Revision #3 (On the Reel)

In this post, I'm going to be discussing my results from the movie quiz that we took a couple weeks back.

In that time, I've watched some of the movies the recommended for me, such as Harry Met Sally. I also found it so interesting that my movie habits are a direct result to my personality. I found it interesting that most people in this class didn't talk during movies!

Another thing that I found was that most people don't like re watching movies! I love to re watch movies all the time, especially on cold, rainy days. The movies that I most like to watch would probably be ones with more serious content if I have a lot of time. From time to time, I also like to watch movies from my past because I like reconnecting with what made me feel special at one time.

Revision #2 (Old Stories turned Reality)

The vanishing of the up and coming defense attorney of the Buick County was a mystery. Many were questioned and brought in to custody to try and figure out what happened to Jane Vickers. Even after all the evidence had been collected, nothing made any sense to the police department or anyone else who came to the sleepy town and tried to investigate the case. As police or other crime sleuths tried to get a different perspective or another clue, they came up empty. No sign of a struggle, nothing to say that she had prepared for a long vacation or a move. Jane Vickers was truly gone.

10 years later, a new family of two moved into the old house. By getting the house at a next to nothing price, a young, single mother convinced her 16 year old daughter to drop everything in the city and move to Buick County. As they pulled up in the driveway, the daughter could see how the mother was so eager they move. Even though the realtor said the house hadn't been occupied in a long time, the house's appearance looked like someone lived inside. The whitewash of the home was pristine and contrasted against the gray skies that threatened snow fall later in the day. Jacy opened up the door of the SUV and walked to the front door, hand in hand with her mother. As her mother rummaged around in her purse for her keys, Jacy looked around. Out in the distance, she could see one of their only neighbors tending to their garden, a fat barn cat lazily stalking a dead sunflower.
Finally, her mother opened up the door and they both walked inside. Jacey was instantly glad her mother paid someone in town to unload all of their things and set-up their house for them. After traveling the whole day, she was ready to fall asleep in her own bed.
After a dinner of soup and rolls, her mother brought her to her room. Jacey walked inside and was immediately overwhelmed with the sights that filled her eyes. The large bay window caste
the light of the moon onto her new bedspread and room  decoration. Exclaiming with joy, she ran and jumped on the bed, ready to use her new stuff.
After getting ready in her own bathroom (an on-suite!) she quickly headed to bed and burrowed under the covers.
Around 1:30, Jacy woke. She could hear scratching sounds on the door to her room. Thinking to herself that they were just old house sounds, she quickly fell asleep.
It began again.

Revision #1 (Writers Dreaming)

A couple of months ago, I wrote an opinion piece about why I thought the caged bird sang, with emphasis on things that can become a "cage" for us.  I kind of want to elaborate on the piece that I wrote.
I know that people and society tell us more lies than truths most of the time. And I think initially, we don't believe them and recognize them as lies. But what happens when lie becomes repetition and commits itself to memory?
It's almost like those words rewrite our memories and history without our consent. Then, we start to construct our cage almost absent minded and define ourselves by those words.
Now I'm going to rant.
What's up with these ratings and rankings? Rating people (mostly girls) based off of looks superficial things and not things that actually matter- like being smart or nice or kind. Numbers of ANY kind can't define a person or a soul. It's almost inhumane how people can find pleasure in destroying people's identities and lives without a second thought. It's honestly awful. Rankings and defining women by numbers 1-10 is disgusting, and I question anybody who tells me otherwise.
We need to learn how to be kind, nice, and respectful- not fake, artificial plastic. Maybe Angelou was on to something when she said, "We should all know that diversity makes for a rich tapestry, and we must understand that all the threads of the tapestry are equal in value no matter their color", or in our case, no matter their outside appearance.

Cooking with my Aunt

A couple of summers ago, my siblings and I stayed at my aunt's house while my parents and grandparents were at a wedding for my cousins. During this time, we enjoyed so many adventures, but the one I was most fond of was when we made cinnamon rolls.

 My aunt's cinnamon rolls are legend. The recipe for them have been passed down three generations and perfected in that time. Every time we come to visit my aunt, she always makes two batches of raisin cinnamon rolls with nuts for my dad (that's his most favorite thing ever). The best part about these cinnamon rolls are that they are made completely from scratch- something that is very hard to find today. 

 When we made cinnamon rolls, my aunt called us into her kitchen. After making the dough using a shiny red KitchenAid mixer, she threw the dough onto her island and instructed us to roll it out flat. As soon as we were done rolling, we spread a mixture of cinnamon, suger, and other spices on the dough along with lots and lots of butter. Then, my aunt came over to us and used the rolling pin to start rolling the dough into a roll. As she rolled, we sprinkled raisins and nuts (and I slipped in some more cinnamon).

 Along the way, I noticed how dirty her kitchen had started to become. Flour was everywhere along with the other ingredients that we used. Discarded and used egg boxes were stacked precariously on the kitchen counter top. To me, I thought that this was chaos. Even with my OCD personality trying to keep my mess to a minimum, I noticed that I was creating a mess myself.

All of a sudden, a huge sack of flower fell to the floor from where my aunt was ripping it open. The kitchen fell silent as we waited for my aunt's reaction.

She laughed.

We were all shocked. Why was she laughing? Didn't she realize this added even more to the already long list of things we needed to clean up?  

Her response to our shock was profound. "When baking, you're going to make a mess. And you're going to have to clean it up. But that's okay. It's okay to make messes and get messy". 

We all mulled over this in our heads, and we quickly resumed back to baking. Every time I'm in the kitchen now, I always think back to her, especially when messes are made.

Now that I'm a little older, I understand the parallels of that statement between messes and baking and life. At some point, we might make a mess. Big or small, one day it will happen to us if it hasn't already. And we need to be okay with that. 

Look How Far We've Come

This photo is truly inspiring to me. Even though it looks like a simplistic photo, it speaks volumes to me in so many ways.

I love how Vogel carried her rival across the finish line. As a runner and athlete, I know how much one wants to cross the line, to end the race and the hurt. I find it simply remarkable that instead of the title of winning and beating a rival that was hurt; she chose to sacrifice praise to help another out.

Another theme I picked up from the photo was the ability women have to love. I don’t see very many men sacrificing social standings and rankings to help out others. 

It reminded me of the photo of the two runners where the woman sacrificed first place and monetary gain to help another runner (he was paraplegic) drink- a simple thing that most of us take for granted. How many times have we, instead of helping, stare at somebody and mock them or choose to ignore them? These women runners have showed what it means to love and serve- something that I am grateful to the photographer for capturing.

I also saw the theme of faith in this picture. Vogel is willing to literally carry her enemy across the finish line, shoulder her burdens with her. The other girl I imagine can’t believe that she is being carried, but has faith in Vogel to carry her, to not drop her or let go. This has parallels to life in so many ways. At some point in our lives, I believe that we will need someone to help us cross the “finish line”, and they will need us as much as we need them.

 

Flea Market Stories

She is not smiling. Her new boyfriend of two hours is making jokes at her, failed attempts at trying to get her to smile while holding the camera to snap a picture. Nancy’s attitude can’t change with one simple joke- she is thinking of someone far away.

                He wants to capture the memory of their first date and save it forever, thinking that this is the first of many. Meanwhile, Nancy is bitter toward her mother who set up the outing, and is desperately trying to forget today. The flowers he gave her feel like a lead weight in her hand.

                Silently to herself, she rehearses what she will tell her mother when she gets inside. “I told you! I’m not ready. If you love me, stop this” she’ll say in a confident voice.

                In response, her mother will shrug her shoulders and let the complaint slide off like water on a duck’s back. “You’re not getting any younger…it’s time to move on”.

                How could she? It was so much easier said than done. Her mother didn’t understand. Pushing men and money wasn’t going to make Jefferson leave her mind. Somewhere, she knew he was alive. Ever since his family had let her know that they had received a letter saying that he was M.I.A., she held a hope he would return.

                That was five years ago.

                Suddenly, it was all too much. The smell of the flowers, the care-free attitude of her date, and the happiness of others overwhelmed her. Nancy threw the bouquet of flowers on the ground, shouting lame apologies over her shoulder while tears threatened to spill over. Opening the wood door and slamming the screen door shut on the porch she bolted upstairs to her room, blocking out her mother’s concerns shouting up the stairs to her. She threw herself on her bed, crying.

                No, she wasn’t ready. Five years wasn’t nearly enough time to mourn her lost lover.

Pictures in Posts

Mrs. Rupke-Wells is someone who makes me laugh. Everyday I come into her classroom I feel at ease and laugh at least twice. She's a great listener and even though she is super young, she has lots of life experience that makes her an awesome teacher, one of the few I can actually count on to make me feel better. #rupkeonpoint

Taylor Marshall is easily one of my best friends. Ever since freshman year, she's taught me so many things about myself and the world around me. We've had so many conversations involving a wide range of subjects, people, places, and things. She has opened my eyes to the world around me, literally. #tellmeajoke

I would love to be more like Mrs. Fraser. She helped me think about teaching as a career choice and something that I may want to pursue in the future. She also inspired me to think about the world creatively and find joy in the little things and to be inspired in everything that goes on around me. #fraseristhebest

I love books! I recently had a referral to books by Liane Moriarty. I think that she is a gifted writer that can spin stories so well that it keeps the reader guessing what is going to happen next. Her plots are also very refreshing and appeals to a wide range of people #secretsmakebooks

This sign (that's a square) reminds me of all of Goddard's thirty minute long speeches and all the countless times that practiced started and all the meetings that we had for cross country. It also reminds me of all the times that we've been kicked out of the locker room is because Goddard has talked for so long #goddardminutes

I found this piece of wood in the science wing. It reminded me of a goal that I have to go to the Redwood Forrest in California. I can't wait to drive my car through a tree stump! #redwoodforrestsrcool

I took this picture for my interesting angle because my OCD freaked out when I saw this chair not standing upright. It was also the same chair that the old orchestra director used. #music

This is a handwritten sign for the district game. It reminded me of the team mindset where no one can succeed without the others. Also, the game turned out pretty great-we won and my friends and I went to IHOP after. #khsfootball

This is my nature picture of a tree and birdhouse. It was rainy and gray and definitely a interesting experience with Taylor. I loved how quite it was and how peaceful the garden was. #artinnature

These knobs reminded me of owl's eyes and the beak of a bird. I searched so hard for a face, and when I saw this one, I freaked out. #orchestraroom

This made me think of what a little kid might find interesting. When I was little, I was so scared of spiders, I wouldn't even touch plastic spiders that I would get in my halloween bag. #thisishalloween

This picture makes me feel nostalgic because this is where I had my first track meet. Ever since then, I have loved running and competing and the general atmosphere of meets. #running

This isn't something that annoys me, but is the exact opposite. Football games and this field was about more than the games and activities, it was about the atmosphere and the people. #Ibelievethatwehavewon

I think that art is so beautiful, so that is why it is my something beautiful. I wish I was better with art and that is why I have so much gratitude for artists. #artandearth

This locker is something that will always remind me of Kickapoo. This is my locker that I've had all through my high school career (hopefully it will continue that way)! Running is so important to me as well as high school experiences #kpoo