BlockTwo – Page 12 – Thornton Academy

December 19, 2018

The Beauty of Energy Drinks

When viewing energy drinks there tends to be contradicting opinions about whether these concoctions are good or bad for people. Though some find energy drinks, and companies such as Aroma Joes to be an overall health issue, many of the average youth would argue strictly against these accusations. According to the modern teen, energy drinks can be a helpful source of energy, and if used in moderation could have no bad health affects. Of course with every type of food or drink, to much can be bad, and though energy drinks are no exception to these findings, they are also no different then the average coffee or unhealthy food choice thousands of people chose to indulge in every morning. In many cases teenagers whose plates are filled with stress, homework, anxieties, and who are have trouble receiving the full amounts of sleep need for them to properly function throughout the day, energy drinks are just the trick to finding the perfect balance. With the help of energy drinks, teens are able to manage their stressful daily lives with a smile on their face and a willingness to go above and beyond those who didn’t get the help of an extra boost of energy in the morning. Findings such as these can also be found agreeable to the average adult, who needs a little extra help dealing with the overall stress of kids, jobs, and money from time to time. Along with these findings comes the overall conclusion that citizens should be helping small business such as Aroma Joes instead of contributing to the large manufacturing chains such as Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks which can be found anywhere in the country or even in the world. By helping to continue to finance small businesses for our daily pick me up, our nation is ultimately providing more variety in the future, instead of sticking to the basic trends. So the question of whether energy drinks are good or bad for a person, is not really valid, with moderation, energy drinks just might be the key to keeping this world and all the people inhabiting the planet, balanced.

Picture Credits: https://m.facebook.com/aromajoescoffee/photos/rush-hour-is-here-again-from-4-5-pm-stop-by-for-a-2-single-rush-any-flavor-822-o/10156753392236337/

December 17, 2018December 18, 2018

To Remember and To Grow

Possibly the best feeling in the world is that of pride in your heritage, in your roots and family. Talking on end about my family history and traditions gives me an elated feeling in my chest, knowing that the culture is unique and beautiful and a part of me. Every family history assignment in school sends me spinning into a complex web of ancestry, DNA, language and culture.

But, as much as I love this, I cannot ignore the darker and less prideful events my family was a part of.

Personally, I find my dad’s side of the family a bit more intriguing and unique, but both have rich and interesting histories. My mother’s family has a history in the Deep South that undoubtedly involves the transatlantic slave trade and more horrors fueled by hatred. By forgetting these events, by omitting such a crucial part of the Tindell’s past, one imposes disrespect and injustice on those whose lives were altered or tread upon by said events. To disregard a past atrocity is to allow the repetition of such. To disregard is to disrespect.

However, though I feel a special sense of connection to the Montoya family, the shadows of the past are always present. Much of my family, for instance, expresses prejudice against the Mexican people who share their streets and their towns. As a culture that takes great pride in their identity of Hispanic-but-not-quite-Latino Americans, they view Mexicans as inferior and not fitting the mold set for their identity, and, consequently, their home. This is especially ironic when one considers that the Montoya’s only arrived in Santa Fe by an expedition through Mexico spanning many decades. Santa Fe culture resembles Mexican culture far more than Spanish traditions.

So, the shadows are always present. What changes is how one chooses to address such shadows. My suggestion? Call them to the light.

December 17, 2018

The Mold

She does not fit The Mold.

It squeezes her waist, pinching her stomach. Her arms are carved. The support of her thighs crumbles under her weight. The jawline is cut from her neck. The lip spreads into a circle, the cheeks fade into nothing, and the nose is cut away. Bones emerge from the skin; ribs, collarbones, and the pelvis rise to the surface. When The Mold has completed its work, it slithers back into her head. The vision fades, and the girl sees her usual softness in the reflection of the mirror.

She tries to forget The Mold and walks to the closet. She picks an outfit for the day, careful not to choose clothing that is too tight.

Once she is in the bathroom, the girl brushes her hair. Loosened strands fall from her head into the clogged sink.

The Mold constructs another image; the hair starts to wave. It glistens and shines like copper, swaying in the sunlight. The hair covers the girl’s back as it curls to the floor. She groans, shaking away the vision.

The girl leans into the vanity, examining the details of her face. Two eyes that are not her own gaze back at her. Eyelashes brush against the surface of the glass. Eyebrows rise and set perfectly above them, not a single hair placed outside of a uniform shape. Her eyes are bright, eluding to rest and energy. Skin rests on her face like a sheet of plastic; not a single pore is visible, and there is no color besides the flush of her cheeks.

The girl splashes water on her face, drowning out the image. She completes her daily routine, founded apon basic acts of hygiene such as brushing her teeth and washing her face. Before leaving for the day, she decides to look into the mirror one last time.

Her stomach curves. Her arms gently press against the sides of her torso. The support of her thighs is provided by layers cushioned tissue. The jawline slopes into her neck. The lip spreads into thin muscle, the cheeks convex, and the nose points outward. Bones are hidden beneath skin; ribs, collarbone, and pelvis are replaced with hills. Her flat hair limply rests on her shoulders. A few red spots peek out of her face.

She knows she does not fit The Mold. She leaves her house, intentionally skipping breakfast.

December 13, 2018

On the Hunt

For many families December brings forth feelings of joy that ensue Christmas spirit through lights, music, decorations, and the power of giving. More importantly, December gathers friends and families together in an effort to celebrate the holidays and close out the year that is coming to an end; for most families, gatherings include a nice dinner, Christmas parties, or some sort of volunteering event. My family can appreciate what others like to do, but we know our way of gathering is superior; and our way is finding the perfect Christmas tree.

Finding a perfect tree is quite the task in my household; not only do we have to find the perfect tree, we also have to find the perfect tree farm that offers us an amazing experience and high quality Christmas trees. An excellent tree farm will offer a warm and cozy feeling, even on the most bitter days, and the farm will also offer a vast selection of available trees. The best of the best trees can be hard to find, but with a little hope and a loving family, the hunt grows easier.

The hunt for our perfect tree goes a little something like this: we walk the entire distance of the tree farm at least twice, marking the trees that catch our eyes, and then we tend to forget where the trees we like are located so we’re back to square one. My mom always points out the short and extremely full trees that will definitely not fit into our house, yet I still have to convince her that the tree isn’t right. My brother likes your average, pedestrian tree; tall with uniform branches. Tall doesn’t work in our house either because it’s very small and quaint. Personally, I have the best taste in trees. An ideal tree will be the perfect ratio of height and fullness, and preferably the tree will be a blue spruce over an evergreen because blue spruce trees have stronger branches that can hold up heavy ornaments. Eventually our selection is narrowed down to two trees; my mom’s top choice and my brother’s top choice (I’m always left out because I’m the youngest). More often than not we leave the farm with an incredibly short and fat tree that takes up half of our living room, and I find myself telling my family “I told you so.”

December 13, 2018

That Lovely Moment When You Just Can’t Feel Your Legs

Anxiety! The constant companion. It comes in handy, from a survival standpoint. I’m definitely grateful for it—what else could have convinced me to write this besides the inescapable fear of the number 0, the letter F? Surely the cavemen benefitted from it, celebrating as they made it back to their dear hole in the mountain without losing a limb to whatever creature craved Neanderthal that day.

Thousands of years later, I am not at immediate risk of becoming the appetizer for an animal with teeth that are way too long for its body. I know that. You know that. But the little monster in my chest controlling my logic and actions and reasoning? He has yet to catch on.

Because my little friend is so far incapable of approaching situations with composure and a little sense, we are here. We are shaking, and short of breath, and terrified of the quietest noise or the smallest movement. We are dreading the next social interaction and regretting the last.

But hope is not completely lost; there’s a dog on my bed with the most comforting smell and the warmest little body. There’s a friend in my hand, just a text away (phone calls are not an option—too terrifying). There’s a club to look forward to tomorrow, time to see my friends without the pressure of deadlines or assignments.

I know I have coping skills—that doctor taught me, and the next one and the next one. I know I have support in my family and my friends, people to bolster me no matter the distance between us.

I could get up. I could try again. But then I hear a noise outside the door. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s probably nothing. Right now, though, it doesn’t feel like nothing. And so, I don’t get up. Maybe tomorrow.

December 13, 2018

The Problem with the SAT

If a survey were to take place among teens and young adults, asking the question of “do you see yourself going to college” many would say yes. However when asking the question “do you see yourself going to the college of your dreams” the answers are nearly the opposite. Unfortunately for most the answer of “no” is correct, all based on the foundation of one test, one test that will decide whether a person gets in to the college of their dreams or not, the SAT. For years, high school juniors have dreaded testing day and all the anxieties that come with it, yet no changes have been made to fix the problem our country has had for so long. What if for some reason on testing day a teen were to test badly, what if they had a bad breakfast or got in a fight with a family member that morning, and were simply off, why does that one day get to decide their future. Why does one test ultimately decide whether a person is smart, average, or below average. For years people have asked these questions and still no answer. When a college accepts someone with a lower gpa, and a smaller work ethic compared to someone with a higher gpa, and a better work ethic, simply because they scored higher on one test, the question of why hasn’t anything been changed once again begins to form. Along with these questions the creators of the SAT have also caused an unhealthy competition between classmates. A score that a person was once proud of at the beginning of the day, could turn into a disappointment simply after hearing the scores of other friends and peers. The time for waiting for an answer to all these questions is over, we as a country need to change the testing method, whether it be by not sharing scores, or getting rid of the test completely, we simply can no longer move on the way we currently are. The solutions to the problem of the SAT are out there, it’s time to find them once and for all.

December 12, 2018

Stop Using Straws

Plastic straws are the eleventh most found ocean trash. Americans use a total of five hundred million straws per day, which is enough straws to circle around the wealth two and a half times. Often type five plastic can be recycled. This is the type of plastic the majority of straws are made out of. Also known as polypropylene, type five plastic is often not accepted by curbside recycling programs. When plastic stars are not recycled properly, they end up in landfills or polluting the oceans. These plastic straws will never fully degrade and are not biodegradable. It would take two hundred years for a plastic straw to degrade, but the plastic will never make it fully off of the earth. When plastic degrades, it even releases chemicals that are toxic to the environment and wildlife. All the straws and plastic that is littered polluting the oceans harm marine life. For example, off the coast of Costa Rica, researchers removed a plastic straw that had been embedded in an Olive Ridley Sea Turtle’s nostril.

There are many ways to combat the problem of single-use plastics such as straws. When you go to a restaurant, request that your drink isn’t served with a straw. Purchase stainless steel, bamboo, or glass straws that can be reused. When you go to Starbucks, order your iced drink with a Nitro Lid. Participate in National Skip the Straw Day on February twenty-third.

In general, use reusable shopping bags, don’t chew gum, buy boxes instead of bottles, reuse containers, use a reusable bottle or mug for your beverage, use matches instead of lighters, avoid buying frozen food packaged in plastic, don’t use plasticware, use cloth diapers, drink fresher squeezed juice instead of juice from a plastic bottle, make your own cleaning products, pack your lunch in reusable containers, and use razors with replaceable blades. These are ways to shrink your carbon footprint on the environment. The earth, the place you call your home, will thank you.

December 11, 2018March 14, 2019

A Shift in Plans

Growing up in Southern Maine with an immigrant father who is also extremely conservative and a Christian-oriented family have always been the most heavily contributing factor to my life. I mean my father is literally a priest. I think what shocked me most was that my father used to be a Democrat in his younger years. Can you imagine it? A young guy, black hair, a long beard (seems he always had one), an actual nerd in all justices, a Greek from Egypt and a democrat. He went to a smart person school, like a really smart person school: Columbia. He grew up having to do his parents taxes with his older brother; my grandparents couldn’t read, write or even speak English. Since I was young he has always emphasized that our family may not be smart, that we aren’t smart but that we have such a determination and work so hard for what we want when we apply ourselves. It became so redundant, sitting at our dinner table having him explain how my older sisters and brothers were succeeding in life. “Your brother is a manager at a car dealership, you sister is in medical school, your brother…” He is soproud of them. What boggles my mind is that he completely switched everything in his life. He became a Republican, he quit his job as a mechanical engineer to become a priest. Trust me, priests do not make a lot of money. My dad could have been the CEO of a company with his brains and work ethic, but he chose instead a job that pays far less. A job where he gets a call in the middle of the night to go to the hospital. A job that makes him drive 500 miles a week on average. He comes home for family dinner and often goes straight back to work. His work doesn’t start at eight or nine in the morning, rather he wakes up at six and leaves at the latest seven. I remember when I was younger, I would have soccer or lacrosse games and he would be come to my games. I would look over to him talking on the phone. I knew he was on the phone with someone from church, possibly a bishop from around the world. I loved that he came to my games, but it was hard to face the fact that he wasn’t always watching. Even noww I have to share my dad with over 250-300 families at my church. My father would always say that you shouldn’t choose a job where your job is your life. For the longest time my future plans were to become an engineer, then move up and become rich. Thinking on it now it was such a shallow wish. As I get older and learn of what I feel is essential I’ve realized that I shouldn’t, I don’t care about money as much as I once did. I’m still searching, but one day I will find a job that lets me help people.

If I can help one person, one person in my life, then I will have succeeded like my father.

If I can have a family around me that cares for my well-being.

If I can have children who run around my house.

If when I’m old and grey to have a family at my dinner table like my parents….

what more do I need in life?

Kristina Arabatzis

December 11, 2018December 11, 2018

Words Have Power

classic close up draw expensive — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Words hide secrets.

Things never spoken, things repeated in your head for years. A rhyme you cling to, to remind you, to justify you. Things heard when doors are not shut. Secrets communicated through codes, penetrating enemy lines, saving lives, ending others. Secrets kept by nurses and doctors, watching the faces of bright-eyed children, and turning away to whisper to the parents. Secrets kept before birthdays, bringing joy. Secrets revealed by time, age, and wisdom.

Words inspire.

Sargents scream for one more push-up. Rebels sing for one more day. Old men plead for peace. The receivers of inspiration march on and sing. They smile, feed the poor, continue fighting the negatives of life. The world becomes infected with a good disease, challenging its afflicted to leave the world a better place than they entered it. You watch this happen before you. You have breathed the infection, and smile a little brighter that day for it.

Words are kind.

Crying kids who never forget what their mentors taught them, pushing away tears. Kindness communicated in smiles, hugs, and laughter. Kindness is patting someone on the back, kindness is saying hello, kindness is saying goodbye. Kindness welcomes others and makes them feel heard. You remember kindness. You discover kindness within you. There are problems you cannot fix through actions. And so, you give little sentences, phrases you memorized, and hope for the best.

Words are angry.

You shout, not think. But those are not lies. It cuts. Scars. They may never be forgotten. You speak of fire, of the color red, of pointed toungues. Your opponent has a million excuses in their arsenal. Shot one by one, they fly off of you. Stupidity, you think of them, but never consider for yourself.

Words are absent.

You are begged for more. Commanded for it. One more push, shove, punch. It does not faze you. They scream, but your lips are closed. They are shocked by you, angered by you. You enforce it by walking away. You relize that silence is the loudest cry.

Words have power.

December 7, 2018

All Rights are Human Rights

ABDC2CD5-F57D-4373-931D-ADA6148A4511 The right to vote, freedom of speech, freedom of expression, and equality; fundamental human rights. But are they really?

Equality; a human right that is arguably known by everyone, and quite frequently ignored or shunned. Although unattested, society places a hierarchy on race, gender, sexuality, and religion in many situations. On average, a white woman only makes 80.5 cents to every dollar a white man earns. In annual earnings, women make close to $10,086 less than men do. Even more devastating, women of color earn even less than white women earn. Women are not the only people losing out on money, some men do earn less than women with the majority of them being men of color. Aside from pay rates, women face inequality in the strangest of places. In the grocery store, for instance, a pack of 13 razors for women sells for $13.99, or $1.08 per razor, while a 10 pack of razors for men sells for $7.48, or $0.75 per razor. Gender-based price discrimination, particularly on women’s products, is what is know as “pink tax.” So who decided that a woman must pay more for necessity items than a man even though she makes less money? And when did women lose out on the fundamental human right of equality?

Unfortunately, no one is safe from losing out on their ability to practice a right, even if they’re a white male. Not only does gender play a huge role in a person’s rights, their race does as well. A black or Hispanic person is far more likely than a white person to face the horrors of racism. They are more likely to be harassed while practicing their freedom of speech, religion, or expression; and they’re more likely to face judgmental glares at the mall or in the place of voting. Because of skin color, a person that is not white is considered a “lesser” race. How could the world have let racism come this far? Why hasn’t anyone made a valiant effort to put an end to unequal rights and racism? Racism and inequality is the societal norm of today; people don’t know any different. Why bother trying to change things now, you may ask. Well, because every human is entitled to their constitutional rights, but more importantly, because all rights are human rights.