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