Live Life Freely

     Ever since I was little, I was told what to do. When I was little, I was told what to wear and what to eat. Now that I am 16, I have a little more freedom but not much. Why do people try to control other peoples' lives?
     I'm in National Honors Society. Yes, I understand that it is a privilege to be in NHS, but it's not for me. I walked up to the teacher in charge of NHS and tried to explain this to her. I told her that I do not agree with the fact that community service has to be signed by the person you are doing it for or by the person who arranged it. I don't know about other people in this world but I believe community service should be from the kindness of your heart and not hoping to be recognized for it. I also don't think it is right to have to tell someone it is for a class. It takes out the whole point of the community service away. I believe that community service should never be assigned as a chore. It should come from the goodness of your heart and should not be used for a grade or to be kept in a stupid honors society. Even if I were to ignore this fact and continue with NHS, I do not have the time to go out of my way to find an organization to do community service through and have them sign a stupid paper. That is six hours of community service where it is not done out of the kindness of my heart but instead out of the happiness of my self greed. When I would have time for this, I don't have a ride and instead am sitting home alone. My teacher responded by saying this wasn't excepting my "excuse" and that I wasn't able to get out of national honors society. We will see what happens when it comes march (the due date for the community service hours) and I don't turn one in!
     I know this was a short post but I had to share my opinion with the world. NHS is awesome and a great program. I am not saying if you are in it then you should get out of it. It looks amazing on a college application! But, I have put a lot of thought into it and it isn't for me. I do not agree with the set up; therefore, I don't want to be in it. I also dislike how my teacher said I couldn't get out of it. Obviously I can and it is my choice. I am not going to let some teacher tell me what I can and can not do. The college I choose will know I have the opportunity to be in NHS and I will make my point to the college that I do not agree with the set up of NHS and that is why I chose not to do it.

Divorce: A Child's Perspective

     Divorce is never easy. It requires courts, forms, signatures, a division of property, and, most of all, time. It can cause a lot of stress and tears of sadness as well as anger. After all that is said and done, and the divorce is finalized, the divorced couple still have to communicate if children are involved. But, imagine this from the child's perspective.
     What I would give to go back four years ago. Back when we all lived together and were actually happy. Sure, the last couple years were rough, but it isn't always going to be rainbows and butterflies. Me and my sisters knew there was a divorce waiting to happen in the future, the near future. The thing that shocked us was what led up to it and how it ended.
    At age 12, you feel on top of the world. My father was a stay at home dad while my mother worked all the time. I would come home from school and go play football in the yard with my dad or watch it on the television. If something was wrong, he would cheer me up. He would lay on the couch with me, listening to my petty problems and cheering me up. My mom did things to help too, but I was always a "daddy's girl." Everything was perfect; I lived the fairy-tale life. Two years before the divorce hit, though, it was like the beautiful snow-capped mountain turned into a raging avalanche.
     Name-calling, back-stabbing, and screaming overwhelmed the home with the three children trapped in the middle. It was like tidal waves pushing us from side to side, forced to listen to the hissing words coming from the parent's mouth's. Caught in the middle, we were left to pick sides. My sisters mostly just nodded and zoned out as they talked; however, I, being the youngest and most influenced, listened intently. They sounded like kindergartners bashing each other on the play ground.
     "Well, he said this!"
      "I told her this but she wouldn't listen!"
     It was a never ending downward spiral to the gates of hell. I would lay in bed, crying myself to sleep at night. I had, like every child victim to divorce, thought it was my fault at one point. I dreaded the thought of leaving my room in the morning. The tension was as thick as a brick. It was like you could smell their anger from down the hall. I tip-toed out of my bed in the morning and rushed to get ready for school. I was out the door as quick as possible and would stay out of the house as much as possible. The word home had lost its meaning. It was no longer a loving shelter but instead a homeless shelter, where everyone sleeps in fear.
     A couple days before Christmas the house was dead silent; You would have been able to hear a pin drop. My sisters and I entered the living room where we found our parents sitting in silence. They said they had something to tell us so we all sat down in a row on the couch. We all knew it was coming.
     "We are getting a divorce. It has nothing to do with you girls; we have done a lot of thinking, and we decided it's for the best."
     No one said a word. In all honesty, we had seen it coming for about two years at this point. Then the real shock came.
     "I am moving to Guam, though. I have a buddy who can get me a job there."
     The word "Guam" echoed through the house. I could feel the tears gathering in my eyes, yet I tried to hold them back. My sister to my right began to whimper, and the sister to my left began bawling. A tear was released to stream down my cheek; I lost control. Tears began racing down my cheeks. I tried to maintain my mature look, but it was no use. I ran to my dad and hugged him tightly, telling him he couldn't leave. I needed him too much. He told me he was leaving New Years Eve and I began crying even harder (To this day, I have never cried as hard as I did in this moment).
     That night, I could hear him crying in his room. That was the first time I had ever heard my dad cry. He was miserable and knew he had no other choice but to go to Guam. He didn't want to leave us behind, but he didn't have a choice.
     Every day, since the day he left, he has been trying to get back to the states to finally live with his daughters again. The oldest, however, is already in college and the next is a senior in high school. Now, he finally thinks he is able to move back. Why? To get admitted into the Los Angeles hospital to get work done on his neck. He got nerve damage into his neck. He tries to get back once every summer to see my sisters and me, but last year he was unsuccessful. He had no money to get back here because he was spending it all on medical bills seeing as he got cancer for the second time in his life as well as having a collapsed lung. Words can not explain how much I miss him and how much I wish I could just be there to help him. I still cry at night because I miss him so much.
     The first three years after he left, I contemplated suicide. I cried myself to sleep every night thinking I was incapable of living without him. I felt no reason to live. I never got to the intensity where I cut myself or attempted suicide, but the thoughts engulfed me daily. They never left me alone. My self esteem dropped and my grades slipped slightly. I hid my face and developed a stutter. Public speaking became a chore as well. Nothing was easy; everything was as challenging as climbing a cliff.
     Looking back, I would rather be back in the house with the arguing. I don't Skype my dad often because it makes me miss him more. My mom and him still fight only ten times worse. They argue over email, making a scene every time my sisters and I want to see my dad.
     I feel like a hostage that has a large value connected to it. And I do. Its called child support. So next time a parent out there feels they have it hard during a divorce, look at your child. They probably have it worse. They just hide it from you because it doesn't seem like it would matter to you. You have your own problems; why should you have to deal with your children's too?

Deep into the woods

    Leaves crunch beneath my feet as I stroll through my backyard. As I do so, the wind pushes my hair around like a tumbleweed. The thick woods looking back at me fill me with excitement. I pick up my pace. My steps quickly turn into leaps as I bound toward the bridge that connects my yard to the woods. Once I make it onto the bridge I can see the fish swimming happily in the creek below. A smile creeps onto my face because I know that every day the woods hold a new story, with the weather setting the mood.

    On spring mornings, the woods can be seen in a dense fog. The fog covers the woods like a thick blanket. When I reach my hand out, it disappears before my eyes. The trees become more engulfed in the the heavy mist the deeper into the woods I look. The steady motion of the creek echos in my ears as I stand on top of the old wooden bridge. I feel safe; however, I know the bridge is sinking down slowly as it deteriorates beneath my feet. The bridge lightly shakes with every ripple that taps its legs. Leaning against the loose railing, I catch a glimpse of graceful deer scampering over the hill.  Twigs snap under their quick feet. The overgrown blades of grass have turned toward the ground, heavy with dew. I listen to the soft chirps from crickets dwelling underneath them. Above my head, the morning birds sing sweet songs that ring throughout the woods.

     Foggy mornings leave a calm feeling over the woods; unfortunately, spring doesn’t always mean fog. A loud boom shakes the trees. Lightning brightens up the grim sky, dancing over the tree tops. Bright green leaves reach for the passing wind. The creek roars, licking the underside of the bridge. Small spouts of water get trapped between the jagged boards and shoot up, splashing my rainboots. A large bang. I grip the wobbly railing and watch as branches and twigs build up against the edge of the bridge. A loud crackle comes from the tree to my right. A flash brightens up the woods as the tree begins to fall. The ground quakes and I can smell burnt bark. A cloud of debris coats the nature around me. Smog blocks my view from all angles. There is no longer the song of birds, just the rumble of the wilderness.

    During the winter, the rain fades into the background, and snow moves to the foreground. The bone-chilling wind presses against my skin; my purple knuckles begin to swell the longer I stand in the coldness. I listen intently, all there is is silence. The birds flutter away for the winter, leaving nothing but vacant tree branches. Colorful leaves are now replaced with cotton ball fluff, and layers of untouched snow on the ground like whipped frosting. Small deer tracks create patterns across the top of slick ice, sprinkled with snow. The faint sound of wind whistles through the pine trees. I push snow through the cracks of the bridge with the toe of my boot and breathe in the brisk air.

    Hot days during the summer are not as peaceful as freshly laid snow. Steam radiates off the dry creek bed after a refreshing rain. The steady moving creek is dried up to small motionless puddles. The birds bathe in the puddles and squawk in anger at the lack of fish. I look up to the leaves hang heavily off the dehydrated branches. With beads of sweat dripping off the tip of my nose, the thought of the deer in the yard plays through my mind. Behind me about 20 feet, they munch in despair on the shriveled, yellow grass. The heat is overwhelming, so the deer hide under the small section of shade covering the yard. One of the deer stands on its shaking hind legs and reaches up to bite off the drooping leaves. Another one licks at the moist sand, where the stream used to flow. They move slowly into the woods in a march of despair.

When I walk into the woods and pause on the bridge, I look at the world around me. A world that changes with the wind, rain, sun, fog and sometimes brilliant white snow. It’s the weather, but it’s much more. It bleeds into my emotions as everything  transforms, from the deepest roots of the trees, to the highest flying birds. Changes that can mean life or death, struggle or pleasure. A world that never fails to draw me in.

Terrifying Trash Can Lid

It was the first day back to kindergarten after Christmas break. Most people hate school, but I didn’t. Me, being the morning person I am, already had a huge smile on my face, excited to start the day! Nothing could hold me back, except for the unfortunate placement of a garbage can lid on a school playground. I should have known better to watch my step.

It was 7:15 a.m. in the small town of Hicken. I was getting ready for school as chipper as usual; getting ready as quickly as possible was my main concern every morning. (Being only five years old, it took me about two minutes to throw on some overalls, a t-shirt and my tennis shoes.) I got my clothes on, ate and brushed my teeth. I then slipped on my shoes and waited patiently. I was always ready before everyone else, so I would spend most of my morning sitting at the dining room table, swinging my legs back and forth enthusiastically, waiting for the rest of the gang to be finished getting their stuff together.

By 7:50 everyone was finally ready. We all wiggled into the van, buckled, and headed down the road about a quarter mile. A grin shone on my face. Before my eyes was the little, two room school house that I was lucky enough to spend my day in.

“Everyone pile out!” My dad groaned, still not quite awake.

“Yay!” I screamed over everyone’s moans and yawns. I squirmed into my big snow pants and snow boots and jumped into the pile of snow, outside the car door, that had been produced by the snowplow. I trudged happily through the snow; to tell you the truth, I didn’t even like snow that much I was just happy to be back at the old brick school. Time stood still. I couldn’t have been more excited as I stepped through the gate surrounding the school property. The hinges of the gate let out a small squeak as a shoved it open. My excitement was becoming hard to contain; as I have said before, I wanted nothing more than to be back in my classroom. I let out a screech of enthusiasm and went racing towards the the school door. Sadly, I only got about 15 feet before I lost my footing. The snow and ice covered a slick garbage can lid that laid on the ground. I had stepped directly on it. I teetered for a minute, stumbling to catch my balance, and then face planted. The cold wet snow embraced my face and made me shiver.

I quickly stood up and kept walking, pretending nothing had happened. When I saw my sisters’ faces, however, I knew they had both seen. The two of them looked at one another and released a wild burst of laughter. My could feel my face begin to heat up, and my vision begin to blur. I tried to hold it in, but I knew my efforts were worthless. My bottom lip quivered uncontrollably as tears streamed down my face. I turned around to run back to my dad for comfort. I knew he had witnessed the whole thing and would defend me against my sisters’ cruel laughter.

Unfortunately, I was all worked up and not paying attention to where I was going. I walked right back into the same trash can trap. Once again, I slipped on the little devil and landed right back on my butt on the cold hard ground.

“Sydney, stop trying to run away from your problems. Just come on! We have school,” my sister said trying to hold back her laughter. My other sister, on the other hand, was on the ground she was laughing so hard.

By now, all I wanted to do was go back home. My hip was throbbing from fall number one and my ankle and knee hurt from fall number two. I wanted to go lay in my bed and cry off my embarrassment, but I knew if I gave up now my sisters would never let me hear the end of it. I stood up once again, sucked back my tears and puffed out my chest. I brushed off my knees for one more dramatic effect and took a step in the direction of my school. Third times a charm I thought. I was wrong.

My feet came out from underneath me, and this time I could hear my dad laughing back in the car. My sister, who had been laughing so hard I’m surprised she didn’t wet herself, finally came to my rescue. She grabbed my arm and dragged me up the steps to the wooden school door. She was holding back her laughter, trying to be mature, but she still had a huge smile planted on her face.

When we reached the door, everyone could tell I had been crying.

“What’s wrong?” One boy asked.

“What happened?” Asked another. I buried my face into my coat at the sounds of my sisters’ words.

“The trash can lid.”

When something happens to you three times in a row, most people catch on that they are doing something wrong. For me, the problem was not watching where I stepped. I allowed myself to trip over the trash can lid. Three times in a row. If I had watched where I stepped I would have been able to save myself from total and utter humiliation.

Strive for Greatness

(Quotes taken from the story "Miss Bessie")

“You’ll play football because you have guts.But do you know what really takes guts? Refusing to lower your standards to those of the crowd. It takes guts to say you've got to live and be somebody fifty years after all the football games are over.” Many people are afraid to stand out and make something of themselves because they are afraid of what people will think of them. But when you get older, none of the things people say about you now will be held against you later in life. So why not strive for greatness and try to better yourself for the future so you don’t get in bad habits now. Bad grammar, partying, drinking, ect. may make you seem “cool” now but they are going to affect you in future.

“If you don’t read, you can’t write, and if you can’t write, you might as well stop dreaming.” This is a huge statement in terms of schooling. Not only can this be taken seriously but can also be taken in a figurative way. Schooling in general follows this format, as do many things in life. If you don’t do this then you can’t do this. If you don’t go to school, you can’t go to college, and if you don’t go to college, you have a lower chance of getting a good, high paying job that you like. There is just a way of doing things in the world we live in and it comes in steps that you must follow.

My Name in my Perspective: Sydney

My name is Sydney, a name chosen out of a list of movie credits by the eyes of desperate parents.. A spanish name given to a girl from a history of French Canadians. A name meant for my older sister but got voted for her when a comment was made by a coworker. “You can call her SID for short! Like Sudden Infant Death Syndrome!” Yet the name carried on to me with the change of one letter. “Sy” instead of “Si” makes a difference. My name is sand grains stuck in your teeth from eating a sandwich on the beach. A twitch in your leg when you are on a nerve.  My name is a language no one speaks. It comes out of everyones mouth as if they are talking to an infant, unable to comprehend. My name should be Anastasia, Clare, or Natalie. These names are floating butterflies in the breeze. They are a sweet song sung by the orioles outside the bedroom window.

Anxiety is a Strength

(These are quotes from "Anxiety: Challenge by Any Other Name" relating to my own personal life)

“Do what makes you anxious; don’t do what makes you depressed.”  This relates to me in a very simple way. I always have a tendency of backing out of things that make me anxious. When I was younger I always wanted to play soccer but always backed out when it came to soccer season. I got nervous about being bad at soccer but always ended up being depressed when I didn’t play.

“Anxiety always arises when we confront the possibility of our own development.” This is a big quote for me when I have anything to do with school. I get bad anxiety when I am getting ready for a presentation or get called on to read to the class. I know these are skills that I have to work on so I get anxious on how it is going to go with my nervousness on top of it.

“You will never eliminate anxiety by avoiding the things that caused it.” I often avoid things that make me anxious just because I don’t like the feeling. I hate having the nervous jitters and anxiety usually stresses me out. The one thing I have learned, however, that this statement is very true. I used to get anxiety when going out onto the soccer field before a game and having everyone watching you play but I have grown to get over it and enjoy it.

“You can’t learn if you don’t try.” I always play out, in my head, what is going to happen before it actually does. When I do this I am just feeding my anxiety and worrying myself. But the fact of the matter is I will never learn what is going to happen if I don’t take a chance and go see what’s out there for myself.

“Accept anxiety as another name for a challenge and you can accomplish wonders.” I see anxiety not as a problem, anymore, but instead a challenge to overcome. Not only is anxiety a challenge in itself but by overcoming other obstacles, it can help to get over anxiety.