Ticking talk

I remember sitting at my desk in that freezing-cold classroom. Two rows back; three rows across was where I sat, already waiting for recess to begin. I stared innocently toward the front of the room as my fifth grade teacher talked about all the things we had to look forward to in life. She continued talking for a really long time about everything from wearing deodorant to getting married, so I was pretty sure she had forgotten her lesson plan. But of all the things she mentioned that day, one thing stood out: college. One day, I would be in college. It was a concept so complex; so intangible to me, that I was sure it would never happen in a billion years. Besides, college was only for geniuses like Einstein. I just could not imagine myself surviving something so monumental as an extended education, let alone the fifth grade.

I received an e-mail yesterday about going to a senior class meeting. Apparently, according to that e-mail, I only have 17,107,200 seconds, or better said, 198 days left until I graduate with my BA. Time has definitely flown by. As I read those numbers, I thought back to that classroom; that speech; that moment in time when I thought my future was lightyears away. Then, a verse popped into my mind: "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." I discovered that verse on a chocolate bar. When I was a senior in high-school, my mom surprised me with a box full of graduation invitation candy bars. On every label was a picture of me, directions to my graduation, and Psalm 90:12. It has been one of my favorite verses ever since.

At this moment, I only have 197 days left in college. That little e-mail was a big reminder: Life is short. I have no choice but to soak in what I learn in every class, savor the joy of every activity, and cherish every little moment spent with friends and family. Those future plans that seem like they will never happen are sure to happen soon enough. For now it's time to start living. My days are numbered.

*This post completed for a class: JRN371

Behind the "scenes"

I could not have planned a better summer vacation. This summer, instead of taking a trip to Hawaii or a nice resort, I was able to complete an internship at my local newspaper, the Yucaipa/Calimesa News Mirror.

I couldn't believe how each day held a new surprise. Not only did I get to choose what I wrote about, but I also got to take pictures of fires, accident scenes and special events. As a staff reporter, I had a "backstage pass" to the city. I had the "authority" to interview important people in my community and catch their vision for a better Yucaipa.

Each day was unpredictable. I was often called to events late at night or in the middle of the day. I got to see SWAT in action when one man locked himself in his house and threatened to shoot police. I photographed a car that was split completely in half after it crashed into another vehicle because of a drunk driver. I watched as fire personnel doused the flames of a house that contained a deceased elderly woman. While some scenes were painful to see, I counted it a privilege to help cover these stories and gain experience in the process.

I was able to meet interesting people like local artists and a teen model. I was able to fly in a very tiny airplane with the "Young Eagles" and take a picture of Yucaipa from the sky.

From this experience, I learned to love the newsroom. Working, communicating and writing stories about the most interesting things and people proved to be far more exciting than any vacation I could have planned. I was sad to leave, yet excited to put my experiences into practice this fall at my school's newspaper.

*This post completed for a class: JRN371

Choose happiness :)

Stroller mania

People are so amusing. I went to California Adventure for my birthday, and found that women or men pushing strollers are extremely assertive. If you do not get out of their way, they WILL run you over. I had about 4 near-death experiences.

Sadly, the kid in this picture was bonked in the head with some lady's purse. Her dad was speeding down the walk-way, assuming the crowds would part. I guess the plan to get ahead backfired a little bit.

Twenty-something

Today, I am officially a twenty-something. After church I met my mom for lunch at Mimi's Cafe, and we decided to share a yummy turkey sandwich. We were sitting there, wondering how I got to be this old, when I decided to say: "Mom, just think: 21 years ago, I was looking up at you with these very same eyes... and a little tiny head." I meant it to be funny, but in a serious tone she said, "Don't say stuff like that." Before I knew it, her eyes welled up with tears and we both started boo-hoo crying right there in Mimi's!

I could not pull myself together for about 2 minutes, and neither of us could look each other in the eye. We laughed at ourselves and cried some more. I tried to talk about the pretty flowers on the table or our fun plans for the day, but the thought just kept coming back of how time is flying by. Life is so good. Today I was reminded of how important it is to savor every moment.

Five o'clock somewhere

Aren't beer commercials the funniest? I'm going to be 21 in a few days. Technically, I'll be "legal." Allowed to drink, go to clubs, gamble... and all that jazz. It is crazy to me how much pressure I've been getting from people. People saying I should go drinking and have a good time. It seems like it's the thing to do.

I don't mean to sound like a goody-goody, but I really think there are other ways to have fun. I don't need to go drinking just because I'm allowed to. I would like to remember all my fun experiences. I don't want to worry that I'll do something totally stupid and I won't even remember it. Even social drinking. Why do I have to? It is totally okay to just not drink. Isn't it?? I'm not saying that everyone should have my same opinion. Just know that it's okay to not do what everybody else is doing.

I got called to take pictures of an accident recently. A Ford Focus was going well above the speed limit and veered into oncoming traffic. The Ford smashed into another car and one teenage passenger flew through the windshield. The 27 year-old driver and the other teen survived with serious injuries, and the driver in the other vehicle was uninjured. The one teen was rushed to the hospital. A heartbeat was detected for a short time, but then it stopped. The teen was killed. Had the driver been sober, this ugly incident wouldn't have happened.

Those funny commercials sure make alcohol look good, don't they? They don't show people puking their guts out. They don't show people acting like complete idiots. They don't show people flying through windshields or getting in car wrecks.

I just can't figure out why people think drinking is cool. There is no social mandate that says we must all drink alcohol at the age of 21. If you don't want to, you don't have to. Don't be stupid. Enough said.

Letter to the ice cream man

Dear Ice cream man (or woman),

I would love it if you would slow down in my neighborhood. Today, once again, I heard you coming down my street. You see, I was really excited because I had just finished my delicious turkey sandwich. I heard your song, and at that moment I knew that a chocolate something was just what I needed to top off my meal. I immediately got up and ran to our cute little change box on the hutch and grabbed plenty of quarters. I darted outside... only to find that you were gone. The music had stopped. You were nowhere in sight.

But that didn't stop me.

I grabbed my scooter, put my quarters in my pocket and began my search. I thought that you must be stopped somewhere close by, giving some cute little kids their own serving of delicious ice cream. But no. I went around the entire block looking for you. I burned off an entire ice cream in calories, sir. I am wondering why - during this tough economic crisis - you chose to blaze through my neighborhood. I guess I will never know.

Until next time.

Coffee smiles

Whenever I feel lonely or bummed out, I go to Starbucks. I can't help but laugh to myself when I go there in the mornings. What other place would I find so many different uniforms? In line the other day, there was someone in scrubs, someone in a suit, and someone in boots and a cowboy hat. What a sense of community.

The employees tie it all together. I can always count on them to tell me "hi" when I walk in the door, and smile as I order a complicated drink. Every time they accidentally put whipped cream on the top of my white mocha frappuccino, they make me a new one, no questions asked. I don't even care that they're paid to do it. They have to be nice to me no matter what. I love that. I wish church was like Starbucks. HA.

Material girl

"Look at this stuff. Isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think my collection's complete?" Ariel the mermaid was just beginning her collection of interesting things. For some people, "things" can go a little overboard.

My mom recently got me hooked on a show called "Clean House." The Clean House team goes to insanely cluttered homes like this one to make the owners sell some of their most prized possessions. The proceeds are matched (up to a thousand dollars) and the money goes to make the house clean and beautiful. In the last few episodes, I watched as people hugged their Harley Davidson T-shirt collection, their giant cigarette-shaped lamp, their presents from last Christmas and their late Uncle Bob's broken jukebox. Even when the outcome of selling their "foolishness" benefits their future living space, home-owners are almost always reluctant to part with their precious things.

Things. Sayings and Bible verses seem to flood into my head. "You can't take it with you." "Old things pass away." Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." I keep wondering what I would really do if the Clean House team came to my home. Would they be prying my precious things from my hands--begging me to sell so that I'd have a great space to live in by the end of the show? If Ariel's statue of Prince Eric was not destroyed, would she have gone after the real thing?

Tune in next Wednesday at 10/9c on the Style channel to see another transformation.

Read all over

I kept touching the same spot on my right arm to see if the color had changed yet. Nothing. My toes wouldn't stop wiggling in the sand. The tide was high and so were my expectations of starting off this summer with some "fun in the sun." My friend put some tanning oil on herself while I thought about putting on some sunscreen... but I decided against it since we wouldn't be there long.

I couldn't lie still for the longest time. I really wanted to use my new sandcastle buckets, play in the freezing ocean swells or walk over to the pier. I was so excited that it wasn't easy to just lie there, but I knew that my friend wanted to get a suntan, so I didn't say anything. Laying out is really not my thing. I finally got comfortable on my beach towel in the sand. The soft sound of the waves and the radio made me almost drift off to sleep. This was the life.

A few minutes later I began to remember why I was not a fan of laying out. We got into the shade, and I suddenly began to see and feel the fiery effects of the sun on my skin. Now it worked: I touched my right arm and that spot went from red to white to red again in a flash. Somehow I forgot that those were my only two colors. My friend's colors? Tan and tanner. I was one fried lobster.

Since that day - two days ago - I have been stuck like this. Lying face down, arms framing my head, just the way I was when the sun brutally attacked me in slow motion. As bad as I want to play outside, I can't. It is too hard to move.

The good part about all this is that I'm being forced to sit still. I never "had time" to read a good book. Yep, that is pretty much all I can do right now. No more wiggling around. No more getting comfortable... just being still. I have read two books in two days. Bud, Not Buddy and Pictures of Hollis Woods. GREAT books. After finishing them, I could not believe how I hadn't taken time to read in... I don't know how long. Even though I was stuck at home, I got to go all over the place. I got to travel with Bud and Hollis. Before I knew it I was in the middle of nowhere in Michigan and then in the woods of New York. I was lost in another world thinking: Now this is the life.

I was stranded under the sun that day. I could do nothing else but lie there waiting for the time on our parking meter to run out. Now I am stranded on the couch, but I get to experience great people and places without even getting up. Next time I go to the beach to lay out with my friend, I'm bringing some strong sunscreen and a good book.

Spring forward

A herd of zebra came running through campus today. They were mostly pink. They had flags held high and wore their stripes shamelessly. I was one of them.

As we stampeded and chanted crazy zebra chants, all the other herds looked at us in awe. They were smiling. We were wearing pink tee-shirts with zebra booties on the back. It was quite a sight.

When I showed up to participate in Campus Day, I was not expecting to become a zebra. WHAT a rush. I may not have a voice tomorrow. But for now I am home alone; the excitement has been tamed, and the crickets are chirping.

Right here in this cricket-moment I'm realizing that I have a love/hate relationship with the unpredictability of life. One of my favorite things to do is look forward to the next big thing. I've found though, that my "next big things" never turn out the way I plan them. Sometimes for better; sometimes for worse.

Who knew I would watch my friends do a toilet-driving relay race? Or that I would help perform our skit in front of SO many people because we won third place? Who in the world, in the words of Pocahontas, knows what's just around the river bend??

Nothing about this year will be the same. A herd of zebra will probably never graze the front lawn of CBU again. My face-paint is now smeared, and I can't re-live the events of today. I don't know what the future holds, and that's a little scary to me. I have a general idea--just like with most books, you can predict what comes next. I'm just a character in the story going from page to page.

Now that this chapter has ended, I'm wondering what else the Author will write. No one knows if the next chapter is going to be good or bad, funny or boring, sad or amazing... What's happened already has been great, but I can't wait to turn the page.

She's just not that into you

I was looking at old documents in my computer, and I found this poem I wrote in high school. I am cracking up... Hope you enjoy!

This poem was written in lieu of Shakespeare’s sonnet LXII, in which the self-absorbed speaker boasts about his good looks and self-love. The woman he loves tricks him into thinking that he is attractive when, after facing rejection, he looks into the mirror and finds what manner of man he truly is.

(Self) Love Hurts

I caught a glimpse of a glance from a glamorous girl-
The girl that I adore.
She just gazed so long and hard at me,
That’s something I can’t ignore.

I pretended not to notice her,
As I sucked it in and flexed,
I hoped she wouldn’t notice that
My flawless heart was vexed.

So on my way, at the end of the day,
When my heart was filled with glee,
My voice cried out and gave a shout,
Wow, she noticed me!

When I passed the mirror the following day,
I just couldn’t help but state,
“Man, I look good today-No-
I look great!”

As I headed out the door
And made it safe to school,
I found it wasn’t me she loved,
But over another she chose to drool.

Now I know the truth,
It all was just a game.
She used her charm to cause me harm
And broke my heart-the same.

When I get home from school tonight,
And gaze into the mirror,
I know that I will see a sight
That will be ugly to appear

Then what’s left to do-
Just sit around and stir?
Well, I know she’s not in love with me,
But I’m still in love with her.

When one door closes...

It is amazing how much I have in common with a person who is twice my age. Let's call her... Naomi.

Naomi was my favorite teacher in high school. Her bubbly personality was so easy to love, despite her strict classroom rules. She loved teaching English, so I loved learning it. Naomi was my high school English teacher from 7th to 10th grade. (Yes, just like Mr. Feeny on “Boy Meets World.”) By this time, I was attached. Her enthusiasm had gotten so contagious, that I made it a priority to be her constant shadow. She was a joy to be around.

My heart broke to pieces when she said she was making a career change right before my junior year. I thought I would never see my favorite teacher again. I expressed my concern, and - like it was nothing - she told me, "Well, now we can be friends!"

And so it began.

Naomi has been my mentor and closest friend ever since she stopped teaching. She always maintains the most positive attitude. She is going through so many big changes in her life now (so am I - how ironic…), and I love to watch how she fully trusts God like it's no big deal. I wish I could be more like her. Her love for the Lord still inspires me every day. I am always at her house soaking up all the wisdom I can get. I am her shadow; her Ruth: wherever she goes, I am so there. I hope and pray that she stays in my life as long as possible, and that I turn out to be a fraction of the amazing person she is.

This little fish

I can’t believe this semester is over. Deadlines, interviews, writing and rewriting made the time fly by, and I must say it has been a rewarding experience. I remember how intimidated I was on the first day of class. I told my mentors that I felt like a little fish in a big pond, but they assured me that everything would be just fine. I scored two interviews, a great photo (by Eric McFarland), and plenty of words for my first story. It was so rewarding to see my name in “lights” for the first time.

Being published was a great experience, but the best part of this semester was working with other people. Photographers, mentors, editors, and other writers made me feel like I was a part of the team from the very beginning. I was able to work on a recession spread with my mentors and two other people. That was probably my favorite story to work on. It was a great feeling to be a small part of something bigger. That’s the feeling I’ve gotten this whole semester as a writer for The Banner. Everyone is on the same team with one goal in mind. Of course there are pressing deadlines, but when everyone has their own small part, it creates accountability. I knew that I had to do my part because others were depending on me to do so. Each person’s talent works together to make a polished finished product, and that’s why every issue of the Banner turns out so great. I am so proud and thankful to have been a part of it.

Upcoming stories include sports and profiles, since I have not published such pieces yet. I am also working on another story that I'm really excited about! More on that soon!

Octo-mom grows tentacles

More than a month has passed, and the Octo-mom story has become somewhat cliché since the delivery, besides the fact that the media are gathering more juicy tell-all interviews and insight into Nadya Suleman’s “big plans” now that she is a single, unemployed mother of fourteen.

She didn’t plan to have eight children, but the wonders of in vitro fertilization gave her a miracle. She only wanted one more. Should she have toyed with nature?

She joyfully welcomed the unexpected additions to her family as any good mother would. She is planning on receiving money from her church and all the media attention she has been getting. Surely generous citizens will donate to her family--or reluctant ones will have to if she opts for well-fare. Most agree, though, that this wasn’t a smart decision. Being a single mother is the most important factor in this perpetual quandary. Had she had a spouse, society could have easily put her on TLC, along with Jon and Kate’s 8 and the Duggars with their 18 plus. But she doesn't. She’s going to need some serious help and some serious money to keep these kids alive. Period.

Of course, no one should stone her in the streets for making a poorly planned decision. Marcos Gutierrez, Suleman’s ex-husband, said in an interview with Inside Edition that she is “a great person with a great heart” and that he wants her to be happy. “Happiness for her is to have all these kids,” he said. Suleman seems to be a loving mother who will do whatever it takes to care for her children. Sure she wasn’t expecting so many, but she can’t rewind time. Certainly she wouldn’t if she could. Her spectators can hope that from this experience she will learn to plan ahead--or at least have a backup plan before doing anything drastic, especially when human lives are at steak. “It’s a gamble,” she said in her interview with Ann Curry on the Today show. “All I wanted was children. I wanted to be a mom. That's all I ever wanted in my life. I love my children,” she told Curry.

Suleman said that she will be able to afford her children when she completes her graduate degree in counseling. For now, she is living in a three-bedroom house with her mother, who is less than thrilled with her daughter’s decision. Her father even seemed ashamed when he told Oprah that his daughter was under duress during the interview and was not allowed enough time to recover. NBC denied his claims and said that they let her choose a convenient time to be interviewed. Without the support of her parents, there is speculation about how long she will be able to raise over a dozen children under the age of seven. Though they are dissatisfied with the outcome, Suleman’s parents will most likely grin and bear the responsibility that surely awaits them. Hopefully things will turn out well like Suleman plans. Onlookers can only hope for the best.