Writer's Block

It could be your worst enemy, or your best friend. But all-in-all, as a writer always meets up with writer's block. For creative writing, I had to write a short story. It is by far one of the most fun, yet difficult assignments I have had in my entire high school career. Writing my short story was easy to start off, but ending the story is hard. I had to tie up all the endings to the problems in my story and I had to work on coming to a final conclusion. While I liked writing this story, I had many problems--like writer's block. Boy, that was my worst enemy. I tried to force a story out of myself, but after repeatedly writing the same scene in different words I gave up. Letting my mind breathe, and letting the story take a break. 

After a few days, I came back to the story. The short hiatus helped. After taking a break for two days, I was able to plow through the rest of my short story. Tonight I finished my story, and--yes, I know Teach, I am not a novel writer--but all I have to say is thank God I am done. Writer's block, in turn, started off being my enemy, but yet in the end helped to me finish my fifteen page short story. (Oxymoron?)

My Bipolar Day

        Let me just start off by saying, I don't cope well with stress. I push people away, and I get really uptight, and I cry very easily. So, today was one of the most nerve-racking, stressful days of my life. I was hearing from one of my top schools: University of Colorado at Boulder. Of course, I drove myself crazy thinking the worst of things, getting annoyed at family members, and having breakdowns...you know? The usual.
       Boulder Representative knew that I was on edge, so they told me that I could call today (instead of tomorrow when the first bunch of application decisions went out). Obviously, I did. But before I did, I had to go through my entire day of school to find out what my decision is. I went to school today wearing my Boulder sweatshirt, hoping that would bring me good luck, but everyone told me it is a curse and that you should. But thank goodness, I am not superstitious. The last pert of my day was the worst though. I spent my entire last period hysterical and hyperventilating over my math grade. I have a 78% in the class, and I am not happy about it. Yes, to some people, a 78% is a good grade, but I have not had a C in a class since I was in third grade (I absolutely hated the teacher, so I purposely did poorly on everything in her class hoping that she would realize that I hated her, but all that did was just hurt me, and I quickly learned my lesson).
          So I went to my math teacher to ask if I could get an extra assignment that would help my grade. Math Teacher said, "It's against school policy." I completely understand that, but there is one loophole. Math Teacher gives us assignments in class that are apparently supposed to be "formative." At my school we have two types of grading: formative and summative. Formative is when a student takes a quiz and is allowed to retake it, and summative is when the grade is final. Well, I know I have flaws in my grade causing the C+ I have in the class, but I know that my grade should be higher than that. Back to the formative assignments Math Teacher gives. Before tests or quizzes, Math Teacher gives us a worksheet or study guide to help study for the upcoming exams. That isn't the problem though. The worksheets Math Teacher gives us never count. Never. That's what annoys me to know end. I forgot to do my homework one time in class, and it was the one time he checked for homework. I always do my homework for Math. It is important for me to do the homework because it does help e for the future. Whatever, I was penalized for not doing that one homework, but I am never rewarded for the homework that he assigns and I actually do do. So between the "Formative Assessments" and the homework grades, my grade in Math Teacher's class should be at least an 80% with what I do for his class.
        Ironically, today in class we had a worksheet, so I asked (in front of the class) if this could be counted for a grade. Math teacher's answer? No. Flat out no. Math Teacher didn't even think twice about it. So MT told me to stay after class to discuss everything that was going on. Meanwhile, sitting in class, knowing my grade, I was hysterical crying. I walked out of the room and into the bathroom shaking and crying. I was already on edge from hearing from Boulder after school, and this little "episode" wasn't helping my situation. The last period of the day took forever. Like dragged on for what felt like two hours. So the bell rang, and I walked right up to him (still hysterical crying, I might add) and told him my situation on why I was so on edge. So I asked if there was anything I could do to help my grade, and really there was nothing. So whatever. MT finally gave in to help me a little bit with my grade, so I have the opportunity to bring up my grade, but I am still annoyed by the way grading is in class. But, anyway, I am moving on from that since MT considered to help after I put up a fight.
        Boulder Rep told me to call anytime after school, because any if it were any earlier, I would not be able to find out. So I was too hysterical to call right after school as I planned. I had pilates after school with my mom so I called her hysterical while driving to pilates to tell her I was on my way there. She thought the worst automatically, and thought that I was crying because of Boulder (which I had yet to call). I explained to her my situation in the car and had another melt down because I had to still call Boulder Rep about my application status. So I got to my pilates teacher's house, and calmed myself down enough to call Boulder.
        I have never felt my heart pound harder then it did. I felt like I was going to toss my cookies all over the place (common theme creative writing class?). I was on hold, shaking, hearing that stupid, "All our representatives are busy at the moment. They will be on the line with you shortly." Well shortly felt too long. I felt like I was on the phone for a half hour, and no one was answering. So I hung up and called again. The first thing I did was click zero to go right to a representative. It worked.
This is how the conversation went:
Me: "Hi, my name is KB, and I would like to know the status of my application."
Rep: "Oh, absolutely, just one moment please."
Me: "Thank you!"
...a silence on the phone. I thought that she had hung up and almost hung up, but right before I did she answered. I heard a large gasp, and I felt pretty nervous at this point.
Rep: "Congratulations, you're in!"
        I could honestly tell you, an eighty pound weight was lifted off of my shoulder. I have never been so happy on a phone call my entire life.  The thoughts about MT have gone from my mind, and guess what?!
I AM NOW A CU BOULDER BUFF!!!!

Keepin' it Fresh

        This might be cliche, but I felt it was necessary to give thanks to everything I have in my life. First off, I want to say I am thankful for everyone and everything in life. Second, I know this might be kind of rude, but I am so thankful for the amazing food my mom cooked this Thanksgiving.
        Every other year, my family switches off between my grandparents house (Dad's parents) and my house. Let's just say Nana's food is inedible. She make food that is square-shaped and some sort of orange or green. It's gross. Even Nana doesn't event know what it is if we point to it. "It's either squash or sweet potato, I don't know... try it!" she would say. My family always jokes around if we don't pile the food on our plate, we would be seeing the food the next holiday. As bad as it sounds, it's the truth. Every Jewish holiday we have at Nana and Papa's house. The food is never fresh, only frozen. The meals get repetitive.
      This year I was so excited to hear that Thanksgiving was at my house. My mom is an amazing cook, and an amazing baker. This year not every family member was in town, which I thought was kind of depressing. But at least the food was good!
       I hope everyone enjoyed their meals as much as I did! Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

The Final Verdict

       It is crazy how fast this year is going by. I can't believe we are already one-quarter of the way done with school. I can't believe that I am almost done with senior year! It's bittersweet, though.
       I have been at my school since eighth grade, and I am not sure I am ready to leave. I love my life how it is right now, and changing it scares me. Looking into the future, I don't know what it holds for me. It scares me to know that next year I will be living in an entirely new environment. New people, new place to live, new school, and new state (hopefully!) College is a scary thought, and I know people say it is the best years of your life, but I don't know if I am ready for that kind of change. I can't believe how much time has flown, and I am almost eighteen.
      I used to look at my brother when he was my age and say that I would never get to be that old. I never thought the day would come that I would be a senior in high school. I never thought the day would come that at the end of the year I would be hearing the words, "Congratulations Class of 2011! You did it!"
...Man that's a scary thought!

Come Fly Away

      The airport is where people from all walks of life come to go to different places. It's crazy how busy the airport gets. What do you think are the odds of finding someone that is local to your neighborhood in a rural airport? I think it is probably a small possibility. 

      Today I was flying home from visiting a college (which, by the way, I thought was amazing.) My parents and I had a connecting flight from RDU to FLL, and our layover was in ATL. So, I was sitting in my seat with my parents on each side of me, and there was a blonde-haired little boy sitting in the row in front of me. He kept turning around, and I smiled at him, waved at him, and made funny faces at him, and each time he would laugh and turn around. This went on for about the fifty-minute flight I had from RDU to ATL. The little boy was very cute, and he was sitting with his sister, who looked a few years older than him, and his parents. Well, the father turned around to see who the little boy was laughing at, and my parents and I started talking to him. The little boy's name was Brent, and today was his second birthday, and his sister's name was Ally, who was seven. So we finished with the small talk as we landed, and said goodbyes and turned on our own paths. 

      After that flight my family had a short layover in ATL, so we stopped at a restaurant on our way to our next gate, and ran to catch our plane. Needless to say, as we were waiting for the plane to board, we saw the same people. We started talking about where they live, and what schools they attend. Crazy how things work, they live right around where my aunt lives. 

      Isn't it odd the people that you meet in airports? What are the odds?

Going in Circles

       Going through my school day is quite repetitive and boring. It's the same thing everyday, same classes, same teachers, and same people. Not that I don't like the people that I see everyday, but I hate the feeling of the routine.
       The first day of school everyone was all excited to be back, and as a senior, I was excited to finally be the class of the year. Everything started off colorful, new, and fresh. New school supplies to use in class, and everything was crisp. I love that feeling: taking out a new notebook, breaking it in, and making it looked used.
      Now, going into the second quarter of the school year--one-quarter done with my senior year--everything is a drag. I feel wiped out and so over everything. All my notebooks are full of writing, the freshly done bulletin boards have flyers covering them that are half-ripped, and the colors around the school start to blur into darker colors.
      As a senior, we are supposed to have special privileges, but really this year, there aren't many. It gets annoying because seniors should stick out, be more enthused about being the top class, but clearly, the class of 2011 is not spirited or pumped at all. I just wish the school wasn't such a formula, and the senior class would be more energetic.

A “Katie Story”

            To tell you the truth, I am probably one of the worst storytellers ever. My friends actually make fun of my storytelling skills because they suck. It actually started when I was around ten years old. I started telling a story and couldn’t quite remember what the point of my story was, so I started rambling. That obviously led to embarrassment. To make matters worse, after that story my best friend, Bridget, started hysterical laughing at how bad my story was. I tried to change the subject quickly so Bridget would just drop the story subject and move on. Fortunately, she didn’t realize my attempt to change the subject, so she just went along with the conversation.

            The definition of a “Katie Story” is any story that is told with no point. It only has beginning. The stories could ramble from anywhere around two seconds to forty minutes. Trust me, I would know! My stories could last forever. Another time I wasn’t only telling the story to Bridget, but also Nicole and Regina, who I have been close to for a long time. I started telling the story, and I got all hyped up to say the story and I forgot the point. Joy! So the story ended after a good, I don’t know, five minutes? They were all giving me that stare afterwards. That stare you get from your parents when you do something wrong, or that look that is anticipating more of a story to be told. Yeah, that was the look. Then Bridget started clapping. It really made no sense why she was clapping, because I told a terrible story. Then Nicole and Regina chimed in, clapping, and whistling like I had just won an award. I really didn’t think my story was good enough to get this kind of reaction from them so I kind of laughed at their reaction. Then Bridget started chanting, “Katie Story! Katie Story!” I started laughing, because I found it quite funny that my stories had a name.

To this day, I find this very funny because I have now become accustomed to this “Katie Story” business. I think I should help to spread the word, because now not only am I the only one to say a “Katie Story,” but my friends and I applaud anyone who says any type of similar story. It does happen quite often! Help spread the word. Your assignment is to go try and spread the word about a “Katie Story.” Make sure when you do hear a “Katie Story” that you go wild, crazy and applaud, and don’t worry, I know people will stare, but it is so worth it. At least I think it is….