11 May 2017

Today was the last day of our creative writing course and it was honestly a great time going through our discussions and reading literary submissions from all of our classmates. I feel as though the book and being able to go through the pieces of writing in it really did help in getting a better idea of the amount of detail that goes into crafting poetry or short stories. I've been writing poetry for years, so I don't feel as though I had much trouble with that portion of the course; however, as I have never gone through with writing a short story, I definitely struggled when it came time to do that. I do have to admit though, I didn't give it the most honest effort that I could have. I don't think the problem is in lacking ideas for stories, rather it is feeling confident in the execution of the plot that has mitigated completing a story at all for this class. Regardless though, to whether a story was completed or not, The analyzations that we had to do for a select number of short stories in the book, along with touching on the elements, helped in understanding them better and having more appreciation for the art. I also do appreciate what this course has to offer to its students, and would gladly recommend it to any one who is considering enrolling into it.

9 May 2017

The past couple of weeks has been full of concerts, just a small portion of the amount that I've been going to this year so far. It just so happens that one specific concert was two consecutive days in April, and that was a first for me. The two days were for a band called The 1975, and this is a band that I had known about for a very long time, I just had never truly gotten around to giving them an honest listen. However, ever since my girlfriend showed them to me in more depth, I've come to actually love this band. It's curious to love a band like them when compared to the vast amount of bands I listen to specifically in the hardcore and metal genres, but this band just has something about them that makes them special. I was hesitant to want to go to both dates of the concert, which was in Los Angeles. My girlfriend had already bought tickets for both dates so it felt right to take advantage of actually possessing these tickets. To sum up the show is a task in itself, and it simply comes down to one of those "you had to be there" moments because of the sheer scale of the concert and the manner in which their stage production is done. It leaves a fan dumbfounded knowing that people can form a band, be in it for more than a decade before being recognized in some way, and then suddenly selling out arenas in metropolitan cities throughout the United States and the world. What makes it more curious is that a band so popular is hardly known by anyone you ask, but perhaps that's just because many people only hear what gets put on the radio from them and don't bother to actually expand further into their catalog. Regardless though, these two concerts bring me up to having had seen this band three times now, and of course I've seen a few bands more times than that, but those don't compare to the level that The 1975 is at, and it's experiences like these that inspire and spark something in your head to want to bring that inspiration into whatever it is you do best.

1 May 2017

Interestingly the semester is coming to an end once again, and it isn't until now that I feel like I should be doing these journal entries that were asked of us to do throughout the entirety of the term. I also know that "making up" for what was not done here for the past months cannot be compensated for between now and the last day, but I think it would be nice to share thoughts while it is still possible.

This semester has been somewhat of a rollercoaster. Not necessarily because of school, but because it feels as though so much has been changing. That's not to say that any of these changes are bad, though. It feels as though things are slowly falling into place, the way I feel works for me and those I want in my life. Although it would be great to be able to have everything, like my schooling, go better than I've been allowing it, so many more things are also important to me in making things feel worth the effort to move towards improvement, and that is a challenge I have not felt like I go up against until the past while. All of these feelings have been a gradual build-up from the past two years or so, and it hardly feels like I'm simply diving myself into an illusion, at least I truly hope I am not. Of course I am not in the place that fits the best for me quite yet, that is a point that has yet to present itself in whatever form it might choose. Happiness however, is something that I have an ambition for, a sort of obsession, but that's probably something everyone is after in some way or another.

31 January 2017

Everything has been feeling balanced in my life. Not everything is fixable, and that's me included. Not every aspect and detail of my life can be shifted and shaped into the manner that I would prefer. And in no way can I promise that I know what I am doing to make sure the past doesn't happen again. However, what I can say and prove is that I am willing to try harder and more critically than I have ever been willing to do before. This wasn't something that was decided from one night to the next, or one solitary accomplished action. This was a build of years of practicing control and allowing myself to learn that there is a worse place I can allow myself to go if I surrender. In all honesty, I'm still trying to figure how to even journal. I know it'll be beneficial in getting back into writing, but it's finding the motivation to do something like this that is hard for me to do. Half the time I get lost in what it is I should write and what I shouldn't, considering that this is a public blog that can easily be searched (believe me, I tested that possibility). It's brute honesty that drives me though to be open enough to discuss certain aspects of myself in a way not too revealing to those who read anything public, but specific enough to have personalized substance for me to reference back to. Why should censoring the reality of individual lives be a concern though? Is hiding the natural course of human development in various forms a beneficial part of how we live? I don't believe that feeling things is something that should be drowned out. Yes, it has it's appropriate situations, but it is a reality that is often pushed too far back and dismissed, and that's not okay.

the pillow I gave you / A&G

it's been months now

and i still can't get over the fact

that you'd rather sleep than face reality.

i know you're hurting yourself more

by keeping yourself locked away

in the glass case you call your home,

but all i can do is watch as the details

of your skin and face erode away

like canyons under your eyes and ribs.

if you would only talk to me though,

so that you could start to see

more than oceans so deep

that you'll drown in at night

while you rest your head on the pillow

i gave you when you told me

that you needed a better place

to rest your head.

i thought maybe then you'd be able to sleep

without me to brush my hands

through the strands of hair you grow out

to hide your eyes from mine

when the dreams become more real

than the kisses i give your tears.

maybe it's time you get out of your mind

and realize i am not a bed

for you to rest through the nightmares you've fed.

A&G

i can only draw demons / A&G

I swear

I could've drawn

angels on your cheeks—

tracing your freckles

with the tips of my fingers.

you'd laugh

and start to cry.

from the warmth

in our touch, I suppose,

you'd try

to brush my hand away,

but I know you're sensitive

to how our love sparked

a certain way.

it's too late though,

when I realize the things I've done.

now only angels fly away

from the demons on your face.

my hands are cursed;

I swear I didn't know.

A&G

at least i'm consistent / A&G

But at least I'm consistent
In the way that I hurt.
Maybe that's something
You can still look forward to—

A broken heart,
And a kiss to erase the bruises
That I leave when I throw my words
As if they were stones;
The weight of every day
From my shoulders
Falling on yours.

I still can't seem to carry it myself,
But at least I can trust you
To be the one to hold on too.

A&G

18 January 2017

This is my first Journal in a while, and for the purposes of this class, a little late too. It's actually been a while since I last wrote something for creative or personal reasons. The flow that I used to feel whenever I used to write has been somewhat weak as of late. Do I still love writing? Of course I do. But it's the mental blocks that I frequently get that make it difficult to be consistent with, and then my determination for doing what I love begins to dissipate. I know that creative need is still there, though. I often find myself lost in the wonder of something that has caught my attention, and I feel as though I'm beginning to reteach myself to channel those things into the words that I want to express. I have always been my most apparent limitation when it has come to believing that anything I write is good enough or executed the way that I envisioned it. I am, however, trying to realize that maybe I can be capable of my own success. The fact of the matter is that whatever I hope to accomplish with my writing, I need to stop limiting myself and allow myself to become an improved and better writer. The past while has made the want to write and the ability to execute it drastically more difficult, but as I believe, it all falls on to the ability to channel experiences and mental imagery into written forms. The challenge truly lies there, though, and as with many things, it is a gradual process to become something better than what you hope to never become.
- A&G, 5:52

The Three Pillars On How to Ruin Your Health

            At the start of the semester, I was actually intrigued by the idea of having to read Salt, Sugar, Fat by Michael Moss—a book about the trickery that the food industry has used to manipulate us into consuming their products. Not so much because of the fact of it being a book about this topic, but because hardly anyone has exposure to this kind of material and data. I, personally, found it difficult to maintain a steady pace to keep up on the reading of this book. However, this should not overshadow the fact that I was fascinated by the way Moss portrayed his research. And what did stand out to me the most from Moss’ findings was the idea of the bliss point and its role in the ways companies create and market their products to an audience that is fooled by them and their scientists.

            Moss provides a window into the world of sugar, salt, and fat and their role in the manufactured and processed foods that are fed to us every day. We are given the facts of what truly is in our foods and what drives companies to put these things in them. It caught my attention though that Moss found that companies not only strive to make their foods more likeable, but also a necessity in the lives of their consumers. As in the study conducted by Howard Moskowitz, Moss reveals that Moskowitz and Jacquelyn Beckley discovered that we are driven to eat something based on emotional needs and the taste, aroma, appearance, and texture. This study, and like many others in Salt, Sugar, Fats, almost serves as a warning sign, pointing us to the true nature of companies and their realization that we are easily played for their benefit in the competitions they have with each other in order to their boost sales at the cost of our health.

            More often than not, people would attempt to bring down the research that Moss provides in his eye-opening book; however, it should come as a surprise to many that his research is backed with extensive interviews and countless statistics on the marketing, production, and consumption of processed foods. If someone is looking for a way to learn about every aspect of what they are consuming, then Michael Moss’ book is a great read for them as he even attacks the things that we may not want to learn about what we as a society are accepting to put into our bodies. Although I am far from being an expert on how someone should provide healthful care for their body, I do feel as though I walked away from this book with a little more knowledge on the strategy and science that goes into food; however, being one has band most processed foods from his life, I don’t expect this reading to leave me wondering if I am killing my body with exaggerated amounts of sugar, salt, or fat. This well-written book is a great read though for interested and curious readers.Unfortunately though, unlike many books, Salt, Sugar, Fat educates you on the good, the bad, and the ugly side of your food.

Ten Things That Make Life A Little More Worth It.

These are only a few of the things that, in my opinion, make life a little better:

1) The emotions that we feel because it proves to that we are still living and not just breathing.

2) The crunch you get when step on dry leaves because it shows that even the little things do bring us joy.

3) Writing because it gives us a voice to communicate the wordless things that we have living inside of us.

4) Running because sometimes that's really the only thing we can do when there is no other way.

5) How the sun blankets us with warmth, especially on cold days.

6) The infinite amount of love that we can have for the understanding that science creates.

7) The kindness that us as humans can show and express to each other.

8) Those late nights when you’re talking to someone and you feel completely involved in life.

9) A friend that stands by you through anything and has the ability to teach you so much even when they don't realize it.

10) Apples—they are truly amazing.

I’m Not Okay, Don’t You Understand?

            When it comes to family, me, and many others close to me, know that I have never been the fondest of those in our tree. However, it is not so much so because of the other family members themselves, rather, it is because of the way they approach the topic of feelings and deep, emotional thoughts; consequently, due to the lack of communication they had with their parents when they were younger. I have not, in any memorable instance, heard my family talking with or about someone else and having had taken the person’s feelings into consideration; yet, the constant family gossiping could go on for ages once that specific person leaves the room. Even I, and like many others who are reading this blog, have dealt with other family members and the never-ending ramblings about how you seem to be feeling, or what was going through your mind when you did something out of the ordinary. In some instances, I can recall that my family would mock me for liking a girl or for having a girlfriend; however, they never bothered to actually TALK about the things that are being discussed or even ask actual questions with no judgment in their voices.

            Even more painful than having family members judge your personal life and emotions is when your own parents are the ones doing the hurting. Of course, some will say that you may not be expressing or communicating what you are trying to say in the most honest and direct manner. Unfortunately, this is not the case, though, in most instances (as far as I have seen). Most of the time, you’d be shooting blanks—aimlessly hoping that you and your parents will meet at the crossroads and come to some understanding of one another’s feelings. I have personally been unable to have any true breakthroughs or emotional connections with my parents. Even as a child, I was conditioned to either deal with what I was feeling myself or feel embarrassed of how I was feeling. Worst of all, I can recount, was a time during my high school years when I had spiraled down to one of the lowest points of my life and my parents only helped in intensifying the feelings that had already been pushed to beyond the breaking point. It only served as an example, though, of the lack of compassion or understanding that some parents can have towards their children.

            Of course, not all parents are as oblivious to the turmoil that their kids could be going through. I have known of friends who have had their parents go through mountains to give them the care that they so dearly needed to recover. But being as we live in a pessimistic society, those parents are often overshadowed by the ones that alienate sensitivity. If parents, and overall families, would take the time to educate themselves on how to handle emotional issues with their kids there could possibly be a surprising decrease in suicide rates and attempts. Although these types of things tend to be a pile-up of various factors, parents are usually the ones that could help the most—even saving lives—if they understand the true nature of what their kids could be feeling. In the meantime, all we can do is hope for there to one day be an uprising of compassion and understanding because even as the world continues to learn more about human behavior and what drives emotions, we seem to be losing the actual connection that we have with these fundamental human characteristics—with what makes us truly human.

"Ba Humbug!" said someone. "But I wanted something better..." said another.

            Ever since I was a young child, the holiday season, specifically Christmas, was never that grand of an event among my family and me. Of course, that doesn’t mean that we didn’t celebrate the season of gift-giving and gift-receiving; however, we, the younger members of the family, were never taught to expect a large amount of gifts. We made it a habit to enjoy the small number of gifts as they were more meaningful, and every other Christmas held a rather extravagant gift (e.g., some kind of electronic device). Sadly though, there were certain members of my family, such as my cousins, that always seemed to have high expectations on their mother when it came to Christmas. If anything, even something minuscule, came from personal experience, I could blame this first-hand exposure to the materialistic behaviors of my cousins for distorting my view upon the tradition of the holidays.

             Amel Saleh raises many points as to why Christmas might be too materialistic. With the ruining of almost any and all of the meaningful aspects of Christmas, the conditioning of our behaviors to expect any gifts at all could raise some issues with our younger generations that could lead to them maturing with materialism and greed deeply rooted in their minds ideology. Whether it is looking too far in between the lines or not, it can be quite probable, based on the statistics provided by Saleh, that younger generations could suffer from a legion of mental and personality disorders as a result of the greed and materialism that they are taught to embrace and hold on to as tradition.

             Lauren Smith states in her essay that success is measured by what material things we are capable of owning and giving to our families. The problem with this is that it strips away the true meaning of what it means to give and receive. Smith does continue to explain that it is these gifts that show that person that is receiving them that you have been thinking about them and that the giving of these materialistic gifts is done so with “love and selflessness.” If that is remotely true, it is still hard to look past the negative behaviors that many people have when it comes to giving and receiving gifts.

             My family now tends to still get together during Christmas in order to spend time with one another. This, however, has slowly been declining more and more every year, leaving myself and my direct family rather lonesome during the holidays. If anything, some of my other family members will try and find time during the following couple of days to drop off presents to anyone that was either not present or not visited during this “charitable” season. So whether it is truly love and selflessness that fuels the materialistic behaviors that spring up during the holiday months or the selfish expectation of receiving a gift, I tend to lean more towards the latter.

Stagnate State

            I always saw myself going to a grand university ever since my high school freshman year in 2009. I would often dream of attending UCLA or UCSB as a biology major, with the ultimate goal of becoming a doctor specializing in neurology or cancer research. Most of my family and even some of my teachers supported my hopes to one day reach these goals, mainly because I demonstrated an advanced proficiency for all science topics. These aspirations, however, drastically came apart once I entered my junior year of high school. Feeling extremely discouraged by the obvious separations in classes based on intelligence, I assumed that I was incapable of ever reaching my dreams of becoming a doctor. This discouragement continued on into my senior year of high school, causing me to lose all hope of attending any big university; however, I also lost any and all aspirations of attending college at all.

            Grad graduate in 2013, at all. y; however, I also lost any and all aspirations of attending college at all. uating from high school in 2013, I was left motionless in the new position I was forced into as a new participant of the outside world. I had come to the ultimate decision to skip the fall semester of college which soon led to completely skipping an entire year. I did, however, begin attending Oxnard College in the summer of 2014 as an attempt to slowly adjust into the life of a college student. Registering into a history class, I was surprised by the amount of essays we were being asked to write in a small time frame; in fact, I realized how much I had forgotten about essay writing and about school in general. I quickly overcame this little drawback and continued on into the current fall semester of 2014.

            This being my first semester as a full-time student, I have learned that college is not at all the way it is perceived to be by counselors at high schools. Although the stress of completing class work by their indicated deadlines does become overwhelming at times, it never reaches a point at which it is no longer doable. This is not taking into account, though, the chaos of having to juggle the scattered hours of class that I must attend. I was lucky enough to register into classes that only occupy my Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays; however, I am probably so used to the routine of a five-days-a-week high school schedule that I still feel an uneasiness of only being occupied on certain days of the week. Nevertheless, I still manage to maintain some sense of stability by reminding myself that the feelings of uneasiness and chaos are only temporary forks on the path to a better, more fulfilling future.

            The thought of continuing my education after high school as I was nearing the date of my graduation almost seemed alien to me. As with the rest of the members of my family that are somewhat in my age range, I had no aspirations to strive for a college education. However, as I sat back during my year off from school, I began to notice in my family what had always inspired me to make something of myself: my fear of a stagnate life. This, along with my need for a creative outlet, has inspired me to invest myself into my hopes for a career that I can love and not view as a “job.” 

Reality Shams

            Life tends to change as we grow from a child to a more adult version of that child we once were. With this growth come changes to our surroundings, our likes and dislikes, our friends, and our opinions that we develop over every little detail in the fabric of our daily lives. I am guilty of these changes as is just about everyone that is reading this blog. I used to want to be part of the “trend” or involved in what’s happening in the now when I was younger; however, if that “trend” or what’s-happening-now mentality means joining in on the perpetually growing reality TV show wagon, then I would rather stay in the solitary confinement that I call my bedroom and mind. That being said, I definitely do not like these television shows one bit. I can’t say that I've never watched or even enjoyed at least one episode of these brain cell killers; in fact, if I had to choose any, I would probably choose a select few of the reality shows on any of the science-based TV channels. My opinion could simply be biased due to my love for science, but I do believe that these science-related reality shows give at least some general idea of what life would be like in certain lifestyles or cultures. Nevertheless, I still commit myself to the idea of staying away from any and all reality TV shows as a way to preserve my own ability to form uncorrupted views of the outside world.

            Although I’m sure there are some perks (in some way, shape, or form) to watching reality shows, it is still unavoidable to realize how “fake” the situations they land themselves in seem. I have never been able to buy into the ability of the directors and camera crew to record the most organically perfect scene to entertain or inform the viewer. Along with their “perfect scenes,” I also find it hard to believe that the conversations that the cast has among themselves are somehow capable of being so relevant to the whole idea of the show or to what the viewer could or could not be thinking at that moment. Although these dislikes could be me reading too far in between the lines, there are also other little things like in any of the MTV reality shows that really digs under my skin. These can be things such as the voices of the cast, the constant partying, the tolerance for abusive drug use, and etc.

It’s not so much so the idea of reality TV Shows that disgust me; rather, it is the horrifying scripts and conjured up situations that they try to pass on as reality alongside the unjustifiable behavior. I can’t remember the last time I turned on a television without coming across a reality show on just about any channel. It is almost as if we have been brainwashed to believe that that is how life should truly be lived, the way the Jersey Shore cast and the Teen Mom cast portray their everyday lives to be. Of course, there is a stressfully long list of reality TV shows to choose from besides Jersey Shore and Teen Mom; however, just how many of those are actually good at giving a concrete understanding of what life truly is in certain situations and living conditions? Or even providing a good example for those of us that do watch these shows, especially the younger generations? We seem to blame just about anything else like video games or music preference for the behavior that our children are developing as they grow up instead of looking at what could possibly one of the main reasons for these behaviors. As stated in an article on www.dailymail.co.uk, “MTV reality shows like Teen Mom and 16 and Pregnant have come under fire for normalizing teenage parenthood,” it is more than obvious that the younger portion of our society has fallen victim to the entertainment business’ negligence, yet a good amount of parents do little to nothing to correct or help what could result in future problems. The entertainment business thrives on romanticizing the idea that fueling the ever-growing dumbing down of society is tolerable because young teenagers or just being young teenagers. But just how far are we willing to allow the “future leaders” of our country and world fall victim to such bad role models?

Reporter, Daily Mail. "'Teen Mom Epidemic': NINETY Teenage Girls Pregnant at One High School." Mail Online. Associated Newspapers, 14 Jan. 2011. Web. 10 Oct. 2014.

A Change of Heart

                A change in opinion on a social standard or normality is never an easy state-of-mind for a number of people to stand by. With ridicule tending to come from every twist and turn in your life based on the opinions that you have built yourself on, it becomes increasingly difficult to stay true to the ideas that you have conjured for yourself. These changes in opinion may come gradually over time as you gather more evidence and support for your new outlook; conversely, for others, a change in opinion may come quickly or suddenly. In my case, my opinionative view on animals and environmental protection feels as though it has always been innate. It has been no secret to myself, my parents, and some of my friends that I had long been considering vegetarianism since my high school days a couple years ago; however, with my recent and sudden transition to veganism, the people closest to me have wondered and questioned my reasons for having had made such an overwhelming change.

                I never felt a sense of realization for my careful feelings towards animals, that realization, however, did come to my view as soon as I transitioned to veganism. At first, this transition stemmed from my growing knowledge over health and nutrition; in fact, for a while, I made myself believe that health was the only benefit from a vegan diet. With time, I began to learn that veganism is more than a diet, it is a lifestyle, and a big part of this lifestyle lies within the little forms of activism that are done by simply making the change to an animal product-free life. Gruesome images and videos of animal treatment in farms and slaughterhouses, however much I squirmed, provided visual evidence of the true acts against these living creatures; therefore, I felt as though this change was more than just about health, it was about having a place for these living creatures in your heart.

                As not everyone would be willing to make a change to veganism for just any reason, I was finding it very difficult to express my own reasons to those around me. I was finding this more difficult to explain to my own parents due them ridiculing and questioning the diet change; however, it could be expected that a parent would be concerned about any health risks that could arise from it. As for friends, they have been more understanding about this lifestyle change, even though they do tend to crack little jokes about it from time to time. Although I have had to deal with manageable situations such as those with close family and friends, I have not yet been faced with too many uncontrollable social situations in which my diet could conflict with others; in fact, I am beyond grateful that I have been able to avoid this situation since it could have many different results depending on those around me.

Oreos? Vegan?

                With the topic of fast food and processed food constantly growing among the public, it seems almost right that we have begun reading Salt, Sugar, Fat in our English Composition class. For those of us that have been reading the book, we have started to be informed, or further informed, about the truth behind the processed food industry and their targeting of the younger generations. The industry’s all-important “bliss point” has certainly reached us all in the food we eat and for most, continues to reach us even as we have grown in age through the pre-packaged foods that we are sold in grocery stores and the fast foods that we are told are quality-controlled for our satisfaction. The younger version of me was easily persuaded by the marketing tricks of the industry. As a kid, I was perpetually eating processed foods such as pizza, hamburgers, sugary juices, sugary cereals, soda, canned soups, microwaveable meals, and my utmost favorite, cookies (e.g., Oreos). I ate these processed foods instead of vegetables and meat so much so that I began to develop a low level of iron in my blood, which was on the borderline of becoming anemia if not corrected. The corrections in my diet were hastily made; however, the processed foods were still there in high amounts. With my parents falling under the same trap of the food industry's bliss point, it was difficult to not be surrounded by highly processed, sugary or fatty foods in our home. At the time, McDonald's, In-N-Out, Burger King, etc., were taking over the majority of our weekend diets, and on weekdays, I would occasionally ask for a doughnut on our way home after a walk in the park. Instead of remaining a treat as it originally was when the industry was first gaining a foothold in America, processed and fast foods was becoming more and more of a dietary staple, not only for me, but for my parents as well. Of course, I had no idea at the time about what I was doing to my body or how it could affect my health in the far future if I continued to eat the way I was eating; consequently, I happily ate whatever I could get my hands on.

                For the past 7 years, since I first started high school in 2009, I have managed to regulate my consumption of processed foods to a minimum along with a complete expulsion of all fast foods. In fact, my shunning of all these health-deteriorating  foods has recently made me open my eyes and heart to a vegan diet and lifestyle, which I have been exploring for approximately one month so far. Of course, there are ethical and emotional reasons aside from all the health benefits that are gained, but that is a different blog post on its own. Since I have started on this new vegan adventure, I have noticed that there are vegan versions, even accidentally vegan versions (e.g., Oreos), of the processed and fast foods that I had indulged on as a child; however, these products, just the same as non-vegan products, are targeted towards their consumers using the exact same techniques and label trickeries. Therefore, I try to exclude any and all of these products from my new diet and life in order to adhere to the healthier side of the food spectrum. 

Reignite the Flame

            A stream of decay was all that coursed through my blood. Tears of regret and anger pounded at my eyeballs, fighting to get out. A hollow feeling occupied the core of my stomach; bottomless, and void of substance. I was giving my best effort to barricade myself from the flood of emotions that built up to this point inside of me as I sat in this little white, lonely room at the end of the hall of my high school’s office building. It was a busy, early afternoon weekday and I could hear the clock tick in the background of the emptiness that filled the room as I watched the tall glass door, waiting for the counselor to come in. I knew in the back of my mind that this was the conversation that would either save or break the stitch that was still holding me together.
            It is never an easy task to accept the fact that help is a necessary factor on the road to getting better. The avoidance of this fact for somewhere in the range of 4 years led me to the conclusion that I was alone in the efforts to reignite the tiny flame inside of me. Not that I was officially diagnosed with depression, but I definitely felt like I had fallen that far down a dark hole. Such a simplicity as being crushed by the coming down of your first middle school relationship was enough to break me, or at least open up the first of many cracks down the road of self-neglect and self-abuse. Yet, instead of confronting the issues that began to open up, I could only aimlessly walk down that road, hoping to find some revelation that it would all be okay. In the end, is that not what we all want, for there to be a sense of calm? To know that even though we are in the middle of the storm, there will be peace at the eye of it? That is precisely what I was searching for the day I was called out of my high school biology class during my sophomore year – I was done holding my hand out waiting for someone to grasp it and pull me back up. However, I realized that help does not always come in the form that you hope for it to manifest.
            I arrived to my high school, Rio Mesa, after a short drive at the start of my sophomore year in 2012. I walked across the same patch of grass I always would to get into my late-morning biology class. I was nervous and a little nauseous, not expecting much to happen on the first couple days of school. My teacher, Ms.Jo, was Korean, tall and white-skinned, possibly in her late 20’s. She had a kind-sounding voice that never made you feel violated; more or less it made you feel a sense of safety when you entered the classroom. Ms.Jo started off the class as most teachers would at the start of a new school year. She maneuvered around the sea of desks and students, handing out an introduction worksheet to every one of us. The room was silent and blanketed in a white florescent light as I skimmed through the worksheet. The last question was not entirely a question, it gave us the option to include additional information that she had not originally asked. Although the addition of extra information was completely optional, I felt as though I needed to include something more about myself. I began to write what turned out to be more of a confession of what I felt; something that I rarely ever told anyone. As I finished writing, the paper confessed, “I can’t explain why, but I feel like I am chronically depressed.” That single sentence, although cliché in nature, was one of the single hardest pairing of words I had written down. Unknowingly though, I was setting off a chain reaction, solely by the admittance of my depression to an adult I felt I could confide in.
            For the next couple of weeks after the start of the 2012 school year, I would come to school and drag myself into my biology class carelessly sitting at my desk towards the back of the classroom, 2nd to last row at a corner seat. I had concluded that my confession to her at the start of the year would simply be looked over, just another person that did not give much care or thought to a teenager with depression. However, this was proven false on October 24, 2013.
            As I was sitting in my seat towards the back of the classroom, the phone rang, echoing throughout the room. The ringing somehow particularly caught my attention, as if I had suddenly gained a sixth sense. I could feel a nervousness and aching hollowness creep up onto me as Ms.Jo walked over to the black-painted telephone. “Hello, room 24, Ms.Jo speaking.” I could only sit and impatiently wait for her to hang up the phone. “Alexandro,” as Ms.Jo would always say my first name in its entirety, “can I talk to you outside for a moment please? You can leave your things at your desk; you won’t be gone too long.” Little did anyone know that that was the one thing I was wishing for at that precise moment, to be gone. I imagined myself running away, as if from a storm, towards the infinite strawberry fields that surrounded our school. That was not the case though, that was a different reality, but in this reality, whatever was coming was going to hit me like a train, and I could only hold a poker face. “The reason I’m talking to you out here is because this is concerning what you told me at the start of the school year, about your depression,” Ms.Jo announced in a soft, innocent manner. However, I could only look her in the eyes and turn away repeatedly, fighting to hold in floods of tears. “The phone call I received right now was from the school’s psychologist. She wants you to go to her office right now so that the two of you can discuss this in private before it gets worse.” Even under the softness of her voice I could sense that she felt hurt, not because she was disappointed in me, but because she knew that what she had done could come off as betrayal instead of help.
            I felt my feet becoming more and more weighted as I made my way to the psychologist’s office. The emptiness in the pit of my stomach was still very much present, accompanied by a sense of helplessness and confusion as to what would be expected from me. “What am I supposed to say, my darkest secrets? Explain the feeling of aliveness from cold stainless steel etching my confessions onto my skin? Do I take her step-by-step into the crevices scattered across my heart?” These thoughts were the only things running around in my already exploding mind. The one thing that I did know for sure was that I did not want her sympathy, only help. In my mind, there is a difference. I pulled open the blue, metal door and walked into the dentist-like office, thankfully there was no essence of an actual dentist office in the air. Only gleaming, white walls lined with cliché inspirational posters and a desk of a doctor or secretary served as company as the counselor was not yet in the room, so I had a few moments to collect myself. There was little success in that though, as I was still fighting back tears as the psychologist opened the door to her office. “Hello, Alexandro, right?” She asked me as she sat down behind her wooden desk, pulling out a file from an organized, little paper stack. She continued to ask me how I was doing until she finally got to the main reason for wanting to talk to me, “What’s been bothering you?” I could only tell her the same thing that I had told Ms.Jo; unfortunately, she wanted reasons for my depression. “I’ve just been feeling like there’s an empty feeling inside of me for the past 4 years. I have not been able to find a way to explain this feeling,” I told her, gripping my chair trying to control the shakiness in my voice; however, I could tell that she wasn’t exactly satisfied with my answer. She spoke to me as she was writing down notes in the file she had pulled out, “I think you’re fine, Alexandro. It’s normal to feel the things you’re feeling,” as if she expected this to be a call for attention. The psychologist finished our meeting with the offering of her continued assistance and supervision of how I was feeling. Knowing that she was simply reciting the general lines that she would to almost any student that walked though her door, I walked out of her office, overwhelmed with an anger I had rarely felt.
            The meeting with my school’s psychologist may have been something that I would have preferred to have avoided. I confided my deepest feelings with an adult that I did not expect to care; consequently, she took action and contacted the only person qualified to help. Ms.Jo only wanted to get me started in the right direction. I assume she could see that I was otherwise lost, sinking farther down into an abyss. Although no significance came out of the meeting itself, it did make me see that it was up to me to find it in myself to have the will to improve or else no one would be able to. I realized that this was the first of many revelations as I entered the classroom to my biology class and sat back down in my seat. I had no idea what I was supposed to do next, but I knew that people can be accepting and mutually care about someone they know is not doing okay.
            In society we are taught that there is a standard normality that must be achieved to fit into our modern communities. When there are those of us that are either emotionally damned or psychologically different, we feel isolated from these communities. Whether they’re family, friends, classmates, etc., we feel a sense of separation; thus, introvertedness becomes innate. However, we often come to the conclusion that we have been forgotten and fail to search for open arms. Sometimes we must allow someone else to force us to hold our hands out again, even when we have already surrendered to ourselves.

Are Alternative Options to Marriage Biogical Tests?

                The majority of chapter 2 in the textbook was concerned with the declining percentage of couples that choose to commit to a long-term relationship with each other in the form of marriage. Aja Gabel presented to us in her essay, “The Marriage Crisis,” that the modern model of marriage is a result of a changing America. She explains that this modernistic view of marriage differs from one in the 1960's, during which a couple would've been more likely to stay together without regard to economic pressures. However, in today's age, a couple is more likely to divorce simply because they are unhappy, unlike an unhappy couple in the 1960's. I do see this as a growing pattern that is increasingly growing in couples, especially in those that marry at a younger age or that marry with only a high school degree. With growing expectations from either partner, and the expectation of financial stability, it is becoming increasingly easier for the marriage to end if either factor is missing in the commitment. With commitment declining, we are seeing an increase in cohabitation among unmarried couples, even with children in the family as an alternative method of creating a traditional family household. This presents the issue of a failing institution that represented values taught to children such as meaning, purpose, direction, and stability, as stated by Brad Wilcox. Conversely though, marriage is not the most important factor when it comes to a family; rather, it is the care that is shown within the family structure, whether it be in marriage, cohabitation, or single parenthood, that makes the true difference.

                Do I think marriage is alive and strong in America? Allison Pugh states, “Maybe we’re asking too much of traditional forms of marriage to be able to absorb all these changes.” We may be getting married to each other less in today’s world due to socio-economic issues, but that does not certainly mean that we are avoiding love. As the studies show, half of the 40-percent that believe that marriage is becoming increasingly obsolete still want to be with someone else. We have been shaping the ways we love one another since the 1960’s, and cohabitation is simply one of the results that has blossomed from our “love search.” Of course, there are obvious psychological and social benefits from marriage; however, cohabitation is fully capable of fulfilling these same personal needs in most cases. As Pugh also states in Aja Gabel’s essay, children can equally benefit from an unmarried couple as they would from a married couple.

This begs the question whether or not marriage is still a part of our social fabric, and although I do think that it is still present within our social norms, I do not think that it is a required one. Happiness is one of the most important factors of our lives, and whether marriage brings that to us personally or not, is 100-percent up to the individual. Although there still are obvious social pressures to be married, we should not cave into these pressures to determine what it is we need in order to provide the structure in the traditional sense. As discussed in Gabel’s essay, these social pressures could cause the opposite results from what we wish to gain from marriage. It is shown in the example of a single mother who feels that she must engage in marriage at all costs just to provide a father for her child that these pressures could consequently destroy the very values that we wish to protect. It has continually been observed that these missing factors can be compensated for in other forms of family structure and a growing instability of financial and personal issues only further opens the window to newer opinions that can be chosen to view. Furthermore, we have shaped our culture to the new options that we are now presented, and in today’s age, marriage is now longer a mandatory one.

Even though the structures of our culture are largely determined by socio-economic factors, there is a scientific vantage point to all of this. As observed by Kayt Sukel in her essay, “Rethinking Monogamy,” prairie voles are known to be socially monogamous; however, they are not genetically monogamous. These same prairie voles are viewed as choice candidates for studies conducted on the understanding of monogamy in humans. This raises a red flag as only 3-percent of mammalian species exhibit monogamous behavior, but as stated in Sukel’s essay, this is primarily in the form of social monogamy. In Natalie Rivera’s essay over the topic of “temporary marriage,” it is thought that this form of marriage in which a couple can choose the length of time they wish to be married, after which the marriage will end without the hassle of divorce, will reduce the growing rates of divorce. However, temporary marriage is seen more of way to determine whether or not your partner is the right choice to mate with. This comes off to me as a sort of bridge between the observations of prairie vole behaviors and the changes in marriage in today’s world. Based off of this scientific study, I see temporary marriage and cohabitation as a biological mechanism that goes off in our brains in an attempt to observe a potential mate. This allows us to determine whether or not a person is suitable to ensure evolutionary success. If we are truly monogamous as society encourages us to be, then why have we moved more towards these options (that seem more like biological tests) of temporary marriage and cohabitation?

- 2014, A&G

“I felt my heart crack slowly like a pomegranate, spilling its seeds.”― Trebor Healey

My full name, Alexandro Granados, has always been a sort of mystery to me. Ever since I was little I never took any interest in where my name came from or any other details about its meanings. I never particularly liked my name; thus, I always made people call me by the shorter version of it, Alex. In all honesty, I have always preferred my mother's maiden name, Lira, and always questioned why I didn't get that last name instead of Granados. It wasn't until time passed that I learned to accept my name, especially my first name, for what it was and even went as far as to embrace it. I can remember the amount pride I had for it during my middle school years, knowing that I am the only one I've ever directly known to have the same first name as I.

                In my opinion, high school was pretty interesting for me whenever the time came for my teachers to take attendance at the start of the class. This was usually interesting for me due to every single teacher getting my name wrong, pronouncing it as Alejandro or even calling me Alejandra or Alexandra. I've always known that they didn't have any bad intentions though; my teachers were simply just dazed by the odd spelling of my name. However, I can’t say that I didn't get irritated at times because of the constant mispronunciations or gender switches. I've caught myself in certain occasions going as far as raising my voice saying, “a-lek-SAN-dro!” at the poor teacher or substitute teacher. Even though I was extremely passionate of correcting those that would pronounce my name wrong, I had no idea what my name even meant. It wasn't until my junior year of high school that I started to have interest on where it came from or what it symbolized. That’s when I finally gave in and decided to do some research.

                As I did some research on my name, I started finding that my first name, Alexandro, meant something that I didn't expect at all, it meant “defender” and “protector of mankind.” I also found that my name is of Greek origin. However, I did have trouble finding any more information other than the origin and meaning. I have also done research on my last name, Granados. I've only been able to find that my last name is of Spanish origin, with “pomegranate” being the most stand-out meaning to me. My last name is actually the inspiration behind my blog name and most of my social media usernames. Besides “pomegranate,” I've also found that my last name holds other meanings such as these found on http://www.kabalarians.com/Male/granados.htm:  

• The name of Granados has made you rather reserved and, at times, secretive about your personal affairs.
•  As a result, people find it difficult to understand you and you suffer through loneliness.
• You are interested in understanding life along scientific and philosophical lines.
• Also, you derive much enjoyment from reading and from being out in nature.
• At times, you find it easier to express your thoughts in writing, rather than verbally.

 As for heritage, I have not been able to find much information or clues as to the roots of the name within my family. I have assumed though that my ancestors came from Spain or other parts of Europe. My parents have also hinted that there is possibly Italian within our ancestral roots; nevertheless, that is debated. Looking back though, I don’t think that I would change my name for any thinkable reason. I feel like it gives me some form of innate uniqueness in my life, especially my first name.

     - 2014, A&G

"The best way to predict the future is to invent it"

Although my past is not very exciting or the most interesting, it has affected who I have become. All my years from my kindergarten days until the ends of my middle school years were more or less average. I had very few friends and I dedicated most of my time to everything and anything relating to school, especially anything having to do with science. However, during the last couple months of my time at middle school, I was allowed to join the guitar players in my band class, and that's when everything changed for me. I became immersed with music (indie rock, post-hardcore, rock, hardcore) and I taught myself how to play guitar with some help from the other guitarists, who quickly became close friends of mine. Music and guitar allowed me a release from the uptight world that I had kept myself in for years, even allowing me to feel like I art could help me in a way; thus, poetry came into my world too. In 2009, when high school came along, I was still friends with those that helped me open up and even ran cross-country for most of my high school because of them. for my first year and a half at high school, everything was going fine, but after a certain point I started to feel alone and abandoned by those close to me. I fell into a deep hole and I turned to poetry and music to help feel something. I formed a band with a long-time friend of mine and another friend as well to occupy myself. It was one of the best mistakes I had made, I say "best mistakes" because the band failed terribly, but I had gained one of the greatest friends I have had so far. This friend helped me through any personal issues that I was going through at the time; saving me a couple times as well. She knew me better than my most anybody and pushed me out of my hole in order to continue to do great for the remainder of my high school, up until our graduation from Rio Mesa High School in 2013.

My present has mainly become college (after skipping an entire year), currently striving for a major in biology. College feels extremely different to me, especially after taking some time off from school, but it hasn't been too hard adjusting to everything as I was expecting it to be. However, it hasn't been completely easy either due to falling back into a hole once again, but distractions are good, in my opinion. My present has also been consisting of pushing myself to want to improve my poetry skills. Other than this, my present consists of little details that get lost within my everyday life.

Writing about the future, my future, has always been somewhat of a challenge to me due to the unpredictability of life and its obstacles. Nevertheless, as my title quotes, "the best way to predict the future is to invent it," I do believe that we have the power to shape our future into what we dream it to be, whether it will always remain a dream or someday become our reality. With that being said, I see myself earning my degree in biology and possibly transferring to Channel Islands University or UCLA, with the possibility of focusing on bio-engineering or teaching biology. It could go either way from my view of it at this point.

- 2014, A&G