Once upon a time, there was a tom-boyish girl who had a secret that could disrupt the entire fragile social life of the four year old girl. If anyone found out about her burning desire, her muddy pants, dare-devilish acts, and rock throwing image would simply melt away. She couldn’t risk having the other kids know and forever staining her as the: “Barbie Girl”. No, she couldn’t have that at all; she had worked too hard to be the first girl picked for the kickball teams in gym class. She would try to forget about her heart’s desire, but it would haunt her when she closed her eyes at night. Finally, her secret drove her to insanity and her mom signed her up for the first ballet class.
The day came when she was expected to wear a ridiculous, but flattering outfit, which made her feel stupid and amazing. She awkwardly stepped into dance studio filled with girls that were chattering about their leotards and skirts. She stood in the corner and avoided eye contact with anyone, until a woman with kind eyes and a soothing voice invited her into a small room in the back of the studio. The room had beaten wooden floor, a mirror that reached from one end of the room to the next, and bars that were screwed to the teal wall. She slipped in and tried to blend into the background of all the many girls chattering on and on. Suddenly, all the girls stopped as the teacher walked into the room; she had long brown hair that shined in the light, she had brown eyes that just screamed friendly, and her voice was so comforting.
She began role call and asked each girl their age. Finally, the teacher got to her, “Olivia Edmundson, how old are you?” I replied in a shaky voice, “uh, four Mrs. Jamie”. All the girls gasped and turned their wide and curious eyes in my direction and I could feel my face get bright red. “Mrs. Jamie, she’s only four! This is a 6-7 year old class only! Make her take another class! She won’t be able to do anything, she won’t learn anything!” exclaimed one of the girls in the crowd. The girl had crimson hair that added to her frustration and anger. (You may think it’s not that scary, but it was!) I could feel tears on the rim of my eyelid and I felt like just running and forgetting this nonsense. Luckily, Mrs. Jamie was to my rescue and told the girl to leave for the day.
We began the class with bar exercises that were difficult for my four year old brain to comprehend, but I survived. Everything we did was a learning experience and was complicated, but I was determined to show that girl with crimson hair that I could learn something! I struggled with each routine and exercise we did that day, but I refused to give up. The class ended and my little Asian legs were like Italian spaghetti, I was exhausted.
My second class came around and I was more than ready for whatever the girl with the crimson hair was going to throw at me. The girl walked in and she walked right up to me. She towered over me and I was terrified! She looked at me and said, “I’m sorry.” She walked away and the class began like the first class.
Asian on a Pogo Stick
P.S. By the end of the year, the girl with the crimson hair and I began closer than a bald man and his hair re-growing gel. Since that moment, we did every class we could together.
“What is this?” (Me)
“It’s a leotard, sweetie.” (Sales lady)
“My mom says not to call anyone retarded.” (Me)
Friday, May 14, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Ok, I Admit It! I'm Lucky!
It was a sunny and humid day, the typical for any Florida afternoon in April and there I was. I saw the sand at the end of the runway and the sun blinded my eyes. I could feel my heart racing with excitement and fear of embarrassment and I could feel the coaches’ hopes and support for me. I took one last rocker step and a deep breath and ran to my destination, the sand pit at the end of the runway.
Ok, let’s rewind back to before one of the most nerve wracking moments in my over-dramatic and insane life. It was the end of the track season of my freshman year and I was so discouraged in my performance in Districts that year. As I cleaned up the horrible mess that was created by the track people, Marissa walked up to me and we vowed that we would both make it to Regionals next year. At that moment, my heart was set on one goal for track next year, Regionals. The track season of my sophomore year came swiftly after a good season of basketball and I was more than ready. Although, I was a bit worried; I had been so accustomed to the feel and rhythm of basketball, that I felt that I had forgotten the rhythm and feel of track.
The beginning of the season started extremely rough for me, my times for my running events were just a bit off of my usual and I was beginning to give up hope on my vow with Marissa. The season progressed and I began the training for my long lost event I had a secret crush on, triple jump. The techniques, I had almost forgotten, seemed like it was a new routine for dance. I felt like a wet chicken on a tight rope over a pot of stew and it was awful! As time wore on and my frustration of the not-so-immediate click for the triple jump was gone, I had gotten the rhythm back!
The coaches placed me in triple jump in a big meet, and I was utterly terrified! It was the county meet and my best jump had been a mere 26’ 8”, which, in my view, was horrible! Surprisingly, I made it to the finals in the triple jump at county and made a miraculous jump. I jumped 27’ 11”!!! I was shocked, but also exhausted from the other terrible events that I had to compete in. I was ecstatic and I my self-confidence sky-rocketed! I had the confidence and courage to say. “I have a good chance of making it to Regionals!” My cheer and happiness was short lived when the tension of Districts rose around the track. The practices became more intense and a bit more awkward. For example, they had me jump on the high jump mat with my arms flailing like I was trying to fly or something! My high-spirits suddenly diminished to a sliver of hope that was thinner than a needle. The many days I had to practice flew by and it was my moment to shine.
It was a sunny afternoon and I was exhausted! I had just completed long jump and the heat’s grip held on to me with all its strength. I walked back into the gym, plugged my iPod in, and got my mind ready. I envisioned myself flying through the air like a majestic flying squirrel (technically flying squirrels glide). I listened to some epic music and returned back outside into the sun’s domain.
There I was, I saw the sand at the end of the runway and the sun blinded my eyes. I could feel my heart racing with excitement and fear of embarrassment and I could feel the coaches’ hopes and support for me. I took one last rocker step and a deep breath and ran to my destination, the sand pit at the end of the runway. I closed my eyes and threw myself into the air like a tattered rag doll.
When I opened my eyes, my three jumps had been jumped and I anxiously waited for the results. Finally, the top four individuals that would advance to Regionals were announced. “Third Place: from Oak Hall, Olivia Edmundson!” I couldn’t help but jump around and scream like a hyena on fire! I WAS GOING TO REGIONALS!
Asian on a Pogo Stick
P.S. I didn’t do so well at Regionals in the triple jump. I looked like a greased monkey and it was really embarrassing! Although, triple jump was much more successful than my “attempt” at the high jump; I scratched at the first jump and was done. So my experience at Regionals was nerve wracking, but I will never forget the feeling of accomplishing my goal.
“You did fine Olivia!” (Cody Blair)
“No I didn’t! I looked like a freaking fish out of water that doesn’t know how to tap dance or tango!!!” (ME)
“What?!” (Cody Blair)
“You heard me!” (ME)
Ok, let’s rewind back to before one of the most nerve wracking moments in my over-dramatic and insane life. It was the end of the track season of my freshman year and I was so discouraged in my performance in Districts that year. As I cleaned up the horrible mess that was created by the track people, Marissa walked up to me and we vowed that we would both make it to Regionals next year. At that moment, my heart was set on one goal for track next year, Regionals. The track season of my sophomore year came swiftly after a good season of basketball and I was more than ready. Although, I was a bit worried; I had been so accustomed to the feel and rhythm of basketball, that I felt that I had forgotten the rhythm and feel of track.
The beginning of the season started extremely rough for me, my times for my running events were just a bit off of my usual and I was beginning to give up hope on my vow with Marissa. The season progressed and I began the training for my long lost event I had a secret crush on, triple jump. The techniques, I had almost forgotten, seemed like it was a new routine for dance. I felt like a wet chicken on a tight rope over a pot of stew and it was awful! As time wore on and my frustration of the not-so-immediate click for the triple jump was gone, I had gotten the rhythm back!
The coaches placed me in triple jump in a big meet, and I was utterly terrified! It was the county meet and my best jump had been a mere 26’ 8”, which, in my view, was horrible! Surprisingly, I made it to the finals in the triple jump at county and made a miraculous jump. I jumped 27’ 11”!!! I was shocked, but also exhausted from the other terrible events that I had to compete in. I was ecstatic and I my self-confidence sky-rocketed! I had the confidence and courage to say. “I have a good chance of making it to Regionals!” My cheer and happiness was short lived when the tension of Districts rose around the track. The practices became more intense and a bit more awkward. For example, they had me jump on the high jump mat with my arms flailing like I was trying to fly or something! My high-spirits suddenly diminished to a sliver of hope that was thinner than a needle. The many days I had to practice flew by and it was my moment to shine.
It was a sunny afternoon and I was exhausted! I had just completed long jump and the heat’s grip held on to me with all its strength. I walked back into the gym, plugged my iPod in, and got my mind ready. I envisioned myself flying through the air like a majestic flying squirrel (technically flying squirrels glide). I listened to some epic music and returned back outside into the sun’s domain.
There I was, I saw the sand at the end of the runway and the sun blinded my eyes. I could feel my heart racing with excitement and fear of embarrassment and I could feel the coaches’ hopes and support for me. I took one last rocker step and a deep breath and ran to my destination, the sand pit at the end of the runway. I closed my eyes and threw myself into the air like a tattered rag doll.
When I opened my eyes, my three jumps had been jumped and I anxiously waited for the results. Finally, the top four individuals that would advance to Regionals were announced. “Third Place: from Oak Hall, Olivia Edmundson!” I couldn’t help but jump around and scream like a hyena on fire! I WAS GOING TO REGIONALS!
Asian on a Pogo Stick
P.S. I didn’t do so well at Regionals in the triple jump. I looked like a greased monkey and it was really embarrassing! Although, triple jump was much more successful than my “attempt” at the high jump; I scratched at the first jump and was done. So my experience at Regionals was nerve wracking, but I will never forget the feeling of accomplishing my goal.
“You did fine Olivia!” (Cody Blair)
“No I didn’t! I looked like a freaking fish out of water that doesn’t know how to tap dance or tango!!!” (ME)
“What?!” (Cody Blair)
“You heard me!” (ME)
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
"Violence is Cool"
Greetings Bloggers,
This blog entry is based on a list of topics we could discuss our opinions about a book we have recently read in English called A Long Way Gone, by Ishmael Beah. The book is an account of a kid that is caught up in the middle of the Sierre Leone Civil War. The story follows Ishmael Beah’s journey through Sierre Leone running from the rebel army and the government army, until he and his group of friends are forced to fight on the side of the government soldiers. As he becomes attached to the violence, drugs, and guns, he is taken in Freetown to be “re-educated” back into a more humane self. The rest of the story is of him recovering from the horrors he experienced and his healing from it.
My reaction to the friends’ response of how cool it would be to see people running around with guns shooting each other was utterly shocked with a side of wow. I had that reaction because as I read further into the book I was absolutely horrified with the events that Ishmael encounter as a kid younger than me and how could the student think that it is cool to actually see people running around you and killing innocent people? For example, seeing people’s dead bodies gushing blood or seeing people being burned alive. At some points, I even started to tear up because of the images that were portrayed in the book were extremely powerful and difficult to read. I mean for some people there reaction maybe similar to mine or similar to the one in the book because we all have different levels of knowledge of what really happens in a civil war as brutal as Sierre Leone’s war. The kids in the US can’t exactly understand what it means to see the actual act of killing people so brutally as Ishmael had experienced because US has been lucky to not have civil war break out in recent times. The kids might be taking the “coolness” of seeing people killing other people from video games that they play. The video games that the kids might be playing could be showing that it is cool to see people killing other people with guns; plus the video games are not as graphic as seeing it in real life, so the video games dim the reality of seeing blood gushing out of someone’s head down a bit. Media has a strong contribution to the way kids think about things. I think that this response is expected from kids in America because they are sheltered when it comes to seeing the images and experiencing the terror in Sierre Leone. There are steps that could be taken to educate students about the reality of events like the civil war in Sierre Leone. For example, they could read books like A Long Way Gone or other books like it. If people are better educated about the reality of a civil war with all its horrors, then people wouldn’t view it as a video game they play and then they will be able to understand people’s experiences like Ishmael’s. If people have more knowledge about the terrors of hard times in countries like the civil war in Sierre Leone, people will have a different reaction to hearing stories similar to Ishmael’s.
This blog entry is based on a list of topics we could discuss our opinions about a book we have recently read in English called A Long Way Gone, by Ishmael Beah. The book is an account of a kid that is caught up in the middle of the Sierre Leone Civil War. The story follows Ishmael Beah’s journey through Sierre Leone running from the rebel army and the government army, until he and his group of friends are forced to fight on the side of the government soldiers. As he becomes attached to the violence, drugs, and guns, he is taken in Freetown to be “re-educated” back into a more humane self. The rest of the story is of him recovering from the horrors he experienced and his healing from it.
My reaction to the friends’ response of how cool it would be to see people running around with guns shooting each other was utterly shocked with a side of wow. I had that reaction because as I read further into the book I was absolutely horrified with the events that Ishmael encounter as a kid younger than me and how could the student think that it is cool to actually see people running around you and killing innocent people? For example, seeing people’s dead bodies gushing blood or seeing people being burned alive. At some points, I even started to tear up because of the images that were portrayed in the book were extremely powerful and difficult to read. I mean for some people there reaction maybe similar to mine or similar to the one in the book because we all have different levels of knowledge of what really happens in a civil war as brutal as Sierre Leone’s war. The kids in the US can’t exactly understand what it means to see the actual act of killing people so brutally as Ishmael had experienced because US has been lucky to not have civil war break out in recent times. The kids might be taking the “coolness” of seeing people killing other people from video games that they play. The video games that the kids might be playing could be showing that it is cool to see people killing other people with guns; plus the video games are not as graphic as seeing it in real life, so the video games dim the reality of seeing blood gushing out of someone’s head down a bit. Media has a strong contribution to the way kids think about things. I think that this response is expected from kids in America because they are sheltered when it comes to seeing the images and experiencing the terror in Sierre Leone. There are steps that could be taken to educate students about the reality of events like the civil war in Sierre Leone. For example, they could read books like A Long Way Gone or other books like it. If people are better educated about the reality of a civil war with all its horrors, then people wouldn’t view it as a video game they play and then they will be able to understand people’s experiences like Ishmael’s. If people have more knowledge about the terrors of hard times in countries like the civil war in Sierre Leone, people will have a different reaction to hearing stories similar to Ishmael’s.
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