Saturday, October 31, 2009
Reflections
One of the most important things that I have learned over the past few weeks is that I need to put more effort into posting on this site and getting my assignments done on time. I feel as though the reason I haven't been able to update as much as I'd like is because I find some of the topics for post hard to understand and uninteresting. I have a hard time sitting down and writing about things when I don't think they are interesting or are going to benefit me in the long run. I'm trying to overcome this obstacle, but as you can see, it isn't working very well. I haven't been keeping up with the weekly reflections but I have learned a lot of things from the posts that I have written over the past few weeks. In my "Welcome To America" post I learned to think about this country and what makes us unique in a totally different way. I started to see that the things that we often take for granted are what truely makes us such a great nation. The "Ideal Me" post taught me to look at myself in new ways. It made me think back to the things that are special to me and help to make me, me. In the "Living the Ideal Life" post I also learned some things about myself and I started to really think about what's important to me. My post about feeling something "Sublime" made me look back on one of the greatest years of my life and smile. When I was living thru my senior year I took a lot of things for granted: my friends, my teachers, how easy school was; and looking back on it now I realize how amazing of a year it really was and I often find myself looking back on that year and wishing I could relive every moment of it. Writing about it helped to teach me not to take things for granted as much as I used to. In my "Nature Walk" post I realized how much at ease I truely feel when in the outdoors, surrounded by nature and fresh air.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Nature Walk
Over the past week I have gone on two nature walks. One of which took place at Belle Isle with Savannah and the other one of which took place on the JMU campus with two of my best-friends: Alana and Darryl. On both walks I got to see some very pretty things, all of which were made prettier by the soft colors of fall.
I have always been an “outdoorsy” girl, and when the weather is nice (and a lot of times even when it isn’t) you will find me outside. I’m not sure what it is about the outdoors that makes so happy, but does. Whether I’m running in the cool, early morning of fall, hiking in the George Washington National Forest on a nice spring day, swimming under the hot sun on a summer afternoon, or sitting on the front porch swing under blankets, drinking hot chocolate and laughing with friends, I’m always much happier when outside. I feel a peace that I find it hard to achieve anywhere else. I go outside when I need to think, or when I need a break from the mounds of homework that seem to consume my life these days. I exercise outside, do my homework outside, and often spend time with loved ones out under the warm sun.
I feel most at peace in two specific places: the mountains and near water of any kind. I’m not sure why the mountains have always made me feel at peace, but they have. I love to be in the mountains; regardless of whether or not I’m hiking and camping, just driving around, or visiting a national monument. When near the water I always feel at peace and extremely relaxed. It doesn’t matter if its an ocean, a river or lake, or a simple little creek; it always has the simple ability to make me extremely relaxed.
On my walk at Belle Isle I was by the water, and felt more relaxed than I had in weeks. The James River is one of my favorite places and I think it is so neat to have such a beautiful thing so close to home. When I went on my walk at JMU I was in the mountains. The air was so crisp and fresh, and even though it was freezing I felt more free and at peace than I had in a long time.
I have always been an “outdoorsy” girl, and when the weather is nice (and a lot of times even when it isn’t) you will find me outside. I’m not sure what it is about the outdoors that makes so happy, but does. Whether I’m running in the cool, early morning of fall, hiking in the George Washington National Forest on a nice spring day, swimming under the hot sun on a summer afternoon, or sitting on the front porch swing under blankets, drinking hot chocolate and laughing with friends, I’m always much happier when outside. I feel a peace that I find it hard to achieve anywhere else. I go outside when I need to think, or when I need a break from the mounds of homework that seem to consume my life these days. I exercise outside, do my homework outside, and often spend time with loved ones out under the warm sun.
I feel most at peace in two specific places: the mountains and near water of any kind. I’m not sure why the mountains have always made me feel at peace, but they have. I love to be in the mountains; regardless of whether or not I’m hiking and camping, just driving around, or visiting a national monument. When near the water I always feel at peace and extremely relaxed. It doesn’t matter if its an ocean, a river or lake, or a simple little creek; it always has the simple ability to make me extremely relaxed.
On my walk at Belle Isle I was by the water, and felt more relaxed than I had in weeks. The James River is one of my favorite places and I think it is so neat to have such a beautiful thing so close to home. When I went on my walk at JMU I was in the mountains. The air was so crisp and fresh, and even though it was freezing I felt more free and at peace than I had in a long time.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sublime
When thinking of what to write for this week’s topic “feeling the sublime” I was a little concerned that I had never felt anything that could account for this, but after reading a few other people’s posts I decided that instead of having to write about something scary or horrifying, I could write about something joyful, something that made me so overwhelmingly happy and free.
My senior year in high school I was a member of my school’s yearbook staff. Now I’m sure you’re thinking that this can’t possibly be exciting, at all, and could be nowhere near to sublime, but wait, it gets better. I had been on the yearbook staff the previous year, but my senior year, I was a veteran. I had pull, and experience, I knew what worked and what didn’t. I hadn’t been there as long as my friend Stacey (who had a year on me), but I was one of only 6 returning members, so those 6 of us were in charge. We had lost the teacher we had had the year before to another job and we were all skeptical and frightened of who the new teacher could possibly be. I remember sitting in that dusty, cluttered classroom at 11:47am waiting for the new teacher to arrive and our fate to be decided. The room was full of new kids, quiet and reserved, all seated in the back, almost scared to death of the 6 of us that had formed an unbreakable bond with each other the year before. I was surrounded in the front by the rest of the veterans, and a few senior friends of mine that had decided to give the class a shot. Ten minutes after meeting the new teacher half the class wanted to quit, starting with the 6 of us that had already dedicated a year of our lives (two in Stacey’s case) to the cause, and we weren’t ready to just throw away all our hard work for nothing.
Okay okay, so now I’ll get to the point of the story…
We worked hard; harder than I’ve ever worked my entire life. We came to school two hours early, stayed four hours late; ate vending machine food and had Pete (our faithful night-shift janitor) “leave the lights on for us” on more than one occasion. We took over the floors of the hallway with our ladders and spreads, and massive amounts of other school’s yearbooks. There were lots of second period Physics classes spent rushing through my assignments so that I could get to the yearbook room and work. Many a seventh period AP-Honors British Literature class skipped in order to make a deadline, many a lunch spent eating a slice of pizza in between moving pictures and rewriting quotes. Every teacher at Hermitage High School hated us by the first semester was over, if not because we were often seen dancing in the halls to “Cyclone” in the middle of fifth period (who knew that was a distraction to World History I and US Government?) or from yanking kids out of class because we needed a quote, a picture, or just needed something. We fought with ourselves, and oh man did we fight with each other?! There were doors slammed, things broken, and tears were cried. But through all of it, we never stopped working. By the end of the year, we were like one big family (or at least most of us were) and there wasn’t much we weren’t capable of doing, as long as we worked together. We stayed up late, had group lunches, and even travelled to the Columbia Scholastic Press Association’s annual yearbook conference at Columbia University in New York City. For a few of us on the trip it was our first time flying, and for some, their first time in New York. Many new friendships were formed, some were broken, but in the end we conquered what everyone else had said was impossible: taking a staff of 6 veterans, 13 newcomers, and a teacher who had never done this before, and turning them into a staff. A staff who overcame all of our differences, though it took up until a few days before the final proofs were sent in to do so, and who produced a book that no one thought they could.
The sublime part of this story: the day of reckoning, fee night the following year: the day our yearbooks were released. When I opened the book for the first time I felt an overwhelming rush of emotion. Not only because it was my SENIOR yearbook, but also because I knew that I had helped make this. I had put in hours of hard work, sweat, and tears into that book. I had fought with friends, I had grown closer to friends, I had done things I told myself I would never do. I was ecstatic with the end result, and was so proud of myself and my fellow staff members that it was probably scary. I felt free. Free because for once in my life I had something tangible to hold in front of myself that showed that I had done a good job. Something that meant more than a goal in soccer, would be seen by more people than my 3rd grade report grade that contained all A’s, and did a wonderful job of summing up the best year of life I had experienced thus far.
My senior year in high school I was a member of my school’s yearbook staff. Now I’m sure you’re thinking that this can’t possibly be exciting, at all, and could be nowhere near to sublime, but wait, it gets better. I had been on the yearbook staff the previous year, but my senior year, I was a veteran. I had pull, and experience, I knew what worked and what didn’t. I hadn’t been there as long as my friend Stacey (who had a year on me), but I was one of only 6 returning members, so those 6 of us were in charge. We had lost the teacher we had had the year before to another job and we were all skeptical and frightened of who the new teacher could possibly be. I remember sitting in that dusty, cluttered classroom at 11:47am waiting for the new teacher to arrive and our fate to be decided. The room was full of new kids, quiet and reserved, all seated in the back, almost scared to death of the 6 of us that had formed an unbreakable bond with each other the year before. I was surrounded in the front by the rest of the veterans, and a few senior friends of mine that had decided to give the class a shot. Ten minutes after meeting the new teacher half the class wanted to quit, starting with the 6 of us that had already dedicated a year of our lives (two in Stacey’s case) to the cause, and we weren’t ready to just throw away all our hard work for nothing.
Okay okay, so now I’ll get to the point of the story…
We worked hard; harder than I’ve ever worked my entire life. We came to school two hours early, stayed four hours late; ate vending machine food and had Pete (our faithful night-shift janitor) “leave the lights on for us” on more than one occasion. We took over the floors of the hallway with our ladders and spreads, and massive amounts of other school’s yearbooks. There were lots of second period Physics classes spent rushing through my assignments so that I could get to the yearbook room and work. Many a seventh period AP-Honors British Literature class skipped in order to make a deadline, many a lunch spent eating a slice of pizza in between moving pictures and rewriting quotes. Every teacher at Hermitage High School hated us by the first semester was over, if not because we were often seen dancing in the halls to “Cyclone” in the middle of fifth period (who knew that was a distraction to World History I and US Government?) or from yanking kids out of class because we needed a quote, a picture, or just needed something. We fought with ourselves, and oh man did we fight with each other?! There were doors slammed, things broken, and tears were cried. But through all of it, we never stopped working. By the end of the year, we were like one big family (or at least most of us were) and there wasn’t much we weren’t capable of doing, as long as we worked together. We stayed up late, had group lunches, and even travelled to the Columbia Scholastic Press Association’s annual yearbook conference at Columbia University in New York City. For a few of us on the trip it was our first time flying, and for some, their first time in New York. Many new friendships were formed, some were broken, but in the end we conquered what everyone else had said was impossible: taking a staff of 6 veterans, 13 newcomers, and a teacher who had never done this before, and turning them into a staff. A staff who overcame all of our differences, though it took up until a few days before the final proofs were sent in to do so, and who produced a book that no one thought they could.
The sublime part of this story: the day of reckoning, fee night the following year: the day our yearbooks were released. When I opened the book for the first time I felt an overwhelming rush of emotion. Not only because it was my SENIOR yearbook, but also because I knew that I had helped make this. I had put in hours of hard work, sweat, and tears into that book. I had fought with friends, I had grown closer to friends, I had done things I told myself I would never do. I was ecstatic with the end result, and was so proud of myself and my fellow staff members that it was probably scary. I felt free. Free because for once in my life I had something tangible to hold in front of myself that showed that I had done a good job. Something that meant more than a goal in soccer, would be seen by more people than my 3rd grade report grade that contained all A’s, and did a wonderful job of summing up the best year of life I had experienced thus far.
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