C=Cares about Others

You're an orphan in Russia during the 1970's: your mother dropped you off at an orphanage in Moscow when you were only a few days old because she was too poor to take care of you.  You are not a very pretty baby, so you are put in a dirty "crib," hidden towards the back of the facility where only the sickly, unwanted babies go; the healthy, cute babies are kept in the adoption area, so that parents looking to adopt children will hopefully adopt someone.  The workers at the orphange don't care about you at all; they go through their "duty" of throwing some scalding hot gruel down your throat once a day and then leave you to lay in your crib: they don't change you, they don't play with you, they don't take you out all day, every day.

When you are older, you sleep on a cot in a huge room full of lots of other orphans.  You have to work hard and obey orders; if you do something the administrators don't like, your head will be dunked in the toilet, you will be whipped, or you will be locked into a dark room for days with other "naughty" children, and with no food.

                                                                       

.   .   .

I grew up a rich American; I didn't and still will not be able to fully understand the pain and tragedy that people experience in other, less-fortunate countries.  I was born in a hospital to a Mother and Father who loved me; I had lots of brothers and sisters too who cared about me and played with me.  I had a beautiful, soft crib and enough milk, and later food.  I never wanted for anything, whether it was attention or material needs.  I had toys and books; I had birthday parties and swim lessons and music lessons.  Let me rephrase my first statement: I am a middle-class American, but to the rest of the world I am rich.  The life I just described is just like almost every other American!  We have so much that sometimes we forget to care about other people that have hardly anything.

Although unlike the majority of Americans, I was sheltered.  My parents decided to homeschool me and my siblings, and so I was rarely exposed to "the outside world."  I didn't know there were mean, cruel people; I rarely experienced being bullied by other bratty kids.  I was taught values and morals, and never once thought to throw a tantrum or yell at my Mom.  Not to say i was a perfect kid, haha I was faaaaaaaaaaaaar from it ;D  But my parents disciplined us so we wouldn't be unkind or disrespectful.  Most importantly, I learned how to care about others.

How you are raised has everything to do with how you will act when you grow up, no matter how much you don't like that or don't want to admit it.  I think because I was so well-cared for and generally only around other kind, decent people I thought that was normal.  I thought everyone cared about other people and I didn't understand when other kids would say mean things to me, or kick and scream when their parents asked them to do something.  I was innocent, in every sense of the word.

And maybe that's why I care about others.  Of course I'm human; I can be selfish and mean and unkind.  I don't like cleaning the kitchen or vacuuming my room, I hate folding clothes, and sometimes I just don't feel like doing anything for anyone :P  But when I see someone that needs help, I feel their suffering like its my own.  When I hear about the poor, starving orphans I feel guilty for having so much: why was I born so fortunate while they weren't?  I hate unfairness and I just want everyone to be as healthy and "happy" as I am.  Or when someone wants to play violin but they can't afford to pay for lessons, I don't care at all about the money, I just want them to be able to experience and--possibly--come to love being able to make beautiful music.  I especially detest when someone is treated unfairly though; that's what really gets to me.  When Eduardo in "The Social Network" was cheated out of his fair position as "Vise President" of facebook, I felt horrible for him.  He looked so sad and disappointed I wanted to jump into the movie and do something to make him feel better ;D  As well as punch the creepy bad guy who deceived him :P

Mostly I care about my friends, which includes family :)  Hey, if you're my friend you will always be my friend :D  Maybe we get bugged with each other sometimes, but it doesn't last long; maybe we grow up and change and don't have anything in common anymore, but I still always consider you my friend.  I think love really is blind; I love my friends and see them as really beautiful, unique and special and its confusing when they don't like themselves.  My friends give meaning and color to life, and I literally would give my own life for them if I had to.  If one had drug problems, I would drive them everyday to a counselor until they were "all better."  I don't say any of this to sound like I'm bragging: I say it because I want you to know how special you are if your my friend and how special people are to me in general :D  I care about others :D      

Blog #15

If you want to keep a secret secretive, then the internet is not the place to post it.  As a celebrity, you pretty much sign up to have your whole life advertised all over the media and lies made up about you by paparazzi.  

Because almost everyone in the world uses the internet, "secrets" that are posted can be viewed by millions in almost no time at all.  Gossip is spread from then and other stories are formed from this gossip, until any sort of truth that may have existed originally is completely twisted.  A person's whole reputation could be ruined by the world wide web and media, just because people invent or exaggerate circumstances in other people's lives that they have no business knowing about anyway.  

The internet can be used for both "good" and "evil."  If you want to keep a secret, the internet is not the place to keep it.  Use the internet legally, productively, and appropriately and you will be using it correctly :D      

Blog #14

Should personal values and ethics be taught in public schools?  Well, first answer this question: are public schools the same as private schools?  Obviously not!  Values and ethics change from person to person; what I value may not be your value; your ethics will not necessarily reflect mine.  Private schools are perfect settings to teach morals and ethics, but I don't believe public school is.  Public schools are to teach correct, undebatable education without personal values and ethics.

However, even though personal values should not be taught, teachers should encourage students to be active in community service and avoid activities such as drinking, smoking, and drug abuse to become better citizens.

There are some specific values and even subjects that should not be taught in public schools.  For example, creation and evolution are seen as "science" to the evolutionist or creationist.  Both sides believe they have evidence to support their theories, but really they look at the same "evidence" and create a history for it based on their bias.  This is not wrong, in fact it's good to use our brains to form our own opinions about things.  But because both of these theories are based more on opinion and belief than actual fact, neither of them should be taught to students in school because that is indoctrination, pure and simple.  Religion should not be taught in schools; children can learn about the origins of the world and religion at home, or from personal research.  Also another topic I don't believe should be taught in public schools is homosexuality.  Now first understand: I see no problem whatsoever with homosexuality.  Let people live how they wish, it's not my life to control and instruct.  But I really don't think the topic belongs in school; it has to do with personal values and ethics, which we already know differ extremely from person to person.  Personal beliefs should be taught at home or in private schools, not in public schools.        


 

Blog #13

...I watch in horror as the man on the screen wanders, cold and starving, through the ruins of a destroyed city.  He finally comes upon an abondened house, where the Germans had most likely murdered or arrested the family that had lived there.  Inside it is dark and cold, yet he hobbles around looking for something to open his one, lowly jar of pickles so he can eat something.  That's when he sees the piano.  As a Jew, he has been on the run, hiding from the German Nazis; his family has all been arrested, his belongings gone; he is all alone in the world.  Before WWII he was  reknowned pianist, who performed Chopin on the radio, but he has not played the piano for months now.  He goes to the piano and sits down almost reverently.  In his face is all the emotion he has bottled inside himself for the past months; he is so weak he can hardly stand, yet he raises his hands and drops them down onto the keys for that first, passionate chord.  During this whole scene I have been crying, almost sobbing.  The portrayal of such loss and pain is so well done that it has touched me very emotionally; indescribably.  The Pianist is that type of movie that, unless you are totally desensitized to grief or suffering, will touch inside you and leave its mark on you for a long time, if not your whole life.  Slumdog Millionaire, The Black Stallion, The Sixth Sense and Romeo and Juliet are a few movies that I would categorize as dramas.  They are true soul-stirring films where the acting is so believable that it makes you feel exactly what the characters feel.

Up, Ratatouille, and Monster's Inc are a few family films; they may have a few mature themes, but are mainly constituted by harmless comedy and warm, cozy-feeling endings.  For example, while watching Up, the beginning made me feel sad when the man never was able to take his wife to Africa before she dies.  He becomes and old "hag" living alone in his old house with his memories and regrets...when a little boyscout shows up at his front door and tries to get the old man to help him earn his "elderly-assistance badge."  They end up, after a few funny scenes, floating away to South America in the old man's house by tying balloons to it because the old man wants to visit Africa before he dies.  The totally unrealistic events make the movie both cute and funny, and I found myself laughing and almost crying along with the old man and his little boyscout friend.

Then there are also romance, mystery, action/adventure, and horror films.  They are categorized by the main themes/events that occur in the movie; for example, a romance movie would involve a romantic relationship between two people and that's what the whole movie would revolve around.

Truly great movies though are ones that have lasting impacts: you watch a movie, and afterwards you are almost in a state of "shock," so to speak.  You may have cried during the movie, or just felt an unexplainable bevy of emotions.  Maybe you could relate to the characters feelings or circumstances, or you just really enjoyed the whole movie.  maybe it made you really happy and you laughed through the whole thing!  Basically if a movie greatly impacts you it's a great movie :D         

Blog #12

Debrief & Reflect on Price’s “The Plastic Pink Flamingo” timed write. Use the Debrief & Reflection handout in the Blog Locker.  

Self-Check:

1.  Have you answered the prompt?  Yes, I have answered the prompt.

2.  Look at your introduction P – do you have a clear thesis statement that discusses how and why Rodriguez uses contrasts?  Yes, I have a clear thesis statement.

3.  Is your essay focused and unified around a central theme or idea? Do your paragraphs link together and build on each other?  Yes, they are focused on a central theme and my paragraphs link together.

4.  Have you focused on 1-2 ways that Rodriguez “built the house”? Have you developed 1-2 ideas fully, or have you instead tried to cover too many things?  I developed 1 to 2 ideas fully and did not try to cover too many things. 

5.  Does your essay include a variety of specific, textual details and quotations to support your main point, or have you only vaguely explained your analysis?  I did include a variety of specific, textual details snd quotations to support my main point but I feel like there should have been more.  

Reflection:

1.  What went well?  I used examples from the text.    

2.  What did not go well?  I feel like I may have explained the wrong idea and ended abruptly.

3.  If given more time, what would you add or change in your essay?  I would change the idea that I focused on  and try a different viewpoint. 

4.  Did the organization of your essay turn out how you originally planned it? If not, what caused you to make changes?  It turned out the same as I originally planned it. 

5.  What additional insights about the text came to you as you were writing?  I realized that the pink flamingo did not only make American culture appear gaudy or disrespectful, it showed our fun-loving joyful side as well. 

6. What do you need to do differently for tomorrow’s timed write?  I need to organize my essay better. 

Blog #11

Metacognitive Activity on your definition essay

Culminating Writers Profile

1. Discuss how your expectations about your writing style and needs have both changed and remained the same since this class has started.  My expectations about my writing style and needs have changed since this class has started in that I now anticipate learning how to do a lot of annotations of texts and reading a lot of boring books (heehee).  They have stayed the same in that I know I need a consistent style and it needs to be free of grammar/spelling errors.
2.  What do you see as your strengths as a writer and how have you reinforced them?  I really enjoy telling/inventing stories so I strive to let that show through in my writing and keep things interesting; i reinforced this strength in the definition essay.
3. What do you still see as your writing weaknesses and what have you done to strengthen those areas?  I have a real weakness for keeping my writing organized and flowing smoothly and connectedly.  I used more transitions in the Definition essay, along with an organizational method.       

Evaluating Your Writing Process

1. If you had the time to write one more draft of this essay, how would you improve it?  I would improve any errors in verb tense or try to eliminate more to-be verbs.  
2. As you received peer feedback and revised your essay, what did you find the easiest element to improve in your essay?  I found it easy to write about my topic in general; I really was passionate about my topic and had a lot of examples.
3. In contrast, discuss the biggest problem you had in writing and revising this essay.  The original story I was going to base my whole essay on ended up needing to be eliminated completely and I had to think of a whole new way to write the essay.

Evaluating Your Successes

1. Discuss your most successful large-scale revision in this essay.  Well, as I haven't gotten my essay back yet, I really have not completed a large-scale revision so-far. 
2. Discuss your success in combining descriptive, narrative, and illustrative elements into this Definition Essay.  I shared a lot of examples I was familiar with and tried to use colorful and descriptive adjectives, while "showing" and not "telling."
3. Discuss your best success when considering your audience.  I could reference works of literature without having to worry if my audience would understand what I was talking about or not. 

Being Honest with Self

1. What most intimidated you about this writing process and how did you combat this intimidation?  I was intimidated by the concept of a definition essay; at first i didn't quite understand the prompt.  To combat this intimidation I read some student essays, which really helped me.
2. What ideas or methods from texts we studied influenced you to try a new strategy within your writing process?  The Box Man helped me with some of the structure and method of my essay. 
3. What ideas or methods did you pick up on from reading student essay examples that you tried in your own writing process?  I used the method of storytelling in my essay, using a lot of examples like one student did. 
4. What idea for improving your essay did you learn from a peer?  A peer suggested I focus less on one example and devote more even attention to a variety of examples.
5. Where do you see yourself as a writer now, in both strengths and weaknesses, after completing this writing assignment?  I'm not quite sure how to answer this question because I have not gotten my essay back yet.  I now understand how to write a Definition essay with very few to-be verbs, but I still feel weak in my organization. 

C=Cooking is My Hobby

Humans love food; I have met very few people in the world who detest eating.  But for some reason, there are FAR less people who love to cook.  How is that conceivable?  Home-cooked meals taste so yummy, they are worth every effort.

My mom and I, even though our relationship isn't top notch, have spent nearly every evening cooking dinner for our family.  As we cook, my Mom will tell me stories about when she was my age or we'll reminisce about past experiences.  She tells me how to chop carne asada just the right length and thickness for fajitas; how to cook a rue without the flour becoming lumpy; or show me just the right amount of basil and oregano to add to pasta sauce.  I have learned more about cooking from her than any cookbook, while making memories that will last a lifetime. 

Although, just to throw in a dose of reality, there are those evenings where we get into arguements about how to cook this or that, and it usually ends with me very frustrated and not feeling like eating, and my mom grounding me :P 

Cooking with friends also encourages happy relationships.  I never feel more comfortable and at home with someone than when we are cooking together.  I've noticed, if it is the first time I am visiting a new friend's house, no matter how awkward it is, as soon as we pull out the mixing bowls and start whipping out a batch of brownies or chocolate chip cookies, that awkwardness steps into the other room.   

Enough with the ooey gooey, cozy feelings though, haha :)  We all know the real reason people cook is because they like to eat.  Ironically enough though, my cooking hobby began when I was anorexic; I would spend hours reading cookbooks, looking at photos of delicious food that I had "forbidden" myself to eat.  It I couldn't eat it, at least it was a feast for the eyes, right?  I started cooking and giving the food to other people, rarely touching the food myself. 

But now that I'm "all better" I eat everything I cook :)  I make sweet doughs for cinnamon rolls; frosting for birthday cakes; vegetable soup with lot's of herbs, carrots, and noodles.  I mix batter for every sort of imagineable muffin; I toast pine nuts for delicious pastas...you get the idea :D

Why settle for that frozen chimchanga, when you can set aside an hour to make a delicious batch of enchiladas?  believe me, it is worth every second you spend to make food that is actually worth eating.  Cooking makes your house smell really good too, just so you know ;)  Haha so go make something delicious before you die, even if it's just to say you did; add it your life to-do list.  even if cooking doesn't become your hobby, at least try it a few times.  Pretty please, with lot's of whipped cream, and a cherry on top :D

I=Intelligent

Okay, let me start off in saying that I consider myself in no way to be extremely intelligent.  Sure, I may get good grades but intelligent is not quite the word I would use to describe me.  I would rather say something along the lines of "I=is crazy."  Craccy :D  That's more like it.  I say odd things and have a very random, aggravatingly disorganized brain.  This is apparent from my room (decorated in every sort of color and theme), my style of dress (skirts or skinny jeans, bright colors or all black, sloppy t-shirts or preppy sweaters, flip-flops or converse, etc.), and my very haphazard way of storing schoolwork (e.g., I throw all assignments from all subjects into one binder, or maybe in my backpack and often lose them under all the other papers).  I wish I had one settled sense of style; I think I would be much less frenzied.  If I could decorate my room anyway i wanted, it would be with "misty rain" colored walls, black molding, black furniture, and bright turquoise paintings on the walls.  If i could dress anyway i wanted, it would be all black.  I would wear large sweatshirts and skinny black jeans.  I would wear dark black make-up, or none at all.  As far as schoolwork..that is an easily attainable goal: I would just get orrrrganiiiiiized!

Wow, that was a long rabbit trail, I'm sorry you had to read all of my CRAZY rambling.  Just in case you aren't convinced yet of my craziness--I wouldn't want to leave you with any doubt--I will share a brief story about me from my childhood that my older sister wrote down.  If this doesn't convince you then you're CRAAAAACCYYY:

"Tonight Alicia dressed up in blue rainboots, pink bike helmet, swim goggles, and carried a cap gun.  She came into the kitchen, put her hands on her hips, then pointed at me and said 'Who are you?'
I said, 'Well, who are you?'
She said 'You know--a cowboy.'  She then saluted with two fingers, said 'Hail Hitler' and went out into the backyard."

See, if I showed signs of my mental instability and a haphazard sense of style at five years old; imagine what I am like now...

H=has blonde hair

Remember blog #1?  That first post, in which I believe the assignment was to introduce myself in "as creative a way as possible...in less than 50 words."  Fifty words?  I don't know about you, but that doesn't seem like enough words to describe one miniscule molecule of...poo, much less a wonderfully intricate, complex human being!  That's practically an insult! Sooooooooooo I think I shall take a phrase from the acronym I wrote in that first post, and expand on it :D I'll do each one, starting from the bottom up: "H=has blonde hair."

 Since I can remember...actually, before I can remember, my Mom has dyed my hair blonde.  Only my very close confidantes know this, but i don't think they believe me.  I was originally born with dark hair, almost black.  My mom had always wanted a light-haired child, and she asked the doctors if it was possible to "chemically change my hair color as a baby" e.g., dye it blonde while I was so young.  None of the doctors were willing, and I think they secretly thought my mom was selfish for being so ready and willing to risk my health over something as trivial as hair color.  But y Mom was determined: she searched and searched for a doctor that would approve her request, then she brought the signed safety contract to her hairdresser.  Tah dah!  I was blonde, and have been ever since.

 

Haha all that ^ is a lie :D :D  I was born with a CLOUD of white hair, not just a poof, a cloud, got it?  Not a single drop of hair dye has ever touched my head.  People were blinded my hair because it was so light, it became reflective in the sun.  When I was younger I didn't care about having blonde hair, I guess because I wasn't self conscious yet.  But then Growing Up came along and told me my eyelashes were too white: why weren't they dark and thick like other people"s?  And not only that, why was my hair staying so blonde when all of my other friend's hair had darkened long ago? I felt different, as if I stuck out like sore thumb with my ugly white hair.

People would say things like "Oh, your hair is so pretty!" or "There's the girl with the golden hair."  I know they meant well, and they would always say things like "People pay a lot of money to have hair like your's."  But that only made me feel more like an alien individual for having such unusual hair.  I thought if I grew it really long it might look better.  For a few years I barely trimmed it at all, hoping, willing it to grow really long.  But my hair grows slooooooow; by the time it was to my waist it was very split and wispy.

 

I thought about cutting it because now I felt even more like an oddball with this really long blonde hair.  Off I went to an expensive salon to get the first really "major" haircut of my life.  I loved it!  it was layered, and suddenly I didn't mind that it was blonde.  When Growing Up first visited me, it made me feel insecure about myself by throwing negative comments at me.  But as I have grown up even more, those comments don't sting as much.  Desensitizing myself to them has made me feel more confident about myself.  I no longer think "Why am I not like everyone else?"  But instead "I don't care if not many people have blonde hair, it's just hair and why do I care if I'm not like everyone else?"  And the moral of the story is? Never feel odd because you are unique.  Or maybe it should be: if you are odd or unique that is definitely not a bad thing; why does everyone want to look and act the same as everyone else anyway?  There really is no reason.  Actually, here's a better moral, and I know it will sound extremely cheesy and cliche, but it is so truuueee; just always be yourself, whoever that is :D    

Blog #10

Nobodiness is the state of feeling unimportant, unappreciated, or unwanted.

A foster child, for example, often experiences this feeling. Foster children, before they are put into that system of care, live in homes with parents that care nothing about them and often leave them neglected. For example one of my cousins, who is adopted, used to live with her mom as a small child. Her mom would often leave my cousin home alone, locked in her room for days with nothing to eat. Sometimes the mom would open the door and give her some candy, but she wasn't able to go outside and play; she wasn't hugged and dressed and read books to, like other little children. Her mom did not buy her dolls, or give her goodnight kisses, or play hide-and-seek; I'm sure living such a neglected life would make anyone feel like a "nobody".

Then there is the person who has no friends; not a companion in the world. She goes to school and sits down at her desk; no one says "hello" to her or acknowledges that she is even in the room. She goes to lunch and sits down in the cafeteria...and is still all alone. We've seen these people, but we just take note of the fact that they have no friends, and then move right along to our own lives and companions, without taking that extra effort to even smile at them. There is almost no stronger feeling of nobodiness than to be that person who feels totally and truly invisible and unappreciated by anyone.

Blog #9

Tuesdays with Morrie taught so many "lessons" on how to truly live happy, purposeful lives. Morrie explains to Mitch how important it is to appreaciate the "little" things in life; the normal, average, everyday things like eating, walking, or even going to the bathroom on your own. Because Morrie suffered from ALS, he eventually was unable to use any of his muscles and therefore perform these little everyday activities. He also greatly emphasized completely slowing down and savoring every moment, not rushing through life at break-neck speed, focusing on our career and own selfish wants and desires while the years fly by...leaving us wondering where our life went. That moves on to the issue of selfishness: Morrie is adamant about the idea that living solely for oneself can never produce true or lasting happiness and contentment. Obviously we must address our own needs, but giving of ourselves gives us purpose in life. Everyone wants to feel needed and helping others fills this need. This is what I took from reading this book, however it did not change any of my previously held beliefs because I have already been taught most of these "lessons" from other people or sources. It did, however, give me a new perspective on them.

Blog 8

I push open the door to my dad's office and nearly gasp at the scene: he sits at his computer, his face dripping with sweat, as his fingers flying over the keyboard, while papers are strewn all around him. Lined across his desk are unfinished cups of coffee in various stages of temperature, and wads of tobacco he has spit into napkins. All day and night he has been sitting at his desk working, working, working--and that's how he loves it. He is a workaholic: he thrives on stress, deadlines, pushing himself to the max, working until he can work not a second more.

Now picture this: a mother gets up at 6:30 in the morning to make her two children breakfast before they have to go to school; then she washes her son's baseball uniform so it will be clean that day for his big game. She finishes the last few rows on the hat she is crocheting for her daughter's first day at kindergarten so her daughter will be happy about a present, and be kept warm. After she drops her children off at school she goes to the grocery store and buys all of the food she needs for that week, stops by the post office to mail her bills on time, and heads home where she proceeds to clean house for a few hours. Then she relaxes in the afternoon, enjoying the satisfaction that she has accomplished all she needed to do.

There is a distinct difference between these two individuals: the first is a flat-out workaholic, the second is what we would call a "hard worker." The workaholic doesn't enjoy relaxing after a job well-done; he doesn't work towards the goal of free-time once the chore is over. He is addicted to work, and hates having "nothing to do", in other words, freetime is his enemy, and he will work as much as possible to avoid it. The hard worker, on the other hand, is usually working to accomplish what needs to be done. He may enjoy his work, but also loves relaxing after his work, and know when to stop. The workaholic has an addiction; the hard worker is responsible and leads a balanced life, knowing when to kick back and enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Blog #7

This summer, I read another book for English class called "The Secret Life of Bees." It contained several subtle arguments, mainly the difficulty of living with an abusive father, segregation, and religious views. The main character, Lily, has no Mother, but instead lives alone with her Father who is very strict and punishes her for the slightest things. The book describes Lily's pain when she realizes her Father doesn't truly love her, and so she runs off to live somewhere else. Her nanny (who has taken car of Lily since she was born) goes with her. Along the way the nanny, who is black, is often mocked and mistreated by white people, even put on jail! They eventually arrive at the Boatwright sisters' house, a group of sisters who make their living from bee farming. They have their own religion that basically revolves around a statue of Mary that they believe rescued them from slavery years before, and protects them from harmful incidents. All of these scenarios argue the author's opinion about the effect they have on people.

Blog #6

We all know about eating disorders. We picture the bulimic: the person that binges on food, then takes laxatives or vomits to get rid of it all. Or maybe you see the anorexic: the extremely underweight, malnourished individual that never eats and yet constantly insists they are fat.

I was once the anorexic. At thirteen I thought, like most girls, that I was fat (even though I wasn't) and needed to "lose five pounds". If I just lost five pounds, I told myself I would be thinner and happier. But after I lost five pounds, guess what? I wasn't happy! I thought if I lost just five more pounds again then, THEN I would be thin and happy. With each of my five-pound-weight-losses, the lower my weight goal became. I ate barely anything, yet exercised constantly; I was weak and tired and cold all the time; all of my clothing began to hang on me, and my bones stuck out. I refused to eat any sweets, and was even afraid to eat carrots! It got to where if someone wasn't watching me eat, I would throw away my food and not eat at all. Yet, I still was afraid of gaining weight and becoming fat! My Mom became increasingly worried about me, and booked an appointment with my doctor. I absolutely denied that there was anything wrong, even though I was obviously starving and there was definitely something wrong! Well, you can guess what happened from there: the Doctor diagnosed me with anorexia nervosa and told me if I didn't gain weight by my next appointment a few days later, I would have to quit swimming and possibly become hospitalized because exercise would worsen my condition. Also, my pulse was extremely low and i had heart palpitations, all signs that I could and would have a heart attack and die if I didn't take a decisive course of action and choose life over being "thin." But I was too scared to eat; I couldn't stop being anorexic, but i didn't want to keep on living that way. Because i was unwilling and too scared to recover, the only option I saw was dying. I think a big part of me accepted that i was going to die; my starved brain that was slowly being consumed by own body in order to glean what little fat it could, wasn't thinking straight. I think as, little by little my bodily systems were shutting down, my soul was withering and I had no motivation to do anything but serve Anorexia. When I went to my next appointment, I had lost more weight, and a few days later they put me in pediatric ICU on bedrest with a nurse watching me 24/7. I was forced to gain weight back (ever heard of ensure? I had to drink 6 a day! haha) before i could go home...which ended up being five days later. Then I had to go to an Eating Disorder outpatient group two days a week to fully recover.

By now you're probably thinking "How could an eating disorder like this be viewed in any way but negatively!" It's true that eating disorders are miserable and deadly, but my own personal experience with anorexia taught me more about life and getting my priorities straight than anything else I could have gone through. Being so close to death, I suddenly wondered why being thin mattered so much; something I had thought would make me happy had caused more strain on my family and I than anything we'd ever encountered! I suddenly didn't even care about getting "fat". It wasn't worth losing my life over, and it definitely wasn't worth all the grief that it caused my family!

Now, I never consider myself as fat anymore. I would consider myself fully recovered, and I think if I had never gone through anorexia I might have always been unhappy with my body and thought of it as fat. My nutritionist taught me about the importance of a healthy weight over being thin, and the importance of eating healthfully. She also inspired me to choose a career as a nutritionist so that I can help other people recover from eating disorders.

Almost dying, but then making it through also showed me that there must be a reason I am alive :) I could have died, but I didn't and that makes me feel like I have a purpose.

So there you have it! A somewhat-too-long account of why eating disorders can be viewed in more than a negative light.

Blog #5

The Box Man chooses to be "lonely" as a homeless man, instead of live along with other people as society says he should do. Most of us find it a bit odd when someone goes against the norm; A culture has set standards which people generally go along with, usually so they will "fit in" and be accepted. When the Box Man chose to live opposite of how others said he should, taking the risk of being different and disliked, in the end he was happy because he knew he was living true to himself. He wasn't living to please what others wanted for him; he knew that he could never be satisfied chasing after someone else's dreams for his life.

On the other hand, what about the people that do conform to society? You know them: they always have the latest fashions; the newest, greatest cellphone or iPod. Is it necessarily a bad thing to conform to society? That depends: are you doing it just to "fit in" or is because maybe you like that particular style of jeans and know that it expresses yourself? There are people that purposefully go against society because they want to feel different or unique, and that isn't any better than those that conform to society just to please other people. You know if you are living according to who you are, or to how you want other people to view you. If you are constantly living just to please that other person, you will never find true happiness. But, if you stay yourself, are confident in your own style and abilities, and follow your true dreams, in the end there is nothing more satisfactory.

Blog #4

What two things are different, but ironically similar? As I ponder this this afternoon, I think back to the wonderful time I just shared with my friends. Each one of my friends is different from the other, and I am different from my friends! Obviously, no one is alike and we are all unique individuals. But, we are all ironically similar too. For instance: one of my friends, Sarah, is German with brown curly hair, blue eyes, and glasses. She is pretty, loving, caring, cuddly and sensitive; she wants to be a doctor. :) Then there is my other friend, Michelle: she also has brown curly hair, but more greenish-blue eyes, and a petite frame. She is quiet, kind, unselfish, and completely adorable, but she is like Sarah in her caring nature towards others and her passion for music. Then there is my friend Bryanna: she is part Mexican and part Korean, with beautiful dark hair and eyes. She is more quiet and reserved, but super-friendly and nice, with a wonderful laugh and smile :) She wants to be a detective or an astronomer, and loves hotpockets and malamutes. Then there is me: I have really blonde hair and blue eyes. I also love music and would consider myself more of a creative person than mathematically or scientifically inclined. My friends and I all play violin, like ice cream, scary movies, and don't plan on having children. We have feelings like sadness, happiness, loneliness, guilt, regret, and contentment. Yet, we are all different: Sarah loves baking, but Michelle hates it. Bryanna loves science, but I'd rather paint pictures. We are all different, yet ironically similar. That's what makes us friends :))

Blog #3

This summer I read the Kite Runner. Now, I was super surprised by the impact this book had on me and what a tremendously wonderful piece of work it is. It gave me a whole new perspective on middle-eastern, Afghan peoples. The book begins with two little boys, Amir (the son of a rich businessman) and his servant Hassan, growing up in Afghanistan together. They spend every day together, running their kites, reading books, and roaming the streets of the city of Kabul. But when the annual kite running match swings around, Amir stands by cowardly as Hassan is beaten an raped by bullies. After that, Amir avoids Hassan as much as possible because being near him causes too much guilt over the fact that he had not helped him when his friend needed him most. When Amir grows up he moves to the States and pushes the guilt over what he had done deep down inside, as he tries to lead a normal life. But his past continues to torture him, until one day several years later he is given a chance to return to Afghanistan and atone for his sins...

This book was extremely heartbreaking, exciting, and as I said earlier, it helped me put a face to the people living in the country. When I hear of the Muslim people, I now picture a nation suffering under Taliban and Muslim rule; they long for help and freedom, they experience life and loss, they have birthday parties and eat meals together. They are people just like us! It also showed me how much they welcome relief and protection from American soldiers, and how much their country needs help and deliverance. No longer does the Iraqi War seem like a distant pointless, never-ending battle, but an opportunity to help someone in need. I loved The Kite Runner!!!!!!!!!!! :)

Blog #2

Fiction is my number one friend when it comes to books. I automatically gravitate to pages that are filled with words of a whole new world that can never exist in real life. But I have managed to pick up a few non-fiction works:



The Bible

A Homemade Life

Founding Brothers

Nutrition and Fitness

Amy Carmichael


The Bible is a history of the Jews--God's people--the life of Jesus Christ, and his disciples. It basically teaches the philosophy that everyone is a sinner that deserves to go to hell, but God died to take the punishment that we deserve for our sins, and rose from the dead and is alive in heaven to meet those who believe in him. Those who believe this philosophy will go to heaven and escape the punishment they deserve.

A Homemade Life is a beautiful book of true stories based on the author's (Molly Wizenberg) cooking experiences. She incorporates her love of food and culinary arts with memorable moments from her life to create extremely interesting stories. Reading this book got me started on reading her blog: Orangette. I now have a whole new bunch of delicious recipes in my repertoire, along with some wonderful tales to read.

Nutrition and Fitness is a topic of great interest to me. I want to be a dietician someday, and this book is one of the many of its kind that I have managed to gobble up and digest thoroughly! It discusses why it's important to eat healthy, and the bad affect unhealthy lifestyles have on your body.

THE END :)