JROTC program where changes have been made and a few cadets did not receive the word. Sometimes it is due to my own forgetfulness and other times it is simply a bad communication system. There have been times when I know I explained something to every cadet in the platoon and there was still a cadet or two that did not understand due to the way I explained it. As a leader I need to develop a better communications system and improve my communication techniques.

    All Marines and Marine Corps cadets are encouraged to build their leadership off of the 14 traits and 11 principles. As a leader I have done introspection and will continue to do so throughout time. Every leader must be able to look within themselves and make enhancements in accordance with their self-evaluations. Introspection and improvement are two things that should never cease to occur. Accompanied by the Marine Corps leadership traits and principles, introspect and improvement will construct excellent leaders.

Book Report- Willow by Julia Hoban

In this book Willow accidentally kills her parents in a car accident and becomes a cutter to rid herself of emotions. We all have emotions. How we deal with them is our choice but forcing ourselves to feel something just makes it worse. From personal experience I can relate to Willow because Willow did not like to talk about things. She kept to herself a lot. Willow knew what she could and couldn't share with other poeple. I often keep to myself as well. I don't like to talk about what's wrong and I frustrate my friends when they ask what's bothering me and I tell them nothing. It is easier to hide things because it hurts less. Talking about things can be like reopening a wound sometimes. However, what I have learned is that some wounds must be reopened in order to heal the right way. Some wounds never heal right and some wounds never heal at all. But I also learned that embedded in every wound is a lesson, a story that we carry with us as a reminder. Poison sang "Every rose has it's thorn". In that same sense, every person has their own wound and their own scar. Some are worse than others. Some people have more than others. Yet I firmly believe that God will not give me anything I cannot handle. When I realized running from my emotions wasn’t going to work, I found someone I can tell anything to. Every time I need to talk she is there and she understands that sometimes I don't want to talk. She doesn't force me to feel what I am really feeling and that is good because emotions are something we need to discover on our own. They are also something that we cannot always deal with on our own. Yes, sometimes it hurts unimaginably bad to rip the scab off but we have to let the wound finish bleeding for it to heal properly. When it finally does heal though, you feel so much better. Willow discovered this in the novel and I have discovered this in life. I believe everyone must come to understand this before they are ever fully healed from the past and present.

Assignment #17 - Smoke Signals

The movie Smoke Signals told an incredibly emotion evoking story. The movie also forces you ponder so many other thoughts that it feels like your brain is on overload. Ultimately, Smoke Signals left me with questions. At the end of the movie Thomas says, “How do we forgive our fathers? Maybe in a dream. Do we forgive our fathers for leaving us too often, or forever, when we were little? Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage, or making us nervous because there never seemed to be any rage there at all? Do we forgive our fathers for marrying, or not marrying, our mothers? Or divorcing, or not divorcing, our mothers? And shall we forgive them for their excesses of warmth or coldness? Shall we forgive them for pushing, or leaning? For shutting doors or speaking through walls? For never speaking, or never being silent? Do we forgive our fathers in our age, or in theirs? Or in their deaths, saying it to them or not saying it. If we forgive our fathers, what is left? I found this to be an immensely powerful quote. How do we forgive, not just our fathers but also anyone who has inflicted some kind of pain unto us? Is it possible? Will we know when we have forgiven them or is it the type of thing we never really contemplate doing? “How do we forgive our fathers? Maybe in a dream.” Some of us dream of forgiving people for the “unforgivable” but never accomplish this in our reality. We can lie to ourselves and to others and say we have let go of our grudges against them. But…what if we never really do? What if we have held that grudge so long that all that we have left to offer is our anger and our hatred? Can we forgive them for leaving or for staying when we know things would have been best vise versa? What if we do accomplish absolving the others for the destitution they have inflicted upon us? “If we forgive our fathers, what is left?” What if it is only fury and agony left? All the unanswered questions, how do we get the answers I forgiving the actions does not answer them? What if it’s your brother or sister that has afflicted you this way? Is it easier to forgive them than your father or mother? Furthermore, how do we motivate ourselves to forgive the very people that have caused us to feel such revolting feelings? And if our forgiveness is not accepted, how do we react? The questions without answers and the actions without reactions are some of the hardest things to overcome. It is so because how are we supposed to let go of something we never resolved? Maybe forgiveness is just a figment. Maybe some things can never be over looked. Maybe we are the only things standing between forgiveness and us. Between internal peace and us. Maybe God is the only one who can forgive. Yet even God does not forget the actions for which he has chosen to forgive. Does that mean it is impossible to forgive and forget? That drowning out the unwanted memories is a waste of time? How do we learn how to cope with the haunting of our past? The haunting of the ones we love? If we never forgive, does that make us mean or ugly? And if we never forget, does that make us weak or vulnerable? The questions are infinite but it seems the answers are few. We hunger for the answers. No. We hunger for the right answers! Maybe we have found the answers to the proposed questions but we ignore them because they are not right in our minds. Or perhaps we have ran from things so fast that we did not notice the answers. Are the answers in the mirror? Are they lost in the past? Smoke Signals wrought in me all these questions. However, it is up to me to find the answers as I have come to understand that the answers may vary from person to person. 

Duke City Drill Meet 2010



Congratulations to all AHA MCJROTC cadets who competed in the 2010 Duke City drill meet. The results were as follows:

Un-Armed

1st Place - Overall

1st Place - Regulation

3rd Place - Exhibition

Armed

2nd Place - Overall

2nd Place - Regulation

Female Color Guard - 2nd Place

Kudos goes out to the Un-Armed team who beat Grants, a nationally ranked high school drill team. I'm proud of you ladies!!!!

Assignment #16 - The Journey

The air was frigid. Even inside the fire heated cabin I could feel it. I sat up on my bed and pushed myself to my feet. I could feel the cold linoleum through my socks as I jadedly walked my way to the kitchen. Overwrought by sleep I pushed aside the curtains and peered out the window above the sink. It was the only window in the small cabin I called my home. Outside it looked like my favorite weather. Dew was resting on the grass and the fog was so thick you could no longer see the mountain from here. Driving would be highly frowned on. The clouds were dark and thunder boomed in warning of the down poor that would soon follow. The sun was not visible. I was sure it was day but I had no clock to verify time. I washed the few dishes that were left and laid them on the counter to dry. I went back to the corner were my bed was and stripped the linens off it as they need some washing. The closest that held my small assembly of clothes was by the door. To the left of the door was a desk and a chair. I had no need for a couch or television as I prefered writing, hikes and long walks to staring at screen. The kitchen was to the right with a dining table that seated four. Directly across from it, on the other side of the cabin, was the restroom. The restroom consisted of a shower, a toilet, and a sink with a petite mirror over it. All the walls in the cabin were unpainted as it was a log cabin. The only light came from candles placed on nightstands and end tables skillfully placed to provide enough light throughout the cabin. I made my way to the coat rack behind the door and slipped on some comfortable snow boots and a modest jacket. I left the cabin without needing to lock it because there was no one around for miles. I walked the dirt path that divided the misty grass into two separate patches, each lined with daises and lilacs of different colors. Every now and then I would see a rabbit pass by. There was more moose and cows though. I was always intrigued by the intricate spider webs that had made their marks on the large trees, though the spiders were rarely there. At this time the animals were usually sleeping, or that’s what I assumed, in whatever it is they made their shelter from. I continued up the path with pollen swirling in the air. I stopped at the stream to admire the minnows and gold fish. Somehow the broken twigs and rocks that rest at the bottom of the stream always made me marvel over the beauty of this land. There was no bridge as it was easy to just step over the undersized body of water. On this side there was no path and the grass appeared a bluish green. Orange marigolds with soft yellow trims popped up in random places. Blue jay birds decorated the sky along with chickadees, hummingbirds, and other various creatures of the air. I trudged a little further to the base of the mountain. The cattle was more visible now. I loved to trek across the winding trail of pebbles and fallen leaves. The different shades of brown, red, and smoky orange never cease to catch my attention. I had made it to the top of the mountain but journey was far from over. There was a large rock which I had sat upon to mourn. I screamed in a whirlwind of emotions and I wanted to jump of the mountain. I wanted to be done with the trails of life. I stood up on the rock and this…This is where I found God.

Assignment #15 - Multiple Intelligence

“You want to know what made me this way?” The old man was speaking to an adolescent of no more than 16 years of age. He was his probation officer. The boy rolled his eyes but the man continued anyway. “It was exactly what made you the way you are now. It was myself. I am this way because I chose to be this way. Let your troubles bring you down and they will. But let them build you up and they will too.” It was almost as if the old man could see his words float right above the boys head. “Here’s what I want you to do. Every time you feel burdened I want you to pick a rock that you think is about the size of your burden. Put that rock in your backpack and take it with you everywhere. At the end of the week, come back to me.”  The adolescent had no choice but to do as he was instructed. The first day he went home, his mom was drunk and cursed at him and beat him until he finally made his way out the door. He saw a rock nearly the size of his fist. The boy picked it up and took it home to place in his backpack. On the second day, a proud jock tripped him on the way to class. At lunch he found a rather small rock and added it to his collection. This continued for the rest of the week. The weight caused him to become angry and consequently he got in more trouble with teachers and parents. By Friday the boys backpack was so heavy he could hardly lift it. Not only that, he now had two referrals and was nearing suspension. In addition, he had to leave home early just to make it to class on time because the rocks weighed him down. On Sunday he returned to his probation officer. The old man lifted the boys back and said, “What did you learn?” The boy looked dumbfounded and replied, “Rocks slow you down.” There was not even a slight pause. “Exactly!” The old man seemed over excited and the boy did not understand. Knowing the boy did not comprehend, the man proceeded, “Tell me something you are good at.” This time there was a long pause before either of them spoke. “Uh basketball I guess but I don’t play much.” The boy was unsure as to where the mans questions were leading. “Now for the following week”, the probation officer began, “Every time you feel burdened you will go outside and shoot some hoops. You will not return home until you feel you have made an exceptional amount of baskets.” The boy thought that this task couldn’t get an easier. He was pleased to have a reason to shoot hoops without his parents beckoning him back home. That night he shot 5 successful hoops after realizing his grade point average had plummeted. The next day his parents engaged in another fight to which the blame was placed on him. He shot about 25 hoops, 20 of which were successful. Around mid-week the boy realized the more anger he had, the more hoops he shot. He also apprehended that when he took his anger out with a basketball, he did not get in as much trouble. When he returned to his probation officer he told him what he had come to understand. The old man replied, “Now tell me why I had you carry rocks the first week but this week I had you play basketball.” The boy pondered this for a moment. “The first week I resembled myself and the rocks were burden of negative energy.” The boy stopped to observe his P.O as he was unsure if this answer was correct. The man motioned him to continue. “The rocks slowed me down and made me angry like my burden had. During the second week I took something that I was good at and used it as positive energy. The basketball was my burden but it was also my gift.”

Golden Anchor Drill Meet 2010

Congratulations to all Atrisco Heritage Acadamey MCJROTC cadets. We competed in the Golden Anchor drill meet at Highland High today. The outcome was as follows:

Unarmed
Regulation Drill - 1st Place
Exhibition Drill - 1st Place
Sweepstakes - 1st Place
Commander - 1st Place

Armed
Regulation Drill - 1st Place
Exhibition Drill - 1st Place

Combined
Inspection - 2nd Place

Congrats and good luck at Duke City next week!!!

Assignment #14 - Persausive Essay: Uniforms

      It is a common misconception that enforcing a strict uniform policy makes for a more well-organized school. This is a false statement. Uniforms cause discomfort and distraction from school studies. They do not impair the segregation between students of different social classes, and furthermore, uniforms will cause more rebellion. You do not have to have uniforms in order to become a good systematized and structured school. There are many negative outcomes that can, and feasibly will, arise if uniforms are imposed amongst our school.

    Being told what you may and may not wear causes not only physical discomfort but mental discomfort as well. The students are very much aware of what they intend to wear as opposed to what they are required to wear. This subconscious awareness will cause students to focus their efforts more on this subject matter than on the curriculum being taught in class. The student becomes more concerned with why they have to be in uniform and what’s going to happen if they are not abiding the dress code. This takes away from the attention guided en route of the lesson plan. Not only this, but students do not always feel that their complexion works in favor of the specified uniform. Then the students become more concerned with how they look and why other people can pull off a uniform better. Again, this is energy that should be exerted on the studies within the classroom, not on a uniform.

    Students tend to separate themselves in accordance with different social classes. It is presumed by many that uniforms may be a valid means of managing this issue. This presumption is also false. You can tell the divergence in quality of clothing rather it be uniforms or blue jeans. Students who really care about social classes will recognize when another student is not of the same social status. Unless uniforms are bought from the school and are, therefore, of the same eminence and brand name, students will still segregate. However, it would be very time consuming to organize a uniform store at the school. Also, schools should be focused on academics and NOT on uniforms.

     Adolescents, it seems, are all about doing the opposite of what we are told. You tell us to be home by 10 and we will come home at 11:30. You tell us to clean our room and we will sneak out to go to a concert. Why would uniforms be any different? If you tell a teenager to tuck in their shirt and wear a black belt with khaki pants, do you really think they are going to do it? As a current high school student who went to a uniform middle school, I know they will not. Students would much rather get suspended and spend a day at home than tuck in their shirts. And expulsion? Even better! If you get kicked out you have more of a chance to go to a school that does not enforce a uniform policy. The punishments for not abiding these rules are usually more of a reward in the students’ eyes.

    Uniforms can cause a variety of problems. In fact, most people would agree that they cause more problems and hassles than they solve. So why try so hard to enforce them? Having to enforce a uniform policy is going to be a lot more work for the staff and administration. This is added stress that no one in the school needs. Allowing the students to dress as they wish will also allow the teachers and other staff to learn more about the individual as much of our personality is reflected in our clothing. Students will be uncomfortable and focus less of their attention on school work. Many problems, such as social segregation, will remain unresolved, and finally rebellion will most likely increase. I advise the school board to take this into consideration as they make their final decision on whether or not our school should impose a uniform policy.

James Morrison - Please Don't Stop the Rain

(Chorus)

If it's going to be a rainy day
There's nothing we can do to make it change
We can pray for sunny weather
But that won't stop the rain

Feeling like you got no place to run
I can be your shelter 'till it's done
We can make this last forever
So please don't stop the rain

(Let it fall, let it fall, let it fall)
Please don't stop the rain
(Let it fall, let it fall, let it fall)
Please don't stop the rain

Assignment #13 - Holloween Haiku

The meaning behind Halloween is not to trick or treat with candy.
There are saints who long to hear your prayers of proclamation on these days.
As well as souls who need your prayers to save them from Hell’s condemnation.

Assignment #11 - The Concrete Rose

Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete?

Proving nature's law is wrong it learned to walk without having feet.

Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams, it learned to breathe fresh air.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else ever cared.

- Tupac Shakur

    “Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete?” When I read this line of Tupac’s poem I see myself as that rose and my parents are the concrete. Roses are not supposed to grow from cracks in the concrete. My dad was not supposed to be capable of having children. My father was told that after his accident at Las Alamos he would be sterile. Needless to say, I was a surprise. I was the rose that grew from the crack in the concrete.

    “Proving nature’s law is wrong it learned to walk without having feet.” My parents both came out of bad marriages before they met each other. My mom had already had three kids and my dad willing took them in as his own. They were both wounded from their first marriages. They were walking without feet and love was their crutch, but the unique thing about a crutch like this one is that it is shared. Neither of them were ready to get back in the dating game but they kept running into each other like it was just meant to be.

    “Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams, it learned to breathe fresh air.” It was hard for both of them to let go of their pasts. My mom had just left a very abusive husband and was a young mother of three. My father was a soldier of 6 years asked to leave the Army due to the stories his wife was making up. My mom told my dad she would not date any Hispanic man under 30 and my father was both. My father did not plan on dating as he had full intentions of reenlisting as soon as things cleared up with his ex-wife. Well, both my parents had time to “breathe fresh air” and they found new dreams with each other. By holding onto these dreams they have been able to live them in contentment.

    “Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else ever cared.” To my parents, it seemed as if no one but them cared about their lives and aspirations. My moms pregnancy with me is what caused them to get married and here they are 17 years later, still married despite all the trials life has given them. No matter what obstacle is placed on their path they will always overcome it. In this case I would say “Long live the concrete that bore the rose when no one else ever cared.” My parents being the concrete and I being the rose that they bore.



Assignment #10 - Bullying

   

    Just because no physical harm has been done unto you does not mean you have not been bullied. Bullying can happen in many ways and often goes unnoticed. However, sometimes the bullying goes unnoticed because the bystanders do not want to see it. If you see someone being harassed and do nothing about it, you might as well have harassed that person yourself. You silence confirms your consent!

   One question this essay is supposed to answer is have I ever been bullied. The question did not limit me to a specific type of bullying so I will address this question with one answer and two examples. My answer, first off, is yes. I have experienced this both physically and emotionally. I remember one time in elementary school my moms son punched me in the face right in front of my teacher. My teacher pretended not to see this but I knew she did. I do not recall why he hit me but I do recollect that the teacher failing to acknowledge what she clearly saw, hurt more than being hit. Did she just not care or she just figured it was easier to literally look the other way? I will never know the answer to that question. Now the second example also contains physical and emotional bullying. This was after my moms son had moved back in with us for the final time. I was walking home with him and he was outraged that I did not cross the street with him! When we got home he shoved me against the wall by my throat. This did not hurt and I was not scared. What hurt was his remarks. One of which he retorted that I was a “worthless bitch”. What scared me was thinking of the possibility that that statement could be true. Now he moved out a few years later and I have not permitted myself to speak to him since he moved back to NY but it is not so much the physical actions of someone that you remember most. Words can cut just as deep. Did I do something to provoke this? Yes I did. I failed to cross the street. Was this reason enough to become outraged? No.

    In both events I felt torn. I felt like something inside of me broke. Was I really such an awful person? I like to think not but I know I have my flaws. I have seen people be bullied a number of times and, as you may have guessed, I was the silent bully. I did nothing. I am not content with the actions, or lack of actions rather, but I will not make that mistake again. The question I was asked is if I have ever bullied someone. My answer is yes. I didn’t harm this person in any physical manner but I did not act upon the bullying either. As I said before, if you see someone being harassed and do nothing about it, you might as well have bullied that person yourself.

    Bullying a person does not only affect a person physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Not only do you leave this person with contusions or lacerations, etc. you also leave them with questions. What did I do to deserve this? Am I a bad person? Do the bystanders not care? These types of questions are not easy to answer and come to terms with and they may cause the victims to think less of themselves. This is why there are so many suicides. If bullying were to reduce I believe teen suicide would as well. Even if bullying was just dealt with more, suicide would most likely be less probable.

Assignment #9 - Alien Contact

   

    She slammed on the brakes but it was too late. The windshield shattered into pieces so small they were hardly tangible. All she saw were oncoming headlights. Then her world went black as she was claimed by unconsciousness. An off duty officer was passing by the damaged car and called it in. Ambulance rushed to the scene but there was a delay. The reported victim in need of immediate medical care was no longer in the vehicle. The car had been pried apart and not by the Jaws of Life. There was no other vehicle within miles of the accident, and no witnesses could be found. The police searched everything within the near by perimeter and accomplished nothing. Flummoxed by such a strange scenario, the police had no choice but to call of the search and return home.

    Sally returned to consciousness just as terrified and confused as she had been in that split second before she left it. That split second where all she could make out was the bright light and the sound of the tires protesting against the asphalt as she pleaded with the brakes on her car. Now she is surrounded by lights and what appear to be average people. Her head is throbbing so she blinks persistently in a failed attempt to clear this fictional place she has conjured. Dismayed, she begins to tremble in realizing this is no delusion. She knows she was in a wreck, she knows she should seek medical attention, but she also knows this is no hospital.

    Eager to run, for she is not yet aware of the actual situation, Sally struggles against the straps of the gurney. Wait a second...Gurney? Straps? “Is this a hospital?” Sally only means for this to be a thought but the words left her lips with great volume. The man nearest to her strides over, gracefully closing the distance between them in a matter of milliseconds, and studies her demeanor. She seems calm now. Maybe it’s the thought of being in an actual hospital, being close to home, or maybe she knows she will not get an explanation if she lets herself be overwrought by fear. Either way, she does not appear to frantic and this humbles the man.

    “You are not in a hospital but you are in good hands.” The man’s voice is so genuinely tender Sally almost completely ignores the words his voice has formed. “I’m sorry?” Sally is unsure whether he noticed her lack of consideration to whatever this man said but she is hoping an apology will buy her another chance to hear his stunning accent. He clears his throat and tries again. “You were in accident Miss, in which I sincerely apologize for on behalf the ship. We…” Sally cuts him off. “Ship.” She’s not really asking, rather she is trying to collect her scattered thoughts and make sense of this puzzle. “Not a hospital. Good hands. Ship.” Her fragmented thoughts are given volume yet again. “Yes ma’am”, the man is unsure if she is about to become frantic but he does not want to give her the time to do so, “Our ship had a malfunction. We did fix it but unfortunately we did not fix it fast enough. The edge of our ship slashed the front end of your vehicle causing horrible destruction. The guilt we felt was tremendous and we knew we had to take you into our care. You are aboard our ship and will remain so until you are well enough to return to normal human conditions.” His words come out fast and all she understands is that he is not referring to himself as human. “Hu-human? Normal human conditions?” She stammers and this time it is a question. “Look Miss..” He pauses and waits for her interjection. “Sally, n-no Miss, j-just Sally.” Still stuttering she manages a response and he continues, “Sally, I may explain things to you under one condition.” He is scrutinizing her again. Upon finding no change in her now concerned character, he proceeds with, “You will not speak of this again to any other human.” There is a long pause before she realizes she must respond. “I…I…Sure, of course, you h-have my word.” The man contemplates this and says, finally, “We are not of your species but we cannot have permanent contact with humans until we are sure how they will react toward our kind. Do you understand?” Without thinking Sally blurts out, “You mean to tell me I am aboard a UFO and aliens are providing my medical care!? Aliens!? But you all look so much like humans and you’re so…so” it takes her a while before she finds suitable words, “civilized and kind-spirited.” Now the man is irresolute as to if he should feel flattered that she thinks highly of them or insulted that she assumed such undermining things of them. After much deliberation he decides to remain neutral. “Sally, do you believe everything your human media spits at you? This is why we cannot reveal ourselves to your people. Humans do not wish to adapt to even the smallest changes. So we are not of your world. That is what makes us outcasts? We have so much to offer you as you have much to offer as well. Still, humans will not easily accept an”, he pauses to recall the manner in which Sally referred to them and tries to mimic her, “an ‘alien’. Dear Sally, please understand that we are not outcasts. As a black man is different from a white man merely in skin pigment, we are different from you only in culture.”

40 Days for Life - Praying to End Abortion

A baby’s heart develops during the first trimester. If in knowing this you can still stop the heart of the conception rooted within you, then I pray God may humble your soul that you may come to know the splendor of life.

I joined Project Defending Life in prayer today in front of Planned Parenthood (an abortion clinic located at 701 San Mateo NE). Today was our church, Our Lady of Guadalupe's, day to continue praying to end abortion as part of 40 Days for Life. I prayed the rosary in front of the clinic and then joined Project Defending Life in mass. After mass Father held a procession in which Father led us to Planned Parenthood and blessed the building while the congregation all prayed the rosary together. I was deeply moved as this was my first year attending this function. However, what stirred me was not that of a content feeling, rather it was a heartrending feeling. As we prayed people would shout obscene things but we stayed concentrated in our prayer. People would yell at us to go home as they drove by or honked rowdily giving us the finger. I felt such sadness that as our very hearts have the luxury of beating, we as humans have the capability to end the beating of another life attached to us by an umbilical cord. Allowing abortion is murder. There is no question to it. Why we do allow ourselves the option of ending a life when other doors are open to us? There are families out there that yearn for children but cannot have their own. Standing outside that clinic made me appreciate the trails I have mourned over in my own life. I desperately felt the need to be closer to the women in there. I sensed a strong desire to open their eyes to other options and make them understand that another heart is beating inside of them and only they could make the choice to let that heart be nurtured into something even more precious than it already is. I longed to plead for the existence trapped in the womb that could not plead for itself. Yet we were not allowed to so much as allow one of our fallen eyelashes to land on their property before they unleashed the hell that has been allowed to prosper within their walls. Still something inside of me rang out, awakening a part of me that desired to bring the possible “mothers to be” to reasoning but…No part of myself had any idea of how.

Shortly before Father led the procession back to finish our prayers inside, a man approached us. Outraged he retorted, “There is a war going on and this is what you are concerned with!?” I felt compelled to answer but that would have violated the contract to keep peace that all participating members must sign. If I could have responded to this man I would have said this: “You better believe that this is what we are concerned with. This is our war. We aren’t fighting with weapons but this is just as much of a war as what you are referring to. We are losing lives and undermining our own names. We are murdering those who cannot plead for their own lives. You are condoning the destruction of another asset to the world.” After thinking this to myself I watched the man cross the street to rejoin his lover and his baby. This aroused another thought, “Can he really look his child in the eyes and defend the termination of potential life?” I felt sickened, but at the same time I felt blessed…Blessed with lavishness and adversity. I am blessed with life.

Assignment #8 - The Necklace

In Guy de Maupassant’s “The Necklace”, there were many morals that could be lured from between the lines. The one that stood out most to me is to work hard for what you desire but also treasure what you have. The lady in this short story was miserable because she invited misery. She had the necessities but she yearned for more. It is ok to want something that is not necessary but you must always be grateful of what you have or you will never truly be happy. We have to look at things for more than what they appear to be. For example, my grandmother bought me a large plaque for Christmas. On this stunning painting of Our Lady reads, “No tengas miedo porque siempre estas en mi cuidado.” This translates to, “Do not be afraid because I am always with you.” My grandmother died a month before Christmas. When I unwrapped this gift I felt anger and I didn’t even want to hang it on my wall. As time passed I started to look at it in a different perspective and I understood that while most would not think this to be necessary, it was to me. This was my source of comfort and closure. My grandmother was in the hospital the night before she died. She came home and passed away that morning. We do not know how my grandmother died but we do know that she knew her time was near. Now, if you would have asked me shortly after she died if I was grateful for that gift, I would respond that I appreciate the thoughtfulness. I was not especially grateful per say though. However, when I took the time to examine the issue through every angle and read between the lines, I came to know that my grandma intended this to be my means of stability in understanding her passing. The morning she passed away I walked into the bedroom to find my younger sister doing CPR with a 9-1-1 operator guiding her by phone. I wanted to help but all I could manage to do was stand frozen in place as I fumbled for the words to explain to my mother that her mom was not ok. My mom was under the impression her mother was exhausted and just didn’t want to wake up. She had call to check on her but my silence pierced the phone lines and she immediately knew her suspicions were wrong. At the sight of a Christmas gift from her I felt furious that she could leave us the way she did. We knew ahead of time that she came to our house to die. I was not grateful. I wanted more. I wanted her death to be different. All of this wanting things to be something other than what they were caused me to be miserable. Yet, when I accepted the facts and became grateful that she bought me a gift that would help me cope and understand, I was not so despondent anymore. I was not close to my grandmother and that didn’t make losing her any easier, but when I applied the moral found in this story, the situation was made better.

Book Report - After by Amy Efaw

In the book After, Amy Efaw writes about a young girl who, despite never having been faced with any kind of trouble, is burried so far in denail  she doesn't realize she is pregnant and has no memory of throwing her baby in the dumpster behind her apartment. The girl was a straight A student and a future soccer olympian, but she couldn't take emotional hits as well as she could take a soccer ball straight to the face. While this is what After was about, it was also about a general life experience. At one point or another we will all have to stare truth in the eye no matter how terrified we are of the outcome. In the process, we will have to either be accountable and accept our actions like young Devon did, or keep running from the truth and pray we never stumble over it. My moms son had anger issues as well as ADHD. He never learned to face his problems head on and overcome the issues. With him everything was always someone elses fault and he needed to feel like he was right and justice was equalized. When he had to face the truth he closed his eyes. My moms son could never understand where his mistakes were. When he got in a fight it was because the other person deserved it, he failed a class because the teacher wasn't good at teaching, and the time his glasses broke it wasn't he who broke them. Seven ninjas broke into the house and snuck pass the alarm to break his glasses (yes he really tried to pull that one off). Then one day he gets caught for theft. Fear stricken, he finds himself dumb founded and having to face the truth. Nothing he could tell the cops would make the situation better. Young Devon chose to accept her mistake and plead guiltly to murder but my moms son kept running from the truth. While he was running he stumbled over it and the truth got the upperhand. If we do not willing face the truth and accept the consequences, sooner or later it will catch up to us and we will be forced to pay the price.

Assignment #7

Jealousy is simply and clearly the fear that you do not have value. Jealousy scans for evidence to prove the point - that others will be preferred and rewarded more than you. There is only one alternative - self-value. If you cannot love yourself, you will not believe that you are loved. You will always think it's a mistake or luck. Take your eyes off others and turn the scanner within. Find the seeds of your jealousy, clear the old voices and experiences. Put all the energy into building your personal and emotional security. Then you will be the one others envy, and you can remember the pain and reach out to them. (Jennifer James)

“Jealousy is simply and clearly the fear that you do not have value.” This is the very first line in Jennifer James’ quote on envy. This is a powerful line because of the legitimacy contained within it. Every human being has value. Every being has value. There is something contributed by every life form. Rather it is the trees producing oxygen, the artists providing entertainment, or the doctors saving lives. To believe you or another being is over lesser value than the next being is incredulous. When we envy someone it is because we feel threatened. We feel something they have is missing from our lives and we long to fill that void. However, if we let the desire to acquire the possessions of others consume us; we will always have another vacancy to plug. Jealousy is being discontent with ourselves, with our lives. Envy is misery’s company. The two come in a package like the buy one get one free shoes your neighbor has you gaffing over. What your neighbor didn’t tell you is that the price of the first pair is doubled. You become so enveloped in coveting what others possess that we fall blind to desolation that may be accompanying their elation. Jealousy is like a weed. It will suck the water from the things most in need of attention unless we pull it from its roots. How do we find the root of our envy? We must understand what it is we covet and why we long to have it. Do we only want it because someone else has it? If not then we are probably not experiencing jealousy at that moment. That being said, it is not wrong to want something we have no need for. There is an immense distinction between want and envy. We can want things others have without wanting them out of jealousy. Also, jealousy does not only apply to material possessions. By definition jealousy is suspicious or fearful of being displaced by a rival. In Jennifer’s words “fear that you do not have value.” In trying to become equal with our rivals we stoop down to their level. Jealousy makes us recoil to equal or lesser value than that of our adversary. Yet, if we are content with ourselves and our own lives then we have filled the deepest void and are, therefore, of high value. To rid ourselves of fear or the value placed upon us by others is to gain a higher sense of self value. Self value will obliterate weeds by their roots without ever cringing. By human nature we envy and y human nature we grow weeds, but by self appraise we allow ourselves to crouch over long enough to demolish the roots of the weeds and prosper into something beautifully superior.