Offerings.

Let’s begin with a “re”-introduction, my name is Romer Jed Medina, but you can all call me Jed. Now that we have accomplished that much, let’s continue with your reason of being.

Every time we go to church, if you go to a church that is, the congregation has to make a monetary offering (money) and a bit of themselves to God. We offer the time spent as a gift to our lord as a sign of both faith and our hopefulness of not burning in hell for our sins. 

Cynical? Yes.
Does it happen? Yes, on every day of rest. 

We offer a bit of our time to do homework in exchange for a good grade and knowledge. We offer help to someone in hopes of helping them pass a class. Every time we offer ourselves and our time and skills to others, we’re expecting something back. If we selflessly sacrifice ourselves to protect a friend, we expect that friend to live and continue on fighting for both their sakes.

Is it a fair assessment of everyone’s actions? Yes, it is. 

And even now, as I offer my point of view, I’m expecting you to read this post and for you to either agree or disagree with what I am saying. Of course for the deeply religious who still refuse to accept that all actions have expectations and a meaning behind it, look at it this way…

If we pray to God, do we expect God to listen? If our prayers fall on deaf ears, do we continue on praying? I would bet all of you would say “yes,” but a small group of you would honestly say “no.” 

And for those who aren’t religious, I have an example for you also…

If we offer all our time and effort to our significant other, do we expect anything in return? For those who say “yes,” I love you for admitting it. For those who say “no,” really look at how pitiful you are for lying to your own self. Ignorance is bliss, but in this case it’s just downright pathetic. 

Am I being brutally honest? Of course I am.
Am I angry? Hell yeah.

Whenever I’m at church, I offer my time and effort to a cause that has too many problems to count. Too many people who are two narrow-minded to change their ideals. In turn, I expect them to be as bigoted whenever I try to do something to challenge their thoughts. That’s expected. 

Yet in JROTC, I expect the program to give back to me the same amount I give into it. Yet, no matter how much of my time and ability I offer, I get nothing in return. No pleasure of the work I’ve done, no show of accomplishment, and obviously no show of satisfaction. That’s not expected.

Is it stressful? Sometimes. 

However, in Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, we learn that true happiness cannot be obtained unless we accept the offer of pain from God, offer of stress and tired moments of humanity, and the offer of heart break and pain from death and separation.

And if we look at it in that point of view, all the offerings we make aren’t that bad and self-centered. All the happiness we feel comes from the offering of first feeling pain. All the moments we spend reminiscing comes from the offering of making those memories first. And all those moments we endure and struggle comes from the offering of first standing up and accepting the courage within our hearts. 

To offer a bit of ourselves…
a bit of our time…
a bit of our emotions…
a bit of our words…

It’s not a bad trade off to offer spending an hour in church, in return of being filled spiritually and to feel secure about life after death. Of course the money, I still have a problem with it… but that’s for another time and another post… 

Catch you on the flip side.

Jed

Black History Month Doesn’t Advance America Whatsoever.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for celebrating achievements of African Americans. I’m very grateful for the what has been done to advance our culture. I acknowledge that they’ve had to overcome amazing boundaries.

But look at what I’m saying, I’m saying “they.” (Then again, I’m not black…)

That’s what I’m trying to get at. Black History Month was a noble idea, but by defining a month as “black” is still discrimination, is it not? We’re still acting like black people haven’t integrated into society, we’re still treating black people like something inferior by devoting, not eternity like it should be, but only a winter month to their achievements. I mean, we could make it equal and have a White History Month, but that would seem completely chauvinistic and racist of white people even though that wasn’t our intention.

On a side note, McNair in itself, as a school, does a terrible job observing holidays. A student in my class today complained that NO teachers observe Black History Month except in JROTC (This is one girl’s point of view that I take no credit for). Sure, it’s sad, but more and more, the month is starting to get more and more pointless because of the fact that integration is a norm. We don’t have racism in our schools (at least intense racism) and black people succeeding in society isn’t such a rarity. We’ve done precisely what Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. wanted: “…little black boys and little black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and little white girls as sisters and brothers.” I’ll admit, racism still exists, but if we’re going to devote an entire month to a race, why are we not doing anything to commemorate them? Also, regarding Veteran’s Day: it’s a federal law that all public schools observe Veteran’s Day; and year after year teachers complain that it’s a waste of time, a hassle with their lesson plans, and an overall annoyance. Hey teachers, where would your lesson plan be if veterans didn’t fight for your country in the first place?

Not only that, but what about the Asian, Hispanic, and European cultures? They worked just as hard to gain their acceptance into culture. Native Americans were thrust out of their homeland and into reservations. There are so many other cultures who had a difficult time, some that still do, and we can’t take a month for them?

Rather than alienating a month and defining it as Black/White/Hispanic/Other, it would be the most democratic thing to set aside a month for international culture appreciation. Then we can acquire more of a feeling of oneness, of unity, and of general appreciation for our diverse society. It would enrich our education and allow us to intermingle peacefully, and most importantly still preserve pride in our heritage.

But that’s just me.

- Therese Kathryn

Full Voices and Hollow Words

tpot. It’s time for the re-up. Syed’s back, and ready to roll with his tpot family.

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If you listen closely, you can hear full voices and hollow words. Both resonate in your head, ringing loudly and coaxing you to act. Should you rise to your feet and cheer the king? Should you sit in silence, your head bowed? Should you wave your fist and let loose rage? Well, whatever you decide to do, you should probably make sure you know what the voices and the words really mean.

I have friends who do not like the mere mention of politics. I am fine with that. As far as I am concerned, though, politics is a major part of not just my life, but our collective life – the life we live together as a whole, as a unit, as a society. I am a member of this nation, and I want to understand and have something to say about the people who are running it.

Which brings me to the jargon-heavy free-for-all CNN and its ilk like to call “Election ‘08.” It is always interesting to watch the ebb and flow of the campaigns; the high points (the faux unity at the conclusion of each Democratic debate which, even just for a brief moment, brings smiles to some of our faces), the ugly lows (Clinton: “Barack’s a Muslim! Barack’s a Muslim! Uhh…don’t vote for him! I’m not desperate!”), and everything in between (insert Ron Paul statement here, which only ends up being heard over the internet anyway). Ahh, the political process – entertaining, in some ways, certainly.

It seems to me that the presidential hopefuls have keyed on the power of language, and that’s nice, in a way. Words get a raw deal nowadays. I sure as hell love ‘em, and in that regard, it’s good to see politicians putting in the effort to make use of them to their advantage.

The American people, though, now have to look beyond the exterior. The candidates are now feeding the public ‘buzz words,’ words that stir an immediate emotion but don’t truly carry much weight (if any). Case in point, the word of the year: Change. Senator Barack Obama has made “change” into something of an all-purpose greeting. Just give his speeches a listen. Obama cries “It’s time for change!” in his bass-heavy voice, and the masses erupt in support. Cool, I’m down for change. But what exactly does that entail?

People know Obama is Mr. Change, but do they know his proposed healthcare plan? Are they aware of his stance on foreign intervention? Can they outline his plans to revive the nation’s struggling economy? Some can, but many can’t – and herein lies the issue. Americans really need to stop falling for buzz words. At Obama’s next speech, if the senator overuses the “change” card, I’d like to see someone in the crowd raise his/her hand and politely ask, “Senator, what exactly do you mean? Could you go over your proposals once again?” Now that is getting the most out of the political process.

And I’m not picking on Barack. In fact, I am rooting for him the most, and I will say that I am pleasantly surprised that covert racism has not undercut him at all thus far. All the candidates are keying off on buzz language, and unfortunately, their audiences are too receptive to it. It is time for change; it is time for the masses to challenge their wannabe leaders, to drain from them the true meaning behind their words to have a firm grasp on what these people will actually do in office.

If you listen at all, you can hear full voices. But if you listen closely, you can hear hollow words, too.

– Syed

This Is Not An Exit

“Just sail belly up to the clouds, the rocks scraping our backs. To breathe in the air will be the only thing that you have, and your love will be warm nights with pockets of moonlight spotlighting you as you drift, the actor in this play.” 
-Chris Conley, Saves the Day

“It’s gonna be a good week.” That’s what I keep telling myself.

This is my second semester of college, and perhaps its just me, but it pretty much bites you hard in the ass. Granted, now I know what to expect, but I thought having that advantage would, well, give me an advantage. So far, it has. A little. 

Not that I’m saying that being in college is bad. It’s great actually. It’s just that you have to get used to the change.. The change in environment, the change in people. The change in climate, perhaps, but most definitely, you have to make room for a change in yourself. 

I’ve never felt so alone in my life. It sounds sad, but it’s not a depressing kind of alone, really it’s not. It’s just that throughout my life, I’ve always been used to pretty much knowing everyone around me. You don’t realize how small high school is until you get to college. In high school, sure you might not know everyone by name, but you know most people by face. And in the end, your friends’ friends’ friends probably all know each other.. So it’s a bit hard to get used to not knowing anyone; it’s hard to find that you can go through a whole semester being in  class without knowing a single person. 

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a pretty outgoing person. I like saying hi to everyone, I like smiling and nodding to those I’m familiar with in the hall. The strange thing is the change I’ve gone through… I’m not so outgoing anymore. I don’t chat up all the people I meet. I hardly even talk to anyone, and the circle of friends I have now is 4/6 people I knew from before college. I guess I can say that I’m a bit antisocial at times, or maybe it just takes me a long while to get up the courage to talk to someone nowadays. It’s a bit disconcerting, but so far I’ve gotten used to it. 

I feel alone, but I know I have my friends. It just took a while for me to get used to embracing me-time. Yeah, you live with your friends this time around, but it’s not like before. Everyone has a different schedule, everyone has their own shit to deal with. You don’t have the same teachers to bond over, you don’t have the same classes anymore. So each day, you go off alone, doing your own thing.

I guess I’m used to it by now. It used to be that I always had someone around, that I always had someone to talk to, to make me laugh. But it’s during these years where you spend time with the person you’ll be with the rest of your life – you.

Ever since I was younger, I’ve always defined myself by the people around me. I’ve always defined myself by whose problems I could solve and whose face I could put a smile on. This time, I’m finding out who I am on my own… Even if it may not feel like the epic journey I originally thought it would be like.

I’ve found that sometimes life breezes by so fast, you don’t even see it… But instead of it breezing by through good moments, too fast for you to reach out and grab the memories to stash away in your mind, it can run 100mph through that 80 minute Chem class that you so desperately want to end. And sometimes, when life ticks away as slowly as the stars move in the sky at night, it’s during the times you want to last forever, like when you’re lying in your bed with him on a rainy Saturday morning, soaking up the feeling of his arms around you for as long as you want. You get to focus on you this time – you and what you want.  

“It’s gonna be a good week.” That’s what I keep telling myself. 

– Riza

Love: A Friend, Painkiller, and… ?

So if you don’t know me already, I’m Therese. I like to consider myself a close friend of Julian. People say I’m a great writer, and personally, I choose not to believe that I am. Because really, what is writing but a reflection of what’s in your head. In that sense, no one can claim my thoughts to be any better than anyone else’s. And as you can see from that little bit about me, I’m a tad cynical. However, as someone dear to me once said (quoting a comedian), “A pessimist is someone who looks both ways before crossing.” Likewise, that’s why I have this attitude toward this post.

I’m here because this is the best place to write about things like this. Maybe someone will listen to me and understand. Maybe someone won’t. In a digital age where everyone’s connected, within minutes of my break up with my boyfriend of a year and a half, Facebook screamed it to my “friends” on their News Feeds, whether they wanted to know about me or not. Thanks, Facebook, I’m glad you’re so sensitive about it.

That’s one reason why I’m here. No, I won’t give you a lengthy explanation to why we broke up, how we broke up, or if we’re getting back together anytime soon; I won’t tell you whether I’m dealing well or not, and I won’t tell you what my intentions are. All I will tell you is this: I don’t deny that I loved him. Being that this is “their perspective on things,” I’ll give you my perspective on the only thing that’s been on my mind for the past year and a half. If you couldn’t guess it already by some odd chance, the topic is love.

I wrote a piece a year ago explaining why people love. To save you the burden of reading another blog entry, I’ll sum it up. Love is a habit. And it’s a habit that develops when your habits and routines coincide with someone else’s. The fact that it’s a habit makes it so hard to get over. So hard to stop loving. Even if you promise to love someone forever, if your habit changes, you can expect your feelings to change as well. In this case, love is a friend. It’s that visitor that stops by every so often, and as long as you’re friendly with each other, it’ll come by for another chat, another engaging rendez-vous.

With that whole habit thing, I could never have been more dead-on.

Now if you end up like me, love can be a painkiller. It’ll be that pill that you need whenever you’re feeling a little off. Maybe you have a headache, or a heartache. A little bit of love will wash that away. Of course, you have to be careful. All painkillers can be addictive, if abused, and soon enough you don’t know if it’s the love you’re looking for, or the fulfillment. Maybe you’re looking a certain feeling it gives you, and you’re not taking it because you truly need it; truth is, you become dependent, and you don’t even realize that there is no pain anymore, just need. I suppose it could be a good thing, but my perspective? You lose yourself.

While I have the spotlight, the last thing I would like to say is that love is an essential element of life. Whether it’s torn you apart or keeps you together, it’s essential. As human beings, we’re made to love. We’re made to enjoy each other’s company, and sure, we may hate some others. You can’t swear love out of your life because it’s a habit. It’ll come back when you least expect it. Maybe when you don’t even want it. I guess what I’m trying to say here is that love exists, and you don’t have to be with someone to know that you love them. You don’t need to get along that well, you don’t need to talk to them day in and day out. And if things were meant to be, then years later, when you would have forgotten about them already and moved on, if you see them again and can honestly say you’ve never forgotten…

Well, I think you’re onto something.

- Therese Kathryn

Lesson Learned

“It’s called the past ’cause I’m getting past and I ain’t nothin’ like I was before; you should see me now.“
-Alicia Keys, Lesson Learned

Hi. My name is Patricia, and here’s a little background. I was born in NYC, raised in Jersey, and had the pleasure of going through freshman year in MAHS before my parents decided to move to Surprise, AZ. Quite a different atmosphere, lemme tell you.

Anyway, I came here to let things breathe. (Of course, why else would you be here, silly?)

I turned sixteen a few weeks ago, and to be totally honest, I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom. School’s getting monotonous. I feel like I’m getting a lot of things expected of me, like getting a job and learning how to drive (oh how I’d love to learn how to drive!) but now I’ve come into this crazy cycle that goes as follows: I bust my ass at school every weekday looking forward to the weekend so I can rest up on the weekend and forget to do homework and then bust my ass all over again. The problem is I’m shortchanging my parents because I just get so lazy over the weekends and they expect me to still help out. It’s frustrating to me, it’s frustrating to my parents. Another vicious little cycle I’ve succumbed to.

Overall, too, I’ve just dropped into this crippling ennui. I don’t find anything really interesting anymore. It’s getting quite destructive to all my other efforts (or lack thereof – did that make any sense?) but I really don’t care anymore. I talked to one of my friends about this, though, and she made me feel so much better. She told me that she had gone through the same exact thing when she was younger.

This is where I start smiling my head off because I remember a promise I made to my parents when I was a wee little troublemaker: I’d never succumb to the teenage rebellion stage. Ever. Of course I never kept that promise, or at the very least I stayed away from the extremes. I brought this promise up to my dad in the car one day and he smiled a little. He asked me if I knew why I made that promise. Of course, I had no idea. It was so long ago! Then, he enlightened me:

“You did it because you loved us.”

Like the little wuss I am I almost cried, but it really was true. And of course I still love my parents. I just happen to express it in a different way =)Aside from that little fuzzy daddy’s girl moment, sixteen’s been full of suck. The school I’m in now offers International Baccalaureate and Advanced Placement (gosh, I’m really jumping all over the place!) , and it starts junior year. My problem now is whether or not to go for IB or stick with AP. So far, my decision has been to run with the latter. However, my friend who is in IB bugged the crap out of me by asking me if I wanted to be number one.Come on now, I came from Macadamia land, of course I’m gonna wanna strive for number one! I’ve been striving for number one since I was little: I was in the HOPE class in my elementary school, Academy I kids scared the crap out of me freshman year but I still kept going (and in ironies of ironies I’ve been the girlfriend of one for a year now) and now I’m kicking ass as the token Asian “genius” (haha no) in my current school now. But then she told me that all the IB kids snatch up the number one spots because of their higher GPAs because of their extra amount of classes. I’ve been trying not to let it get to me but it really bothers me.

What is a class rank, anyway? It really only measures grades at face value. It doesn’t measure work ethic. It doesn’t measure the hours, the painstaking hours you spent studying your ass off just to get a B. It sure as hell doesn’t measure heart and character. But why do people strive for it?

Well, I guess we’re all naturally very competitive. Survival of the fittest in the best and worst manner. If you really don’t give a crap about class ranks, then more power to you. I just hate how a stupid number eats me up inside.

Then again, that stupid number does weigh in on college. Ah dammit, my life is full of vicious cycles!

This is an exhilarating time of my life, really. I’m acclimating to a totally new environment. I’ve hit sixteen, for heaven’s sake. It’s quite a milestone, in my opinion. I’m really coming into my own now, I think. Is this how all new sixteen-year-olds felt? New, scared, and grasping for something solid and stable? It’s like a rebirth. It’s frightening and exciting all at the same time.

I just know that life will never be the same and every little experience I’ve had, am having, and will have will be beautiful in their own rights. I’m really trying to live without regrets but sometimes it’s inevitable. You really just have to take everything one step at a time. After all, nobody can really make a SparkNotes for life.