So I still feel sick, and its awful. I'm freezing yet I'm sweating, my throat feels like I swallowed sand paper, my tummy (yes, I said tummy) feels like I did 303,079,707 spins in a spinny chair and my head is pounding (I have no great annalogy for this one). Every time I cough, I feel like my throat is going to catch fire... but my pinky doesn't hurt so its a good day.
While I've been laying here, since my lovely dorm floor has decided that today they are going to yell and scream like they're being killed making it impossible to sleep more, I've been thinking.
I'll be honest, I'm not a fan of being at UNLV. There's nothing here for me. I keep talking about transferring over to Humboldt after this school year and the more and more I think and talk about it... the better it is feeling. Crater set high standards for their students and having talked to everyone here, the standards (that were supposedly what we had to have to get into a good college) were much higher than what even this college has for us.
I mean come on, I'm "over achieving" with having Elementary Algebra and English 101. Apparently if I had kept my Biology, it would have been unheard of!
I loved Crater dearly, and being here makes me thankful for the high standards. I listen to the other freshmen on my floor and all I can think is "wow, I learned that like Junior year... and you're just now learning that!?"
UNLV, I was expecting it to be worse than what it is, I was expecting excitement... but it feels like I'm just back at Crater but not so many classes and I live on campus.
Humboldt might not be any different, but it feels right.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
September 14th, 2010: Stayed in my dorm sick today.
Stayed in my dorm today, had a temperature of 89.4. It took all my energy to even go down to the health center. I feel bad for missing my classes today, but I have been working on class work during the time that I'm awake. I'm still not feeling well at all, which is awful. I'm going to try to go to bed early tonight. Doubt it will work. Anyway, as I was awake and needing a break from math I started to write and this is the outcome:
"Dancers. We are contradictions. We work our butts off to be exactly how everyone else wants us to be but we claim to be individuals. We fake it till we either make it or break. We work out to have good, strong, healthy bodies while we starve ourselves to fit into costumes, we suffer sleep deprivation (and restless leg syndrome), we have the worst blisters, we strain our knees, backs, shoulders and necks... sprains and muscle injuries are a normal part of our life. We have to look perfect for everyone at all times but we'll do everything in public and not care. We claim we don't care what others think of us but that is exactly all this profession is. Judgement. Trying, fighting and risking everything to be the best. Dancers. We're crazy... but most of us are trying to be our teacher's little prima so much that we don't see how stupid we really are. We started dance because it was fun, then it became a passion which quickly turned into a dream. A dream we must let others control. I had this dream once... the dream to become a famous dancer... but I gave up on this dream and now have a dream to control the dreams of the crazy dancers who want to be my little prima. I want to be a teacher and a choreographer... not a ballerina... not a show girl. I want to inspire and I want to be inspired. Dancers... some of us are smart individuals."
"Dancers. We are contradictions. We work our butts off to be exactly how everyone else wants us to be but we claim to be individuals. We fake it till we either make it or break. We work out to have good, strong, healthy bodies while we starve ourselves to fit into costumes, we suffer sleep deprivation (and restless leg syndrome), we have the worst blisters, we strain our knees, backs, shoulders and necks... sprains and muscle injuries are a normal part of our life. We have to look perfect for everyone at all times but we'll do everything in public and not care. We claim we don't care what others think of us but that is exactly all this profession is. Judgement. Trying, fighting and risking everything to be the best. Dancers. We're crazy... but most of us are trying to be our teacher's little prima so much that we don't see how stupid we really are. We started dance because it was fun, then it became a passion which quickly turned into a dream. A dream we must let others control. I had this dream once... the dream to become a famous dancer... but I gave up on this dream and now have a dream to control the dreams of the crazy dancers who want to be my little prima. I want to be a teacher and a choreographer... not a ballerina... not a show girl. I want to inspire and I want to be inspired. Dancers... some of us are smart individuals."
Monday, September 13, 2010
September 13th, 2010: Final draft of Community Essay.
So I'll admit these facts are totally through my view, and some are just guessing... others made up just to use space. =D not going to lie.
We were separated into four different schools - among this three acer campus - but we were still supposed to call ourselves the Crater Comets. I'm guessing it is because even though we're separated into four "groups", we're still part of the Crater campus as a whole. I'd like to know how this was going to be possible when there was so much hate and disrespect on this high school's campus? Even worse, we didn't just have the stereotypes of a normal high school these small schools made the stereotypes even bigger and more obvious, making it even easier to disrespect each other. We had the “tree huggers and hippies” in Academy of Health and Public Services, the “jocks, preps and geeks” in School of Business, Innovation and Science, the “hicks” in Academy of Natural Sciences and the “emos, goths and theater nerds” in Renaissance Academy. Sure, all of these small school titles technically have "Crater" in front of them but with how all of the students acted towards each other, you would have never guessed. This small school program was supposed to bring Crater together and make high school a better community when all it really did was separate us more and more but, leave it to a bomb scare to make us realize that Crater High School is actually able to drop the stereotypes and just be there for each other.
March 3rd, 2010: fifteen minutes into the first period class, I’ve already been at school for a hour and a half, thanks to my early bird Chamber Choir class, I’m already tired and counting down the hours till I get to go home, to bad I still have a full day to get through. The substitute in my health class is taking attendance when an odd voice comes over the intercom. “All teachers on Crater campus take your class to the gym immediately.” This voice, which wasn’t the friendly voice of the lady in our office... or a voice of anyone on the Crater campus, was a recording and on repeat mixed with a unusual buzzing alarm... all students are now panicked. We left our class room and see our principal running around, we hear cop cars and ambulances and to add to the fear there’s a S.W.A.T truck parked on the campus, right in the middle of our court yard. Within five minutes at least 1,600 students are packed into the schools gym, but I can't find my small school then I realize it, we aren't separated into our small schools... why? I thought we hated each other, yet we're clumped together out of fear and compassion?
There’s “jocks” talking to “hicks”, there’s “emos” comforting crying “preps”. Is this really what Crater is like? I’m sitting in the bleachers, on the phone with my mom trying to find out what’s going on, I’m guessing its a senior prank of some sort but as I sit there and look around I can’t see the separation, I see a community. We’ve all been in school with each other since pre-school, we all used to be friends, we used to share crayons and get in trouble for not sleeping during nap time! All that disappeared when we got into middle school and trying to concentrate on being “cool”, but here it is again. In a time of need, the support, encouragement and compassion is back. I’m speechless.
Everyone is running around, I wouldn't say any of us were in hysterics. There was fear, mostly in the freshmen, but a lot of people were just so confused and lost and nervous they either were in tears or numb to emotion. I, even now, can't really remember how I felt before I called my mom. I guess I was scared since I automatically searched for my best friends to get a few hugs from. After I knew exactly what was going on though, I think I was fine. I went up to my English teacher, Mrs. Hillman, to see how she was. She didn't know what was going on, and she just wanted to have everyone calm down so she, as she often did, was making terrible jokes. The only thing I could think of to help her came spilling out of my mouth without thought: "steal the megaphone from Mr. Meunier and start a massive game of Marco Polo." All she could do was laugh and started thinking of other games that would be great to play as a massive school, such as freeze tag and "mother may I". After that I told my other worried friends exactly what was going on, so then we all separated and went to tell everyone else that they can breathe easy and stop worrying. After everyone was calmed down and the fake bomb was removed from the school some kids and parents were rather traumatized by the entire day so parents came and picked up students. Other students stayed behind, but there is still tension and fear in the air for the rest of the day, though all the students and teachers are making jokes about this lovely bomb.
Community can be defined by the dictionary, but it can’t be understood until it is seen and felt. I had been on teams, in clubs and with groups of people my whole life, but until this fake bomb scare in my high school... I was completely oblivious to what a community really is. Its a coming together of people, to support, care and love for one another especially in a time of need. Before any student knew what was going on there were tears out of fear and yelling out of being nervous, but most of all there was people trying to help calm them down. Community is never defined the same by everyone. I define community as being there for each other, as the Crater students were when some of us thought we were going to get killed, the next person might define community as a simple gathering of people in one place, a party if you please, no feeling or concern attached, just a coming together of people. You never know until you get many small parts of one big deal finally acting as if we're all in this together, and the stereotypes of high school don't matter... then a sign and an understanding of community really shines through the walls people build up through the years.As Albert Einstein said "This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty." "
"Com-Boom-ity
We were separated into four different schools - among this three acer campus - but we were still supposed to call ourselves the Crater Comets. I'm guessing it is because even though we're separated into four "groups", we're still part of the Crater campus as a whole. I'd like to know how this was going to be possible when there was so much hate and disrespect on this high school's campus? Even worse, we didn't just have the stereotypes of a normal high school these small schools made the stereotypes even bigger and more obvious, making it even easier to disrespect each other. We had the “tree huggers and hippies” in Academy of Health and Public Services, the “jocks, preps and geeks” in School of Business, Innovation and Science, the “hicks” in Academy of Natural Sciences and the “emos, goths and theater nerds” in Renaissance Academy. Sure, all of these small school titles technically have "Crater" in front of them but with how all of the students acted towards each other, you would have never guessed. This small school program was supposed to bring Crater together and make high school a better community when all it really did was separate us more and more but, leave it to a bomb scare to make us realize that Crater High School is actually able to drop the stereotypes and just be there for each other.
March 3rd, 2010: fifteen minutes into the first period class, I’ve already been at school for a hour and a half, thanks to my early bird Chamber Choir class, I’m already tired and counting down the hours till I get to go home, to bad I still have a full day to get through. The substitute in my health class is taking attendance when an odd voice comes over the intercom. “All teachers on Crater campus take your class to the gym immediately.” This voice, which wasn’t the friendly voice of the lady in our office... or a voice of anyone on the Crater campus, was a recording and on repeat mixed with a unusual buzzing alarm... all students are now panicked. We left our class room and see our principal running around, we hear cop cars and ambulances and to add to the fear there’s a S.W.A.T truck parked on the campus, right in the middle of our court yard. Within five minutes at least 1,600 students are packed into the schools gym, but I can't find my small school then I realize it, we aren't separated into our small schools... why? I thought we hated each other, yet we're clumped together out of fear and compassion?
There’s “jocks” talking to “hicks”, there’s “emos” comforting crying “preps”. Is this really what Crater is like? I’m sitting in the bleachers, on the phone with my mom trying to find out what’s going on, I’m guessing its a senior prank of some sort but as I sit there and look around I can’t see the separation, I see a community. We’ve all been in school with each other since pre-school, we all used to be friends, we used to share crayons and get in trouble for not sleeping during nap time! All that disappeared when we got into middle school and trying to concentrate on being “cool”, but here it is again. In a time of need, the support, encouragement and compassion is back. I’m speechless.
Everyone is running around, I wouldn't say any of us were in hysterics. There was fear, mostly in the freshmen, but a lot of people were just so confused and lost and nervous they either were in tears or numb to emotion. I, even now, can't really remember how I felt before I called my mom. I guess I was scared since I automatically searched for my best friends to get a few hugs from. After I knew exactly what was going on though, I think I was fine. I went up to my English teacher, Mrs. Hillman, to see how she was. She didn't know what was going on, and she just wanted to have everyone calm down so she, as she often did, was making terrible jokes. The only thing I could think of to help her came spilling out of my mouth without thought: "steal the megaphone from Mr. Meunier and start a massive game of Marco Polo." All she could do was laugh and started thinking of other games that would be great to play as a massive school, such as freeze tag and "mother may I". After that I told my other worried friends exactly what was going on, so then we all separated and went to tell everyone else that they can breathe easy and stop worrying. After everyone was calmed down and the fake bomb was removed from the school some kids and parents were rather traumatized by the entire day so parents came and picked up students. Other students stayed behind, but there is still tension and fear in the air for the rest of the day, though all the students and teachers are making jokes about this lovely bomb.
Community can be defined by the dictionary, but it can’t be understood until it is seen and felt. I had been on teams, in clubs and with groups of people my whole life, but until this fake bomb scare in my high school... I was completely oblivious to what a community really is. Its a coming together of people, to support, care and love for one another especially in a time of need. Before any student knew what was going on there were tears out of fear and yelling out of being nervous, but most of all there was people trying to help calm them down. Community is never defined the same by everyone. I define community as being there for each other, as the Crater students were when some of us thought we were going to get killed, the next person might define community as a simple gathering of people in one place, a party if you please, no feeling or concern attached, just a coming together of people. You never know until you get many small parts of one big deal finally acting as if we're all in this together, and the stereotypes of high school don't matter... then a sign and an understanding of community really shines through the walls people build up through the years.As Albert Einstein said "This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty." "
Sunday, September 12, 2010
September 12th, 2010: Does my backyard tell a story? (English Essay)
I step out the door and all I see is rocks, grape vines, a swing, railroad tiles and a small garden. My backyard is very small and has no grass, mainly because I'm allergic to fresh mowed grass. I sit on the swing and look at how the grape vines are growing above to make a beautiful arbor, this is my home... this is where my memories are. There are so many stories in this small patch of land that sits behind my house.
Next to the swing, you can still see the outline of where my fort used to be. The rocks here are pushed far down into the ground... funny thing is, that fort was made out of PBC pipes, and we took it down about six years ago. I would run to this fort when my mom and sister were fighting... didn't work well in the winter since my fort didn't have a roof, but it was someplace to go so I didn't hear the yelling and slamming of doors. I'd sit in this fort for hours just reading, writing or look at the clouds. I could have moved my fort, it was light enough, but sitting right there behind the shed... I felt hidden. When the fort was up, the swing wasn't. I guess it is a good switch...
I love that swing, though its torn up from birds taking the stuffing for their nest every spring. My mom keeps saying she'll sew it up, but she never gets around to it. Oh well, doesn't take the enjoyment of sitting on it out. Sitting here was my favorite place to be after a hard day of school, I usually didn't want to be inside right away because my mom would want me to talk to her... like a normal teen, I didn't want to, so I would just sit there and collect my thoughts before going inside. I'd try to find one good thing from the day to tell my mom. I never wanted to tell her bad things... she's worked too hard every day, I don't want to add to the exhaustion by telling her that someone took my lunch money or something along those lines.
My mom is the one that put those railroad tiles back here to create garden boxes. She also put all the dirt in them, and plants the garden. Other than the grape vines, this garden is the only green we have back here. I love the garden, even in the fall when everything is dead and we haven't harvested it yet... even when everything is all brown, I still see the story and hope that spring is just around the corner, the memory of everything being green will return and become life again.
This backyard, though it is small, holds a lot of my memories... a lot of my stories. These stories are willing to be told to the right people, they just have to look carefully and be willing to listen. Everything back here tells a story whether big or small. Even the deck tells the story of the weeks my mom and a family friend spent building it. The stains on the cement remind everyone that I splat painted a pair of jeans, and the dent in the side of the house tells the story of a fight my mom and sister had to where my sister swung open the gate so fast it hit the house and left this curve.
My backyard back home, in small town Central Point, Oregon, tells the stories of childhood and teens. You have to look closely but they are there, just waiting to be told to someone who has interest. Just waiting for someone to sit on the torn up swing that is being engulfed by the grapevines, and notice that there's a patch of rock pushed deep into the ground in the shape of a perfect rectangle. Right where my fort used to sit.
Next to the swing, you can still see the outline of where my fort used to be. The rocks here are pushed far down into the ground... funny thing is, that fort was made out of PBC pipes, and we took it down about six years ago. I would run to this fort when my mom and sister were fighting... didn't work well in the winter since my fort didn't have a roof, but it was someplace to go so I didn't hear the yelling and slamming of doors. I'd sit in this fort for hours just reading, writing or look at the clouds. I could have moved my fort, it was light enough, but sitting right there behind the shed... I felt hidden. When the fort was up, the swing wasn't. I guess it is a good switch...
I love that swing, though its torn up from birds taking the stuffing for their nest every spring. My mom keeps saying she'll sew it up, but she never gets around to it. Oh well, doesn't take the enjoyment of sitting on it out. Sitting here was my favorite place to be after a hard day of school, I usually didn't want to be inside right away because my mom would want me to talk to her... like a normal teen, I didn't want to, so I would just sit there and collect my thoughts before going inside. I'd try to find one good thing from the day to tell my mom. I never wanted to tell her bad things... she's worked too hard every day, I don't want to add to the exhaustion by telling her that someone took my lunch money or something along those lines.
My mom is the one that put those railroad tiles back here to create garden boxes. She also put all the dirt in them, and plants the garden. Other than the grape vines, this garden is the only green we have back here. I love the garden, even in the fall when everything is dead and we haven't harvested it yet... even when everything is all brown, I still see the story and hope that spring is just around the corner, the memory of everything being green will return and become life again.
This backyard, though it is small, holds a lot of my memories... a lot of my stories. These stories are willing to be told to the right people, they just have to look carefully and be willing to listen. Everything back here tells a story whether big or small. Even the deck tells the story of the weeks my mom and a family friend spent building it. The stains on the cement remind everyone that I splat painted a pair of jeans, and the dent in the side of the house tells the story of a fight my mom and sister had to where my sister swung open the gate so fast it hit the house and left this curve.
My backyard back home, in small town Central Point, Oregon, tells the stories of childhood and teens. You have to look closely but they are there, just waiting to be told to someone who has interest. Just waiting for someone to sit on the torn up swing that is being engulfed by the grapevines, and notice that there's a patch of rock pushed deep into the ground in the shape of a perfect rectangle. Right where my fort used to sit.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
September 8th, 2010: Days.
So this morning I swear... my roommate had like 234,285,646,516,543,432 alarms go off to wake her up, and she didn't get up to any of them. This is starting to get annoying. The alarm is always set for an hour before I have to wake up, and then she never gets up until like ten minutes before I leave.
Then she is always on the phone or on Skype so I never get to talk to anyone. I've tried to talk to her, but nothing gets fixed.
Its days like these that just drive me crazy. Where I feel like I'm doing everything and nothing tends to work. I feel alone because everyone I love and rely on is miles and miles away. The few people I was still relying on, I feel like they stabbed me in the back.
I'm hurt, and I feel like I'm catching a cold.
I'm dizzy, and I'm tired.
I'm stuck, not knowing.
Tomorrow is my last day for the week, thank goodness, 'cause I'm not sure I can handle much more of this.
Then she is always on the phone or on Skype so I never get to talk to anyone. I've tried to talk to her, but nothing gets fixed.
Its days like these that just drive me crazy. Where I feel like I'm doing everything and nothing tends to work. I feel alone because everyone I love and rely on is miles and miles away. The few people I was still relying on, I feel like they stabbed me in the back.
I'm hurt, and I feel like I'm catching a cold.
I'm dizzy, and I'm tired.
I'm stuck, not knowing.
Tomorrow is my last day for the week, thank goodness, 'cause I'm not sure I can handle much more of this.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
September 4th, 2010: Till dinner
So today, I don't feel well. But luckily staying in bed gave me pleanty of time to finish my English essay that I wrote on the "bomb scare" at Crater
(My essay: "Community
We were separated into four different schools - among the big campus - but we were still supposed to call ourselves the Crater Comets because even though we're separated into four "groups", we're still part of the Crater campus. I'd like to know how it was going to be possible (to call ourselves Crater Comets) when there was so much hate and disrespect on this high school's campus? We had the “tree huggers and hippies” in school one, the “jocks, preps and geeks” in school two, the “hicks” in school three and the “emos, goths and theater nerds” in school four. This small school program was supposed to bring Crater together and make high school a better community when all it really did was separate us more and more... but, leave it to a bomb scare to make us realize that Crater High School is actually able to drop the stereotypes and just be there for each other.
March 3rd, 2010: fifteen minutes into the first period class... I’ve already been at school for a hour and a half, thanks to my early bird Chamber Choir class, so I’m already tired and counting down the hours till I get to go home but I still had a full day to get through. The substitute in my Health is taking attendance when a odd voice comes over the intercom. “All teachers on Crater campus take your class to the gym immediately.” This voice, which wasn’t the friendly voice of the lady in our office... or a voice of anyone on the Crater campus come to think of it, instead it was a recording and on repeat... all students are now panicked. We left our class room and see our principal running around, we hear cop cars and ambulances and to add to the fear there’s a S.W.A.T truck parked on the campus, in the middle of our court yard. Within five minutes at least 1,500 students are packed into the schools gym, but I can't find my small school then I realize it, we aren't separated into our small schools... why? I thought we hated each other, yet we're clumped together out of fear and compassion?
There’s “jocks” talking to “hicks”, there’s “emos” comforting crying “preps”. Is this really what Crater is like? I’m sitting in the bleachers, on the phone with my mom trying to find out what’s going on... I’m guessing its a senior prank of some sort... but as I sit there and look around I can’t see the separation, I see a community. We’ve all been in school with each other since pre-school, we all used to be friends, we used to share crayons and get in trouble for not sleeping during nap time! All that disappeared when we got into middle school and trying to concentrate on being “cool”, but here it is again. In a time of need, the support, encouragement and compassion is back. I’m speechless.
Community can be defined by the dictionary, but it can’t be understood until it is seen. I had been on teams, in clubs and with a group of people my whole life, but until this fake bomb (made out of a soda bottle and thrown into a trash can in the boys bathroom) scare in my high school... I was completely oblivious to what a community really is. Its a coming together of people, to support, care and love for one another especially in a time of need. Before any student knew what was going on there were tears out of fear and yelling out of being nervous, but most of all there was people trying to help calm them down. Community is never defined the same by everyone. I define community as being there for each other, as the Crater students were when some of us thought we were going to get killed... the next person might define community as a gathering of people in one place. You never know until you get four small parts of one big deal, finally acting as if we're all in this together and the stereotypes of high school don't matter... then a sign of community and an understanding of community really shines through the walls people built up.")
I went for a walk around campus to just get out of my dorm. Feel a little better now.
Apparently Casey and I are going to go to dinner: either Italian, Mexican or Chinese. Sounds like its adventure time. I'm slightly excited.
Also its UNLV Rebel's first football game so the campus is practically empty, and everyone will probably come back to campus and party: win or lose. Should be a long night, thankfully I don't have school on Monday so sleep will be great.
Wish I could go to the football game, I just don't want to drive. grr...
maybe next time?
Go Rebels... haha... funny.
(My essay: "Community
We were separated into four different schools - among the big campus - but we were still supposed to call ourselves the Crater Comets because even though we're separated into four "groups", we're still part of the Crater campus. I'd like to know how it was going to be possible (to call ourselves Crater Comets) when there was so much hate and disrespect on this high school's campus? We had the “tree huggers and hippies” in school one, the “jocks, preps and geeks” in school two, the “hicks” in school three and the “emos, goths and theater nerds” in school four. This small school program was supposed to bring Crater together and make high school a better community when all it really did was separate us more and more... but, leave it to a bomb scare to make us realize that Crater High School is actually able to drop the stereotypes and just be there for each other.
March 3rd, 2010: fifteen minutes into the first period class... I’ve already been at school for a hour and a half, thanks to my early bird Chamber Choir class, so I’m already tired and counting down the hours till I get to go home but I still had a full day to get through. The substitute in my Health is taking attendance when a odd voice comes over the intercom. “All teachers on Crater campus take your class to the gym immediately.” This voice, which wasn’t the friendly voice of the lady in our office... or a voice of anyone on the Crater campus come to think of it, instead it was a recording and on repeat... all students are now panicked. We left our class room and see our principal running around, we hear cop cars and ambulances and to add to the fear there’s a S.W.A.T truck parked on the campus, in the middle of our court yard. Within five minutes at least 1,500 students are packed into the schools gym, but I can't find my small school then I realize it, we aren't separated into our small schools... why? I thought we hated each other, yet we're clumped together out of fear and compassion?
There’s “jocks” talking to “hicks”, there’s “emos” comforting crying “preps”. Is this really what Crater is like? I’m sitting in the bleachers, on the phone with my mom trying to find out what’s going on... I’m guessing its a senior prank of some sort... but as I sit there and look around I can’t see the separation, I see a community. We’ve all been in school with each other since pre-school, we all used to be friends, we used to share crayons and get in trouble for not sleeping during nap time! All that disappeared when we got into middle school and trying to concentrate on being “cool”, but here it is again. In a time of need, the support, encouragement and compassion is back. I’m speechless.
Community can be defined by the dictionary, but it can’t be understood until it is seen. I had been on teams, in clubs and with a group of people my whole life, but until this fake bomb (made out of a soda bottle and thrown into a trash can in the boys bathroom) scare in my high school... I was completely oblivious to what a community really is. Its a coming together of people, to support, care and love for one another especially in a time of need. Before any student knew what was going on there were tears out of fear and yelling out of being nervous, but most of all there was people trying to help calm them down. Community is never defined the same by everyone. I define community as being there for each other, as the Crater students were when some of us thought we were going to get killed... the next person might define community as a gathering of people in one place. You never know until you get four small parts of one big deal, finally acting as if we're all in this together and the stereotypes of high school don't matter... then a sign of community and an understanding of community really shines through the walls people built up.")
I went for a walk around campus to just get out of my dorm. Feel a little better now.
Apparently Casey and I are going to go to dinner: either Italian, Mexican or Chinese. Sounds like its adventure time. I'm slightly excited.
Also its UNLV Rebel's first football game so the campus is practically empty, and everyone will probably come back to campus and party: win or lose. Should be a long night, thankfully I don't have school on Monday so sleep will be great.
Wish I could go to the football game, I just don't want to drive. grr...
maybe next time?
Go Rebels... haha... funny.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
September 2nd, 2010: Little e-mail from home
So before I left home (August 16th, 2010) I e-mailed my high school English teacher, Mrs. Hillman, I had her as a teacher for three years and she was possibly one of my favorite English teachers I have ever had.
My email said:
"Mrs. Hillman!!!
Yes, the excessive punctuation is needed for this e-mail.
This e-mail is so I can tell you thank you.
Thank you so much for being an amazing teacher! I was in your class for three years and I still remember getting that first essay back and reading the comment from you saying 'your humor really shines through, and I love all your little side notes but you constantly over use commas and mix up 'to' and 'too' ', well I still get confused on the 'to' and 'too' stuff but my humor hasn't changed.
I also wanted to share that this coming Tuesday, and seeing as it is almost one in the morning (I'm doing last minute packing, so yes... I'm supposed to be up this late), I guess I can say tomorrow... I leave for Las Vegas. I got accepted into UNLV, and even better I got accepted into their dance program.
I thought I would thank you for this because you helped me so much, and just thought you'd like to know.
Hope you have a wonderful school year, Mrs. Hillman.
-Carly"
I just checked my email today and saw that on the 30th I got a response:
"Carly,
I love your note-- thank you so much! I am thrilled (though not that surprised!) that you will be in the UNLV dance program. Be wary if they want you to take off your shirt... it is Las Vegas, you know. :)
Good luck!
-Adrienne"
This little e-mail from home is now hanging on my wall.
As for school today:
My ballet teacher sat on me... no joke. It was for a purpose and it did help... but still, she sat on me! The purpose was to figure out how to have intensity in my arms... first time I dropped her... oops, second time though... I was able to have her sit. I was happy, and she even complimented it.
Modern was better today, as was choreography.
Then I had math, and a great math test... that I finished 45 minutes early so I got to leave.
All in all,
great day!
My email said:
"Mrs. Hillman!!!
Yes, the excessive punctuation is needed for this e-mail.
This e-mail is so I can tell you thank you.
Thank you so much for being an amazing teacher! I was in your class for three years and I still remember getting that first essay back and reading the comment from you saying 'your humor really shines through, and I love all your little side notes but you constantly over use commas and mix up 'to' and 'too' ', well I still get confused on the 'to' and 'too' stuff but my humor hasn't changed.
I also wanted to share that this coming Tuesday, and seeing as it is almost one in the morning (I'm doing last minute packing, so yes... I'm supposed to be up this late), I guess I can say tomorrow... I leave for Las Vegas. I got accepted into UNLV, and even better I got accepted into their dance program.
I thought I would thank you for this because you helped me so much, and just thought you'd like to know.
Hope you have a wonderful school year, Mrs. Hillman.
-Carly"
I just checked my email today and saw that on the 30th I got a response:
"Carly,
I love your note-- thank you so much! I am thrilled (though not that surprised!) that you will be in the UNLV dance program. Be wary if they want you to take off your shirt... it is Las Vegas, you know. :)
Good luck!
-Adrienne"
This little e-mail from home is now hanging on my wall.
As for school today:
My ballet teacher sat on me... no joke. It was for a purpose and it did help... but still, she sat on me! The purpose was to figure out how to have intensity in my arms... first time I dropped her... oops, second time though... I was able to have her sit. I was happy, and she even complimented it.
Modern was better today, as was choreography.
Then I had math, and a great math test... that I finished 45 minutes early so I got to leave.
All in all,
great day!
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