Irony

Irony: When something happens, that is the opposite of what was presumed to happen

So I have another story to share if you would like to lend your time. It is brief and somewhat comical but most of all ironic.

It was six o'clock at night, and I was typing away on my laptop creating a "To Do" list for the last week of school. (yes I do that, stop judging me) My sister was in the kitchen doing her sixth grade math homework, and my brother was upstairs playing his guitar. A pretty normal night in my household.

The doorbell rang.

My sister rushed in wearing a fearful expression. What should we do? We weren't expecting anybody, and we couldn't see who it was, nor the transportation vehicle they had used to come to our house. I was conflicted. I always feel uncomfortable about these times of unknowing awkwardness. We turned off the music and asked my brother to stop his guitar playing. We waited in the hall.

There were continuous knocks on the door.

Loud and booming as if someone really needed us. Again I was fearful but I tried to keep calm, pushing my sister and dog into a little room, and getting my brother to help me check all the locks on the doors.

The garage door opened and closed.

Who would do that? I was really scared now. They were trying to get in! I ran into the other room calling my dad and explained the situation. He said to stay calm and go upstairs and report to him in a little while. Finally we all looked out windows coming to the conclusion that there was no car in the driveway and the stranger had left.

My mom arrived home carrying in a colorful box and card setting it down on the table.

What was it? We all wanted to know. We opened the card.

It was a thank you card from our neighbors whom had moved, thanking us for lending them mattresses on their last night on our road. Inside the box was a pie. My mom asked us why they would have left it inside the garage.

Then it occurred to us. That creepy man, trying to get into our house, was dropping off a pie, and thank you card.

What we had expected was an axe murderer attempting to harm us when he got the chance, yet in reality our grateful neighbors wanted to treat us to a homemade pie.

I guess what I wanted to say through this story is everything is not always as bad as it seems. Sometimes in our most feared moments, the goodness and truth takes a while to come out.

Boom Fire

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hMQkWD--l7I

DISCLAIMER: This blog post is about an experience that has changed our lives. Now I don't know about you, but as juniors in high school we have already experienced so much, that its really hard to pick just one instance. For this reason I am truly sorry if this blog post goes on a tangent or rant, I will try to stick to a single thought process, but knowing me that may not work out. Legggo

It was the beginning of seventh grade and I was heading home from school with something on my mind. I really wanted to play a sport. This sounds like a pretty "light" thought to have, but I was concerned and curious as I walked up my driveway. I had no idea what sport I would want to play. Soccer? No I had already played that for a few years when I lived in Wallkill. What else is there to play? I thought. I knew basketball didn't start until the winter, and I wanted to play something now. I came home and dropped my thoughts on my mom, asking her for her assistance in this what seemed like a massive decision. By the end of the night we had settled it. I was going to try out for volleyball. A sport I vaguely remembered how to play in gym class. I was extremely nervous, frightened, yet somewhat excited. I may actually have a chance I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

It has been around four years since that night and I believe that I could not have made a better decision. I am obsessed with volleyball. I want to breathe, sleep, eat, listen, watch, think about, cleanse in, dream about volleyball. I know that sounds like an addiction, but..... nope you're right it actually is an addiction. I had played on the modified team from seventh to eighth grade, learning the rules and regs. and attempting to grasp a skill I never thought I had. Then I moved up to JV for my freshman year with a great friend as a coach, and I learned how to better myself as a player, student, and person. Finally I had made the varsity team my sophomore and junior year, and hopefully senior year! I am NOT the best volleyball player in the world, nor the school, (have you seen Anthony play?!?!) yet I have attained some skills that I know will help me as a player and person later in life.

Volleyball is the one thing that keeps me sane, and I have been saying that for a while now. Stepping on to the court is like a load has been lifted off of my shoulders, and it is just my little sliver of heaven until it's time to leave the gym. During my practices I learn how to pass, set, spike, serve, block, tip, and rotations. Yes I can say that, and you probably agree. Just because you might not know what these terms mean, they sound pretty legitimate and you can take my word for it right? What if I told you that I don't just learn fundamentals and basic skills at practice? Will you shake your head and deny me of further explanation, close my blog page and read someone elses? Well you do you but I am just trying to keep this light and fun so you don't fall asleep on me over here!! My experience while playing volleyball has taught me many things that I will never forget; big and small.
So for your reading pleasure I have provided a list.

• Basic Fundamentals and How to play -derp
• How to work as a team- this is truly important due to the lack of teamwork anywhere else in life. It has really taught me how to communicate as well as provide and take constructive criticism, and have fun with people I would not have met otherwise.
• The pure joy of having bright colored shoe laces- they're truly awesome to look at
• The importance of icing your weakened or hurt muscles- this is a MUST have
• That volleyball will be a constant in my life and it will always give me something to look forward to do, even on a dull or darkened day.
• Not to drink anything gross, or an excessive amount of anything including water before playing a game- there have actually been so many instances where this will be necessary later in life I can count them on one hand
• The best friends are the ones you can yell at if your team is losing, the ones you can look to when you are let down, the ones that will cheer you on even when they're mad about not playing, the ones who you can share the most peculiar stories or dreams with on extensive bus rides, the ones that will make fun of you when you mess up, and are ok with you making fun of them when they slip up too. They love you no matter what the score is.

These lessons have been handy to learn, and I have enjoyed every waking minute of volleyball from the wins to the loses. I have made the best friends from this team experience and I know I can count on them for everything. I know they too will be a constant reminder of my dream, and life goal; to keep volleyball and the lessons it has taught me in my life forever. I may not get that dig, but I will work my butt off to save the next one.

Growing up is hard to do...

I am part of a family where many kids are involved; I have a lot of younger cousins, my siblings are younger than me, and we tend to be around little ones at various family gatherings. During the years I have taken on a more mature, and “parent like” figure to children whom look up to me. (Height wise, and age wise) I tend to find myself always looking out for my cousins, moving seemingly harmful objects out of their reach (scissors, butter knives, ect.), and moving their cups toward the center of the table so they are not as easily knocked over. These simple acts sometimes come off as weird to others, like I am “trying too hard to be a parent”. I do not want to be a parent YET. I adore kids, and I want to work with them for my future job. But I am not jumping the gun of young adulthood to mother anytime soon, I can assure you of that.

 

I haven’t really had a specific childhood – adulthood experience before but many little things have led up to my over protectiveness and mature standards. My parents influence in my life, has molded me into a protective person of anyone younger than myself. There have been instances in my life where I have felt that I have had to be the bigger person. Whether it was an argument with a friend or parent, or finally getting over a person or time in my life, I have felt like I have had to be mature about certain decisions. I have learned the well-known teenage tactic to nod my head and say “yup, yes, uhhuh, yeppp” when having arguments with my parents, but friends are different. I recently have changed myself and by doing this I have dropped some friends along the way. It has been rough, but there are a handful who have stayed with me the whole time and I know I can count on them for anything. I know it is important to surround yourself with people who truly make you happy and make you feel special. I have lost, or unfortunately gave up on many friends in my high school career. I never feel the urge to chase after them. This is ok. I have made a few amazing friends in the past year who I feel completely comfortable around, and who I want to be around forever. (Too bad half of them are seniors, someone forgot to tell me that befriending seniors is hard)

When I experienced my first real death to someone special to me, I felt like I only had one true day of mourning. Although I still cry about the death, I remember the experience itself as a childhood-adulthood somewhat kind of experience. I found out that he passed away the day of my return from my Washington class trip in eighth grade. I had not known he as well as others in my family had, but he was like a distant uncle to me and his presence always brought my happiness. He always knew how to make me smile, and he always commented on my basketball skills. He encouraged me before he passed to play basketball for close to five years. After he passed, I didn’t feel the enthusiasm for the sport as strong as I used to feel it. I quit basketball and changed my sport. I also had more destructive thoughts towards myself, convinced that I was growing dumber, and I didn’t take care of myself in the most effective way. Of course I have learned from this experience, but still feel the emotional pang of defeat when I walk into the middle school gym where I used to run up and down participating in one of my families favorite sports, or every time I see his girlfriend and feel her weak embrace.   I know he would be upset to see me upset so I try not to let it show but sometimes it gets me more than other times. Especially when I see his cousins re-telling the stories of how much he used to make them laugh. I wish I could thank him and ask him for his help through life, because I know we would have grown closer over the years and his advice probably would have consisted of some kind of funny joke while bringing a smile to my now darkening face, but I can only in my heart.    

I guess where I am going with this rant, is that my decisions of changing my life, and the emotional pain I have gone through, have made me feel more adult-like and I have felt mature while going through the phases of high school and life.

Failure

 

So when I was in elementary school and middle school I was always known as the super happy, super hyper child. I was happy very often and I was overly friendly most of the time. My peers would always get a smile from me, or some type of odd story. I was pretty much one of those kids who try way to hard to be happy all the time and I felt like I had to wear a mask of friendliness and happiness or else I wouldn’t have any friends. To you who are reading this you may be like “what’s wrong with being known for your happiness?” You’re right. Being known for a loquacious and fun personality is great, but keeping up that act is wicked hard.

There has been many days in my past where I was feeling down or having a bad day but I cover it up with fake “over the top” happiness. This is really hard, and it is a emotional and sociable type of failure because not only do my fellow peers and teachers think of me in a certain light, but if I ever experience pain or just an off day, it is ten times harder to go through it due to my routine fake emotional distributions. There have been countless times where I have a bad day, and people rush over to me asking “are you ok?”, “omg you seem really sad what happened?” It’s lovely that people are caring and would love to know how you are doing, but is it so shocking that I can have a bad day once in a while too. I find that when I am quiet for a while or sad sometimes I am either pressured with talking about my feelings in front of all of my friends, or I am overlooked people thinking I am just acting less happy for attention. This failure of myself to show my true self; who I really am, how I am really feeling, or just showing that I can experience bad days too, has changed me.

                When I got into high school, I decided that I was going to choose my friends more wisely; picking the ones who I know that I will have for a while and trust. That included my volleyball friends. We spent much more time together than most of my other friends and they brought out the best and worst in me. They always joke that I’m so sweet and nice, but as I got to know them better they hopefully have realized that I’m not a “happy-bot”, forced to be happy for the rest of my life. I remember during one game I had run to retrieve the ball three times, and every time, we still did not find a way to make a play.  At that moment I could feel my face growing even more red and I spun on them yelling “can we please just worry about getting it over?!” In that moment I had asserted myself as a real person. It made me feel good that I could finally show my emotions. Since then my volleyball girls are still here for me and I love them all! J

 

The failure of not being able to be me, has forced me to be me. I have learned how to show my emotions when needed, and that I can have a bad day too, I do like being happy, but I like being myself more!

Escape to Witch Mountain

South Chatham, Cape Cod Massachusetts. That is where my most desirable and most loved place is. My grandparents had purchased a house there while my mother was a kid. They would rent it out during the year, and then escape to it during the summer. It was a medium sized house, since my mom was one of seven children. Her siblings and she always had such a fun time there, playing on the beach or reading on the rainy cape days.

Ever since I was born, my family has taken a car trip every summer to visit the Cape. We stay in the same house (it is not rented anymore), and enjoy the feeling of togetherness.  Practically all of my mom’s siblings have children, so the “cousins by the dozens” come to the Cape as well. Over the years we have created our own Cape Cod traditions. We go mini-golfing, go-karting, eat at the “pizza barn”, go to the nearby beaches, and walk around Chatham or P-Town. It is not always a relaxing experience, but it is always an adventure with my family and we are always doing something fun!

One tradition that our parents partially look forward to every summer is something that us, the kids, came up with. Every summer, for some odd unknown reason, we create a haunted house in the basement of the house. We try to make it more entertaining every year. One year we pretended the basement was an old rundown hotel, and I remember being the zombie tour guide leading the parents around. We hung toilet paper from the ceiling, and had the little ones hide in random door entries, the bathrooms hamper, or behind the curtain to jump out and scare the parents. I’m not quite sure if the parents admire this part of their vacation to the fullest, but it gives them amble time to prepare dinner and talk amongst themselves.

Another thing I love about the Cape is the neighborhood where our house is. Although there are always going to be your grouchy neighbors, who live their all year, we tend to make the best of it. The road we live on is in walking distance of two beaches, a coffee shop (where my mom and I love to go and read the different movie themed names of their sandwiches and cold drinks), and plenty of “hydrangea-ed” back yards to beautiful Cape houses that we can admire as we walk. It has been truly a wonderful environment to grow up in during the summers.

Over the past years, my grandparents have put more money and thought into the Cape house, extending the front and putting in windows that actually open and close, as well as an overhead fan (thank God). And this summer they are arranging for our splintery deck to be re-done and nicely finished, so that we no longer have to wear our flimsy flip flops on the porch. I remember when my little cousin saw the house after its expanded front (it looked like a totally different house), and he cried saying he missed the old house. I think all of us felt that way at first, a little knot in our stomachs as we saw the house for the first time after the hard work put in by my uncle. (He’s the best! The house looks really good) But I think that we all fell in love with it all over again, it was a learning experience and we learned to love the changes in our lives.

Throughout my summers I have made many memories with my lovely family while at the cape. From eating lobster on the deck, to sitting at the “kids” table and cracking up while my cousin attempted again to spray the “I can’t believe it’s not butter spray” into a burning candle, or my uncle spilling the meat marinade down the sides of the refrigerator and onto the floor. I also remember as a kid, my aunt took my two older cousins and myself on the porch and gave us huge gum sticks and sugar sticks, saying that it was candy day for us. The countless times my cousin would run into the screen door accidently while running onto the porch, and when my cousin and I sat in the water at the beach putting seaweed on our heads talking about Atlantis.

There are so many memories that I have made while spending time at the Cape and I know I will never forget them. It means so much to me that my family has a place to get away to, and create long lasting memories and friendships with my cousins. I am so incredibly thankful to my grandparents for providing us with such an escape, and I am excited for my summers to come.  

Me, Little Miss Rumphius

When I was a youngster, I read lots of books. My mom would sit with me for hours on end reading short stories, or chapter books in the local library or on a rocking chair in our living room. I loved imagining the characters and the setting in my mind, whether it was a pristine castle, or a warm spring day on the farm.

This being said, I have a lot of books in mind for this blogging assignment.

There are many books, in which I do not distinctly remember the titles of (yet I will by the end of this blog, because I will look them up on the good ole' Google), but one has impacted me until this day.

The book that I remember most, is Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney. This book was about a little girl, who had a wonderful life. This girl grew up with parents (I'm pretty sure her dad was a doctor, but maybe not), who took her on different adventurous trips. While growing up she experienced travel. She loved to travel. She even went to a far away place where she rode on an elephant and ate exotic food while playing with the little children. She had many jobs ,but preferred the library, where she could help others find what they want. And was always thought of highly. Everywhere she went and everything she did, was to help other people. Her generosity shone through various acts of assistance towards her community and the people around her. When the little girl was not so little anymore (an older lady), she felt helpless towards the bad things that were happening around her. She then decided that she had to do something to show her generosity once more. She began taking walks and bike rides, while sprinkling lupine flower seeds as she went. With the rain and the sun, the flowers blossomed to create a bountiful flourish of flowers everywhere she passed. When people saw her they called her the "Lupine Lady".

One reason why this book is so memorable to me, is the artful pages and illustration flowing from one page to the next. Even now, to look at those pages gives me the feeling of satisfaction. I specifically recall a picture of Miss Rumphius on a beach, where an older man was giving her a coconut. I remember as a child, that I always wanted to taste the coconut. It had looked so sweet and exotic that I had craved one every time I had read that book.

Another part that stood out for me, was at the end Miss Rumphius is an old woman telling the children her story. This always made me smile. Even at an old age, Miss Rumphius still feels the desire to share with others. Although she does not have the strength to share the lupine seeds anymore, she still shares her life story and her goodness with the children who look up to her dearly.

I think the real reason why this book interested me so much was not necessarily the plot, setting, characters, or writing style, but it was the way my mom and I would read them. This book was one of my moms favorites, so we would read it quite often. The memories I have for this story, are only happy ones. I have always wanted to do something like Miss Rumphius. I aspire to become a teacher, so I can teach children and impact their lives in some way. But I have always wanted to drive around and throw lupine seeds out of the window, to make the world a better place.