3. Colby-Jack

I hate that this is ending. I’m going to miss the weekly paragraphs that I write for everyone. I’m going to miss reflecting on different aspects of my teenage life. I’m going to miss the community that we’ve spent months building and nourishing.  I often miss things in my daily life. I attribute it to the constant flow of thoughts throughout my brain combined with the constant pressure to perform both academically and socially. To counteract this forgetful feeling I’ll often miss things on purpose, that way I have an excuse for when I fail.  Very recently, I was having a conversation with a fellow classmate about Beloved . I mentioned how I barely put any effort into reading and understanding the book, whereas they read the book not once, but twice, and watched videos to supplement the gaps in their understanding. I wonder if I had put as much care into understanding this book, maybe I wouldn’t have missed the magic the book had to offer. For every test this year I found mysel...

  Dear AP Lang, I love you.  You’ve walked into my life, grasping me by the neck, and asked me to dance. At first, I did not understand you. I could not cadence myself to your flirtatious pulse. It was too fast. You were too fast. The song struck its final beat before I even realized we were dancing.  The music stopped.  But you remained.  You were patient with me. From the pitch black mornings to the pitch black nights, you were with me, waiting by my side while I sat in disbelief, or rather, in admiration of your beautiful complexion.  Like a thought on the finger tips of one’s cognition—ready to be processed, but ahh nevermind—you’ve pulled me in. Here—somewhere between the lines of confusion and clarity—I am a blank page, unsure where to begin. But struggle with you is not truly struggle; it’s tension, the kind of tension that trembles yet does not snap, the kind that cultivates deeply rooted growth. I began to sense the layers of your love, comprehendi...

  I wish you didn’t know me. I wouldn’t have to worry myself to death Over the smallest trivialities That you definitely don’t notice Because I know when you don’t Do I really have to prove myself Again and again I just want you to truly understand. I wish you didn’t know me. So you wouldn’t get the wrong idea of me I wouldn’t have to handpick neurons from my brain To divvy up among everyone “You can get a couple of the standard ones and a handful that just says ‘Do Not’ I’ve got too many of those” I’m unwillingly hiding most of them. I wish you didn’t know him . Because he isn’t the one in charge At least not anymore At best he’s the brawns of this whole operation Barely even suitable to be seen But you wouldn’t know You met him at a business conference It’s a wonder you didn’t realize his business card Was just his name hastily drawn in green crayon On the back of a Pokémon card He doesn’t belong here . I wish you didn’t know him. There’s so much I could do without him You coul...

In fifth grade, maybe you had Mr. Spencer, or Mrs. Hill. Maybe you didn’t go to Warwick Elementary at all, where we had the towering redwood trees that Mr. Murphy had planted for us all those years ago—providing rare shade on that dry expanse of blacktop.  The Warwick teachers I had were practically destined to be teaching young kids like us. Charismatic, memorable, and caring; I had this exhausting habit of crying my heart out after the last day of school as my daily schedule with them each ended. Though, I can’t say the same for the teachers I had through middle school, or even high school. Certain individuals shouldn’t subject themselves to torture and drag us students along the way for it. But all this is to say that of all my teachers across five different schools, the most memorable one is Mr. Murphy.  That first year through the pandemic and online school, I really believed that I’d see Mr. Murphy after just “two weeks” of quarantine. I was going to miss the Pi Day acti...

The original title for this blog was “Hiding Behind Your Analysis.” It seemed too intellectual for this text. YOU need to stop finding societal / economic / political / historical / socio-economic / socio-political / tiktok trends to justify YOUR emotions, because YOU will not provide any useful, objective analysis. And so, YOUR writing should be a portrait of YOUR contemporary self, not what you think you know about it. Allow me to demonstrate: Social Darwinism was once considered valid scientific thought. Flat-earthers have conducted many scientific experiments which “prove” their theories to be true, and refuse any contradictory evidence. Social Darwinism isn’t very prevalent anymore. But on a personal level, a lot of us are making judgments incorrectly. We face confirmation bias, looking only for specific evidence that supports the conclusion that we want to see. Another massive factor in confirmation bias is social confirmation bias, especially in the age of the internet.  I d...

I won’t remember the B² of bones and bruises, the first time I limped through a number, pain became mathematical because pain became the enemy.  I won’t remember the coast and the ice, the polar bears’ eyes magnetic emptiness as the erosion pulled him away into the call of a cornered world, away from the curious eyes of a species he couldn’t recognize.  I won’t remember the wind on my back from the door, the curtain, the passing body.  I won’t remember the laughlessness that followed.  I won’t remember the wandering, the lonely discovery of a hall without strangers, how the orbiting forms, pearlish moon and homely earth, will eventually fall away from one another   I won’t remember the sluggish crawl of time, the knocking head against the wall: once, twice, thrice, three seconds gone, four hours left to go.  I’ll remember the first applause, like first clap of thunder, it shocks something spiritual out of you, your body knew it from something deeper....

Last weekend was Coachella, a music festival held every year where influencers go to the desert to party while the people at home judge their every move. Filled with artists, young and old, it has something for everyone. A major artist who performed this year was Justin Bieber.  Justin Bieber should need no introduction but in case you need one, Bieber began his career at the age of 14 and his popularity skyrocketed as more discovered the young boy’s charisma and ability to carry a tune. Since then he has grown to be one of the most nostalgic artists, often making music for teens and young adults.  During Coachella, Bieber performed his song “Beauty and a Beat” (2012). As the Youtube video played, he began singing in, what most would consider for him, a monotone voice. However, once the chorus began to pick up his voice jumped an octave and everyone was transported back to the wonderful time that was 2016.  While I don’t remember much from 2016 I do remember the absolute ...

In 2007, Steve Jobs pitched his little pocket invention to the world. What followed was the world undergoing a self-induced technology-charged tsunami, one with detrimental effects. In a catastrophic manner, the breakneck increase in the prevalence of phones has caused kids, teenagers, middle-aged parents, and grandparents to refrain from genuine social connections, as they sit mindlessly staring into an abyss of captivating nothing.  In elementary school, when teachers invited discussion, “Class, how was your weekend?” hands used to shoot up perpendicularly. Now, instead of chatter characterized by eagerness to share, inquisitive propositions punctuate not with ricocheting exclamation marks but rather stationary silence. I sit witness to the crime of technology; I scan the room of students creating perpendicular angles not with their hands but rather with their necks. I hate it.  I vehemently believe that technology hinders the intimacy of life. Yes, life.  Shower though...

Who is Derek? That is perhaps the most loaded question you could ever ask me. Derek, more formally Derekson, is one of the numerous character s my younger sister has adopted in our fourteen years of sisterhood. Derek is the older brother (my character is the younger one) who is a media mogul at the age of 10. He is agitating and I have no other description for him. My sister took on the persona of Derek partially because I think she wants to be the older sibling and partially because she got bored easily when she was younger. One of her greatest quirks is creating these role play games—I wonder if it’s because I didn’t speak to her enough when she was a baby. Although, I have to say I never consented to being a part of these. Nonetheless, she creates vast worlds fully on her own volition. And I am just the lucky bystander who got to witness her imagination run absolutely wild. Rhea circa 2017 Rhea (my sister) in 2016: “Maleficent comes out of your closet at midnight and she gives you t...

(pro tip: listen to the songs while reading my blog!) “Clair de Lune” by Claude Debussy You’ve heard this piece before. A hauntingly beautiful composition, no other piece could truly capture the delicate spirit of the “clair de lune,” the “light of the moon.” What fueled my love for this piece was the deprivation of tempo control from my previous piano experiences. Nearly every single other piece I had memorized—willingly or not—involved in no small part learning to play the piece at its designated tempo; often I would continue practicing weeks or even months after I had fully memorized the piece just to bring my speed up. Clair de Lune is unique in the sense that it truly has no intended tempo. Some play it as written, at a slow, methodical andante in perfect 9/8 time. Debussy himself plays it noticeably faster and with very deliberate tempo rubato (“stolen time”), where the tempo is varied freely throughout certain sections for the sake of emotional impact.  Out of every single...