Monthly Review: Rebel Angels

The eerie sequel to the gorgeous novel A Great and Terrible Beauty, Rebel Angels has a lot to live up to. The mysteries that seeped through the pages of Libba Bray’s first gothic novel carry over well into her second; however, the way the author took the absurdities of the plot lines and transformed them into truly enticing chapters is lost. While this novel has very few flaws in my opinion, I feel that the series did begin to lose its believable edge. With the introduction of evil in the realms in the second novel, the readers are plagued with the idea that not all of the main characters are rooted in good. In fact, while Pippa is slowly becoming evil the longer she lives in the realms, it is the other characters’ longing to spend time with her and willingness to do whatever it takes to please her that prevents readers from having that strong anchor. The line that separated the four girls, declaring their solid stance in the world of the good, begins to blur and this has us connecting solely with Gemma for the majority of the novel. While I appreciate the book trading the scenery of the Spence Academy with London’s streets, London’s boys, and London’s finest, I believe this was ultimately a bad decision on Libba Bray’s part. Part of the reason the first novel was so strong and widely accepted was because of its location. Having the story take place in an ancient castle bursting with magical energies, surrounded by gypsy-infested woods and caves that once held dark ceremonies and sacrifices draws the readers in in a more personal way. While the story line hosted interesting ideas on the social lives of over a hundred years ago, the plot revolves around an alternate world: the world of the realms. It was almost too much for Gemma to have the world of the realms, changing and never certain, accompanied by London’s world, a world that Gemma is also struggling to place herself in. This almost made the story line overwhelming; however, I do appreciate the way the writer tried to show Gemma as not just the host body for this powerful essence, but also as a young girl just trying to relate to the culture around her.

Rebel Angles is a very unique fantasy novel. I have many ready novels of this genre, but most of them take the idea of this glorious, magical world that has been created, and focus on the light and fun that accompanies it. Rebel Angels breaks the mold of fantasy novels: Libba Bray did not take the fact that this book was about a magical culture of odd creatures and morph it into some G-rated experience. Instead, the delved deeper. She took the potential, and she shone a light on the epic darkness that runs through Gemma’s power. She understood the corruption that can occur when such a luring influence is used, and it runs through every single word in the novel. The teenage girls talking about suicide, sacrifice, murder; the seemingly good characters of the realm disappearing behind each chapter with a sneer and an alternate plan; the new teacher at the school whose past is almost as plagued with as much loss and lies as Gemma’s is. But this is not the only way that Rebel Angels differs from other novels of its genre: Rebel Angels shows teenagers for who they are, not who they are supposed to be seen as in the novel. It is true that a lot of novels with a fantasy genre revolve around teenagers, i.e. Harry Potter. However, with the exception of a few, most books fail to admit that their characters are children. They deal with adult things and frightening, unique characteristics. But they also go home at night and think about that special someone, and how embarrassing a certain moment was that day, and whether their teachers and peers like them or think they are imbeciles. This novel shows the giddiness of little girls, and joins the idea of two worlds, the world of a hundred years ago and the world of today, together. We may not hold dance cards or request appearances at someone’s place of residence, but we do have a lot similar concerns and flaws. Gemma, the main character, is constantly worrying about her appearance, and struggling to fight back her lustful feelings towards a man she should not feeling those feelings for. Teenage girls can relate to this, because these characters are us; every girl can find themselves in one of the four main characters, which I think is an impressive and unique trait for a novel that is fighting of the fantasy genre generalization.

I believe the author had many purposes when writing this novel: to create a good book, obviously; to mold their creative ideas into a series of chapters and share them with the world; and to conjoin young women with the idea of power. I do not think that it is a coincidence that the only truly powerful characters in this novel are women. There are some men scattered through the book who can hold their own both in wit and in cleverness, but the four women who make up the essence of Rebel Angels are truly the powerful ones. Gemma is blessed – or, debatably, cursed – with this amazing gift to be able to explore the extremes of a world with random animals and superbly beautiful plants, the talking dead and the two-faced villainous friends, but her power lies in her inner strength. Her ability to do what is needed to be done in a hard situation, to look past the reality she hopes for and embrace the reality that is in front of her. Felicity holds friendship true to her heart, and while she is weak in the way that she is flighty and holds grudges against Gemma for her gift, her own personal sacrifices prove the kind of woman she is truly becoming. Anne, who began her journey in the story as a meek, plain girl has transformed herself into somebody who can just truly be, even without the comfort of the beauty she possesses in the realms. And Pippa, while she subconsciously becomes as evil as some of the villains in the realms, manages to hold onto herself and escape the corruption before it truly is late. The main purpose of Rebel Angles is not simply to create a beautifully and truly heartbreaking novel, but to create one that reinforces the idea that women, at any age, are powerful and full of potential.

What Is On The Inside Is What Matters.... Really?

Clothes. We rarely ever realize the impact that what we have on our bodies has on the people around us. If we thought about it, we would realize that our clothes are influential, persuasive, distracting. You can look at somebody and immediately determine what kind of person they are just by their clothing: or so we think. The thing is, we can't automatically assume that that boy who comes to class every day in sweatpants and, frighteningly enough, the same exact sweater he has been wearing all semester that he is a slob, a procrastinator who probably has a seriously low GPA. How do we know that that boy doesn't go home every night, perusing websites of random and various colleges, completing every assignment that he meticulously marked in his agenda. And what about the athletes of our school? A lot of the time, I run into a controversial thought: that the athletes must not be as smart as the rest of us, because that is what we were raised to believe. We saw it in the movies: the dumb bully jock who could barely spell but always had a date on his arm. If we really think about it, every time an athlete walks into a classroom with a monogrammed jacket on, do we think "Wow, what a brain. Maybe I should partner with him on our next project?" This might seem like a topic that has been done to death, but even though i have realized it before, I am only starting to think about it now.

Girls can dress provocatively and know that they will have more of an influence over men than they would if they wore a skirt down to their ankles, and a tight bun pinned to their scalp. The brands that are so familiar to us now have become so drilled into our head, the assumptions that follow them plaguing our thoughts about our peers. Who's to say that the girl in Hot Topic with the industrial piercing goes home every night, turns on goth music, and closes all the blinds? But we see groups of these people with dyed black hair and chipped gothic nails hanging out together and we assume that they are weird, lonely, unstable. But what if they simply like black? Or they wear the chained belt because it makes them happy, not reminds them of darkness? I know it seems awkward for me to bring up cliques and stereotypes in almost a negative way, but "what is inside is what matters" is all a bunch of crap.

OF COURSE who you are on the inside is what you should be judged on. OF COURSE it shouldn't matter what store you shop at or what car you drive. But doesn't it? Every single day, we are judged, and while judgments on our personalities are many, their number can not even compete with the judgment directed towards us because of the clothes on our back. Abercrombie, Urban Outfitters, Hot Topic, American Eagle, Target for God's Sake, and many many more clothing stores run rampant through our schools every single day. And every single thing we wear says something about us. The large, comfy, pull-over sweater I wore to school today? The weather is crappy, I am exhausted, and I couldn't care less. The black two inch strappy boots my neighbor in Spanish wore this morning? It was obvious she wanted to add a little sizzle to her outfit. This is not a bad thing at all: in fact, expressing individuality through things as simple and necessary as clothing is maybe one of the easiest ways to show people who you are. The problem I have with Clothes Profiling is when we look at our peer's clothes, turn our noses up at their style, and by extension, turn our noses up at them. Clothes are what we wear, and I do believe they are who we are. We choose what we put on our backs every morning, and how we want the world to see us. I just wish more people could look past what they don't like on the outside, and try to find something they do like on the inside.

You OK With Going Dutch?

Nowadays, the rules of dating are not so much a structured, definite protocol; they are viewed more as expectations. As much as the feminists out there want to deny it, the men carry the burden of chivalry. While it is not mandated that they open doors for us or pay for our coffees, when a man asks to split the bill, or goes days without calling, us women tend to over-react. The rules are simple: in a monogamous relationship, no cheating! Duh. Some of the more vague rules are waiting 48 hours after a first date to call the girl, but not a full 72 hours, because that may be misconstrued for the man not caring. Dating rules are not etched in stone, and they revolve around the individual's comfort zone. When should you leave a toothbrush? How soon is too soon to say "I love you"? If I meet her mother now, will she expect a proposal? Communication. It not only determines the rules, but it is the rule.

The rules of dating were not something that was randomly invented by some preaching man on the corner of a dilapidated road hundreds of years ago: the rules have been passed down through word of mouth from generation to generation, evolving from different religions, cultures, and races and blending into such a mixture of notions and concepts that it is so easy for the average person to get confused by it all. I believe that dating comes simply from trial and error. We learn, we conform to the rules that have worked for us and our peers, and we either succeed, fail, or move on. We invent the rules every day.

31 Days Until Summer

About two months ago, I wrote a blog post chronicling how many days of school we have left until Summer Vacation. I was writing at the end of the third quarter, and having just started hearing kids talk about their plans for the coming season, I got overwhelmed with excitement and maybe got a tad ahead of myself. But now, with THIRTY ONE DAYS (including weekends and holidays) UNTIL SUMMER VACATION, I think I can safely say that we are on the cusp of our annual freedom. What bothers me, however, is how little the teachers seem to be talking about the end of the year. I have a theory that maybe, if we brought it to their attention more, they will not want to assign as much homework because they will figure Hey, the kids are too distracted by what is coming up, why assign them this term paper? Why have them go online and learn these conjugations? Why ask them to lug this text book home when I know they just won’t?

I know this is wishful thinking, but I seriously hope the amount of homework being assigned starts to trickle away until we have nothing left to do and nothing to distract us from the sun, the sand, the surf. See, look what has happened to me? At the beginning of the year, I took careful consideration into every sentence that went into my blog post because, even if nobody ever reads it or ever cares about what I have to say, it was out in cyberspace for the world to undress with its eyes. But now, thirty-one days away from the best part of the year, I can’t even program my brain into thinking about a productive blog post. That is why this one revolves around the zen-ness of summertime.

Last summer was awesome: I honestly have no complaints, except that I had to spend the first two weeks of it in Memphis with my Dad and my siblings. But even then, his condo had an amazing pool! I did nothing all day but hangout with my friends, usually taking road trips to some place sunny, putting on maybe too much tanning oil, and baking under the rays. What happens to those tans anyways? It has been sunny (albeit a bit chilly) for weeks now, but I don’t see a golden tan anywhere. Sure, there are a few faux-bakes caked onto those people going to prom this weekend, but most of us are pale, with slight hints of color on random places, like the tops of our shoulders or the undersides of our arms.

I can’t wait for thirty-one days to be one day. I can’t wait to go outside, drop my book bag, and run away from it. I don’t want to ever have to bother with taking notes, doing extra credit, frowning at progress reports and freaking out over deadlines. I can’t wait for this to all END.

But then I think of it ending, and I think of all the note-taking and freak-outs that await me at college. And then my mind wanders to the deadlines and evaluations that are awaiting me at whatever job I choose to take. Maybe I can drop out now, and marry rich?

A Weekend Without My World

When we were first assigned the Quick Write that has us imagining what our lives would be if we had to give something electronic up, I thought Wow. Some of the people in this class really could learn something from this little experiment. However I did not actually realize how much of a slave to technology I have become since my first Nokia cell-phone in the fifth grade, or my “coolest-thing-ever” GameBoy in the sixth grade. I did this experiment: I truly sat down, thought out what electronic device I use more often than the others, and I drafted a plan. At first, the answer was easy: OK, your cell phone is ALWAYS in your hand. It needs to go for a couple of days. I literally have my phone in my hand on the way to every class, and when there is no reception and my roaming network is on the fritz, I can be seen with an arm outstretched in the corner, waving my phone around, desperately searching for the smallest ounce of reception. But then I thought of what I would miss the most, not what I necessarily use the most.

For me, my Itouch is the source of my procrastination. Every spare minute I get in class, I plug in my ear phones, press the “Shuffle” button, and melt into another world. Whenever I need to check my bank statement, I connect to the nearest unlocked Wi-Fi and enter cyberspace. And if I find I have sufficient funds in those accounts, I use my Itouch yet again to do some online buying. Sometimes, when I am sitting alone at my work on a rainy day, and have not seen a customer for hours, I mute the TV and begin playing Rock-Band… Via my Itouch.
So this is what happened when I decided to go a weekend without the use of my Itouch….

I can describe this with one word: WITHDRAWAL.

I do not honestly think I can survive another two days in a world without Itouch-es. It was torture! I was forced into listening to my family’s conversations in the car while I was driving with them, and worse than that, I had to suffer the unbelievable torment and jealousy that was seeing my sister enjoy the luxuries of her own Itouch. Right in front of me. Fortunately, I did not let her know that I was on this electronic fast; otherwise she probably would’ve rubbed it in my face far worse than she unknowingly did.

Even though my two days without my Itouch were incredibly hard and had me biting my nails, shaking my feet, and playing with my hair out of boredom, I found some clarity. When I was left alone with my thoughts and the unusual conversations that roam through the chatter at my house and in my classes, I realized that some people actually have interesting things to say. And some people shouldn’t be talking at all. While I am not even the slightest bit tempted into giving up the one electronic that spurs my workouts and fuels my meditations, I do think it was a profitable experience. If it taught me anything, it is that I should be worried about future generations, where we will all be so isolated and alone in our own little worlds, that socializing will be something for Twitter, not a Saturday night.

Rebel Angels: Lit. Circle I

Dear Ariel and AK,
Rebel Angels, the dark and enchanting sequel to Libba Bray’s gothic novel A Great and Terrible Beauty, finds Gemma and her two friends Anne and Felicity at Spence Academy after the tragic death of their friend Pippa. However, while the entire school mourns, the girls themselves understand that Pippa has become a figment of the beautiful realms that hosts the source of Gemma’s power. This novel explains what happens after the sun sets, after the girls leave their precious friends in this alternate world: the magic that ties Gemma to the realms has been unlocked, and it now roams free among the myriad of creatures residing there. Pippa, the sultry girl who suffered epilepsy and deep loneliness, bound herself to the realms by sacrificing her life, and now Gemma, Felicity, and Anne are faced with the realization that their friend might not be who they think she is. Gemma’s guilt towards Pippa helps her come to the conclusion that maybe sharing her gift brought more harm than it did good:
"Why is it that some secrets can drown you while some pull you close to others in a way you never want to lose?"
I believe that this statement is not only a metaphor for Gemma’s relationship with her other friends, but also for Pippa’s death. Pippa drowned in the realms, an irony that runs deep through this thought. This first section of the book truly has Gemma questioning not only herself, but everything her mother and her inherited magic stands for. She has come far since she discovered her magic, when all she wanted to do was escape the secret, deny her destiny. But now, with the arrival of friends who help her see the fun in her gifts as opposed to the dread and terror that could come from it, she is able to embrace both the realms and her friends. The secrets drew them close.

A Great and Terrible Beauty: Monthly Review

For what audience(s) is this book intended, and how can you tell? (In other words, for whom would you recommend this book?)

A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray is an intense gothic novel, with mystery, intrigue, betrayal, and romance. While the novel is written with a comedic edge and is narrated by the main character, Gemma, it is rooted in darkness. Gemma loses her mother at the beginning of the book, and Libba Bray spends the majority of her pages unraveling the mystery that is her mother’s murder, culminating in the realization that Gemma is apart of a secret Order. This book is intended for readers who like losing themselves in the impossibilities of a great book. A Great and Terrible Beauty explores a magical realm where extraordinary things become ordinary, and it concentrates dramatically on the magic that can be found in this parallel world. Teenagers, I believe, would love this novel not only because it is mysterious and intriguing but also because it is narrated by a teenager itself, a young girl with adolescent thoughts and emotions, immature and irrational behaviors and lustful desires. While I think that adults will be able to appreciate this book for all its creativity, the book itself is geared more towards the youth of today. Another reason that I think this book is intended towards teenagers is for the sheer fact that the voice of the novel is living is 1895. Teenagers reading this story will not only look at the magical realms and enchanted Gypsy-infested woods that can be found at the Spence Academy where the storyline takes place, but will look at the alternate reality that is life centuries past and see it as a different, otherwordly environment that coincides with the magical mysteries of A Great and Terrible Beauty. I would recommend this book mainly to young girls, because the life of men is barely delved into, and the childish interpretations of the novel are completely feminine and in no way relatable to a teenage boy’s lfiestyle. While the novel is a great read, those of us who cringe at tension and cliffhangers are not meant to read this novel: the mysteries of this book are always multiplying, and are rarely solved quickly.

If you've read other books in this same genre, how does this one compare?

A Great and Terrible Beauty is a novel completely unlike any others (with the exception of it’s sequels). I have read many fiction novels with magical roots, ie. the Harry Potter series, but this novel is so uniquely individual, it stands out far more than any other book I have read in this genre. One of the misconceptions that are associated with teen novels, I have realized, is that they are frivolous, indulgent excuses for novels, because the age they are geared towards is simply shallow. Surprisingly, this pathetic statement has been backed up by some seriously pathetic novels written for the teenage groups, especially mystery novels with magical roots. It takes a special book, like this one, to handle this genre in a relateable way, and while it was scary and disturbing at times, I think that is what makes this book so outstanding. A Great and Terrible Beauty takes the idea of a magical order of young women, an alternate reality where both good and evil creatures reside, constantly waging battles and false aliances, and makes it so much more adult than it’s meant-for-teenagers exterior. The deaths in this book are deep, with not only emotional ties, but also evil corruptions. This book introduces us to four young, youthful women with romantic dilemmas, personal self-doubts, and troubling realizations, and transforms the characters into women who will do anything to keep the magic of the realms within their grasps. Unlike other books in this genre, A Great and Terrible Beauty claims the deep darkness of the magic they are messing with, and then shows it to us. The women turn wild, kill helpless animals, become animalistic themselves, and give in to the power and lust that is the demonic side of the main character’s magical essence. In this novel, not all is “faith, love and pixie dust”. It is about disappointment, loss, grief, and overcoming all those demanding emotions. This novel will inspire its readers, but not before it shocks them with visions of untouchable darkness.

Pick a character that interested you and write about them in depth.

Gemma Doyle, the main character, is the most inspiring of all the girls in A Great and Terrible Beauty. At the beginning of the novel, she is nothing but a white girl living in India, craving the taste of the civilized culture that is London. But when her mother dies, she is brought into that world, carrying with her the burden of a unique heirloom: the ability to disappear into another world, harness its power, see visions, do amazing and horrible things. She realizes soon that her mother’s death was actually a murder, and she is the next planned victim. Yet inspite of this, inspite of the loss she faces and the overwhelming confusion she feels towards her new gifts, she stays strong. She is sent to school in a place where magic is bred, where great evil deeds have been done, and where the temptation for her to hide in herself is unbearably strong. But Gemma prevails. She forms friendships with girls who originally bullied her and through this friendship she shares with them the magic of the realms. What inspired me the most was the fact that she could use her gift to torment the others, if not actually, then in the form of bribery, but she did not.These girls thrived on leaving the world behind and going into these realms, so much in fact that one of them commits suicide to stay forever in this land. But while the power is in her grasp, the temptation is right in front of her, Gemma never gives into it. She sees past the incredible power she can have through evil, and instead resolves to fight against the people who killed her mother, the ones who threaten the lives of her friends. Although she is just a fictional character, she is incredible. She is the true hero in the story, not for what she is able to do with her powers, but because of who she is able to be.

A Great and Terrible Beauty: Lit Circle III

The first thing that I did when I finished reading the third section of the novel was to go into my room, scour through my dresser drawers, and find the sequels that have been collecting dust for years. This novel is so amazing: it is mysterious but relatable, and deeply dark. Now that the novel has finished, the four main characters Gemma, Ann, Felicity and Pippa have grown so close that their friendship actually managed to touch me. The magic of the realms that Gemma has introduced to all her friends reveals itself as we end the book: it is no longer just this wonderful escape from the harsh realities that greet these girls as they journey through the “door” Gemma can create, but it is a living, breathing thing that hosts evil as much as good.

The temptation of the magical realm in this novel was so strong, I wanted to delve into it myself. When Pippa relinquishes herself to the unknowns of this world, my heart physically ached because although some mysteries involving the land have been solved, more mysteries are yet to be unveiled. However, I think this plot twist was necessary: nothing was left for Pippa in her life in London. Her illness no longer plagued her when she was in the realms, and she was not faced with the idea of living life with a man much older than her, a life where her wildness would be beaten out of her by her social responsibilites.

The book managed to transform all these characters in different ways: Gemma became more powerful and self aware; Ann found a place for herself, and with that, discovered self-worth; Felicity became more caring and loving; and Pippa’s growth, while it led her to her grave, was able to save her from everything she was living for. A Great and Terrible Beauty is so untouchable, so mysterious and tempting. It is everything that a great novel should be, and that in itself is enough to make me delve into those sequels.

A Decade Later

Seniors. That very word depicts a feeling of maturity, of youth coming to a close. Being a senior in high school is a time of realization, when the pressures of the last four years fall away, and you start integrating to yourself into society. Some teenagers who reach their Senior year have begun working, experiencing life outside of only parents and peers. Others may find themselves at a fork in the road: should I go on to college, take a gamble and spend four plus years under the thumb of men and women who drill me with knowledge, of should I take a more direct and risky route by going for my dreams as a fresh-faced, if a little naïve, eighteen-year-old?

I am not a senior; I am a Junior who has hopped from schools in a handful of states, befriended Freshmen and Seniors both, and I have finally come to this conclusion: I do not want to be a Senior. The pressure they feel, the fact that their life at home, their life with the friends they have to day, has an impenetrable expiration date. Sure, the school system tries to make its sharp nudge into the cold, brutal world slightly more comfortable by showering us with diplomas and special end-of-the-year, 0ne-last-hoorah type dances. But the fact of the matter is, Senior year is not the cake walk most Seniors with a light course load seem to be dealing with. Senior year is about growing up, moving on, being on your own, and personally, I feel that Senior year would be my toughest year even if Seniors were not given Math homework or countless essays.

When did we get this old? I understand that the majority of society looks down at us as clueless adolescents, interchangeable with infants and toddlers, but the fact is, we have lived seventeen long years. And every year, we have new classes, new friends; every few years, we have to integrate ourselves into a new school; and even though we fall into routine, routine never lasts more than a few months. How do we do it? While some adults are homeless or still living with their parents, not knowing what tomorrow will bring, the majority of adults have a synchronized routine that they fall on a daily basis.

What scares me the most about being a Senior is that there are no more steps to adult hood. Until now, we have taken every opportunity we can to be adults: getting a summer job, buying a car, even simple things like shopping alone. But once we get into Senior year, us students know that it is the last step. Yes, hopefully the majority of us will be going to college, but even if we merge with higher-education, we will be adults. Senior year, we are the personification of our schools. Senior year, we have to start realizing how we want to contribute to our society. The clock is ticking, and while I don’t know how I will be like April 13th, 2011, I know that my days of dependency will be numbered.

My Goals as a Writer: Junior Year, Fourth Quarter

At the beginning of the school year, my main goal was to create a blog with a unique perspective and a common purpose: to express the life of teenagers through the eyes of a teenager. During these past months, I have realized that I was completely right in assuming that a plethora of interesting ideas comes with writing about adolescents. However, while I am more convinced than ever that our age group is among the most interesting, I have realized that a lot of the problems facing today’s youth also blend with the problems of the adults in our culture.

I have covered eating disorders, financial struggles, and social and academic pressures. And through this, I have uncovered the secret to end all teenage myths: we may be less subtle in dealing with it, we may be in the spotlight solely because of our dependency to our parents, but adults and teenagers are not different creatures. This is how I want to improve my writing skills during the fourth quarter of my Junior year: I want to work on my specefics. I want to delve deep, discover the seedy underbelly that truly is today’s teenager’s, and find topics that aren’t only dramatic and shocking, but also truly, one-hundred percent teenager.

I am not going to claim that my blog helps adults understand teenagers (if anything, I’m sure it blurs their understanding a bit) or that teenagers can find help through my words, but the purpose of my writing is to expose different people to all sides of teenagers. I wanted to put it out there that teenagers are not just living simple lives, getting weekly allowances and doing nothing but coasting through their adolescence. Some teenagers actually have legitimate problems, and I hope that even if only one person ever reads my blog, that one person feels validated in some way, like their personal problems are recognized, even through a generalized statement.

I think that by blogging about next year’s choosing of our course schedules and all the anxiety that is associated with those five or six simple decisions, I can actually meet my goal of writing more selectively about teenager’s experiences. Alameda High is seriously absorbed in having to decide class schedules: Juniors are deciding whether to take five or six classes next year; underclassmen are facing the hard fact that they may have to repeat that dreaded math class they slept through all year; people are chewing their nails to the bone over the hard fact that that class they so desperately crave a spot in may be full by the time their names are considered. This last quarter, my classmates and I are coming to terms with the fact that blogging and the freedom that comes with our online posts is coming to an end, and long, monotonous novels written by decrepid authors of the past are in our future. I want to take advantage of this freedom; I want to improve my writing by writing about what us Juniors are truly thinking: what is going to happen once Alameda High leaves us with nothing but a diploma, four years of unflattering yearbook pictures, and memories we will have with us for a lifetime?

Monthly Review: "The Great Gatsby"

For what audience(s) is this book intended,

and how can you tell?

(In other words, for whom would you recommend this book?)

The Great Gatsby is an acclaimed novel that has become a staple in the curriculum of many schools, so when I began reading the book, I had expectations. I expected the novel to be slightly mundane, if not a little boring; this was not because I have heard that Gatsby was uninteresting, but because I was simply drawing on years of believing that a book that could be assigned to a class would be safe, and completely monotonous. However, I began reading this book and I felt that I could completely sink my teeth into it. Fitzgerald paints pictures of his characters so vividly and romantically, his delusions create a world so realistic that you almost forget that it is set in the roaring twenties, a decade that has long since escaped into our history books. The fact that I can relate to the almost childish ways that Gatsby forces himself back into Daisy’s life makes me believe that Fitzgerald’s writing was geared towards a younger generation. While the sophisticated lifestyles portrayed in the novel aren’t completely in sync with my generation, I think that they are conducive to the generation before ours. Gatsby writes to a generation that he is writing about: the men and women in their twenties, their thirties, settling into family life but still very much living a spontaneous lifestyle, one where the liquor flows freely and the parties never die before the sun comes up. I would recommend this book to anybody from my age bracket (i.e. the youth of today, who are just starting to step foot into the exciting reality of adulthood) and those who are a generation above us who have more insight and experience, and can actually translate Fitzgerald’s works into their own lifestyles, and compare the two.

How would you describe the author's style of writing?

What's your opinion of the style?

Fitzgerald’s writing supports symbolic images, and is gloriously descriptive. If I could choose one writing style to be a part of all the novels I read from this day forward, it would be Fitzgerald’s. His way of describing a single person is genius: he doesn’t just describe what they are wearing, and the color of their hair, but he tells us who the person is, and relates it to what they are wearing, whether it is the latest style or a sophisticated suit that drapes over a businessman. He goes one step further and answers the why, and in answering that, he clues us in to much more than the person’s fashion sense. I have read many novels where the authors have similar writing styles as Fitzgerald’s: they describe every deep line in a tree, and every unique strand of hair in a beautiful passerby. But Gatsby takes it one step forward and creates a complete scene. In The Great Gatsby he described the way the band at Gatsby’s party was playing; the interesting movements of the dresses the women in the twenties so often donned; the loneliness the narrator felt when he was socially out-of-the-loop. Fitzgerald used the single expressions to create for the readers an experience that literally jumped off the page. He beautifully described the way Gatsby’s face reacted to hearing of Daisy, being a room away from Daisy, re-connecting with Daisy for the first time in years. He let us in on his emotions so completely that we felt his vulnerability and I, personally, was almost shaking with nervous anticipation. I believe that Fitzgerald’s writing is so strong because he tries to engage his readers in a way that I have rarely experienced. He lets us in on the most private of moments so incredibly that we become immersed in the scene, like a third party standing in the room, somebody who can smell the grass on Gatsby’s lawn, and the cool stench of pool water beneath his finger-tips. Fitzgerald proves he can intertwine a fabulous story line with raw, descriptive writing and create a piece soaked in brilliance.

Pick a character that interested you

and write about them in depth.

I know it may be cliché to pick the main character of a novel as the one person to describe, but the character that stood out to me as the most intriguing and curious character was Jay Gatsby. When Gatsby confessed that he wanted to be reunited with Daisy, I assumed he had ulterior motives. After all, he hadn’t seen her in years, and she was married to a rich, successful man and apparently very happy. But when the reason for his interest in her was found out to be pure love, simply the fact that he wanted to reunite with his soul-mate, he got more interesting. So far in the novel Gatsby had been depicted as the man across the street, the one who was never alone, who had more servants than he needed and more faceless strangers to keep him company. The narrator of The Great Gatsby, Gatsby’s neighbor, certainly viewed him as we ourselves did: mysterious, hard to figure out. One of the more shocking parts of the novel was when he fired his servants and stopped throwing nightly parties, all because Daisy had become a frequent guest at his house. While their affair was still unknown at this point, his deep love for Daisy became obvious. He had spent years living a lavish lifestyle, engaging in random romances and affairs. The thing that perplexed me the most was why he would give it all up: why, with the scores of women who would fall into his arms without a second though, adore him for his wealth and charm, would he chase after a married women who he had not seen in years? Why would he buy a house across the water from her and her husband, and dream about seeing her face one again? Gatsby totally changed the stereotype of rich playboys for me; I had always assumed that they were set in their ways because, frankly, their ways were fun and casual, the ultimate experience. But while Gatsby had all of that at his fingertips, he craved more. Up until his death, he loved a woman who would go home every night to that house across the water and settle into bed with a man who would support her financially, who would give her children and adventure. Gatsby was truly perplexing; even after his death, I felt mourning for not the end of his life, but for the fact that he will never find true happiness with Daisy Buchanan.

The Great Gatsby, Pt. 2

The second section of the novel The Great Gatsby was considerably more crucial than the first section was. In the first section, characters and their relationships to one another are established, which ended up being a vital contributor to the story line that developed in the second section. In the second section, we realized the motives behind Gatsby’s wanting to get to know Nick so well; it is almost as if he sees his five-years of loneliness slipping away when he realizes Nick’s connection to his long-lost and now married love, Daisy.

The ridiculousness of the roaring twenties is still capitalized on in this part of the novel, but I think the way Fitzgerald writes the parties as increasingly boring, unable to interest Daisy, helps our attention shift almost as if we are seeing him and his priorities in a different light. I thought it was interesting how, in the last part of the section, Gatsby reveals that he fires all of his servants because Daisy comes over “quite often”, and he wants to keep the gossip to a minimum. Fitzgerald was very clever in writing this: he showed the old lovers as re-connecting at his party, and then hinted to a new affair but never actually came out with it. And even though I have seen the movie, I closed this section of the book thinking: “Okay, are they having a full-blown affair now, or are they still just friends?”

I am very interested to see how Fitzgerald writes the last section of this novel. Right now, it seems like an impossible situation: Daisy, rich, privileged Daisy, starts enchanting Gatsby once she sees his lavish lifestyle, but her motives seem to revolve more around romance, almost as if she married for money. Now she realizes she doesn’t have to choose between the lifestyle she wants, and the love she wants.

Can Online Games Help Save the World?

…Sorry this is so long, but the Ted Talk today was really controversial.

In my personal experience, the very fact that somebody believes that excessive online gaming will help save our world means that that same person was probably suffering from a mental break-down, brought on by video-game binges. I believe that not only are our video games a powerful way to promote laziness and procrastination, but the games at their very soul are designed to tempt us into level after level, never completely satisfied until the game is complete, and we have mastered every round and sleighed every beast. I understand what this woman was saying about how we feel more comfortable in this alternate reality, because its challenges are not unbeatable, and we are recognized solely for our achievements, and are constantly praised by villages and victims we have saved. But the very fact that she condones these false perceptions of self-worth and, infact, supports it, is so distrubing to me.

Part of the reason we have recluses, socially awkward and lonely people is because instead of learning to adapt and make new friends, reach out to people, these people find comfort in their video game lives. They look to the game to support them when they are feeling down, and they conform themselves to the idea that the real world is a harsh place, full of rejection and uncertainty, and the world of video games is a magical place where they CAN be the best, they CAN prove themselves, they CAN find support in friends who would otherwise not be in their lives. Why is this a positive thing? Why, in an age so full of devices and networks, ie cell phones and social forums, that stunt the growth of person-to-person interaction, do we need to fuel this fire by not only creating an electronic barrior between the people we communicate with, but also create imaginary people to share this reality with.

I understand the basis of her argument: she thinks she can set up false realities that will help people in times of a crisis, or an unusual situation. But whatever happened to the old trial and error method??? It is an important, essential part of our basic human development to not only learn, but to try. To try and to fail in the real world is something that helps shape who we become as adults; we can’t log onto a computer and mentally check into a world where our three children are hungry, but there is a drought and slaughter-houses are protesting, etc., etc., etc. and find a way to survive in this small world so we can apply this knowledge to something that could happen in the future. What is the point of that? We can prepare for millions of disasters and unfortuitous circumstances, but for every million we spend hours a day preparing for, there are two million other possible things that could happen that we will not be prepared for because we have been learning text-book approaches to specific happenings.

Despite the obvious fact that creating an entirely new life for yourself, one where people in the real-world are no longer a priority and your job is something you shy away from thinking about until the next morning is unhealthy, it also stunts our imagination. By going outside and experiencing the unpredictableness of life, something that’s reaction hasn’t been predetermined by a system, we get inspired. The outside world, the people we talk to and the things that we see, act as our muse in every single way. I know that the point of this Ted Talk wasn’t to convince us to spend all of our time online, but this woman wants us to spend at least an hour a day on video-games, and, realistically, a lot of people will not stop at an hour. It is a very addictive industry; the people who have created these games know our weaknesses and they know what will draw us in, make us empty our pockets and keep coming back for more fictional death and ventures.

I remember hearing a presentation dedicated to video game addictions in my Current Life class last year. The girl who was presenting told of men and women who would get so addicted to these games, they would literally forget to eat, keep buckets near by for the bathroom, and become so sleep-deprived that they became so mentally ill, they can not retract themselves from the game. I know that these are extreme cases, but these are things that really do happen. People DO cross the line. More bad will come from multiplying our number of hours on the computer world-wide by 7 than good. We can not allow ourselves to become so immersed in technologies that we forget to think and act for ourselves. If we do what she says and play these games in preperation for what could happen, we will be missing what is actually happening. How can anybody be OK with that???

87 Days Until Summer

Lastnight, I was on the computer and I decided to check up on Mr. Sutherland’s website, cruise the dailies, see if anything new has been assigned to our Junior Class. And then, something magical happened: I scrolled down his page, and saw the words “88 Days Until Summer” hidden on the bottom right corner of his website. Now, if it were up to me, I would have a huge countdown clock smack dab in the middle of the site, font bolded and larger than the rest, sprawled proudly for everybody to see, because when I looked at that number, I WAS proud.

I remember the first day of school; I remember Mr. Sutherland showing us his famous “Ted Talks” video; I even remember what desk I was sitting in that morning. But what I remember most, was the feeling of anxiety when I looked at the number on the countdown clock. I can not remember the exact number, but I do remember that it was two hundred-forty-something days. Two HUNDRED –forty-something days. And every week before we went to the lab to blog, I would look at that website and watch as the numbers slowly dwindled down. I am aware that the third quarter is almost over; I know that Junior year is running low on days; and I have even come to terms with the fact that I am going to be a Senior. But there was something that happened when I saw that number on Mr. Sutherland’s site: it hit me that this year is almost over.

Some signs that could have hinted me towards the fact that school was 3 months from over: 1) Posters hung around school advertising yearbooks, 2) Junior Prom has already come and gone, 3) My Senior friends are starting to get accepted into colleges, 4) The long-anticipated Talent Show has graced us with its oddness, 4) My weekly blog post now has 29 entries, 5) The sun is shining harder than it has since first quarter, 6) Everybody is making summer plans for cruises, Disneyland trips, visits to family members who live in the middle of nowhere, 7) People have begun to wear shorts, skirts and flip-flops again, 8) My sister is taking the Sophomore-required High School Exit Exam, 9) My counselor is constantly reminding me about the importance of my success in Summer School, 10) I have been making more tips at a job whose success is very much controlled by the weather.

Yet despite the fact that all these things have been intense reminders of the fact that my Junior Year has almost ended, I feel like the number “87” has completely come out of left field. Sure, when you think about 87 more days of school, you don’t exactly associate it with the school year being almost over. But when you compare it to the two hundred-forty-something days we were faced with mere months ago, 87 is not that big of a number at all. It is even scarier to think that a year from now, there may be 87 days until high-school graduation. Now that is something worth counting down to.

The Great Gatsby, Pt. I

Dear Ariel & AK,

The Great Gatsby is a book whose praises have been sung by almost every English teacher I have had since middle school; it is known as a classic, a “remarkable read”. So, naturally, when I began reading this book, my expectations were high. Since we had watched the movie in class, the plot line was spoiled, but in some ways I looked at it as a blessing. I could sit back, not get too overwhelmed with anticipation, and just simply and sincerely enjoy the writing that F. Scott Fitzgerald was so well known for.

When I began reading the novel , I was thrown off by the descriptiveness of the book. The writing is so amazing, it leaves very little to the imagination, describing every detail of the roaring twenties. While this is a gorgeous way of writing, I was worried if the plot of the novel was getting too blurred by the descriptiveness of it all. Now that I have progressed into the book, I have realized that this way of writing was important to the story: Fitzgerald describes Gatsby and his lavish lifestyle so vividly, we feel as if we are dancing on a table-top at his party, running into somebody drunk in his library.

Something that I enjoyed most about reading the first third of The Great Gatsby was how it allowed us to be distracted by little things, like the previously mentioned drunk man in the library. While this twist has no ties to the basic plot (at least that we can see), it contributes to our opinions on Gatsby’s guests, and the unpredictability of his parties. I loved how Fitzgerald approached Daisy and Tom Buchanan: the narrator told of his connection to the two and his connection to Gatsby at two separate times, letting us form our own opinions of the two groups uniquely, before he merged them together in a shocking twist. Overall, I am very excited to keep reading The Great Gatsby!

Who Are You Really?

Identity is a powerful thing; it contains information on our ethnicity, our marital status, whether or not we are successful. And while every individual has the power to shape his or her own identity, I believe there are certain things a stranger will immediately associate you with, regardless of what type of person you truly are. Those of us born into a rich family would almost always have the newest shoes, the shiniest car, and a refreshing calm when considering future college loans: this is an example of somebody who is born into their identity. People can take one look at them and assess their bank account; while this person may do everything in their power to get people to see past the designer handbag, first impressions can definitely lay a hand in shaping your identity.

In high-school, stereotyping ties into identity. With over a thousand students populating campus, and new ones introduced each year, each individual can never truly know every student. But we can recognize them, their baggy jeans or their graphic tees, the stench of marijuana, the gothic novel underneath their arm, and we can form opinions from the identity that they themselves have made. Racism and sexism are issues that have plagued our generation, and many generations before us. The primal need to be the dominant race has molded a society that may not outwardly act on their feelings towards blacks, jews, women, but will always have a thought about them in the back of their mind.

We can make jokes about it now because our society, for the most part, has evolved past hate crimes and into a more understanding civilization than even just a hundred years ago. But in the back of our minds, whether we agree with it or not, we associate people with the identity they were born with: their race, their sex, their religion. We laugh when comedians mock blacks for the ghetto mannerisms because we have accepted that this stereotype is NOT a fact; but I was at a party lately where it was dominantly blacks, and all I would here was how ghetto the party was. Why? Because we look at people we don’t personally know, and we identify them with their stereotype. We see mothers and we know that while they may be successful, driven women of the workplace, we automatically assume that they, above their husbands, would stay home and raise the family, don the apron and do the cooking. These identities that we are born with are something that we can never escape. But I believe that, for the most part, we have the power to shape our own identities, although it may not affect strangers’ views on us. Ms. or Mrs. is an identity we very much control; the thousands of women a year who dye their hair blonde (me included) control this identity, although we are constant victims of blonde jokes.

While I would like to believe that we individuals completely shape our own identities, some of the most popular assumptions towards people derive from their race or their sex, an identity that they, for the most part, cannot change. But since we have evolved into a society that will mostly turn a blind eye to your skin color or Ms. or Mr. status and look instead into who you are as a person, I think I can safely say that identity is something that you control. We just have to remember that people will see what they want to see, unless you give them a chance to see something more.

"M'm M'm, Good!" "So Easy, a Caveman Could Do It." "They're Grrrrreat!" "Can You Hear Me Now??" "Just Do It." "SNAP! CRACKLE! POP!"

Do newspapers, magazines, television, radio, movies, the Internet, and other media determine what is important to most people?

Nowadays, advertisements are absolutely everywhere: the movie theater previews, the billboards on the freeway, and even the posters that decorate the walls of our schools, promoting clubs, charities, events, our school’s “politicians”. Everywhere we go, we are bombarded with these subtle ads that slightly warp our perceptions each and every time we see them. We may listen to the radio while in the car, and logically, if we hear a Pepsi commercial, we are not going to be tempted to go out and buy a Coke. We pay attention to the brands of clothes that are sending us spam e-mails, or the five-star luxury SUVs that are seducing us through the TV.

The other day I was buying makeup from my favorite store Sephora, and I get to the mascara aisle, and there are literally forty choices. And then, in the midst of my extreme confusion, I see a brand that I recognize from a popular commercial, one that tempts us with long-lashed models and unusually flake-free lashes that were undoubtedly applied by makeup artists. I grab this brand, and rush to the check-out counter. With every product that we see advertisements for, there are hundreds or possibly thousands of similar products on the market; yet we are more inclined to buy the items that we are constantly seeing ads for, because subconsciously, I believe that we go for the exaggerated qualities we see through ads. Realistically, most people who shop for clothes don’t walk into the mall, completely unaware of what store they are going to frequent. We develop our tastes around what we find attractive, alluring, ideal: and don’t those three terms describe advertisers main purpose while promoting that beer on TV, or that singer on the radio?

This past month, I have seen more charities dedicated to the Haiti disaster than I’ve ever seen dedicated to a single cause in my life. We look at the starvation and disease that is running rampant through these recently homeless communities, but what about the scores of small towns that have been suffering this devastation so frequently that it is now incorporated into their lifestyles? We have watched the 24/7 news coverage on Haiti, read heart-wrenching stories in the paper, and because this tragedy has been forced into our own lives so completely, we donate, and we stay connected, interested. And when another disaster strikes, Haiti, very much in need, will be put on the back-burner because it is simply old news: we will not hear about it as much, they will attract less support and less money, and they will stray further from our thoughts.

Let’s face it: word of mouth is not as powerful as it used to be. I found out about Michael Jackson’s death through a Facebook status update. I know when Jack in the Box’s tacos are suddenly $1.29, because commercials tell me so all of the time. And I know what show to watch on a Monday night because a radio duo dedicated ten minutes of air time to Tinley vs. Vienna. Humans, in this respect, are not complicated people: show us a product, a cause, a famous person associated with positive or negative connotations and we are instantly going to form an opinion that has been tainted with the opinions of those who endorse a product, or spread false rumors about a celebrity. Are we really thinking for ourselves if, before we are given a chance to truly consider whether we need endless soup, salad, and breadsticks, we are foaming at the mouth after seeing savory dishes, and slashed prices?

Is Cheating Now a Pastime?

During the past three years of my high-school career, I’ve been to three different high schools in three completely different states, each with different ideas on religious tolerances, racial injustices, and acceptance - or disbelief - towards teenage behavior. One thing that has not changed, however, is how much we teenagers, as a group, cheat. I’m not talking about cheating on your boyfriend/girlfriend, although that certainly has its place with our generation, but cheating on tests and homework.

If I had a dollar for every person who’s asked to copy my homework, I’d be able to walk out of Alameda High School right now. But the most bizarre scenario for me is witnessing a majority of my peers brag about their high GPA’s; but what’s behind those 3.0’s? Somebody else’s work. Doing your own nightly homework assignment, especially when it comes to monotonous History or Math assignments that either have a right or wrong answer, is very uncommon. I’ve seen and been apart of groups of people, who rotate nightly work, to limit the amount of homework they had to drudgingly do.

The other day I was taking a Math test; Math is definitely not my easiest subject, but I had my notes and had studied relatively hard, so I was semi-excited to pour myself into this quiz. And then I see the guy sitting diagonally in front of me with a half-torn sheet of paper hidden between his butt and his seat look up at my teacher, and slyly peek at the paper from under his arm. I thought, “Okay, he’s cheating. Hasn’t been the first time I’ve seen this…” but for some reason, it got to me. I’m not going to deny that I haven’t copied an assignment or glanced inconspicuously at the persons’ test sitting next to me, but I think the advancement of cheating has created many new ways to cheat, and get away with it.

Let’s look at websites: Sparknotes, for example, is a great help to students; however, I wonder if students using this website blurs the line between cheating. We may not be copying an essay word-for-word, but I think going onto these websites stunts our ability to drive emotional inspiration from our own creative energies. We see a clever line that we otherwise wouldn’t have thought of writing for ourselves, and suddenly we’re forming an essay around this idea.

Also, since we’ve entered the electronic age, many students have been riding the wave that is teachers’ naiveté. Yes, a lot of students ARE sincerely listening to their Ipods to promote concentration during a test; but what about those students who flick through the web to get the answers? Personally, I have always thought this was just too much work, but after seeing more than one person doing this on more than one occasion, I’ve had to wonder: can us teenagers be given that inch? We want to fight oppression, and we don’t want to be kept in an environment comprised of ugly uniforms and ruler-whipping authoritators. But I do believe that some teenagers, when given an inch, take a mile: “cheating is wrong” sounds like a broken record, like something that has been preached thousands of times over. But why mess with a classic?

Delia's Wild Ride

The day was unusually hot, even for Southern California in the middle of July; sun beamed down on the faded asphalt, casting shadows on anxious children and exasperated parents as they posed with ridiculous characters, and stood in long, winding lines, waiting to create memories. Delia, a curvaceous brunette, was a fresh eighteen: her bright green eyes portrayed that of happiness and content as she waited in the curving line for Splash Mountain with some of her closest friends. It was Summer Vacation before they all left for college and, in an attempt to get in one last hoorah, her friends Kai, Drew, Khloe and herself had booked a one-way ticket to Los Angeles, hoping to relish in their childish ways at the host of all fantasies: Disneyland.

“I wish we didn’t waste our fast-passes on Indiana Jones”, whined Khloe, wiping a bead of sweat off her face as it traveled slowly down her temples. “This line will never end.

“C’mon, babe”, assured her boyfriend Drew. He wrapped a tanned shoulder around her waste and pulled her in reassuringly. “We’re almost there; besides, it’ll be worth the wait!”

Khloe smuggled out from under his arm, and locked fingers with Delia: “What do you say we leave the boys here, and go and find some frozen lemonade?” She was giving off her this isn’t really a question, so don’t act like it’s a choice face, and, with a slight roll of her eyes, Delia agreed to follow her friend back through the throng of panting, perspiring Disneyland enthusiasts. She breathed a sigh of relief when they escaped the claustrophobic tunnels, and were welcomed with a relatively small line at the lemonade stand. As they took their place in line, Delia glanced suspiciously over at Khloe, who was twirling a red curl with her index finger and gazing at Delia with a smile protruding from the corner of her mouth, a smile she was infamous for.

“What is it this time? Do you have more exciting news to share about you and Drew? Or, wait, something to do with your fabulous apartment you’re renting near your fabulous college, a short drive from your fabulous internship?” Khloe’s gaze stayed fixed. “Well, I don’t want to hear it. I’m single, a-and headed for Community College; honestly, can I at least have one day of peace?”

“Calm down, Dee. I’m only thinking about lemonade, I promise”. She flitted her almond eyes and reached for the wad of ones hidden in her back pocket. “But, if I was going to say anything, it would only be to ask you what’s going on with you and Kai.”

“What do you mean?” Delia stammered. “We’re… f-friends, that’s all.” However, this sentence alone was hard for her to get out. Since the eighth grade, Delia had lusted after Kai. It was a hopeless, imaginary romance she would never pursue; Kai, unfortunately, had never thought of her as more than a friend.

Khloe pursed her lips and placed her hand on her hips, about to respond, when a sudden shriek echoed through the vast park:

“Oh my GAWD, Delia is that YOU?” Delia whipped around, catching the sweet whisp of wind through her hair as she came face to face with a friend she hadn’t seen since middle school.

“Jayde! W-wow, it’s been ages. How are you?” She hugged her friend, whose hair was newly streaked blonde, no doubt from the intense sun, and began prattling on about how much she has missed her. Once they had gathered their lemonade, the girls sat down, chatting mindlessly as the sun beamed, until the guys, slightly wet from the ride, shuffled over to their bench. Drew glanced at Jayde, but swiftly kissed his girlfriend on the cheek, taking his cue. However, at the sight of Jayde, Kai’s mouth fell and he nervously ran his hand through his hair. Delia watched as her worst nightmare, watching Kai fall in love, walk down the aisle, grow old with someone else, began right before her eyes: the chemistry that erupted between the two of them as they shook hands and locked eyes was heart-wrenching to Delia, who unsuccessfully tried to shield her heart-break. She felt the subtle embrace of Khloe’s hand beneath hers as the two continued talking.

“Hey, man, let’s grab a churro,” Drew said, nodding at Kai, who reluctantly followed his friend to a stand a few feet away.

“Day-ummm!” Jayde whispered, pinching Delia. “He’s a fox!”

“Y-yeah, if you’re into that type,” Delia murmured, attempting to mask her disapproval.

“Y’know, Delia, I dumped my boyfriend a few weeks ago; we’re going to different colleges and all and, y’know, it just wouldn’t work out. But Kai says he’s So Cal bound, like me, and I forsure felt something there. Can you talk me up a little bit, girl?”

Delia felt the sweat accumulating on her upper lip, and she knew the culprit wasn’t the glaring sun. She weighed options in her head: keeping the two apart would be cruel; telling her old friend how she truly felt despite the impossibility of it all would be humiliating; and saying she would set them up would be devastating. But with a hopeless sigh and a realization of the lesser of two evils, she breathed: “S-sure, I guess… I mean, if he says he’s into you and all.”

Her friend duplicated the squeal that filled the air mere minutes before.

“Thank you so much! Y’know, I think I’m cravin’ a churro…” And Jayde, swinging her hips flirtatiously, walked over to the boys, grazing the back of Kai’s shoulders as she joined them. Delia watched from afar as they smiled, their body language conveying more than it ever had between herself and Kai. She watched regretfully as the man she knew would never be hers flashed his dimples at someone else, and, in unison with the children on the rollercoasters surrounding her, her heart sank in her chest, and fear for what would happen next overtook her.

The Social Disease Known as "Prom"

Prom. That one word evokes sighs and eyerolls from guys who’ve secured a date, and realized how much pressure comes with finding a limo, restaurant, and a tux that fits right; it causes involuntarily dateless boys to pick their cuticles and fidget with their ipods with nervous anticipation at the thought of asking that girl to the dance of all dances; it makes gaggles of girls squeal and wave their hands in delight as they prattle on about the “perfect dress they found”, the “strappy shoes that are UNBELIEVABLE” and the places they are going to get their hair done before the event; and lastly, it causes those of us who are impervious to the mental disorder known as Prom Fever to bite our cheeks, hold back our inputs, and wish they would change this subject so we could contribute to an actually stimulating conversation. I’ve been to prom. I’ve fussed about my makeup and finding a dress that wouldn’t fall when I was dancing. And while it was fun and a unique experience, I’m not anxious to repeat it again: I went to my boyfriends’ Senior Prom, and I’ve always believed you should only ever go to your or your significant others’ Senior Prom.

Before I moved to Alameda, I had never heard of a Junior Prom. Honestly, prom is supposed to be an experience that brings everyone together for one last time to commemorate their four years of high school. So why do we insist on having a Junior Prom? I am not personally against dances: in fact, I love any excuse to get dressed and have a great time with my friends. But I think that prom and the three months leading up to it is a very dangerous time. I’ve seen so many Facebook status updates about that looming day, and I’ve seen so many snap-shots of dresses on phones. Where have our heads gone???

Prom is a social disease; it spreads among high-schoolers like an STD. A couple of friends begin talking about that night in the back of math class, and they suddenly evoke day-dreams and doodles and mindless conversation through the hallways. There are so many factors involved with planning prom, I almost feel sorry for these people: undertaking such a feat for your JUNIOR Prom, only to have to do it again next year for the prom that actually MEANS something. And those people who tag along to both Junior Prom and Senior Prom every year of their high-school career: seriously? Don’t you want your own Prom to be a little special? And would you want underclassmen at your prom? Sorry Freshmen and Sophomores, but waiting a couple of years won’t kill you.

"Bernice Bobs Her Hair" Analysis

In Fitzgerald’s short story, Bernice Bobs Her Hair, focuses on a pretty but boring Bernice as she stays with her cousin Marjorie over the summer. During these weeks, Marjorie is not subtle about her feelings towards Bernice: she complains about her slowly declining social status, and selfishly decides to teach Bernice about proper social graces. Marjorie’s dialogue in this short story leaves the story without need for omniscient narration; she says everything she feels towards Bernice in an unfiltered, gossipy manner.

At one point, Marjorie states: “Her whole early life is occupied in whining criticisms of girls like me who really do have a good time”, referring to Bernice and her jealousies of Marjorie and her companions. In a way, Marjorie’s own pride overrides Bernice’s pride: she doesn’t see social life as subjective, only as black and white, acceptable and unacceptable. Bernice isn’t oblivious to her unpopularity, however. In one section of the story, her and Marjorie have a confrontation.

“‘But I'm in the way, I see. I'm a drag on you. Your friends don't like me.’ She paused, and then remembered another one of her grievances. ‘Of course I was furious last week when you tried to hint to me that that dress was unbecoming. Don't you think I know how to dress myself?’
‘No,’ murmured Marjorie less than half-aloud.”

In this conversation, Marjorie doesn’t try and console Bernice about her loneliness, or even try and shelter her from the truth about her unbecoming dress. Her distaste towards Bernice can be dissected simply from that short sentence alone.

When Marjorie’s mother tries to convince Marjorie to take Bernice under her wing, Marjorie frets about her personality; she’s very clear in her thinking that beauty is not all it takes to be a prize on the dance floor: "I've never heard her say anything to a boy except that it's hot or the floor's crowded or that she's going to school in New York next year. Sometimes she asks them what kind of car they have and tells them the kind she has. Thrilling!" I believe that Marjorie needs no explanation outside of her dialogue: throughout Fitzgerald’s whole story, she’s clear, concise, and unapologetically honest about her feelings of Bernice.

When Your Hormones Tell You to Cheat

Cheating is scandalous, something that is gossiped about behind closed doors, something that causes pitiful glances at the cheated on, and disapproving glares at the cheater. While it is in no way condoned by the majority of our society, the problem of infidelity is something that runs rampant through many doomed relationships. When I think of cheating, I rarely associate it with teenagers: it seems that we hormonal kids almost never stick with a relationship once the excitement fades, so a wandering eye is something that simply doesn’t have time to happen. However, from recently observing a friends’ “open relationship”, I’ve realized that cheating IS something that affects more than adults dealing with their mid-life crises.

Studies show that teenagers are more fragile than any other age group, in a lot of ways: we need more sleep; our desire to fit in is at a peak; and we’re just starting to become conscious of our physical insecurities. So how are these immature, irrational, irresponsible people supposed to hold onto a relationship? I believe that attraction is often mistaken for love: lust runs through teens’ thoughts many times during an average day. But lust and desire does not necessarily translate into a healthy relationship. I think that those of us who enter into a relationship with someone we simply lust after can be tempted into cheating with someone they also lust after. This is one of the reasons I think that teenagers cheat: because our hormones convince us that our actions, whether they be becoming official with a crush, or betraying the trust of that crush, are the right thing to do because we are doing what our hearts tell us.

I would love to draft an experiment where we analyze all failed relationships in our school. More often than not, the reason for the breakup would probably be because of insecurities of one of those involved (this could cause clinginess or “stalking”), or because one of these teenagers strayed, flirted, or attempted to cheat. My main point is that with all our emotions and uncertainties about the future, can we teenagers really handle a relationship? Should we change our Facebook’s relationship status and try and turn a blind eye to that hottie in the corner, or should we agree to non-commitment, since straying is as easy as clicking on that status, and changing it from “In a Relationship” to “Single”?

Junioritis

Senioritis: it may not be a word that would be found in a dictionary, but it is definitely one that echoes through the halls of Alameda High School every day. While this word, or, rather, this way of life, explains the reason why seniors slack off, party too much, and generally don’t care half as much about higher education as they did freshman year, it overlooks one major point: that senioritis is not exclusive to seniors. I am a junior, and I can personally say that I have been suffering from senioritis since my sophomore year. Classic sings: excessive doodling; showing up to class late or not at all; mentally categorizing homework as optional, not mandatory; or, in some more dedicated cases, showing up to class stoned. We can understand why seniors would get this way: they’re dreaming about college, freedom, life uninterrupted by parents or guardians who think they know best. What I’ve come to find is the most dangerous part of senioritis, is the fact that it’s contagious.

Let’s face it, Alameda High School “Always [has] High Standards”; but I think that we achieve these standards in spite of our procrastination. Ultimately, we students want to get good grades in class; however, a large part of the class will fall asleep during class or be too preoccupied texting about lunch plans or trying to beat the next level of an addictive Iphone game to actually get any work done during the fifty-five minutes we’re allotted.

It’s pretty amusing to watch the freshmen that clog the halls during passing period, or at break: especially for those of us with lockers in the Industrial Arts building. Personally, I think that each and every one of us who store our belongings in these hallways has done something cosmically wrong. Us upperclassmen drag ourselves out of bed, come to class (usually without paper or a pencil), gloomily facing the idea of 7 hours of staring at these ugly walls. However, in the Industrial Arts building, we are constantly bombarded by boisterous, disgustingly happy, annoying-beyond-words freshmen; honestly, I believe that half of AHS’s freshmen class has lockers in this building. It’s amazing to me the difference between freshmen, and us upperclassmen: is there something about high-school that crushes our spirits? I think there’s a lack of balance as you get older and are introduced to more. Is there a connection between obsessive socializing or even seriousness about clubs and sports, and the slow decline of positive thoughts towards school? The older I get, the more I think DEFINITELY.

Eyes Without A Face

There are a lot of stereotypes associated with teenagers in high school: the bullies who throw freshmen in trash cans, the cheerleaders who torment the socially stunted. When we think about it, the majority of these stereotypes are negative. We’re expected to be hormone-driven and unable to stand up to peer pressure. And while these stereotypes of high-school students are, in most cases, very much fact, I think that the way we communicate, positively or negatively, has changed drastically since as recently as the nineties.

MySpace was invented, and with it, insulting photo comments became routine and, worse than that, we gave pre-teens an outlet for their negative emotions. Now a days, teenagers and adult experience Facebook, a less subtle version of MySpace because it allows us to see every conversation between our peers. We have groups dedicated to the hatred of certain people, TV shows, religions. We may not see it as confrontation because we type a sentence on our cell phones, but us as teenagers need to realize that the hurtfullness of a word doesn’t come from the way it’s said, but the fact that it was said at all. Cyber-bullying is a controversial topic because in cyberspace, it is sometimes hard to determine what is bullying: i.e., there’s no way to link a verbal attack to a physical one, and some more subtle online attacks are hard to interpret as bullying.

I know we have many epidemics in our world right now, but I honestly believe that cyber-stalking is a HUGE epidemic. No, the internet is not always private, regardless of who you add as your friend, and who you deny. But we can take proactive steps to deter these perverts who stalk innocent teenagers. I witnessed this one man cyber-stalk one of my friends, something that she thought was harmless and not worth reporting. It became a joke between us and our friends: “Guess what he said today?” This man would literally comment all of her photos, “like” every status update, and AIM her every minute of every day. While it didn’t affect my friend, there are young girls out there who worry every night about these creeps who have made cyber-stalking their obsession. Statistically, 1 in 20 adults will be stalked in their lifetime; and the sad truth is, when the stalker is hidden behind a computer screen, he might never be stopped.

Final Exam

10. Where do you get your ideas for blog post topics? What inspires you to write?

When my classmates and I were first told that we would be blogging on topics we choose as opposed to writing monotonous weekly essays, there was a completely different vibe in the classroom. We realized that this English class was progressive, embracive, and imaginative. As I sat in a classroom with thirty of my peers, I imagined us all breaking free of the shell that analyzing poetry and conjugating tenses kept us trapped in: I saw our indivisuality coming through in our blogs. In those moments, I realized what I wanted to blog about: the people surrounding me, who inspired me without my even realizing it. We teenagers are the ultimate topic, because no two of us are alike, yet we all suffer through the stress of school and relationships, the peer pressure that thrives in social settings, and the drama of friendship. I have never had to Google for support on my blogs, with the exception of statisctics because I am, essentially, writing about myself and the people I spend every day with. All the information I need to create a strong blog post is doodling on the desk in front of me, walking past me on the sidewalk at lunch, succumbing to the lure of drinking and drugs at the party I am at. I looked at writing about teenagers as a single, limitless topic that I could approach from different angles with every post. I don’t think you need to travel a hundred miles or open that fiction novel to draw inspiration: the strongest opinions can be inspired from the goth listening to german heavy metal in the corner, or the overcompensating jock cracking jokes with his teammates. Teenagers as a whole are a in a category of our own; thankfully, this category inspires a steady stream of blog posts.

2. Choose one of your posts. (Your favorite? Your least favorite? The one that surprises you the most when you reread it? Any one you want to pick.) Analyze it in detail, with quotes etc.

In December, I wrote a blog post that was very close to my heart; I called it “What is Sacred, and What is Sin” and it focused on the fact that while our society is progressive in many ways, we’ve yet to translate the basic human needs for equality and understanding into a law that would force the government to embrace those of us who are in love, regardless of who they are in love with. I started the post by claiming “California is seen as the liberal state, the hippy state that supports legal marijuana, random tree-sitters, and most of all, the gays” because I wanted to portray California as an accepting and undiscriminatory state. But then I focused in on the fact that we as a state regressed, and rescinded our decision to allow the gays to marry. This is my favorite blog post of the year, not because it is in support of the gays, but because when I re-read it, it does surprise me. I still feel as strongly, but there is something empowering about going on the internet and realizing that your voice is out there, being heard. And I don’t regret any of it. I targeted the older generation whose views have caused the gays’ freedom to be stifled; I chose to reveal my optimistic side by reinforcing the idea that times do change, and maybe one day they will change in favor of the gays: “But with each generation, the perception of what is ethically sound has been reconstructed to fit the needs of the individual”. I think that love is in the eye of the beholder, and that a lot of the reason gays have been universally unaccepted is because of a lack of understanding; we don’t know what it’s like to have these feelings, to live this alternative lifestyle. So how can we support it? It’s simple: we need to adopt the frame of mind that it IS our fight, it IS our issue. This is an excerpt from a quote I used: “They came for the homosexuals and I said nothing, because I wasn’t a homosexual…Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me.” Maybe my optimism is clouding my vision of reality, but I do strongly believe that one day, all races will be accepted, all shapes and sizes will be seen as beautiful, and all orientations will be embraced.

8. How do you like having a blog? How has blogging changed the way you write, the way you think, or the way you think about writing?

I have always loved English class; it stems from a need to construct something on my own, and put my name to an idea I’ve commited to paper. However, the past couple of years have been soul crushing. English became routine, memorization and formation; essays were no longer subjective, but were either right or wrong, A or B depending on sentence fragments and correct use of vocabulary. Blogging has reinforced my love for English class, especially the fact that we students have the freedom to blog about what matters to us, not what matters to Shakespeare. I think that as we transition from children to adults, the need to express our indivisuality is very important. For me, personally, being able to write about matters that I feel strongly about has helped me become more in touch with myself, my morals and my ethics. Having this blog made me realize that what makes a paper wonderful isn’t the number or errors it has, but how strong your voice comes through in the writing. I don’t feel stifled anymore; I don’t feel like my paper will be seen by myself and my teacher alone – having it on the internet, connected to other students, forces me to really believe in what I’m saying, and to not bullshit my ideas for a better grade. I write “blog post” in my planner, accompanied with a smiley face, as opposed to last year, when I would write “essay” and adorn it with a sad face, possibly a tear coming from the emoticon. I think that a blog not only saves paper, ink, and other materials, but it creates of web of interaction where people as young as fifteen and sixteen can connect to their peers on a whole different level. Analyzing “Macbeth” and having my subjective essay red-penned and degraded? No thank you. Writing freely about political issues, social interaction and teenage dilemmas? Yes, please.

Writing Groups

One of the main things I hope to get out of working with peers is the feedback; it’s one thing when you and your teacher are the only ones with the red pen in concern to your writing, but if you have someone with similar opinions or a knack for finding gramatical errors, your final draft will be more powerful. I also hope to develop a stronger side to every point I’m arguing by paying attention to the points/counter-points of the people in my group.

I think I could contribute a lot to my group when it comes to vocabulary and grammar; also, sentence formation. I could also contribute by sharing my ideas on their blogs, ie if they’re writing on politics I could share my views and hopefully help them form a stronger argument. I think I would be a good asset to a group where their writing means something, and has a strong point of view. If I can’t convince them of my opinions, I could at least help reinforce their own by argument.

I think that it is more important to work with your friends than with people who write similarly to you. Yes, writers can collaborate better with somebody who understands their writing skills, but I firmly believe that if you are in a group of strangers, your ideas will be more supressed and you would be less willing to ask for help. Having a comfortable environment that revolves around people who can freely speak their minds around you can really help with writer’s block.

Lastly, I would be very loose on the guidelines I suggest for the group. I would, of course, banish negative comments, but I think that stifling critisism is as bad as stifling freedom of writing. How are we going to evolve as writers if we don’t have somebody standing over our shoulder, saying that this point is meaningless or that sentence is distracting. I would also make it mandatory for people to contribute: it might not be useful to that indivisual, but it could be useful to somebody else in the writing group.

TTYL, 2009

We thought we had entered an entirely new era when the radio was invented; our entire way of life, from communication to technology, evolved drastically with the invention of the computer; and now, according to USA Today, approximately 75% of all teenagers around the age of 17 have a cell phone. The way we live today, where we text our parents asking if dinner is ready or flip through our Ipods to make situations less awkward has created a society where “Google” is a verb and courting has transferred from flowers and chocolates to insinuating texts and web-cam dates. We have entered 2010, and as we enter this decade, we are ambushed by new technologies that are tempting us into a socially stunted personality and unproductive lifestyle.

I believe that teenagers these days are completely desensitized to the amazement of technology. 100 years ago, if someone had pulled out an Itouch and started playing with one of their apps, people would be astonished. Now, an Ipod, Iphone, or Itouch have almost become a basic. While I believe these new inventions will positively influence our unemployment rate and new technology will definitely increase the US’s intimidation factor, I have to wonder if we’re trading in our potential social capabilities for comfort.

Teenagers are often associated with their technology: you can tell if someone is in a sappy mood, or ready for a party just by inquiring what song they are listening to; we’ve traded in laughs for LOL’s; the only farming we do is on Facebook’s Farmville; and when we are away from these technologies, we find ourselves bored. While I am definitely a willing victim of this new technological frontier, I think that the negative side effects are ones that we should learn from.

Instead of going outside for a bike ride, more often than not teenagers would rather stay inside on YouTube or watch MTV. Are we mature enough to understand the balance we need to keep between our technologies and our physical activities? We are a culture possessed by touch screens. Also, we simply need to learn to deal with awkward situations, instead of reaching into our pocket to draft a text that may have been pointless; we need to learn how to be comfortable alone with ourselves, without a technology to distract us from our thoughts. I think the future holds many possibilities, but not every possibility is beneficial to our society.