Finding My Way

I can not even begin to make a sad attempt at explaining why I experience stress at the levels I do as an 18 year old. I don’t recall signing some sort of disclaimer when I popped out of the womb saying this life would include high levels of stress every once in a while. I never asked for this.

This unwelcome guest needs to find its way out just as quickly as it found its way in. No one ever invited this bothersome pest to come reside within my body. All this guy does is just eat away at my insides, clawing it’s way into my nerve endings. It causes migraines, nausea, anxiety, mood swings, and the occasional breakdown. None of those symptoms are enjoyable in the slightest, and I don’t want to continue feeling them as often as I do.

It blows my mind how the typical high schooler in the United States has the same stress levels as a psychiatric ward patient in the 1950s. That makes me sick. That fact alone screams help.

Maybe that’s what I need: help. But how do I ask for help? How do I vocalize my emotions without sounding vulnerable? How do I ask the right questions for guidance in these difficult times without sounding defeated?

I wonder if this is me trying to wave my white flag and just say “I give up.” What if I did give up? What if I just said “screw it” and let the monster inside of me eat me alive until there’s nothing left?

Nothing.

What an ominous word. Seven letters, two syllables, yet has so much power and so much meaning. When I think of the word nothing, I think of despair, failure, lost hope, and defeat. So I guess you could say the word nothing has a negative connotation according to how I think about the word and how it ties into my internal struggles.

Nothing.

I hate that word. It makes me feel worthless. It makes me feel like I let the monster inside of me win. I cave in and let it consume my entire being so much I get lost in the whole idea of my perception of the word “nothing”. It brings me to this dark place with no light in sight to help me find the way out. I’m trapped in its void with no easy exit.

The only way out is to persevere. Get rid of the word nothing, and replace it with something.

Something.

Now that’s a little more hopeful. I start to see the light and escape the void of nothingness. The monster inside of me begins to die off letting me gain access to my body and my brain again. The cobwebs get dusted away by this newfound sense of purpose.

I’m too sick and tired of letting stress get the best of me. It’s time for a change. It’s time to turn that nothing into something and find my purpose and my drive. I know I have purpose in this life. Why else would I be here? All it takes is some time to find it.

Truman Capote and Bryan Stevenson

It is sometimes challenging for authors to express true emotion and write about real-world issues in their writing. Truman Capote, masterfully meets this criteria. Through his piece, “A Diamond Guitar,” Capote uses pathos to connect emotionally with the reader, while also touching upon legal system concerns and injustice. These factors allow many similarities to be drawn between Capote’s story and Bryan Stevenson’s novel, “Just Mercy.”

In both authors writing pieces, racial issues, the difference in the type of imprisoned individuals, and the pain and grief that accompanies imprisonment are all included. Capote mentions racial issues, when referring to segregated living places in the prison farm, while Stevenson mentions the unequal and biased treatment/sentencing of prisoners of color. Capote and Stevenson both summarize the mixture of prison population, where serial murderers may live in the same facilities as people with two month shoplifting sentences. Furthermore, both authors refer to prisoner and prisoner-family grief in order to better connect with the reader. Capote through Tico’s sibling story and Stevenson through first hand conversations with Walter and his family.

The biggest difference between Stevenson’s and Capote’s writing, is that while Stevenson blatantly states and calls out legal system injustices or the emotional pain prisoners and families of prisoners endure, Capote takes a more subtle approach. For example, instead of making the pain that Tico and his family feel after his imprisonment obvious, Capote eludes to it by having Tico mention his siblings (which he misses) after asking Mr. Schaffer to make dolls for them. Though Stevenson’s approach is more direct and dry (less artistic), these differing writing approaches both have the same end result. Difficult and complicated issues regarding prison and emotions, are successfully and eloquently expressed to the reader.

silhouette of a man in window

The Life and Works of Truman Capote

ad2686d1-b758-4e83-8162-da02922ea445Truman Capote was a famous author most well known for his books Breakfast at Tiffany’s and, delving in the contrasting genre of true crime, In Cold Blood, both of which gained critical success at the time of their release and that still capture the public’s attention now.

Capote began writing early on in his life, creating numerous stories, some even in his teenage years, before his publishing of Breakfast at Tiffany’s in 1958, and In Cold Blood in 1966. He garnered attention with his short story, Miriam, a sorry that was successful enough to land him a contract with Random House, leading his to start the journey of writing his very first novel. Capote is also known for his tight friendship with hailed author of To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee, a relationship so close that she even inserted a character in the novel based off of Capote, at least according to him that is.

In addition to his status as an acclaimed novelist, Capote was openly homosexual, a fact that during the time he lived, provided a bit of scandal and intrigue to his life to say the least. It seems as though he was very open about his sexuality, and though not an outright activist for gay rights himself, his openness about himself and his celebrity status helped push the movement all the same.

Capote was a pivotal writer for his time, his works still managing to keep a lasting impact long after his death. His most well known works were converted to film, films that remain classics in the modern world. His stories are still read, and he is still discussed. Despite the fact Capote did not contribute any more novels after In Cold Blood, and his later (and last) years were filled with drug and alcohol problems that later resulted in his death, Truman Capote remains, and hopefully will continue to be, a writer remembered for his exquisite stories.

 

 

Growth

Two years ago, I experienced the loss of one of my classmates. Even though I barely knew her, it was a complete shock to me and it definitely opened my eyes up. It made me become conscious about the shortness of life on earth and how anything can happen to any of us so suddenly. Life is so precious and we need to do whatever we can to live in the moment and make the most of everyday. It’s so easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of everyday life and lose touch with the very reason why we are here. We should not let our fears prevent us from living the life we want and we should do whatever we can to lead our lives the way we wish to lead them. We shouldn’t let the fear or criticism or rejection stop us from pursuing our happiness. We each have the chance to make a difference in our lives and the lives of others. We have the chance to show generosity, kindness and humility towards others. Once we die, it’s too late to make any changes or amends. My classmate’s death made me realize that you need to appreciate those around you. You need to have the strength to forgive others, rather than letting anger and resentment take over your life. We also need to learn to love ourselves and not let those around us get us down.  Everyone makes mistakes and we should grow and learn from those rather than giving up. It helped me to grow into a strong ambitious person which are very important traits that will allow me to become successful not only in college, but in life.

The Realities of Going on Exchange to Italy

“Blah blah blah guerra blah blah blah regina.” This was the type of thing I heard every day in class the first few weeks whilst I was on exchange in Italy. I had very little prior experience learning the Italian language so I could only understand every 10th or so word the teacher was saying. The rest was all gibberish to my ear. Furthermore, this wasn’t the experience in just one class; this was my experience in every single class. I was taking math, biology, history, spanish, french and religion all in Italian. Now you are probably thinking why didn’t I just ask one of my classmates to translate for me or why didn’t I ask my teachers for help, the problem was my classmates and my teachers only knew very minimal english; in fact, their English was even worse than my Italian. Therefore, I was all on my own. I had to learn everything by myself.

At times I felt like giving up. I wanted to leave the class, leave the country and never coming back. I thought what’s the point of me being here at this school, in this country if I don’t understand a single thing that’s going on. However, I was determined to stay and give it my best. This was an opportunity for me to immerse myself with a whole new lifestyle, way of thinking and get deep out of my comfort zone. I not only wanted to learn Italian but I wanted to enrich myself with the new information that was taught in these classes. I had absolutely no one to turn to so I had to become independent with my learning and think for myself. I decided to dedicate time each night to translate my Italian textbooks word for word into English. I know it sounds mundane, believe me it was but it was definitely worth it in the end. This was the way for me to learn not only the same information that everyone in Italy was learning but to broaden my Italian vocabulary. Furthermore, by broadening my vocabulary I was able to talk to the locals who all had their own unique perspectives on life; therefore, I was able to develop a greater awareness and sensitivity to the issues of people from another country, very different to my own.

The Beach is my Home

I have loved going to the beach, ever since I was 14 years old. It’s my escape. I relish the feeling of the soft, grainy sand beneath my feet, the cool, gentle breeze on my back and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. I can’t help but feel calm. Going to the beach is what I love to do when I want to relax. It helps to clear my head and makes me feel like I’m in a world of my own. Seeing the vastness of the ocean makes me realize how insignificant all of my problems are. They are nothing. Tiny, little things which have no meaning. My problems in proportion to all the difficulties faced by everyone else in the world are like a grain of sand in proportion to the ocean.

I remember a couple years back, I was having a really bad day. I got into a huge fight with one of my closest friends and I felt sick in the mind. Like there was nothing left for me. I was so full of rage at what had happened. So I went to the beach and my problems slowly drifted away into the air. Instead, I felt the hot, blazing sun shining on my face, the cool water up to my knees and the sand grinding between my toes. I cast my eyes out to the sea and observed the jewel-blue water meeting the cloudless sky. I could hear children chatting in the distance; the playfulness of their voices. It was so soothing being by the beach, being away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

I have been to the beach many times during sunset. One time, I was on a family vacation in Hawaii. I remember sitting by the clear, blue water and eagerly waiting for the sun to set so I could enjoy the beauty of the world around me. I recall the seemingly endless sky being tinted with a glittering pink hue and the bright sun illuminating a sparkling path across the water.  It looked so magical, like something out of a fairytale. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life before. It was stunning.

I will always feel at home at the beach regardless of the time of day or the time of year. As soon as I hear the waves kissing the sand and the magnificent stretch of blue in front of me, I know where I belong and my problems are slowly swept up by the shore.

Hanoi, from my lens

All formalities aside, Hanoi is best appreciated from first-hand experiences. I shall love Hanoi for better or for worse, till death do us part.

Hanoi carries its beauty through the years. The rise of skyscrapers display the city’s developing pace. When the sun goes down, these skyscrapers light up like fireflies. However, Hanoi shrinks into humility as it glows from the ordinary, yellow-painted tenements. The tenements are usually very small and low in heights. Most families added another another section to the house so as to have a tiny balcony; if you are stopping at a traffic light on a motor scooter while riding nearby a tenement neighborhoods and you suddenly look up, you might catch sight of the beautiful flowers that families put on their balconies. And you might turn your head to one side and think, “How lovely.”

Ranked as one of the world’s greatest 18 cities for food by the Telegraph, Hanoi presents an amazing range of cuisines, from pizza to phở. There are restaurants and “quán” (a more informal and cozy kind of restaurants) that would match up to your appetite any day. If you are down to try Japanese Italian pizza with a little twist, Pizza 4P’s offers delicious, original pizzas, while also steadily remains in the spotlight for their “Crab Tomato Cream Spaghetti with Ricotta Cheese.” On the other hand, if you feel like dining the way of locals, may I introduce you to “quán” on pavements. It is widely known that the food on the sidewalk takes pride in some of the best taste. You can find all types of Vietnamese dishes in these specialized “quán,” including the world-famous phở noodle soup with beef or chicken, bánh cuốn (steamed rice rolls), and chè with plenty of flavors (Vietnamese sweet soup), which is also a common dessert in Vietnam.

For me, Hanoi is home and an adventure, both at once. There will always be new things to see and to do, yet there will always be a nest to return to at the end of the day.fbb3f36f-0df1-43b2-b4bd-72e9c4c4d332

Dawnland

Dawnland
The Thornton Academy Civil Rights Team organized a screening of the Dawnland Documentary
open to the community. The Dawnland screening was a documentary about cultural survival and stolen children. Recently the TA Civil Rights Team has been focusing on Native American issues and Maine Native Tribes. We wanted to put on the event to raise awareness to Maine Tribes and the cultural genocide of Native Americans in general. I am part of the Passamaquoddy and Penobscot tribe her in Maine. Around May of last year I though it would be a good idea to put on this even because I saw that there wasn’t much awareness and knowledge being taught about Native American people. I feel that it is important to teach the history of the sacrifices Native Americans made for the land that a lot of people of people take for granted. The damages that have been made from the stolen lands and the cultural genocide still affects Mative Americans today and People need to be aware. I didn’t want to show the film to make people feel guilty but to educate them about the history and the more contemporary issues Native Americans face as a result of the cultural genocide that occurred because many time the history is ignored or just forgotten about. My role in the event was basically the role of an organizer, to contact the guest speaker and try to get him to the even as well as advertising and where the event would be. I was able to get a worker from the Maine Wabanaki REACH program to come speak more about the movie and how the REACH program interviewes with the movie. I also wanted to have another guest speaker who offered a more personal connection to the Maine Reservations so I decided to invite my mother who is from the Passamaquoddy tribe. The event turned out to be a success and got the point across and educated the people. I hope that the people will spread there knowledge, from what they learned for the event and maybe do something with there knowledge for the better.

Liliana Sapiel

ironies

I enjoying finding ironies in things. It helps to make light of seemingly detrimental situations.

Schools a good topic because it has a lot of possible content. Like, school is a privilege, but it’s also widely hated. Or, school is for everyone, but how many people can actually say they feel like school caters to their learning habits. Or, school is supposed to be the best years of your life, but have fun wasting your whole weekend doing all this homework. Or, getting told “as long as you understand, your final grade doesn’t matter”, but, uh, yes it does, last time I checked colleges do consider final grades. Or, teachers are supposed to teach, but here are some calculus examples, you’ve never seen them, or learned how to do them, but figure it out. Or, “don’t stress, it’s just a test”, but doing bad on said test will highly impact grade. Or, “we prepare kids for their future”, but who’s gonna teach me how to do taxes and buy a house.

Some more that don’t apply to a particular topic… the fact that I swim six days a week, but absolutely hate it. Or, I stress out about swimming, when I don’t even want to be a professional athlete. Or, the fact that I just thought about a bunch of ironies because I didn’t know what else I wanted to write about for this blog, when this is probably not acceptable. Or how most of these “examples” might not even be ironies, but I’m labeling them as such.

The Commitment of Owning Pets

black and white animal dog fur
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Being a pet owner is one of the most fun jobs in the world, if it is even considered a job. However, it takes a lot of commitment to raise a well behaved, domesticated animal. For example, my family owns two dogs, and despite them both being fun and loving, there are times when they drive you crazy.

The oldest of my family’s two dogs is named Ghetti. He is about 5 years old and is a medium sized dog. He is a rescue dog, so he is a mix of many different breeds, but is mainly hound. My family adopted Ghetti a couple of weeks after our first dog, Zoe, passed away. He is generally more well behaved and is a very friendly, playful dog. The only bad thing is his barking, but he only barks at people or dogs passing by the house because he is being protective of our other dog.

That other dog is a 9 month old rescue dog named Sunny. She was adopted last June, simply because my sister and dad had been pleading with my mom for another dog, and finally, she submitted. However, it was not long before Sunny’s craziness made everyone reconsider adopting her in the first place. She is a nonstop ball of energy and will greet you by jumping at you crazily, her entire butt shaking at the speed of her wagging tail. Because of Sunny’s antics, Ghetti never gets any peace and quiet because Sunny is always following him around, playing with him, or biting at his legs. When she gets bored of annoying Ghetti, she turns to mischief, and will get her mouth on whatever she can find.

These two dogs, while loving, can both be annoying and mischievous. However, that is part of being a pet owner. Staying faithful to your pets through thick and thin is what will make them stay faithful to you in return.

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