2 Best Blogs of the Year: Extra Credit

1. American Culture and My Own Culture (1st semester)

The American culture is a varied and ever-changing way of defining the American people themselves. We are a group of many talents, nationalities, stories, and beliefs. Some say that there is no certain way to define American culture, because it is so diverse, but I say that the diversity itself is what defines us. Our nation is based on a set of morals and beliefs that diverstiy should be celebrated, and all should be given the chance to show their own individuality, making ours a nation of freedom and pride in oneself. We are a loyal people, putting country first with a true spirit of patriotism, and caring for one another when disaster comes our way. Though there are always exceptions to this spirit, I believe that deep in the hearts of almost every American citizen is the "we" attitude that brings us together, as it did in such as the fateful events of September 11. Even though we are sometimes caught up in our own little words, it only takes some of the smallest actions to remind us of what we really are: a family in nation, in dreams, and in diverstiy.

Besides the enormous pride I feel in having an American culture, the other traits of my backround are very important not only to me, but also to my family. My father's side of the family is very German (if you couldn't tell just by looking at my name) with some Southern American roots from my grandmother. My mother's side of the family, however, is extremely Irish, and very proud of it too. I enjoy learning about both sides of my ancestry, believing that the makeup of my ancestors also defines me. Both of my parents were raised Roman Catholic, and still are, as am I. My faith is very important to me, and governs a lot of decisions I make. Though going to a private, parochial school didn't really expose me to as much as other kids who went to public school did, culture is always changing, and I am always open to new experiences. I believe that my ethnic and cultural opportunities are always increasing, and there is always room for improvement, so I look forward always to becoming a more diverse and opinionated individual.

2. Runners for Life (2nd Semester)

When most students hear from their gym teachers that they are running the mile next day, they are filled with a sense of dread. Call me crazy, but I get excited. I have always loved running: anywhere, anytime, and any distance. From soccer to basketball and now cross country and track, I can only describe the free feeling as my feet fly as pure ecstasy. When people find out about my running habits they one, think I'm crazy, or two, have known me long enough to say that it's about time. Either way, people then ask how I got started, which is not quite a long story, but not something short to explain either. I went to a very small, private school for Kindergaten up until eigth grade where the only sports offered for girls were volleyball in the fall, basketball in the winter, and softball in the spring. I had been playing soccer since I was five, but in fourth grade I had to stop and was looking for something new to get rid of my energy. The coaches for the three sports offered were friends of my parents so I got placed into all three of their sports. Over the next couple of years, I got better and better at all three sports, managing to become captain of my volleyball and softball team two years in a row, and in basketball one year. I liked the sports, but I still just wanted to run. School, athletics, church activities, music, and working stopped me from doing more up until high school. Most people expected me to go on to do volleyball, basketball, and softball at Stevenson, but I shocked a lot of people-especially my parents- when I decided to join the cross country team in the fall. For the people that don't know, cross country is a grueling 5km, or 3.11 mile race that takes place outside in forests, parks, and the occasional baseball diamond (lots of them.) I loved every exhausting stride. The feeling of running is like nothing else I've ever experienced, and the feeling afterwards is sometimes described as a "runner's high." You feel on top of the world after every run, and I couldn't wait to do it all over again. The people I met while running were another reason I was so glad to do cross country. I don't know what it is, but runners always mile when we pass on sidewalks and cheer each other on, no matter what school we go to. Many times I have been encouraged by runners from Churchill, Franklin, and other schools, and I have always been one to encourage someone who was maybe lagging behind. And I know that I keep saying running this, and running that, but it really means that much to me. I wasn't really sure about high school coming from such a small school (240 kids, preschool through eighth grade), but running really helped me walk up to the building with confidence.

Current Event Blog-Protests in Thailand

Thailand’s violence

Thailand was once the image of serenity and peace; serving as an example for other countries as to how the people could live in peace. Looking now at the dire situation in Bangkok, the capital, you would never have guessed that this nation was a one of tranquility. The thousands of protesters that are camped out in the streets and roads call themselves the Red Shirts; campaigning to bring back the exiled Prime Minister and bring about a new, fairer, and more democratic government. The government opposition to the protesters believes that the Prime Minister they want to bring back is corrupt and that all the rural farmers that support him so strongly would end up not liking how the government was going in the the long run. Peace talks have flopped, people have been killed, and the protesters are still camped out. This begs the question of who is really right, and what we can do to fix the situation. I believe that the government should be open to and actually hold new elections to satisfy the protesters. They should put aside their differences for a minute and hold real disscussions.

"In televised negotiations with protest leaders last week, the prime minister agreed to their principal demand — dissolving parliament and holding new elections — but said the process would take nine months. The Red Shirt leadership demanded dissolution in 15 days and left to redouble their efforts in the streets." The Red Shirts need to understand that patience is needed for this sensitive subject and realize that they can't instantly make their country better by dissolving parliament and having no one in charge while they are voting for their Prime Minister that may or may not even be a good leader. The government needs to keep this attitude of willingness to work with the Red Shirts and restore peace to Thailand. They should refrain from any violent military actions much like the Red Shirts should continue to peacefully protest.

Are you happy Madi? I didn't use Free Blog as my title.

The rain pounding outside above my head sounds like a million screaming fans in a tightly packed stadium hosting the World Cup. The thunder is rumbling like some distant giant trudging through the mountains. Soon after the explosive boom of thunder, I see a white hot flash of lightning strike in the air like a python shooting out at its prey. The water gushing off the rooftops splatters onto the cement in waves, ebbing and flowing like the ocean. I sit quietly in my chair listening to the beauty around me and listening to Mother Nature at work. Mrs. Bergeski continues her speech on Roman Numerals, and the rain continues to pour. Everyone is quiet, probably exhausted from the week behind us, and sits dejectedly in their seats listening to the far off booming of thunder. It is times like these where my mind wanders and I soon am daydreaming. The bell goes off and it’s already 4th hour. We are in C-19 and are free blogging.
Now half of class is over and I am still writing this blog. The rain has let up and you can almost see the feeble rays of sunlight trying to break through the dense covering of clouds. The thunder has subsided and a sort of calm comes to the air. I know that when I go outside after 6th Hour, the pavement will still be damp from the outpouring and the air will feel heavy with humidity. The sun, if it is out, will be feebly attempting to warm the rain-soaked grass, and you will instantly smell the stench of half-drowned worms that tried to escape the rain. Though it is wet and humid, this is my favorite weather to run in; the earth feels fresh and new. This is possibly my favorite part of a rainy day: after the skies have opened and released all their water, when it feels like the world is reborn and cleansed.
A roar of thunder jolts me from my daydream and I realize that I am still in 4th Hour and typing. I hear the rain pounding on Stevenson’s roof again, after tricking us to make us think that it had stopped. I long for the sun’s warm rays and that image, smell, and feel of the new, clean Earth. Still raining, I just sigh and wait out the pouring. I look forward to when the rain will stop and I can enjoy the outdoors again.

SIMUN Blog

I was not really sure about what SIMUN would be like the first day, even though we had prepared a bit in Mrs. Bergeski’s class and had gone over parliamentary procedure in Mr. Fielder’s class. It was still a big unknown to me as to how it would run and what the people would be like. After the first day, though, I had a pretty basic understanding of what was expected of me and also what was expected of the group. The second day was a scenario in which my country, Mexico, was directly related to the problem. I opened the folder and I felt a little like passing out, but I slowly read the problem and then prepared myself for caucus. Everyone crowded around me asking my opinion and a bunch of questions, but I soon got used to it and was able to answer their questions. By the third day, I was extremely confident in what I was doing and spoke a couple of times, adding to the previous days of speaking where I was nervous and slightly hesitant.
I think, for a freshman at least, that I did pretty well at SIMUN. Though it was hard to get involved at first, I managed to speak once on the first day and made sure to caucus a lot. The second day was the most involving for me- I think I spoke two or three times and asked a question or two. I was very active in helping with writing the resolution by stating Mexico’s opinion. The third day was also pretty involving; I spoke again and tried to caucus like a maniac. For my very first try, I think I did well at being a delegate.
I was definitely glad that I had prepared enough beforehand. Reading multiple sources and comparing different figures and facts about my country and my issues helped me to better understand the problems we could be faced with and how my country would and should react. I took margin notes on some of my articles, which was a good thing when I needed a reference for a situation or for caucusing. The best thing I did to prepare was telling myself that I could do it and mentally preparing myself to talk without fear. You can research all you want and be an expert on the subject, but if you aren’t prepared to speak and share your opinion, then you won’t do well.
The only thing I might do differently for SIMUN next year is make sure that I speak more, and I want to try to help freshmen that don’t really understand the process. I want to be encouraging to them to prove to them that they can do it. I felt that I prepared myself enough this year, so otherwise I’m looking forward to SIMUN next year.

SIMUN Blog

As a delegate from Mexico, I would have to agree with the United State’s position on moving into Pakistan to secure the nuclear weapons and materials from the Taliban. Pakistan’s government has been known to be unstable, and the recent resurgence of extremist terror groups like the Taliban is a threat to not only Pakistan’s security, but the security of the entire world. If a terror organization like the Taliban were to come into possession of nuclear weapons, it could ignite a global conflict that would escalate into the destruction of mankind. A little extreme, but we have to think of all the consequences of our actions and the actions of others. I would hope that the Pakistani government understands the U.S.’s concern over loose nuclear materials and would work with the U.S. to eradicate the problem. The Taliban threat needs to be dealt with swiftly and thoroughly, and it needs to be dealt with very soon. The chances we are taking with having an openly terrorist group running around Pakistan unchecked are very risky. The U.S. was right in stepping in and intervening because most likely the Taliban would have moved in on the U.S. and the West first, since they are enemies. This might have triggered a nuclear response from the U.S., which could devastate not only Pakistan, but the surrounding countries. This would only lead to more conflict, when more countries got involved and possibly deploy their nuclear weapons also. Currently many countries have nuclear weapons or materials, or if it is unknown if they do, they could still have them. Unfortunately the scenario I see playing out is one where countries fight fire with more fire and everyone just ends up getting burned.
Mexico, again, fully supports the U.S. and would be willing to also work with the Pakistani government to supply troops or possible other aid. If ever the Taliban is willing to negotiate to cease their actions, then Mexico would be more than eager to attend, host, or observe these meetings; whatever is called for by the group and countries. Though Mexico’s own problems and economic issues prevent it from providing a ton of monetary support, any diplomatic support needed would gladly be bestowed by Mexico.

Children of the River

Everyone has heard of the terrible injustice that went on during World War II when Hitler and his German army murdered and tortures millions of Jewish people. Almost everyone has heard of the Tutsi massacre that occurred in Rwanda when feuding tribes recklessly killed one another over the death of the Rwandan president. It surprises me then, that many people do not know of the genocide-the killing of a people-that took place in Cambodia. After the United States left Vietnam and North Vietnam took over South Vietnam, Cambodia had a coup of sorts itself. A communist rebel group called the Khmer Rouge took over Cambodia’s government and attempted to set up a form of communism similar to Maoist China. The Khmer Rouge believed that the population should be made to work as laborers in one huge group of collective farms. Anyone that disagreed with them- and all well-off and educated people- were killed, along with all un-communist ideas of traditional Cambodian culture. And so began what was known as the Exodus. Everyone-old, sick, newborns, injured, crippled, children-was forced to leave their home and march into the countryside. If people didn’t move fast enough or didn’t move at all they were killed, along with anyone who seemed weak during the march. Everyone’s rights were taken away-freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and pretty much all ability to make your own decisions. Families were split up on purpose and brought as far away as possible from their homes, anyone known to have received a formal education or a professional job (like in the medical field) was beaten to death along with their families, and anyone caught worshipping, singing, crying, or laughing was executed. After all these deaths the worse was still to come. The people that escaped execution were forced to be unpaid laborers, pretty much slaves, that were given barely any food, horrible living conditions, and expected to work for ridiculously long hours in the beating sun. Disease and sickness were rampant, and many more perished from pure exhaustion. The total death toll of the genocide is estimated to be well over two million people- almost 25% of Cambodia’s population. My book tells the story of Sundara, a young girl that escaped the genocide with her aunt, uncle, and cousins and comes to America for a better life. She is torn between adapting to her new school, surroundings, and country or sticking to the Khmer way and pleasing her strict aunt. All the while she is combating new found feelings for an American boy, Jonathan McKinnon, who is the son of the doctor that saved her sick cousin, and still praying that the boy she was promised in marriage to, Chamroen, is still alive in Cambodia. Her day to day struggle just to please her family and keep moving on is very well portrayed by the author and makes this book not only intriguing, but heartfelt.

Writing Strategies Blog

Waking up at 6:15 in the morning is never fun. That's particularly why when I wake up at 5:40 a.m. I feel even worse. Blindly climbing down from my loft, I try not to wake my sister as I also skillfully avoid the ceiling light that I hit half of the time. Make that most of the time. I trudge sleepily through the hallway; I try not to step on the floorboards that I know will squeak, groan, crack, or a combination of the three. Usually I don't succeed and my mom calls out quietly to be more careful. I walk to the bathroom sink to wash my face and as I wipe off the water I look in the mirror and think how much I wish I could crawl back into bed. It all starts out innocently enough before it turns into a vicious cycle. Waking up Monday morning early isn't so bad because you were most likely resting a little over the weekend. You come home after sports, clubs, or whatever and put off your homework, mind somewhere else, for a while. Soon it's nine o' clock and you are a little worried. But hey, that paper's not due until Friday, so you put it off for tomorrow. Wake up tired, go to school, come home and find out that your friend won tickets to a basketball game so you go. You come home a little late but finish your work and put off the paper for one more day. Wednesday seems like the worst day to get up, but you do it anyway and go to school. Same routine and you come, laden with books and papers, home to find out that your favorite show is having a five hour marathon. You pop some popcorn and let school troubles fade away. Zzz... You wake up at 10:30 a little confused as to where you are when you remember your homework and finish around 11:30. We all know that late-night, school the next day feeling, and right now you are feeling it. You go to bed exhausted. Waking up on Thursday is gross, but you tell yourself that Friday is only one day away, to hold on. Almost leaving, your teacher yells not to forget the ten page paper due tomorrow. You stop in your tracks and groan. We have all had this scenario play out in our own lives, and have hopefully learned from it. I believe we should stop this from ever happening again though. We should take what we have learned and voice it: no papers due at the end of the week ever! Yell it from the rooftops. Some say that it is our own fault for blowing off the paper, but I believe that our well-being of mind should be important too. We have to have enough sleep, yet still have social lives and hobbies while adding a little school. Long assignments at the end of the week just increase stress and make people sad. Maybe, just maybe teachers have social lives too, and on the off chance that they do, they might sympathize with our complaint. They most likely don't like grading the long papers, yet they still assign them, so here's a solution: don't assign them! Young high schoolers are still growing and need a lot of sleep, so adding homework endangers their health. It would be so much better for all if we just got rid of papers and assignments. It would help the environment, the economy, and probably world peace too if we had more time to help the earth, work, and promote peace, but alas we have that terrible assignment due on Friday. 'Tis truly shame.

Food for a Thought...

How many of you daily buy the lunches that the school provides? Though cheaper and more efficient than brown-bagging it everyday, is the quality of the meal the same as what you could make and bring yourself? To be honest, the school food often looks appalling to me, and not at all nutritional. Processed potatoes with condensed meat-based gravy? Yuck. Though some of the food is bearable, like the pizza, almost none of it is health conscious. Yes, Stevenson offers some healthy alternatives like salad and fruit, but most schools don't have that luxury. They are forced to purchase the cheapest and largest quantities of food that they can serve to their students, often processed, soaked in high fructose corn syrup, and/or frozen to be microwaved. And parents are left wondering why the obesity rate of children is quickly rising. Is this the kind of example we want to be giving to the children and teenagers that buy lunch? All these artificial additives and preservatives we put in our foods are perfectly fine and eating your fresh vegetables and fruits aren't important? I think that if we want to have a healthier generation, it should start in the school, where kids learn not just math, reading, and science, but habits they will have for life.

There is a blog that I am following that addresses this exact issue: http://fedupwithschoollunch.blogspot.com/. It follows a teacher that uses the pseudonym Mrs. Q as she eats the food that the school she works at serves everyday for a year. It includes pictures, descriptions, and is a very interesting read. I would recommend anyone who is intrigued to read, because like stated before it is very interesting and really makes you think about what we are really doing to make an impact on kids' health and their lives.

Free Blog-Running

Runners for Life

When most students hear from their gym teachers that they are running the mile the next day, they are filled with a sense of dread. Call me crazy, but I get excited. I have always loved running; anywhere, anytime, and any distance. From soccer to basketball and now cross country and track, I can only describe the free feeling as my feet fly as pure ecstasy. When people find out about my running habits they one, think I’m crazy, or two, have known me long enough to say that it’s about time. Either way, people then ask how I got started, which is not quite a long story, but not something quick to explain either.
I went to a very small, private school for Kindergarten up until eighth grade where the only sports offered for girls were volleyball in the fall, basketball in the winter, and softball in the spring. I had been playing soccer since I was five, but in fourth grade I had to stop and was looking for something new to get rid of some of my energy. The coaches for the three sports offered were friends of my parents and I got put into all three sports. Over the next couple of years, I got better and better at all three sports, managing to become captain of my volleyball and softball team two years in a row, and in basketball one year. I liked the sports, but I still wanted to just run. School, athletics, church activities, and working stopped me from being able to do more up until high school. Most people expected me to go on to do volleyball, basketball, and softball at Stevenson, but I shocked a lot of people-especially my parents-when I decided to join the cross country team in the fall. For the people that don't know, cross country is a grueling 5km, or 3.11 mile race that takes place outside in forests, parks, and the occasional baseball diamond. (Lots of them) I loved every exhausting stride. The feeling of running is like nothing else I've ever experienced, and the feeling afterwards is sometimes described as a runner's "high." You feel on top of the world after every run, and I couldn't wait to do it all over again. The people I met while running were another reason I was so glad to do cross country. I don't know what it is, but runners always smile when we pass on sidewalks and cheer each other on, no matter what school we go to. Many times I have been encouraged by runners from Churchill, Franklin, and other schools, and I have always been one to encourage someone who was maybe lagging behind. And I know I keep saying running this, and running that, but it really means that much to me. I wasn't really sure about high school coming from such a small school (240 kids, preschool through eighth grade), but running really helped me walk up to the building with confidence.

Big Fish Blog

It started out like any other wintry day in the quaint, little town of Livonia, MI. The lawns of the sleepy residents were swamped with the two feet of snow they had received the night before, and some children had already began to build snowmen. Those still inside were bouncing with delight as their disgruntled parents tried to dress them warmly enough to play outside in the snow. My siblings were among the latter group, running around the house trying to find gloves, scarves, and hats. I was upstairs in my room packing my own snow gear for the trip to my friend Madi's house. Earlier in the day she had called me to go snowboarding and hiking at a nearby mountain with our friend Batool. I was excited to go, but at the same time a little nervous. My mother had always told me the stories that surrounded the nearby river; the ones where hikers went there and never returned. But, I told myself, those are just myths told to scare little children. Either way, I would be staying far away from the river. I had just arrived at Madi's house when she came running out to the front yard with a panicked look on her face. "Something happened to Batool!" she sputtered, "I turned my back for one second and she was gone! There was just a hole in the snow where she was standing." I ran out back and saw for myself the gaping hole in the ground. I racked my brain for an idea until it hit me. "Kip and Max!" I exclaimed. Kip and Max were Madi's two dogs, if that's even the word to use. They were more like horse-sized wolves, and most importantly, they had been around Batool and knew her scent. Madi and I ran to get the dogs, a sled, and one of Batool's gloves. We tied the dogs to the sled, let them smell Batool's glove, and we were off. The dogs instantly set off towards the mountain, and to my slight fear, the river. On the way to the mountain we came across a strange tan farmhouse. We stopped to rest for a while here and went up to knock on the front door of the farmhouse to see if anyone was home. The door was instantly swung open by a girl that looked to be about the same age as us. "Hi! My name is Kelly. Welcome to the White House." Madi and I looked at each other a little confused. "Hi Kelly, I'm Madi and this Hannah." said Madi, "And not to be rude, but isn't your house tan?" Kelly just shook her head and laughed. "Why don't you both come inside and have something to eat? I hope you like your fruits and vegetables." Kelly turned and walked inside her house. Madi looked at me a little disturbed, though at this strange girl or the prospect of eating vegetables I wasn't quite sure. Kelly walked over to us and gave us both a bag that had an apple and a bushel of carrots in it and than said, "Well, it's getting late, you both better be on your way." She turned and closed the door, leaving us both standing there a little unsure of what just happened. "Well, we'd better be going." said Madi uncertainly. I nodded in agreement and we both got back on the sled, being pulled by the dogs to the mountain. We traveled for about thirty minutes more until we got to the base of the mountain a few feet away from the river. The dogs started pawing at the ground and whimpering so I got off the sled and starting looking around. "Hmmm, it seems like the trail just ends here." I said. "I wonder where she- Ahhhh!!!" I stepped forward and fell into a giant tunnel underground, followed by Madi and then the dogs. I sat up to see if everyone was alright, which they were. "What is this place?" Madi wondered aloud. "I believe I can answer that." said a new, high-pitched voice. Madi and I both jumped at the sound while the dogs didn't look at all alarmed. I saw a small figure step out of the shadows and I couldn't believe my eyes. There stood a groundhog, maybe two feet tall that was talking to us. "Hannah and Madi, it's me, Batool." the groundhog said. "But how? What? Why? What is going on?!" cried Madi. The groundhog shuffled over to us. "This is going to sound really weird," said Batool, "but I'm a shape-shifter." Madi and I just stood there a little too overwhelmed to make sense of anything. Batool continued on, "You see, my whole family carries the gene for shape-shifting, always have, and under certain conditions will turn into a groundhog." I was still lost. "So, kind of like a werewolf?" asked Madi. Batool just laughed. "There are no such things as werewolves Madi. I mean, come on." Just as Madi was about to say something, the dogs started barking and pacing, acting very nervous. Batool looked confused (if that's possible for a groundhog) and then panicked. "Wait! Stop!" she called out into the darkness but it was too late. Four more groundhogs came flying at us, snapping at our bodies. I heard Madi yell out and saw that a groundhog had a firm grip on her arm. I swatted it off only to see it had bitten her. She looked at her arm and than at me. All of a sudden she seemed to vanish and her clothes landed in a pile on the floor. The groundhogs stopped moving and stared at the spot where Madi was. All of a sudden a little groundhog popped its head out of the pile. "What the heck?" it screeched in a shrill voice. The groundhog that was Batool sighed. "Great job you rodent," she said to one of the groundhogs, "now Madi's a shifter too." Just as she said that though, Madi rose from the ground and turned back into her normal old self. "That was so weird," she said, "can I do it again?" Batool looked a little relieved that Madi wasn't mad and said, "Well, you'll probably do it again if you get scared by your shadow. Where did you think that silly Groundhog's Day myth came from?" Madi and I just looked at each other. We climbed out of the pit, followed by Batool now back in human form and saw it was still light out. "Well, now that episode is over," said Madi, "who's up for some snowboarding?" I looked at her as if she was crazy for being calm about what just happened, but then I realized this was Madi I was talking to. "Sure," I said, "but first I want to see something." Madi asked what it was. "Look! Your shadow's going to get you!" I exclaimed. Batool and Madi both flinched and then shrunk into groundhogs. "Hannah!" They both shouted. I just started laughing and thought to myself how I could get used to doing that.

Dalai Lama and Barack Obama meet to the displeasure of China.

"Dalai Lama to meet Barack Obama as US relations with China worsen."

Taking these provocative steps with China will not lead to any positive solution to our relation problems.

Despite what President Obama thinks are his best efforts to deal with the growing Chinese "threat" to our global status, the negative actions we are taking will not earn support or cooperation from China. The Chinese are not really mad that our president is meeting with a man from their country, it is the outright disregard for their wishes that has them furious. The Dalai Lama is symbolic to them of the opposition they face for their strict measures, and by establishing relations with this man, it is like we are directly supporting the opposition. I do not believe that angering the Chinese any more is the correct path to take because of the close economic and foreign ties we hold with them. Angering a country that has such a large say in global decision making just doesn't seem like the best way to, for example, pass sanctions on a country like Iran, which has just declared itself a Nuclear State. Not to mention the economic consequences we could face for provoking a global power whose economy we depend so much on.

We are a country that has very few exports compared to the enormous loads of imports we take in, most of which come from China. Irritating the direct source of almost all our goods does not seem like a very good way to ensure and work for economic stability. Speaking of economic stability, China is the world's largest holder of United States debt, would it be a country-friendly decision to upset and recieve possible consequences from such a huge player in the global economy game? As stated in the article "there is an enduring lack of trust and confidence on both sides" and that breach of trust needs to be delt with before any somewhat controversial issues are addressed. I believe it would be in the U.S.' best interests to wait a little longer and think out a plan before rushing to pick fights to show our so-called "dominance".

The Power of One

The Power of One was a movie that I honestly wasn’t sure about before watching it. We had been doing research and work on South Africa for the days leading up to it, and I was a little nervous to see such strong hatred and negativism toward the African race depicted on screen. After seeing Hotel Rwanda, I wasn’t sure I could handle much more bloody violence either. Once the movie started, though, I knew it was going to be one of those movies that would change your outlook on life forever. When I first saw little P.K., my heart almost broke because he was so cute. Even though it was a fictional movie, I hurt for him when he told of his father being trampled to death by elephants, and spoke of his shocked mother’s suffering. I was proud of the little boy when he had to go to an Afrikaner school, even though he was British and everyone would hate him, far away from his home, yet he stayed strong for his mom. Though, I just about lost it when the incidents at the school occurred and poor P.K. was so senselessly bullied, he didn’t even lose it; he just took it without retaliation. The whole of Part I was sad, but P.K. persevered and began to show signs of the hero he would become. Part II was equally revealing as to the virtuous man P.K. would develop into. His adventures with Doc and Geel Piet were encouraging, but the horrendous things that happened to Piet made me cringe in my seat. In that instance, I saw a fire that I had never seen before in P.K. I saw the raw emotion behind his mask of bravery and my broken heart shattered. Yet, somehow I knew things just had to get better, and I held on for the explosive Part III. The advocate P.K. was for the deprived African people moved and continues to move me. His heroic actions inspired me to better stand up for what I believe in and the hard parts to watch in the film reminded me just how hard the world we live in is, but that there is always hope.

New Year

On New Year’s Eve this year, my family did something similar to what we do on Christmas Eve. My mom and I made a buffet-style dinner with lots of easy finger foods that my whole family enjoyed immensely. Afterwards, we had another “family game night” at the insistence of my brother. I am beginning to think that those Hasbro commercials had a lot to do with his thinking, though. As soon as the game was won and my brother was sound asleep in his bed, my mom, sisters, and I headed over to our neighbors’ house, which is also where my best friend lives. My dad decided to stay home because he wasn’t feeling too well, and he was definitely missed. At the Pollock’s house, we hung out downstairs and played the Wii for awhile. When the clock neared midnight, all the “non-adults” got champagne glasses with sparkling wine (non-alcoholic of course), and the adults filled their glasses with real wine. We all stood around the television in the family room and watched the ball drop in Times Square, counting down the last seconds of 2009. When the fireworks shot up and everyone cheered, we did too and touched our glasses together. Then all the kids ran onto the front porch with pots, pans, and metal spoons, and started hitting away. I was thinking back to all the good memories that occurred in 2009, like my Confirmation, eighth grade graduation, one of the greatest summers ever, Cross Country, and starting high school while they were out there making such a racket. Finished looking back, I set my mind forward to 2010 and all its upcoming events that I am looking forward to, like Track and Field, driver’s education in the spring, summer, my sixteenth birthday, and another season of Cross Country. I also set my mind towards my goals for this year and how I am going to accomplish them, all the while readying myself for what is sure to be a great year.

Holiday Traditions

My family and I celebrate Christmas together every year, and every year we have certain traditions that we like to follow. The days leading up to Christmas are always very busy; with all the shopping, cleaning, and baking that we have to, there is barely any time to waste. The day before Christmas Eve is always the most hectic, with last minute gifts being bought, all the rooms being dusted, washed, and vacuumed to perfection, and my mom and I franticly baking rows upon rows of cookies and sweetbreads. This is also when I make a majority of my gifts to friends and family: homemade chocolate. It seems crazy to do all this work in one day, but we do it so that Christmas Eve is a relaxing day. Our whole family sleeps in on Christmas Eve, exhausted from working so hard the previous day, and has Belgian waffles for breakfast. (Which, in my opinion, is one of the greatest things on Earth.) Afterwards, we start to get ready for the Children’s Mass at St. Genevieve, our church. The Children’s Mass is always fun to go to, because the little first and second graders are all angels and shepherds in the Nativity re-enactment. After Mass ends, we catch up a little with some of our friends and wish them a “Merry Christmas”. Finally, once we get home, we sit down and have “family game night” Family game night is an idea that my five year old brother came up with where my whole family plays Scene It? Jr. together until he goes to bed. It’s still really cute to see him get so excited, though. After everyone eats a buffet-style dinner that my parents and I make, we all go to sleep, anticipating the coming morning and excitement it will bring.