Fangirl and the New Year

Some of you may be aware that I have been working on a little thing called the Bookworm Project. In short, it is my way of getting back into the bookworm groove by reading a new book every month and then vlogging about it. This month, I read Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell.

Fangirl centers around Cath, a girl starting her first year in college. Her and her twin sister, Wren, are both huge fans of Simon Snow. Simon Snow is a book series turned movie series franchise, constructed to be a parallel to what Harry Potter is in our world. Cath and Wren have all the merch any huge fan could think of, and have authored their own fanfic. But when they go to college, Wren moves on from the fandom, and Cath clings to it. Cath is immensely overwhelmed by the huge change in her life that is college, independence, and new people. Throughout the story, Cath realizes that in order to begin weaving her own story, she may have to leave Simon Snow behind.

A fangirl in her natural environment.

I think I ran into this book at quite an opportune time. I will be moving off to college next year, I'm a huge fangirl, and some days, strikingly similar to Cath. I have talked about fandom before and how it lets us escape to another world, if only for a few minutes. So many people, particularly teenagers, find refuge in stories. Having this sort of escape can be nice, but sometimes it brings us too far from reality. We can get so wrapped up in a fictional universe that we forget to step out into the world and live a little. As Dumbledore said, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

I, like Cath, will sometimes face great change through a sort of film; move to China, for example, and I will watch ten seasons of Classic Doctor Who. When Cath moves to college, she delves deeper into the Simon Snow fandom, simply because the pressure and the change is too much. My way of avoiding thinking about decisions for college was watching copious amounts of Doctor Who and sitcoms. But if anything, rather than a momentary escape to clear your head, too much fandom can cause you more anxiety. It becomes a vicious cycle: stressed, escape, stay in escape too long, repeat. The only way out is to face the world, head on.

And yes, I will connect this to the new year. Sure, you can set goals at any time of your life; there's no need for a party at midnight and the turn of time. But the new year is a celebration, marking yet another revolution of the Earth around the Sun. It's all big and astronomical and beyond what we could possible imagine. Perhaps it is the notion that we are still here, still evolving, still putting one foot in front of the other that makes this particular evening like a great jumping point for any goal. In any case, watching Cath deal with her stress in the same way I sometimes do was enlightening and reinvigorating. I could relate to her situation. More importantly, I could watch it from afar, gaining a better perspective. Fandom will always be there, but the world will not.

Watch Fangirl book review video here.

Feminism, Dancers, Media, Oh My!

This is actually a piece I submitted to a writing challenge at Brown University's feminist magazine, Young Bluestockings. High school students across the states were invited to write on a feminist related topic and submit their work. Every writer would receive feedback on their piece. I have published here the original. I got some amazing feedback, but haven't been able to organize my thoughts and further work on the piece (ugh, writer's block). However, here is the final I submitted to the challenge. Tell me what you think, or simply enjoy the words.

My prompt: How have media and popular culture (i.e. films, music, art, TV shows, etc.) affected the way you view and relate to yourself?

Long legs twirl and leap across the rubber floor. Leg warmers decorate semi-injured ankles and knees, and white tulle floats around the room. I watch, fascinated, as the rehearsing bodies keep in time with the music. My brain automatically names each step as it is performed. Chasse, relevé arabesque, susú, bourre; into the center of the studio and away goes a circle of dancers. As the music begins to close, I turn to face the giant mirror covering the studio’s front wall to get a broader view. The movement slows, and the dancers take up their final positions, poised to bow.

I go into class next, hair tucked in a bun and the rest of my dancing gear on. I take one peek in the mirror, and within seconds every flaw becomes painfully visible. Feet just a bit too small, legs long, but not lean enough, and that annoying little pocket of fat that resides in the lower tummy disrupts what could have been perfectly flat abs. Not good enough, and the frustration begins. These were my older days as a dancer. The daily self-criticism was a constant, and being midway through my teenage phase, not helpful in or out of the studio. This leads to some severe cases of what dancers call “Ballet Fever”.

Simply put, ballet fever is a sort of ballet high, specifically in focusing all of your energy to living like a dancer: rehearse for hours a day, eat yogurt to treat yourself, and do pilates and yoga in your free time. Going professional in the dance world means total dedication to the art, and often leaving your previously ‘human’ life. The year I turned sixteen was the year I went through some near-extreme cases of this ballet fever, and when I began paying attention to the media in the ballet world and the human world.

First and foremost: dancers are thin. The pros are pure, lean muscle. When you look at models shown in women’s magazines, they are all limber, with nothing extra on their bones. This automatically makes women set an unrealistic bar for what they themselves should look like. Like in ballet fever, women begin to obsess over what they eat, how they work out, and what they see in the mirror. Some say you can’t leave the dance world unscarred; I say you can’t leave the newsstand unscarred.

Of course, I was one of these misinformed women for a while. I read magazines for beauty tips (oh yeah, a blemish free face was a piece of work for a sixteen year old kid) and watched YouTube videos galore of dancers all over the world. I cried internally every time I watched a Russian perform; their technique is unmatched. I needed to be thinner. I needed to look like this image of beautiful given to me by popular media. I needed to be something I believed I was not.

Ballet had always been a safe haven, until media twisted it, making it perverse. I have been a dancer for twelve years now, always dancing out of my love for it. Thoughts of a professional career with it never quite crossed my mind until I was twelve, but at that age, I hardly paid any attention to the media (I was too busy reading Harry Potter, duh). However, when I did begin to see these pictures of perfectly sculpted models, I was disheartened. Naturally, I saw what I did not have. I got so caught up in the vanity of it all, that for a long time, I forgot why I danced. It took eight months for me to learn to be happy with myself: a summer staycation and a semester abroad.

Instead of spending 200 hours of July in the dance studio, I became a teenager, and built something pretty novel to me at the time—a social life. I made more time for friends, all the time reveling in our love for all things nerdy. It was a really nice break, and I think a well-deserved one. Stepping away from the dance world not only eased my aching muscles, but also ripped away some of the expectations I had set for myself in what I should look like. The end of the summer brought about the beginning of a thrilling new adventure. As my friends began their junior year in high school, I was flying across the Atlantic to live with a host family in Spain.

Now, in Europe, a majority of the people are very much in shape. They have access to fresh foods, walk everywhere, and lead much less stressful lives than the average American. But what was considered ‘in shape’ was far more diverse than what you would find in the United States. You had really thin people (as it happens, I fit right into this category) and then average sized people. All were considered in shape, and something beautiful.

In short, living the Spanish life for a few months, relaxed and healthy, proved quite therapeutic. I was happier, and by the time I left, could look in the mirror and smile. We were not all built to be size two ballerinas; what makes the human race so great is the diversity of our genes. It’s time we embrace our diversity, and diversify what counts as beautiful. And, in the wise words of Eleanor Roosevelt, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

The Nutcracker

Amongst the many whimsical tidings of the Christmas season is the renowned ballet, The Nutcracker. Tchaikovsky's music is known to populations all around the world. In case you do not know what the Nutcracker is about, it follows a young girl named Clara, and her dream after a Christmas Party. For the first time in twelve years, I managed to land myself in a ballet studio that performs the Nutcracker in December (I still want to get one of those "My first Nutcracker" onesies). The ballet itself is a pleasure to perform, but the stress kicks in when theatre week begins. 

Theatre week, in a nutshell, is the week leading up to the show. There are rehearsals every single day, for a few hours. By the end of the week, and the final performance, there is total relief. I'm still sore, and probably will be for the next couple of days.

The funny thing about ballet, however, is that it is so engrossing, impassioned, and fun (in my case) that a few days without a single dance class or rehearsal is just devastating. Perhaps not devastating, but along the lines of what-do-I-do-with-my-life-now-this-is-too-weird. Dance is one of the greater parts of my life. It has become so built-in to my personal culture that not dancing is just...weird. But often, I get wrapped up in other stresses. Then life kind of plummets, spiraling into a numbing schedule. The routine is a killer of joy, as well as purpose. I have danced for so long that a couple of times I have become so swept up in doing everything right, mounting all stress and anxiety humanly possible onto already laden shoulders.

Passion for a particular activity+incomprehensible stress=forgetting why you do said activity

And of course, once I care more about doing things right than enjoying myself, I create my own personal black hole. Into the hole goes inspiration, happiness, passion, hope. It really sucks. Which is why, every once in a while, take a day off. Go sit in the woods, or hike a mountain, or sit on the back porch with your cat. Clear the mind. Remember why it is you write or dance or hunt or do anything. Make sure you aren't spending greater parts of your energy on things that don't really matter, or aren't devoting enough of your time to something you actually care about. When it's show time, show the world passion and joy, and they shall be entertained.

Christmas Jumper Day

The holidays are drawing near, and in most cultures, it's about time for some vacation and a bit of celebration. My house is decorated, the malls are plastered with sales. For the fellow citizen of the Northern hemisphere, the temperature outside is just a bit below freezing-your-butt-off degrees Fahrenheit. Of course, all this cold weather calls for a few things, like hot chocolate and a seat by a warm fireplace. There's nothing quite like huddling up with your friends and family on an evening in the snow. There's also nothing quite so itch-inducing and warm as a wool sweater, which brings me to Christmas Jumper Day.

Christmas Jumper Day, happening today, right now, in the UK, is how Save the Children is raising money this holiday season. Save the Children (a charity whose purpose I shall explain further in a moment) is encouraging people to wear a Christmas 'jumper', and to donate one pound if you do. All of this money goes to providing children in developing countries with life saving services (food or clothing, even education).

I learned about this event through BBC's Sherlock (another piece of evidence that fandom can change the world). I thought it was really cool. Get people to become more aware of a charity's presence, as well as more aware of situations in developing countries? Heck yeah, that's awesome. Not gonna lie, I did eventually go out to get my own 'jumper' (I was conveniently already in need of a warmer sweater). And I wore it, absolutely warmed by the garment itself and the message carried with it: save the children.

Some people will complain that most people throw their money at charities purely to feel good about themselves. These people can be designated as the 'no hopers'. Yes, there may just be a population of people with no true sense of giving. However, to those no hopers, I give you a story that may just give you a bit more hope for the human race (or perhaps that there are still people who simply do the right thing. Your pick).

I was driving to the mall just after a class this morning. At the intersection before hopping on the highway, there was a bit of a mishap. I'm not sure if they ran out of gas or killed the engine and the cold wasn't very accommodating in the effort to restart it. Whatever the case, they were blocking a lane of cars from getting through the intersection. One guy was in the car steering and his buddy was trying to push the car by himself. At this point, I have just pulled up to the light, am about to hop out of my car, when I notice some fabulousness. Not one, not two, but three people were walking out of their cars to help out. Needless to say, I drove away, unable to keep a smile off my face.

The 'Bookworm Project'

A few months ago, I talked about a plan to read a book every month, and then proceed to review each book in the form of a vlog. I kept up with it! Since August, I've read and reviewed four books, having just received the fifth in the mail today (con to buying books for the love of books: you end up with a teetering stack of them on your bedside table). The experience so far has been really great. Over time, my 'vlogging skills' have gotten much better (you can tell). With my internship doing video production, the video editing bit I think has improved. I have gotten back to my bookworm-y self as well (virtual high fives anyone?)

Basically, I am very excited to share what I have done so far. So for this post, I will be providing mini-reviews of each book I read in their written and vlog forms.

Book 1: Paper Towns. Paper Towns is a young adult fiction novel written by John Green. The story follows high school senior, Quentin, better known as Q by his friends, and the mysterious Margo Roth Spiegelman. Q's life, in a word, is boring. He has a routine, he knows what he will be up to next; nothing out of the ordinary is really 'penciled in' to his schedule. Margo, however, is iconic. She's popular, goes off to who-knows-where days at a time just for the heck of it, and is basically a plot twist waiting to spring any moment. After Margo and Q go on a little adventure, Q learns that Margo's identity as a person is totally obscured from reality. This is a great book, quite witty on all accounts. The plot keeps the reader engrossed throughout, as it has a vibe of mystery.

Book 2: The Scarlet Letter. The Scarlet Letter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne, is an American classic. The story itself takes place in the early days of settlements in the New World in the town of Salem (right by Boston). Big thing to know: religion plays a huge role in how the people in the town make their choices and how the laws were, at the time, written. A woman, by the name of Hester Prynne, commits the crime of adultery, and is forced to wear a scarlet letter 'A' on her breast forever. Background on Hester: she was once married. However, when her husband was crossing the sea from England to the New World, he disappeared, presumed dead. A new man comes into town when Hester receives her punishment, and is intent on finding the man Hester slept with. A lot of schools require this book in language arts courses. I will admit, there is a lot more depth in this book than I had anticipated. The language can get cumbersome for the younger, more modern mind, but this is book worthy of attention.

Can you tell I had too much fun with thumbnails?

Book 3: The End Games. The End Games is a zombie novel written by T. Michael Martin. The zombie apocalypse has taken over the world from what brothers Patrick (five years old) and Michael (seventeen years old) have seen. Ever since Halloween, they have been running. They receive instructions from the Game Master, and find themselves part of The Game. If they follow the rules, they can get to the Safe Zone, but when they come across other survivors, the rules begin to change. This is the first zombie novel I have ever read, and it was amazing. It was totally plottwist-y. Right when you were sure you knew where the story was going BAM--the story veers into a totally unprecedented direction. Great suspense from beginning to end, more than just gore, and a pretty great start to T. Michael Martin's career as an author (should he continue to write books).

Book 4: The Fault in our Stars. The Fault in our Stars is the most recent book by John Green. We are introduced to sixteen year old Hazel Lancaster, a girl diagnosed with terminal cancer. At the age of thirteen was when she was first diagnosed, but a miracle drug extended her life a bit. Hazel carries around an oxygen tank 24/7 to keep her lungs going, and stays home a lot. This is primarily because she does not go to regular school, due to cancer, and tends to keep to herself...also because of the cancer. Her mother has her attend a Cancer Support group every week, and it is at one of these meetings that we meet Augustus Waters, the boy that will change her life forever. I thought this book was beautiful, on the grounds that it was funny, but tragic, totally satisfying, but leaving the reader hungry for more. It is an impressive story, philosophical, witty, heart-wrenching, entirely bittersweet and perfect in every way. Read it.

The video embed isn't working too well, so click here to see the Book Review for The Fault in our Stars.

On Leadership

Most of us have at least a couple of memories from the playground days. And most of us will remember that one girl who bossed all the other kids around. This girl was superbly annoying, like in-your-face-my-way-or-the-highway kind of annoying. She sought for order amongst her playground subjects and her high throne was the best swing on the set (her name having been etched on the bottom of the rubber seat. Ownership rights right there). This girl was me. At least five year old me, when I ran crying to my father that my neighborhood buddies "wouldn't do what I said!"

While I no longer expect people to do as I say, and my labeled swing is half a country away, I have become a bit of a leader in and out of school (I prefer the term 'instigator', as 'leader' sounds a bit pompous and 'instigator' has a bit of a fun factor to it.) As I have moved into this sort of role, I have learned a lot, and have plenty more to learn still. Leadership is so much more than directing groups of people or looking fabulous. What's more, leaders are nothing without the team of people that helped make things happen in the first place. When so many people are relying on you to have all the answers, the stress is enormous.

In my school, I have started an online magazine (the name? East Coast Instigator). My school focuses on students building an education around their passions, and real world learning. Unfortunately, most high schoolers seeking a writing internship are disappointed by futile searches for opportunity. What my magazine serves to do is provide a platform where students can exhibit their writing, opinions, and art work. Students get to have their work published and build a writing portfolio that can hopefully get them their dream internship, proving themselves as writers. Of course, keeping a team of students together, and everyone meeting their deadlines, and work going missing... It gets a bit hairy (welcome to the world of publishing.) I've had difficulty motivating students to get work in on time, but it has gotten better. Being in charge is stressful. There is the meticulous planning of meetings, things going awry. What I have learned here is that having the power to give others assignments means nothing until they are actually motivated to do it themselves; essentially, they do it because they want to.

Really, I think that is the key to good 'leadership'. If you can get someone to do what you want without having to make them do it, you've done something right. And often, like me, people get thrown into these roles. Maybe my background as Ruler of the Cul-de-sac and the Supreme Reign on the Playground remained just under the surface, causing me to be thrown into the hot seat. I guess things began to click when the bossy five year old girl was thrown right into her element. In the ever wise words of Dumbledore, "Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must...find to their own surprise that they wear it well."

Vegans from Space

Most people have a couple of vegetarian friends, and fewer have vegan friends. Vegetarians do not consume any form of meat, sometimes including fish. Vegans eat and buy essentially animal-free products. This means no dairy, no meat, no fish, and definitely no bad ass leather jackets. For the average, steak-a-day American, veganism sounds entirely outlandish. No meat? Okay. But no animal products whatsoever? That's insane.

I consider myself a mostly vegetarian--merely environmentally friendly. I eat meat once, maybe twice, a week for two reasons: the health benefits and lessening my individual impact on the environment. Would I ever go total vegetarian? Eventually, maybe. After talking to a friend who recently went vegan and watching this awesome documentary (it's called Vegucated. I suggest watching it purely out of curiosity), I took a second look at my quasi-vegetarianism and realized something. I wasn't the total veggie junkie I'd been working to be since January. While my (now vegan) friend ate lots of cheese as a vegetarian, I ate lots of starch. All this inspired a vegan recipe-Google search and taking a step further into kitchen. Most of the starchy foods in my diet were bread, and thus contained animal products. What would my options be if I were vegan? Hint: more variety of veggies.

But enough about why I'm slowly building a more vegetable-intensive food supply. Why should you attempt to go vegetarian, vegan, or simply eat less meat? Perhaps the most popular proposal is the health benefits. By adopting a plant-based diet, risks for diabetes, cancer, and other diseases decrease significantly. Some people argue that without meat, a person can't get enough protein. The reality--there are plenty of alternatives, such as beans. These alternatives can easily replace how you can get your protein. The average American eats about three pounds of meat per week, which is definitely more than necessary. Add this to the growing population of people in the world, and we create a bit of a demand crisis.

If you are a bit of a 'green freak' like me, the environmental impacts of the farming industry would be of concern to you as well. If not, the environmental impact can easily translate into economical terms, and issues with resource depletion. The farming industry demands lots of resources, primarily fuel and water. About 3,515 liters of water is needed for every eight ounce steak. Tons of of farmland is needed to even just haphazardly raise animals. Then when you think about how much energy it takes to run a farm and slaughterhouse, it all adds up. If every American were to eat significantly less meat, about 1.49 tons of carbon dioxide would be saved every year. 

And then for the fellow animal rights activist, farm conditions for animals are quite less than ideal. I shiver just thinking about it. But that is something I will leave the reader to research on their own, as it is still a fresh topic for me (and one I am not too fond of writing about. For now).

A lot of people raised with a hearty meat-loving childhood might see veganism as totally alien. You were raised with milk and eggs for breakfast, grilled chicken for lunch, and good 'ole steak for dinner. Eliminate all that? No way. Then again, being vegan doesn't have to mean strictly animal product-free. It's easy enough to be mostly vegan. Either way, decreasing meat and dairy consumption is not only beneficial to the individual, but does wonders for our world. So... will you take the challenge?

The Fandom Life

You're crying silently in front of the television. Part two of the final Harry Potter movie is playing. In hand, there's a pint of your favorite Ben & Jerry's flavor, being slowly and messily shoveled into your mouth. There are chunks of chocolate--chocolate really does make you feel better. Remus Lupin gave Harry chocolate every time a dementor attacked so that he could recover. A wave of depression hits as you think, Lupin is dead now. This is perhaps the tenth time you have watched this film and it gets you every time. Every. Single. Time. Why do you put yourself through this if all it does is make you sad? Why do we become so attached to fictional characters in our books and TV shows?

In general, people really like stories. People love getting swept away by the excitement of a plot and escaping into a new world. But then there are the 'nerds', the absolute epitome of enthusiasm for a story or idea. To quote John Green, "Nerd are allowed to love stuff--like jump-up-and-down-in-your-chair-can't-control-yourself-love it." So when coming across someone who stands by their opinion that bow ties are cool, or believes that every child should have access to a messenger owl, or thinks that Through the Wormhole is the most fascinating show on the planet, you have found one of the 'nerds'. And most of the nerds with access to the Internet are part of inter-galactic communities of fans called fandoms, where there are other nerds just like them in terms of enthusiasm for a particular story or idea.

Some fandoms are experiencing a form of 'shock', being held in a state of total anticipation. Due to this, Tumblr, a blogging site that is home to most, if not all, Internet fandoms, is buzzing with excitement. In the Harry Potter fandom, there are constant posts of the fandom's revival with the announcement of J.K. Rowling writing the screenplay for the movie Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (a story taking place in the Potter-verse). Just this week, the Hunger Games fandom received the second movie installment of the series. This weekend, Whovians are looking forward to the season eight premiere and fiftieth anniversary of Doctor Who. Not to mention Part II of The Hobbit being released in December.

Again, why are there thousands, maybe even millions, of people all over the world that are practically obsessed with these stories? For some, it's purely the fascination of the story itself. But stories make a much larger impact than we give them credit. Stories are an escape, yes. When the world is far too much to handle, there are these little safe havens made of words or cinematography. Oh, the escape is easy to make, and we find ourselves part of a second family, a home away from home. The escape, the adventure across pages and scenes, often brings us right back to our reality. And everything is alright again.

Economic Inequality

Some days, it really does feel like money makes the world go 'round. Need something to fill up the fridge? Go to the grocery store, spend some cash. A visit to the doctor's office? Get ready to pay what is due. Some of the most basic necessities in life cannot be had without envied paper notes and rounded metallic chunks. However, not everyone can afford the basics, which unfortunately has been a reality throughout most of human history. Distribution of wealth is unequal, and bam, economic inequality (to simplify this concept to an extreme).

Economic inequality affects many aspects of life. Provisions of clothing, for example, can be hard to come by. Access to heat is difficult as well. Lack of clothes or a place to stay can place a person in a spot of danger. What's worse, when you can't stay warm, you lose something most dear: hope. Hope for a better future, hope for employment to provide for oneself or a family. My thinking is that by keeping people warm, you kindle the fire of hope that, in essence, keeps them alive. In order to tackle this issue, a group of friends and I are running a winter clothing drive at my school.
Educational opportunities become scant if you live in a neighborhood with low funding. In these parts of town, you've got the hardly maintained public schools, or an unaffordable private school in another city. Unequal distribution of wealth equates unequal access to education. What's more, libraries with plenty of resources are hard to come by, and thus literacy levels go down. And without education, you set up yet another generation to end up stuck in the same kind of neighborhood they began in.
Food--the most basic necessity to live. Humans require nutrients in order to survive. And we all know what happens when we go too many days without food, or unhealthy food. Without basic amounts of nutritional food, people can't work or go to school, let alone fight off sickness. The fact that anyone lacks access to food simply because they don't have money to pay for it is ridiculous. It happens, everyday.
Fortunately, the human race is filled with all sorts of amazing people. One example? The Harry Potter Alliance. Their next campaign is oriented around The Hunger Games, and attacks many of the side effects of economic inequality. There are twelve categories, delineated by the twelve districts present in The Hunger Games series. There are districts specific to the homeless and housing, literacy and education, and food security (clothing, food, and book drives fall into these categories). While not everyone has sufficient wealth right now, there are ways we can help decrease the plight of the poor, without money, locally and globally.

PS I will posting more often (or so I hope). As it happens, college applications and running a magazine at school is crazier than I had previously anticipated.

La Corrida en Miranda, Part 1

The bull seemed to fly right out of hell. The mass of black fur shot out of hiding, rattling the wooden panels separating the audience from the arena. The crowds roared, riling up the dark force of nature. For an animal so large, it should not have been able to move so swiftly. I cheered on the beast, adding my voice to those of the masses. The air buzzed feverishly, adrenaline surely pumping through every body in the stands, and not just my own. My eyes, fixed on the bull, did not dare blink.

This was a whole new level of culture shock. People say that you can experience anything and everything by watching videos or reading a book. But then you go off into the world, and the floor gets pulled out from under you. Familiarity is left behind, and the world becomes entirely mesmerizing. The globe spins more rapidly on its axis, to the point of flinging itself out of orbit and into the next galaxy. This new level is altogether terrifying, raw, incredible. This was a corrida, a bullfight, right in the heart of Spain.

Around the arena the bull ran, dust flying up in it's wake. The arena itself was small, being the town square of a little pueblo named Miranda. People were seated on balconies and make-shift bleachers. Some people stood behind wooden barracks lining the edges of the arena. My host siblings and I sat on a wall, having climbed a rickety ladder to claim our spots. Behind us, a band played classic bullfighting-style music. Trumpets blasted in our ears. 

The people behind the wooden barracks held giant cups overflowing with beer. As the bull neared them, they stepped out from safety, alcohol sloshing out of their cups, egging on the bull. My heart stopped as the bull nearly impaled three men. They escaped out of reach from the deadly horns at the last second, only to return to the open when the bull lost interest. They waved around their own mini red capes.

"Those guys are completely insane!" I shouted over the chaos to my host sisters. Excitement and terror were near bursting in my chest.

Soon, the banderillos stepped out from the barracks, beginning their dance with the bull. 

"The banderillos are helping the matador learn how the bull moves. They tire out the bull, too," said the younger of my host sisters. They held out their pink capes. I took note that their names appeared to be printed on the inside, stamped in black. The beast grew timid at first sight of the banderillos, but soon returned with its initial fury.

After some time came two men mounted on armored horses, with spears in hand. "Those guys are called picadores. They make the first stab," informed my host sister.

The bull charged at the steadfast horse, and the picador thrust his spear into the top of the bulls neck. Out of the fresh wound spurted bright red blood. My body went cold, arms rough with goosebumps. I'd nearly forgotten how this would end. The banderillos moved to the edges, and the picadores left the arena. Now came the matador.

The matador stood in the center of the arena, completely macho in his composure. I could relate to what his mind must have been like, in that one moment in the beginnings of the fight. He was a performer, just like me. He was thinking clearly, but letting the performance instincts take over. It's like thinking without thinking. I could see it in his dark brown eyes.

Why Enthusiasm is Vital to Success

Most of us will have these streaks of what we deem success that are followed by periods of doom and gloom. For a month, you could be acing all of your courses in school, or making incredible headway in your novel. Everything is going your way, and life is perfectly balanced. Light is left in your footprints and the path ahead is simply electrifying (in a good way). But then, of course, it seems that you lose the favor of Fortuna, leaving you to crawl off into Gollum's cave. One thing falls through, creating a despicable domino effect, and causing you to throw your hands up in the air. You. Are. So. Done. With everything. Run.

What's nice about this terrible week or two is that it comes to an end. However, until you manage to pull yourself out of it, it feels like you're drowning in neglected responsibilities. Literally, reality almost seems like too much to handle. This tends to lead to marathons on Netflix, which aren't even fun when there is an ever-growing list of to-dos on your mind. Just thinking about what must be done is painstaking. The former vigor with which you might have been writing a story, or studying, or anything really, just goes poof. All desire to accomplish much of anything is no where to be found. It's like a writer's block, but impacting every single aspect of your life.

How do you escape? Sometimes, after enough wallowing in the mess that is your life currently, the darkness just ebbs away. But more often than not, it's a matter of finding that one thing that gives you purpose. Taking a day off from all responsibilities is incredibly rejuvenating, but this does not mean sitting in your basement all day doing nothing. It's a day to enjoy some of the finer things in life. Whether it be taking a walk or brewing some fresh coffee beans, doing these small things without having to think of anything else de-clutters the mind. Having the mind clear allows you to think of the things most important to you and then--click. The most impressive thing humans have to show is hope, and this hope leads to happiness, which brings about a renewed enthusiasm for whatever life has in store. Then you are unstoppable once again.

From my experience and the experiences of others, I've learned that enthusiasm is key to success. It is vital that when one is struck by an idea, in order to carry that idea out into the world, they must pursue it with a passion. That is why some wise words to live by (from none other than Doctor Who) are these:

"I am and always will be the optimist, the hoper of far-flung hopes, and the dreamer of improbable dreams."

The Moon Festival

Last week was witness to one of the biggest festivals celebrated in China: the Moon Festival. Also known as the Mid-Autumn Festival, this holiday is most easily compared to the American Thanksgiving. An evening of reunion, celebration, and of course good food, this festival is incredible. I have some background knowledge of Chinese language and culture (just two years), so this kind of stuff tends to be super cool for me. My wall is home to many post-it notes with Chinese characters and pinyin on them—just a little fascinated.

What is the Moon Festival about anyway? As with many other traditions in East Asian culture, there is a legend. A long time ago, there was a hero named Hou Yi. When ten suns rose into the sky, he shot nine of them down with his bow and arrow. Having saved the people from a terrible fate, Hou Yi was given an elixir to grant him eternal life. Not wanting to live forever without his wife, Chang’e, Hou Yi gave Chang’e the elixir to keep. While out hunting, a thief breaks into Hou Yi’s home, attempting to pry away the elixir. Chang’e refuses to hand it over, and drinks it. She then flew off, making the Moon her home, so she could watch over her husband. People offered up sacrifices, thanking Chang’e for her bravery.

This festival also occurs around the time of the harvest. When there is a good harvest, people gather, make food, and celebrate. This, mixed with the legend of Chang’e, provides a sort of framework to modern-day ways of celebrating this holiday. First, the moon. This festival is called the Moon Festival because it takes place on the eighth moon of the lunar calendar. The full moon is often tied to rejuvenation, as Chang'e is a goddess of immortality. All over Chinese culture, the moon holds quite a high importance. The sacrifices offered up to Chang’e in the legend were fruits and cake. This brings me to the Moon Cake, a traditional food eaten on this festival. 

Might I add that red bean filling is my favorite?

Last weekend, I attended a biweekly summer event called Waterfire, native event in Rhode Island. The river going through the city of Providence is filled with floating fire pits: fire out of its natural environment. The whole event brings together people from all over the world, and of course featured a Chinese group. There were dragon dances performed, and lions dancing in the streets (they were awesome, by the way. A couple of my friends performed). With the fire in the river, the waning full moon in the dark sky, and dumpling in hand, there was certainly an air of romanticism in the air.

Back to... Hogwarts?

Firstly, I have successfully uploaded my video where I review the book Paper Towns by John Green. You can check it out here. Tell me what you think!

Secondly, I have once again returned to that most noble of endeavors—school. Officially speaking, I am enrolled in my final year of Muggle school. But, as the first of September has passed, I’m going to refer to it as my seventh and final year at Hogwarts. That feeling you get before mounting a rollercoaster? The mix of terror and excitement knotting up in your chest? That was my summer; but now I’ve gotten on the rollercoaster, and there is no getting off until the ride is over. It’s quite hard to believe that at the end of next spring, I will have to say good-bye to my beloved school and enter the strange world of adulthood. Ah, yes, it is all bittersweet.

Bittersweet-ness aside, it is a year where I have the chance to accomplish the most I have in all of my years of schooling. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had to save the world in what would have been their last years at Hogwarts. I probably won’t end up having to track down the Dark Lord and finish him at last or anything, but I do have many plans, plans that are actually happening.

In the same way that Hogwarts students must take O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, us American Muggles get to take ACT or SAT (standardized tests). Or if you are crazy like me, both. One of the first steps to the college application process is having these standardized test scores. It is a facetious process to kids my age everywhere, but unfortunately necessary . The idea of anything after school is over is kind of unreal to most in my class. But nevertheless, we just go with it, like the twists and turns of the rollercoaster track.

Being of upperclassman status, there are even more opportunities than ever before. This means projects. And by projects, I mean Harry Potter Alliance (HPA for short). In a previous post, I talked about the work that the HPA does. In a phrase, activism Harry Potter-style. A group of students and I will be decreasing world suck through fundraisers, drives, and other campaigns. One of my goals is to make the world a better place, and hopefully I can really get started on that feat this year.

Besides this blog, I will be incorporating writing into my final year in another way: starting a school magazine. Not only will tons of students in my school be able to exhibit their own writing, but they will also get to learn a bit about the publishing and mass media industries.

Basically, this year is going to be a blast. It’ll go by faster than the speed of light (relatively anyway). Even though I will have to bid farewell to my school all too soon, it will always be there to welcome me home.

Who Do You Think You Are?

The other day, I spent an afternoon curled up on the couch, watching episode after episode of an intriguing show called Who Do You Think You Are? In the show, celebrities are taken on a journey to explore their family tree, and basically learn about who they are and where they came from. They begin by talking to their family, generally with questions about a certain branch of the family. Then, through the help of genealogists and historians, have their questions answered, sometimes traveling all over the globe.

I have always been fascinated with family trees. My mother is from Spain, and my father from the States. The fact that my family is scattered across the globe has probably contributed to why genealogy is something I can easily get sucked into. I have a wide mix of nationalities, including Cherokee, Norwegian, Spanish, Portuguese, English, and French.  Trying to imagine how those nationalities came together in the first place and how they are connected to me is almost mind-boggling.

When you think about it, the only reason you exist right now, as the way you are, is because of all of your predecessors. Your existence is literally a one in a million chance. Perhaps it is for this very reason that we often feel a need to know where we come from. Knowing the stories of our ancestors, I think, helps ourselves define who we are. For example, Zooey Deschanel was on the show of Who Do You Think You Are? She wanted to explore how far back strong female characters went in her family. As it turns out, there is a very long line of them. Deschanel considers herself a feminist, and now she knows that empowered women really do run in the family.

My immediate family, as a whole, enjoys traveling. Since my father was formerly in the military, my family has gotten to travel to all kinds of places. Each parent and every sibling, excluding one of my brothers, were born in a different state or country. We like adventure. This adventurous quality exists on both sides of my family, particularly on my father’s side. My dad’s family is scattered with army and air force personnel, with next generations carrying the torch and continuing the tradition. The military aspect of my family is one of my definers; I am a proud American and enjoy a traveler’s life.

Perhaps even more intriguing than knowing where you come from by studying your genealogy are the connections you make. Not only are you connected to your family by blood, but also by the things you do and enjoy. Come from a family that is particularly artistic? Three generations back, you might find someone who managed to win some sort of award or otherwise have their work on display somewhere. You might learn something about your family that could answer questions you have about yourself. Or maybe you’ll find a bounty of stories to pass on to the generations to come.

What Makes a Good Autobiography?

One of the graduation requirements for my school is writing an autobiography. We need at least seventy-five pages, documenting our high school career and other significant pieces of our life that we deem necessary to tell our story. Of course, since writers write what they know, this should be easy right? After all, I’m literally telling the story of my life so far. As it turns out, going back and remembering what I was like a few years back, and making a string of events all connect to tell one big story is more difficult than it seems.

Since I like taking normal things to another level (often over-complicating my life) I decided to Google what makes a good autobiography. With a mix of WikiHow, eHow, and other sites, here are three keys to writing a good autobiography.

Number one: create a timeline. You have to dive into the depths of your memory, picking out events from your life that shaped your journey. These are events that often surface immediately, and are a good place to start. For example, your first day of primary school or perhaps the death of a loved one. Compile a list of events and memories (ten seems to be a good number) that are particularly important to you; this is your life story. Sometimes looking through old pictures, or talking to friends and family, can jog your memory.

Number two: have a theme. When you think about it, writing out your life story is not too far removed from writing a fictional story. Every person has their own individual experience, and their own personality developed from it. The way you tell your story is just as important as the tale itself. My autobiography focuses on my high school experience, and will probably be comprised of flashbacks to my childhood throughout a chronological series of events from the year 2010 up until the spring of 2014. Basically, to formulate your theme, ask yourself this: what is the story I am trying to tell? Is it how you became a published author? Or about a six month journey at sea? Or becoming a grandmother? There is more to an autobiography than the physical events. The emotions you felt, what drove your decisions, all culminating into why you are the person you are today.

And finally—actually start writing. Sit down for a minimum of fifteen minutes a day, writing out the pieces. Don’t get your panties in a bunch over proper grammar. Let yourself rant. Tell your story. You’ll have time to edit later. Tap into all the sensory details, and allow the reader (or yourself) to live the memories in their mind. A good story captivates the reader in a way that transports them into your past. Bring the reader on a journey that is worthwhile, and in the end, maybe they will learn something. And maybe after all that writing, you will learn a thing or two about yourself as well.

For the Love of Reading

When was the last time you held a new story in your hands? Either a good ole paperback or the newest eBook you’ve added to your digital collection, they both count. Every time I find a new book in my hands, I treat the book almost in a regal manner. I observe the big title in print and miniscule details of the cover art. I run my fingers across the front cover, trying to find what modern texture the publisher provided for our discovery. The book feels comfortable in my hands, my mind whirring, becoming even keener on the journey this story would soon sweep me into.

Lifting the cover, I try to take in every detail: the spine creaking, two title pages, with copyright and publishing information sandwiched between. The book dedication written in italics, as it is in so many other stories. Some books even provide the reader with excerpts from poems or quotes that have something to do with the adventure lying within the pages beyond. Authors then greet us with some sort of note, or a prologue. But sometimes we are sucked right into the story, starting on chapter one.

I always turn the first few pages slowly, treading carefully. Without being entirely aware of it, the words suck me right into the story. Before I know it, my eyes are gobbling up the print, and the pages begin to go by faster and faster. The story becomes home, and comes with me everywhere; to the coffee shop, the dance studio after school, onto an airplane. I read sitting upright, curled in a ball, or upside down, hanging off of my bed, totally comfortable and caught up in the story.

Over the past year, I’d nearly forgotten what it is like to start a new book and really fall into it. While living in Spain, most of the reading I did was of books I had read previously in English. Coming back to the States, I had to retrain myself a bit in the reading department. At the time I had begun The Fellowship of the Ring and taking classes at a university. In the span of eight months, I read college textbooks and managed to read three books on my own time. In comparison to the amount of reading I used to do, this was slightly disappointing.

I have created a goal for myself, and that is to read at least one book every month. To make this undertaking even more fun, I’ll be reviewing each book I read in the form of a vlog. Ah, yes to taking on more projects!

I already have a lengthy list of books I intend on reading, but what others would you suggest? For August, I decided to read Paper Towns, a novel by John Green (and it is fabulous, if I may say so myself).

The College Debate: East versus West

After taking a road trip down and up the East coast, visiting a variety of states, and spending a week in Florida, I’ve been reminded of how much fun it is to be stuck in a car for eight or more hours. Especially when there are mini-wars over various snack foods. In the two weeks my family and I were traveling and vacationing, we traveled over 3,000 miles by car and managed to survive with minimal hotel Wi-Fi the whole time. Now that I am home and settling in for the upcoming school year, I will begin to post regularly once again.

Speaking of the upcoming school year, I have yet another post on college. I’m applying for colleges in September, and have been looking up schools all across the country. During the process, I discovered that there is a bit of an infamous debate over which U.S. coast is the best coast: East or West? For college, I would like to live in a city. In order to discern the pros and cons to each coast, I focused on cities. From the West I have Seattle, Portland, and San Francisco. From the East I have Boston, New York, and Washington DC.

First of all, I’m going to start with the general view there is with each coast, or rather the characteristics of each coast’s character. The East coast is generally more conservative, formal, and crowded. The West coast is viewed as more liberal, easy-going, and open (space-wise). Let me tell you now that the closest I have lived to the West coast is Idaho, and I currently live on the East coast. I’m also the kind of person who is fascinated by places I have yet to go to. Thus, I will probably talk more about the West than the East.

My mentality is to go to a college that is near a place where I would like to live after college. For many years I have wanted to live in Seattle, mostly because of a Nickelodeon show called iCarly. So of course, I looked for colleges in the area, and found what I thought to be a perfect fit. After a few years on the East coast, it would be really nice to move somewhere a smidge more relaxed and “open-minded”. It is a different lifestyle that fascinates me. Then again, visiting my family would be difficult, what with the entire country between me and home. I then looked for colleges on the East coast. There are countless colleges in Boston that have what I want to study. New York City is nice, but a huge city with many distractions, at least for me. Then there’s Washington DC, which would certainly be an interesting place to live, being the nation’s capital.

I want to be a writer for a magazine eventually, maybe even work toward being an editor. I want to work with people to achieve a common goal by brainstorming ideas and then making them happen. I want to decrease world suck in whatever way I can. The East might have some of those things, but the West is thriving with life in comparison. For college, I might just stay near home, and then make the big move out West later on. But for now, I need to work on actually getting into college. Until then, I will continue exploring Chicago and Seattle through Google maps.

Learning a Language

As a former military brat with a Spaniard for a mother, I’ve grown a bit of an affinity for language learning. Currently on my list are German, Mandarin Chinese, French, Italian, and far too many more to continue this sentence. I am fluent in Spanish, have background in Italian (as I used to speak it fluently), and have spent two years learning Mandarin Chinese. But what is the best way to learn a language?

Let’s begin with Spanish. I love Spanish, speaking it, reading it, and even writing it. It has a certain vibe to it when it rolls off the tongue. How did I learn the language? I was raised with it, learning Spanish alongside my English. My mother would speak in mostly Spanish, and my father spoke more in English. So really I learned a form of Spanglish first. Throughout my life, there has been many a vacation to Spain, visiting family and seeing the beautiful country itself. Then I studied abroad last fall in Salamanca, Spain, and after that I was all set. These big and little immersions into the language and culture have certainly helped build confidence in not just understanding the language, but also in speaking it.

Moving on to Italian, and how I quickly picked up the language and quickly lost it as well. My family was stationed a little north of Venice, Italy. At first, my brother and I attended the American schools on the military base, just so we could settle into the new environment. After a few months, we were moved to the Italian schools (which might I add, were awesome). At first, it was all charades to understand the other kids, and to learn the language. Not only did I pick up Italian quickly, but due to the similarities of this language to Spanish, my ability to communicate in Spanish shot up. For kindergarten, first, and second grade, I was trilingual.

When I moved back to the States, I did not need to use Italian. We spoke it at home sometimes, but it often turned back to Spanish and English. Once my tongue did not have to speak the language, it became lazy, and soon enough, forgot the language altogether. After a couple of years in the States, and no trips to Spain, even my confidence with speaking Spanish was fading.

Then I moved again, to the east coast. I was beginning middle school, and began to take French and Spanish at school. Both were easy enough to ace, and after three years, I knew how to count and introduce myself in French. In Spanish, I learned some scattered vocabulary associated with classroom items. That was in three years.

When I moved to the high school, I had the option to take Mandarin Chinese. I knew that I would be wasting my time in French or Spanish, and thought it would be wicked cool to learn a language that does not take it's roots in Latin. This class was unlike any other, and I took it for two years. The entire class took place online.  You could go at your own pace and review lessons whenever you wanted. I learned so much in that class. When I transferred high schools, I continued my studies through Rosetta Stone.  I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of information I absorbed even without immersion or an actual teacher speaking in Chinese on a regular basis.

How do you learn another language best? For me, it’s actually being surrounded entirely by the language. Going to the country where the language makes its home (it’s near impossible to truly understand a language without knowing its culture) or taking classes where everything is in the language you are trying to learn are personally how I learn best. Now, back to reading Warm Bodies in Italian…

The Infamous Job Hunt

As soon as you hit age twelve, it seems like your awareness of money just triples. Money begins to be viewed as a gateway to more independence. Sometimes, it can be a way of getting what you want. So you start off with lemonade stands, babysitting, or dog walking. Getting a crispy twenty every week can make any kid feel rich. BUT THEN…you hit sixteen years old and twenty bucks a week isn’t exactly going to meet demand. Your parents tell you to find a job, the outcome can be…grievous.

At the moment, only 25% of teens are employed in the United States. I suppose this is not so bad as parts of Europe, where I learned that a teenager holding a job is nearly unheard of. But because I’ve spent the past year applying to jobs off and on, and have yet to get an interview, it does not matter that elsewhere is worse (right at this moment in time; however, once one has the resources, they will become more capable of making elsewhere better). I live in a country where there is a one in four chance for a teenager to receive a job, and that still has yet to happen in my case.

What I have learned is that you must not be discouraged every time you hit a dead end. That is to say, you fill out your application, and drop it off with your resume at a place you are interested in working at. One week later, you follow up with a call, only to find that they aren’t hiring at the moment, or worse, “We’ll call you when we need you”. After this happens countless times, do not take it as a sign to give up. Just print out some more resumes and continue the hunt.

Statistically speaking, it is actually more difficult for a teen from a low income family to get a job because they have fewer connections. When searching for a job, younger people tend to rely on connections through their parents and friends. When one of your parents is out of work, for example, you have less stepping stones toward garnering a paying job. The shrinking availability of work for teens is rather nerve-wracking, especially when someone really needs the money. I need money to pay for gas and car insurance, while someone else needs a job to have food on the table. A lot of the time, applying for jobs is almost like buying lottery tickets, hoping to get the magic numbers.

But despite the state of the economy, we have to keep our heads up. We need to keep applying, reapplying, finding new places to apply. While waiting for a job offer, build up your resume with volunteer work and internships. Or these are all the things I keep telling myself as I hunt down my first job. But one thing is for sure, job hunting is in no way simple or some easy step by step process. Anything worthwhile requires some amount of work, and that amount is certainly not appealing in some cases. The key to a successful job hunt is perseverance; that I can say for sure.

Where To Live

The air was hot and amazingly still. Two hours had gone by since the sun had set; the heat from midday was hardly letting up. Earlier, the air conditioner in my house had broken. I’d spent the day outside, kayaking to the beach with some classmates.  I lay in bed, exhausted.The skin on my arms was particularly warm, tinged red due to slight sunburn. I waited and waited for the Sandman to lull me to sleep.

I did the usual things when the still-buzzing mind delays rest. I grabbed my phone, and logged into Facebook. Boredom moved me to Twitter and Instagram. I slid my phone back to the floor. Still, my mind would not break its relentless consciousness. I’m about to go on Facebook again when I receive a text message, the kind that makes you want to laugh out loud. Midnight begins to makes its way nearer, and the conversation takes a rest. I let my mind wander.

My thoughts are moving slow, finally. I close my eyes, and notice that what I thought was a soundless night was not so soundless at all. There was a fan, whirring atop the head of my bed. The noise itself was monotonous, but it had the same exact volume as something, something familiar. Ah, yes. The fan carried the same volume as Salamanca, a city I would not soon forget. There, the nights were full of all forms of life. Cars were constantly heard in the streets below, and even more loud were the merry voices of the night owls still prowling the night.

I’ve heard that as a majority, people in their twenties tend to migrate toward the cities. The lure of life constantly changing and things always happening is appealing to younger generations. This obviously does not hold true for all, and maybe it’s a misconception, but I know that this idea definitely applies to me. I’m the kind of person who spends their time trying to find things to do that have yet to be done. I like researching different places just to imagine living there. After spending twelve years as a military brat, I have developed a thirst for new experiences.

Ideally, I would love to move to a city for college, or right after college. On my list are Seattle, Boston, and San Francisco. But those aspirations are often rethought, over and over. The West coast holds allure, a new place to discover. The East coast is familiar, and thus not as attractive. What city to choose, if any city at all? Lots of factors help a person make a decision. Sometimes, having your family nearby is what you want. But maybe what you really want is a full-blown adventure, to be someplace that you have no connection to whatsoever. Either way, moving to a city allows for any amount of discovery, meeting new people, and in the end, a grand quest to tell all someday.

Strokes of Genius

It is one in the morning, and you’re wondering endlessly what to do with your cowboy protagonist. A couple of months ago, you took up the project of writing a story about the Old West. There are characters galore, moving around your brain. You want a damsel in distress, who by no means is truly distressed, making for a more modern female character in an older setting. She finds herself amidst a war with the Sea Dogs, a gang of pirates that sails all the oceans, and is taken captive. The protagonist of the story, the cowboy, is also more of an antihero. He is an outlaw, but he has left his criminal life behind. He does not believe he can do good, and is soon thrown into the place of a hero.

But what is the conflict that spurs him into action? You’re thinking. Then it hits you like a wave, tiny details swirling with bigger ideas. A purple octopus, but colored a purple so dark it nearly qualifies as a rich black. It’s the kraken’s offspring, hungry to follow in the tentacle-y and horrifying ways of its mother. And the damsel not-so-in-distress tried to steal some gold out in California. She was a former, let’s say, partner in crime to the cowboy. While a captive of the Sea Dogs, the octopus finds that working for the Sea Dogs is a form of enslavement and takes the damsel. The cowboy hears what has happened after passing through a west coast town. Then the octopus declares war on a small village nearby, taking the people’s gold and killing off all adversity. One big mess that needs cleaned up by none other than the cowboy.

One of the best parts about writing are the little moments of brilliance. Sometimes, you’ll have a great idea, but no plot. This is a problem I kept running into for the past couple of months. I had the characters, the antagonist, and a setting. But without a conflict, or specific conflict that is realistic, there is no story, no suspense, no drive to write, and no real reason for a reader’s interest. I found that the conflict is perhaps the most important piece of a story.

When do your best ideas come to you, whether it’s for stories, businesses, designing a website, or even as simple as an exercise routine? Mine smack me in the face late at night, and then I stay up for hours writing away until I’m all written out. I think there is some kind of science behind being tired and your creativity levels. Perhaps it is the most ridiculous ideas that make the greatest strokes of genius.

Also, the story above--not what I'm actually writing. It just popped in my head and seemed like a good hook. Oh the puns...

The Immigration Reform

How many of you know someone who came to your country from some other country? It’s very likely you do, especially if you live in the States. The United States is amidst another immigration reform, one that could really revamp the policies currently in effect if passed. My question is this: how will these policies affect the United States as a whole, and will their effect on immigrants now and in the future be positive or negative?

Here’s the spiel on the current immigration policy, or at least what I can make of it. Citizenship can be earned by being born in the States or if one is adopted by a family in the States (this is called naturalization). This is the simple bit. Then comes the consistently controversial part: illegal immigration laws. The United States hosts over twelve millions illegal immigrants. Normally, when authorities find an illegal immigrant, there would be arrangements made for them to be deported. If said immigrant refused to leave their home, they could be taken to jail. Some people consider this action to be unconstitutional, as there is a lack of “due process of law”.

Now onto the immigration bill, proposed by the Gang of Eight (which I learned is a bipartisan group of eight senators and not some kind of Sherlock reference). Basically, if signed into law, the bill would grant a kind of amnesty to illegal immigrants currently in the country. From my understanding, immigrants who are here and working (thus providing for economy) will be able to gain a merit-based visa. This then gives a pathway to citizenship.

What policy is better? To define ‘better’, the immigration policy that is not only beneficial to the nation as a whole, but also more morally appealing. The bill proposed by the Gang of Eight would definitely benefit the economy. Because more citizens are seeking jobs that require a college degree, less and less people go into the more laborious, but very necessary jobs. These jobs tend to be taken by immigrants when they first enter the country. The proposed bill would allow those people to stay, and thus help the overall economy.

What I find to be most intriguing about this bill is the fact that it addresses immigration less matter-of-factly than other proposed reforms. In the United States, we are all immigrants. My mother came here from Spain. My father’s grandfather came to California from France, and even hid that he was French to avoid total adversity. America is still the melting pot of gold it was at its beginning. People still come here to make a better life for themselves and their posterity. Should they be deported because some old policy makes U.S. citizenship so covetable and hard to achieve? I think not. We are all the American Way.

What are your thoughts? I’ve barely scratched the surface here, as it is a very big topic.

A Day in the Life

My host family lived in the heart of Salamanca, right near the mouth of the Calle Zamora, one of the two busiest streets in the city. They lived on the fourth floor of an apartment building, and the mother’s parents lived on the floor right above us. All of my belongings had their place in my new room, and my host family was incredibly hospitable. The evening I arrived, they brought me to their summer home where I met some more of their family: the grandparents, the aunt, and a cousin. They seemed excited to meet an American, and I was just as excited to meet them.

Because my mom is from Spain, she had me arrive in Salamanca right on time for the biggest festival of the year: the festival of Santa Maria de la Vega, patron saint of Salamanca. For an entire week, there were concerts, big sales in all the stores, and food stands serving people all day and night. In the evenings, after taking a siesta, the family would go out and walk around the city. That in itself was amazing.

Salamanca had a certain vibe to it. There were people from all over the globe here going to the University, taking gap years, going on vacations. The air was calm, but constantly energized. There was so much history in every cobblestone street. Even the McDonald’s downtown made its home inside of a building that was easily 200 years old or more. That was one high class Mickey D’s.

Charro clothing

The Saturday evening before the day of Santa Maria de la Vega was a culmination of the week’s events. Again, the family and I left in the evening, this time to the Cathedral where a procession would be taking place. There were people dressed in the traditional Charro clothing of Salamanca carrying flowers to a shrine. Music played, flute and drums making an earthy kind of tune.

As the procession came to an end, we moved with the crowds out to the river, where I saw one of the most incredible firework shows in a while. The fourth of July would’ve been insanely jealous. Bursts of colors lit up the night sky and the water below.

As the show came to an end, the night really began. The clock struck ten. My host sisters, a friend, and I walked to the Plaza to join the hundreds waiting for the concert to begin. Carlos Jean was playing, a DJ that knew how to get the crowd moving. Nearly three hours later, we were walking home. We were tired, but something in the air made us not want the night to end just yet.

From Dreams to Reality

The school year is coming to a close, and the long anticipated summer holidays nearly a reality. Last night, the seniors from my school graduated. Not only do they get to escape into vacation sooner than all the underclassmen, but they are also on the path to pursue their passions. I have good friends that crossed the stage and earned their diplomas, and their futures are certainly bright.

Zooming out to an even bigger picture—the journey after high school. For most kids, it is pursuing a college degree. For others, it’s their time to step right into the world of work. If you read my earlier post comparing Gollum to college, my plan is to attend college (by the way, I have narrowed down my list of colleges to eight). While researching colleges, there was much angst, but I survived, like everyone else has or will. Watching where the seniors are taking their futures has helped me with where I would hope to apply this fall.

One of my friends is crossing the country to Los Angeles, pursuing a degree in the performing arts. She’s moving over there in the summer with her mother. She taught me that when I go through my list of colleges, I shouldn’t limit myself. Apply to a school on the other side of the country? Go for it, especially if there’s a school that you really want to go to. Don’t let anything hold you back. Be a Slytherin, but the good kind: ambitious and motivated to do good things.

Another friend is heading over to New York, studying theatre and education. She really is a people person, and definitely a performer. I know she will achieve her goals. She taught me that while going far can be fun, staying closer to home is not bad at all (even though she is going pretty far). She also gave some of the best advice on life in general.

If I talked about everyone and where their futures are headed, you might as well sit down to read a little novella. In a nutshell, I’ve learned that applying to college is fun, although the stress that goes along with the application process is overwhelming at times. If you know what you want to study, look at all the schools offering what you want. Who knows, maybe you’ll end studying in a city with a vibe you never knew existed and love it. As for limits, you decide those on your own. If you have a dream, pursue it.

On a side note, I will hopefully be posting more often. Cheers!

Study abroad? I think yes

Back in the fall, I went abroad in Spain. From landing in Madrid one cool day in September to coming back home two days before Christmas, my whole perspective of life changed. Going abroad taught me motivation to pursue my goals and the responsibilities that come with independence. Basically, if you ever get the chance to go abroad, go for it. It really is one of the best experiences you will have in your life.

We were rolling through the countryside, just outside of Madrid. In a bright orange European car sat my cousin, my suitcases, and me. Ahead of us lay the mountains, a couple of little pueblos and suburbs scattered throughout the outskirts of the city falling behind. I was quiet, not sure of what to say. My brain was sluggish, moving along in shock. I just flew into Spain on my own, not to return home for four months.

After picking me up from the airport, my cousin brought me to her apartment to eat and pack her own bags. She was going to her mother’s house for a little vacation. On the way there she would be dropping me off in Salamanca, where I would be living with a host family. My cousin asked how my family was back in the States and how great it was that we were finally meeting in person. I understood most of what she said, but had trouble speaking.

After leaving her apartment, she asked if she could practice her English with me. In her field of work, there is a growing need for English-speakers. As we left Madrid, she began to speak in English, and I continued to speak in Spanish. At some point I feel asleep, and after a cat nap was awake and in zombie mode again.

Two hours later, I was fully awake and full of anticipation. We were trying to find the street where my host family was waiting. I was looking out of the window, craning my neck to see what surrounded me. After driving across the bare, flat terrain that lays between cities in Spain, this new city captivated me with a swift energy. We went into huge roundabout, cars flying past, all of them small mechanical bullets compared to the typical American car.

Eventually we found the building where my host family stood waiting. I was greeted by the father and his two daughters, and later, by the mother and her two sons. I bid farewell to my cousin, and hello to a city I would soon be calling home.