AProblems

          I’m sure other students about to take AP exams feel the same way I do right now: I’m freaking the hell out. As I’ve progressed through the year, I didn’t think that my AP classes were all that hard. The thing that’s really scaring me is that I have to try and remember everything, literally, EVERYTHING I’ve learned this entire year to prepare for the tests I’m taking.

It’s one thing when you have to remember the content from one or two chapters for a test, but it’s a whole different ballpark when the test is compiled of information that was learned over the course of nine months and is entirely cumulative. And it doesn’t help that the content itself is already difficult since they’re college-level courses.

I’m taking two actual exams and submitting a portfolio for the tests. My tests are in AP Psychology and in AP Art History. For AP Psych, memorizing all sorts of body functions and behaviors and scientists and syndromes and diseases and all sorts of other scientific things gets really confusing. You’d think that having a chapter on memory would help when it comes to memorizing so much material, but it makes it even more difficult because you learn how we memorize things and why certain things stay in our brains when others don’t. The plus to that is it explains what methods best help us remember things, so hopefully by studying those it will help me when it comes to my test. Multiple choice isn’t a problem; it’s always those damn FRQs.

I’m a little concerned about Psych, but my Art History test is making me lose sleep. I know what you’re thinking: how hard can a class about art be, really? The thing is, it’s actually the hardest class I’ve ever had. Art History starts with ancient Mesopotamia back in 3000 BCE and earlier and it progresses up through modern art of the mid to late 1900s. Let's just say, it's A LOT of information to try and retain. I have to remember and recall thousands of years worth of information that I learned over nine months into a three-hour test. To me, this sounds damn near impossible. I'm not good with names of people or places or specific dates for anything or particular cultures, countries or religions or political stuff; this class combines all that and more. Art, of course. It's probably the hardest class I've taken. Although I love the class and the subject matter, the test scares me shitless.

My last AP "test" isn't really a test necessarily; I have to submit two art portfolios that consist of my best pieces over the course of this year. One of them is a breadth portfolio, which can be anything I choose to do. I decided to focus on 3D art, so all of my pieces have to be 3-dimensional so I can't draw or paint anything. This made it really tough for me in the beginning because I was running out of ideas on what to make and what to use to make it. I used clay, plastic, wood, matches, plaster, stone, wire, glass, and paper, just to name off a few things. I'm really stressed about this test because I'm behind on pieces, and I need at least 12 for each portfolio. I'm having an artist's block and I don't know what to make anymore.

As I see it at the moment, nothing good can come of these tests UNLESS, by some miracle, I'm able to pass them. I'm not so confident about that, honestly. Hopefully I can get my shit in gear and finish everything and study my ass off for these tests. I'm crossing my fingers.

Word count: 621

I'm a Big Kid Now...

It’s really hard to believe that I’m almost done with high school. It seems like only yesterday I was walking up the steps in front of Kennedy for the first time, stumbling through the doors and into the hallways flooding with strange people I didn’t know. I even remember what I was wearing on my first day of high school. It’s scary to think that in a few short months, I’ll be a big college kid, and I won’t have the secure environment of my high school anymore. Everything is familiar in high school: the teachers, the hallways, the annoying underclassmen, the rules, the noises, the smells. I used to be so afraid of this place because it was so big; all the classrooms were organized in such weird ways; there were just SO MANY PEOPLE. But after a while, I learned where everything was, where to go for assemblies, where the bathrooms and the cafeteria are. In college, I’ll have to do all of that all over again, and I’m freaking out a little bit.

I think I’m most afraid of not knowing what to do when something goes wrong when I’m in college, because I’m going to be about an hour away from home and I won’t have my family there to help me or give me advice. I’m worried that I might run out of money or I’d get lost, or that my car might break down somewhere and I won’t know what to do, silly little things like that. I’m also worried that my roommate might be a total bitch or a crazy person, or that we’ll end up fighting all the time and I’ll be miserable. I hate that I have to grow up so fast.

Word count: 293

 

 

 

Screens vs. Faces

                You see them everywhere: people with their eyes constantly glued to their cell phones practically fused to their hands as they walk, talk, sit, stand, eat, and even sleep. Technology today has made it possible to talk to virtually anyone, anywhere and at any time from the palm of our hands. Facebook, Twitter, SnapChat, Tumblr, YouTube, MySpace have all changed society’s way of communicating with one another.  It’s crazy to think that these social media devices that we treasure so much didn’t even exist 20 years ago. The ease and constant access of social media has drastically changed the way people relate to each other, in a not-always-positive way.

               I think the biggest problem facing social media today is that people hardly ever communicate face-to-face anymore. It’s easier and faster to just send someone a text, call them or message them on Facebook than it is to drive and meet them. People like to take advantage of this when it comes to being more confrontational; they use their technology to hide and they feel free to say pretty much anything they want. They feel they’re able to do so now because, before the new wave in technology, that screen wasn’t there for them to hide behind so people were more reserved with what they had to say. People say things they wouldn’t normally say in person because they feel more protected by the screen on their phone.

                People also use social media as a way to be more open to people, also because they can hide and not have to risk being embarrassed or worry about the person’s reaction to what they said. It makes lying about who they really are easier, too. People get nervous or upset when someone they’re talking to doesn’t respond right away or at all, especially if they see that person is talking to someone else on their Facebook wall. How did we become so dependent on this fast way of communicating that we get upset because we don’t hear back from someone for five minutes? Social media has negatively changed social relationships quite a bit over the past decade or so because technology has made it easier to cheat, lie, criticize, or exploit other people. Back when our grandparents and even parents were our age, they would maybe call each other at night, go out every now and then and actually see and spend time together and talk to one another. Nowadays, people just text or tweet at each other, maybe hang out on the weekends. We’re losing our skills of verbal communication, not to mention good grammar or spelling. Who knows, maybe our kids will live in a world where they have no human interaction whatsoever other than through social media and texting. Good God.

                Not only are relationships with friends and family altered, but intimate relationships are also in danger. As I mentioned before, technology today makes cheating easier and a lot more secretive. People in relationships feel jealous when someone of the same sex likes or comments on an attractive photo of their boyfriend or girlfriend. If people see anyone of the same sex even talking to their significant other, they get jealous, and it’s because they know technology has made it possible for people to lie so easily, so trust becomes a huge issue in relationships. Relationships today don’t seem to last as long as they used to either. People take the easy way out and break up over text or phone which I find extremely stupid and childish. They’re too afraid to face the person and discuss things face-to-face, and I think technology definitely ruined that.

                I wouldn’t say that I think social media sites shouldn’t exist; I can’t, because I use them, too. I can say that I wish that people today didn’t rely on technology for absolutely every aspect of their lives, especially communicating with other people. People are everywhere, and we shouldn’t have to use mechanical devices to talk to them. I think relationships, intimate or not, need genuine, face-to-face communication, or they will not work out very well. I think people need to put their phones down for five seconds and sit down and talk with someone. Facebook can wait.

 

Word count: 707

Phobia

Everyone is afraid of something. I’m afraid of needles. Apparently it’s a common fear, but often times when I bring it up to people, they look at me like I’m a child. I hate needles: short ones, long ones, skinny ones, fat ones. Just the sight of a syringe at the doctor’s office makes me hyperventilate. Just the idea of going to the doctor’s freaks me out because the possibility of getting a shot is always at the back of my mind, no matter what I’m going there for. Of course, this doesn’t help when they have to check my blood pressure, which ends up sky high every time they check it so they think it’s naturally that high. Obviously, that’s no good either.

I had a traumatic experience with needles, which is most likely where the source of my fears came from. Everyone has to get shots before going to Kindergarten. I didn’t know this until one day, when I was five, my parents were hinting at going to the doctor, talking about shots. I felt worried and I panicked a little bit. My mom looked at me straight in the eye, and a little irritated she said, “You’re going to get a shot today.” I started bawling, naturally.

The next thing I remembered was sitting in our green family van on our way downtown to the clinic by the Cedar Rapids Public Library (before it flooded). I refused to get out of the car and I was still crying. My mom yanked me out of my seat and my parents both dragged me, each an arm in hand, into the office that smelled too much like sanitizers and rubber gloves. I hate that smell.

Sitting in the waiting room was awful. My mom went to check in at the desk where the receptionist was pecking away at her computer and my mom signed a few forms using a pen with a plastic spoon taped to it. I thought that was really weird. It still didn’t take away from how deathly afraid I was. The nurse called my name and my parents had to drag me, again, kicking and screaming into the room.

They plopped me onto the table and I glanced to the counter where two, not one, but TWO thin syringes with their tell-tale orange caps sat there mocking me. I was beyond hysterical by now, and it didn’t help that the nurses that were going to administer the shots weren’t the nicest. I mean come on, I was a five-year-old girl and that shit was scary. I remember quite vividly kicking one of the nurses and my mom was holding me down, chuckling.

Because of this traumatic experience, I’ve had an extreme fear of needles, shots, doctors, you name it for years. Just the idea of going to the doctor freaks me out because I’m afraid that my mother is secretly hiding the fact that a shot is in store for me at every visit. Call me crazy or childish, but I’m sure you’re afraid of something, too.

 

Word count: 538

Piercings vs Tattoos

Over the past year or so, a lot of kids around my age have gotten tattoos. I've thought about getting one myself, but the main reason holding me back is the fact that it's extremely permanent, and the efforts needed to try and remove it are painful, expensive, and time-consuming. And there's no guarantee it'll actually work.

The advantages of piercings over tattoos are they aren't as painful as sitting in a chair for hours with a needle scraping into your skin, they can be changed whenever you want, and they aren't permanent. I'd find it kind of gross seeing a 70-year-old man with full sleeves or wrinkly old ladies with tramp stamps. Even the most crazy of piercings can be removed, with a small scar of course but the scar of a laser-removed tattoo will look much worse.

My ex boyfriend has a friend who's a tattoo artist. When he was first starting to do tattoos, he asked my ex if he could practice on his arm. He ended up passing out drunk in the middle of the procedure and left a "lion" that looked like it was drawn by a third grader on my ex's bicep. And it'll be there forever.

Although some piercings look gross if they're excessive, or are administered in weird places, they can still be taken out and they'll close eventually. Although tattoos look really cool, they have some drawbacks that make them less desirable. I'd rather get piercings any day.

Word count: 249

Bipolar Winter

Don't get me wrong, I love the snow and winter and cold, but the weather this year is on the fritz. One day, we'll be hit with a blizzard that buries us in a foot of snow. The next day, it'll be 42 degrees and the roads are wet, the grass muddy and mushy. I'd prefer ice over slushy, wet snow; at least the ice doesn't get your shoes and pants soaking wet.

That's like what happened today; it poured down rain for hours to the point of large puddles flooding the streets and yards. But just four days ago we had a snow storm that cancelled school. And apparently, snow is on the cards for us again tomorrow night? Crazy, right? At least it's better than last year; it barely snowed at all and even Christmas was brown. We had one snow day and that's not normal for Iowa.

As far as I'm concerned, this winter isn't so bad just because the seniors don't have to worry about making up anymore snow days this year and everyone else has to go into June. Sweet! I suppose I can sacrifice wet pants and shoes for a shorter school year and a longer summer before college.

Word count: 207

Never Doing THAT Again

                I like to help people when they’re in need; whether it’s a ride to work, a couple bucks for something, or a place to stay for a few weeks, I’m there to help. The only problem with that is that people tend to take my kind gestures for granted and they don’t seem to appreciate them. Now, I’m not trying to sound selfish by any means, but wouldn’t you want a ‘thank you’ or some form of appreciation for your good deeds, too? (Keep in mind, this post doesn’t involve charity or anything like that.)

                I have this guy friend. I’ve liked him for a good three years now. Since I’ve liked him for a while, I’ve done quite a few favors for him. He’s gotten in some sticky situations over the past couple years and whenever I was able to help out, I did. The two times his car got impounded, I gave him rides to work. When he ran out of phone minutes, I bought him a minute card. When he dropped his phone in the toilet, I bought him a new phone AND a minute card. I’ve also bought him food, cologne, and numerous presents for various holidays. I don’t mind doing nice things for people. But when it comes to spending quite a substantial chunk of my hard-earned money on them and they take it with barely so much as a ‘thank you’, or the phantom possibility that they might actually do something nice for me for a change, I get a little pissed off. Well, a lot, actually.

                I had this boyfriend. He had a tough upbringing and he was a teen dad as a sophomore in high school so he dropped out and his life pretty much went downhill from there. He had an apartment with his baby’s mom for some time and he worked all day and always came home to a dirty house that he’d have to clean. When he found out his girlfriend was pregnant again, let’s just say his life got even harder and the money he had was never going to be enough. They broke up, he lost the apartment, and had to move from place to place to live. When I met him, he was staying with his grandmother who didn’t want him there, at all. She kicked him out and he was staying with friends for a few nights until he moved in with his sister and her boyfriend at their apartment. His sister’s boyfriend was bipolar, had major anger issues, smoked, drank, and his mother was even worse. She was a crack addict, and she, too, had a raging temper. My boyfriend, now ex, didn’t want to have to deal with that for too long, and eventually his sister and her boyfriend kicked him out because him being there cut into their intimate time together (I think you get it).

                That’s where I came in: being the helpful person that I am, I begged my parents to let him stay with us, at least until he got on his feet. He had no license, no car, no home, no job. The first thing we did was move him into our basement. I bought him clothes, minutes for his phone as well, twice, food, spent hundreds of dollars on gas going anywhere he wanted to please him. The next order of business was to get him a job; anything would do. He applied to at least 6 places a day, interviewed multiple days a week and they all fell through. The frustration of job searching was really taking a toll on our relationship; he’d take everything out on me, so I’d try and ease the tension by treating to movies, Roughrider games, going out to dinner multiple times, just so we could think about things other than work.

That seemed to work for a short time, but things eventually slipped back to how they were. I wasn’t happy, he wasn’t very happy, but I kept trying, doing everything I could to try and make it better. I figured things would get easier once he had his own place. He didn’t think so and broke up with me because we weren’t happy together and he didn’t want to hurt me anymore. The straw that broke the camel’s back was after the Roughrider game; he was drunk and being more affectionate than ever, and I made it a point to tell him he treated me better when he was drunk and that made him feel terrible. Ever since then, he spent every waking minute trying to find an apartment to get out of my house.

I was happy that he was trying to be a grown up and be on his own, but he was not ready at all. He didn’t have nearly enough money to be considered stable; he didn’t have furniture, blankets, pillows, no essentials for a home by any means. My parents offered to let him stay until he had enough money for a nice apartment, but he was hell bent on leaving. The other day I picked him up from work; he asked me to take him to his place so he could sign the lease. I then took him back to my house and he packed all of his things and his father was in my driveway to take him back across town to his place. I was livid: he hardly discussed it with me or my family; my parents didn't even know he was leaving that day; he barely said so much as a 'thank you' to me before running out my door. It was as if the hundreds of dollars, all that time and struggling happiness I invested in him was all for nothing. Now that I look back on it, I wouldn't call it a mistake; it's just a lesson I've learned never to do again.

Word count: 985