I'm Back

     Take two.
      I have been missing in action for the last few months from most of the internet due to my crazy, chaotic life.
     The masses of college applications began early in the year and  I was quickly overwhelmed. I ended up applying to 16 schools. The one school I did not visit on my college road trip from my list ended up the perfect school for me and my destination come fall: Emory University. I was the head of prom committee so my senior year was incredibly stressful, but our prom was beautiful and I don't think I could have let anyone else have taken charge of it. I know, control freak.
     The very next weekend I competed in the Miss Moorpark competition with one of my best friends. It was not the Toddlers-in-Tiaras-pink-and-glitter spectacle that comes to mind when thinking of pageants, but rather an event to groom young women into academic, charitable, personable, and competent adults. I was so humbled by the people I met and the experience I had. My best friend and I hoped and prayed we would be the top two but in no way imagined that possible. Well I came in first and she in second. We have been blessed with the opportunity and have been able to do so much volunteer work as a result.
     Now I am preparing to go to college. I have had a cloak patched with fear, saddness, and excitement draped around the last few weeks. As aware as I have been about the upcoming struggle as I leave behind family, the very best of friends, and the only life I have known to move across the country, I had yet to cry. No- as sentimental as  I am I did not cry until last night.
     Nothing remarkable happened to release the floodgates. I began pulling books from my shelves to get ready to ship, and that felt weird but I shook it off. I went out with my boyfriend and we talked about me leaving, but I have come to terms with the separation. It wasn't until we took a walk down to the park that I lost it.
     Funny enough, Moorpark has an unusual amount of parks. Don't listen to the freshman at Moorpark High when they try to argue (somewhat idiotically) that the origin of our town's name is derived from the amount of jungle gyms we claim- it is actually reminiscent of a Scottish moor. The reason I bring up the many parks is to illustrate how ordinary this park was. It was not the one sole park I had spent my childhood in, but rather one of the many. It was no exclamatory memento of childhood; but rather it was just a small piece of the puzzle. However, looking around at that park, my whole adolescence came into play. The arroyo where I waited for my friend to break up with her boyfriend still trickled through rocks and questionable substances. The hill I climbed with my best friend on our first play-date was drenched in the same warmth as all those years ago. The path I walked to de-stress during every hardship my family faced seemed no worse for the wear.
     It is me that is changing. I am stepping off the edge of saftey to venture into the "what could be." No more shy girl in the back Maddie, but rather a courageous and capable Madeline. I am scared- hell I am downright terrified- of what Georgia holds for me, but I think being scared means that I am living big enough.
     The constancy of Moorpark made me sad as I realized that I would no longer be a part of the sleepy town in a matter of weeks, but even as I cried I was somehow also comforted by the persistence of time. It is as if there is some grand track that the world travels on. Glitches and bumps may cause disturbances, we may veer from course briefly, but we travel on no matter what- always forward. I always say, life has a funny way of working itself out. In the times when we feel that there is only loss and heartache, the tables turn and we find that we are better for it. Soon enough, the clouds will clear from this going to college mess, and then I think I will quite enjoy gazing at the stars.

The Way I See It

     Descartes once said "I think, therefore I am." That quote was written on the board when we walked into class the first week of Advanced Placement European History some years ago. And so began our first debate. The topic? What in the world did that quote mean? What was he trying to say?
     Eventually- and with great assistance from our teacher- we boiled it down to this: perception is everything. The way we view ourselves and the world around us basically composes our own reality. Who is to say that the man muttering to himself on the subway needs help? In your mind he might be crazy, but in his he could just be the most popular guy in town.
     Keep in mind, I by no means am trying to poke fun at those who talk to themselves, but merely am demonstrating the utter subjectivity of reality. Now you may say, what in the world does this have to do with anything besides a senseless rambling? I'm getting there.
     I have been going on numerous college tours since it is that crazy time of the year. As I stumbled like a baby duck following the revered college students, I kept thinking am I the kind of student who can get in here? Am I good enough? I suppose it does not help that as a teenage girl, I am expected to have my fair share of self-criticisms. But, after looking around for long enough, I was able to see the occupiers of my paradise in their natural state.
     SURPRISE! They eat, just like me and my friends do. They laugh like we do. They run like we do. Some even trip like we do. They are not super-humans constructed by a scientist in an underground lab, they are people- teenagers believe it or not!
     So what sets us apart? What makes a successful student? Initiative. They saw themselves at Columbia and Duke and Georgetown so they did what they had to to become the people they knew that they had the potential to be. Thankfully I think I have pushed myself enough and have enough time to change my perception and my reality, because the way I see it, the brightness of each star just depends on where you are sitting.

Delirious Diving

     Insomnia is no friend of mine. I spent last night watching my sanity slip away as the clock went from 12:00 a.m, to 1:00, 2:00, 3:00, and finally to 4:00 a.m. all the while knowing that at the inhumane hour of 7:30 I would be jostled awake by an over-enthusiastic dog and two squealing sisters. It seems to happen all of the time recently. Summer is supposed to be carefree, but yet I find that I am just as worried about the looming college apps and all of the things I should be doing to better my chances of acceptance.
     Just as I predicted, 7:30 came even when it was not welcome. I had to get up to watch my sister's dive meet. She is quite an excellent diver for a novice. However, when she got up to do a difficult-but practiced- dive she glanced down at the water and I could see her confidence slip away. The stands were packed and her knees buckled against the diving board. Instead of the graceful flip, she plopped into the water. The disappointed thud of breaking water was followed by a voice echoing "incomplete." No points were awarded. She did not even allow herself to be in the running.
     When we got home, I found her curled up in her bed crying. She was so ashamed of her moment of weakness. I knew this was one of those moments that I could really affect her future actions. So, I looked her square in the eye and told her to roar.Yes, that is my no-fail-big-sistering secret. I told her to roar and listen to how loud she could be, how strong she is. No matter how many times she messes up, she is still the same strong spirited, competent girl I love as long as she decides that she will try again and learn from her past. She knows that now- I think the tickling really cements these life-lessons into elementary schoolers' brains.
     Maybe I need to roar once in a while too. Like when I didn't get into a writing program I applied to. I thought that I had met my Waterloo, come to the end of my chances. But it was a stumble, a thunk into the pool when I wanted to do a back flip. That was all. Sometimes all we need is to take a moment to realize that the strenght is still there.
     Maybe this was all gibberish. It is quite possible since I only got three and a half hours of sleep, but I was told that writing when you are sleep deprived helps to lower your inhibitions so I will hope for the best. For now, I think I will go and see what dreams await underneath the stars.

Advice for Stargazers

     If I am Eliza Doolittle, then tonight I got to be "My Fair Lady."  I, a small town middle class teacher's daughter, went to the event of the year. It was my cousins' grandparents 50th anniversary party and it was an evening to behold. The beautiful gold and ivory draping of roses, diamonds, and silk were dusted around the most beautiful estate I could have ever dreamed of. Though enchanting in its own right, the scenery of this mansion overlooking the ocean was just an accessory to the delight of my meetings with the most wonderfully eclectic and fascinating group of people. A designer, famous baker, french actress, musician, movie producer, agent; every where I turned I found a person who had done what most people fear more than anything. They had all realized a dream.  The anecdotes they told seemed trivial to them, but fascinated me completely. They were adventures out of a storybook; tonight I believed that magic was real (the magician they hired was quite convincing) and the world seemed a much less daunting place after being in a room full of people who had seemed to master their own destiny.
     I was not made insecure by these stories as I had expected, but rather wanted to borrow a bit of their experience to use on my own path. I shared with them my dream of being a writer, and asked if they had any suggestions for such a tricky business. The answers were quite interesting.
     "You love to write? Do it. What's the worst that could happen? You don't make it and you figure it out as you go along." said a lawyer, then "Anyone can learn plot and character development. Find your voice, that is what makes you stand out, that is what catches a publisher's attention." was the reply of a literary agent. The french actress told me, "Read everything. Write all of the time. People will always tell you that you can't and it is up to you to decide if they are wrong." One of my favorite pieces of advice- perhaps the best I have ever received- was from a writer who told me, "Know that you are the best. Anyone who agrees is a genius, and anyone who disagrees is a quack."
     So, I don't know if you did, but I think I found a common thread there. Success is not an accident. It comes from passion, self-driven determination, and a confidence and self-assurance that will not allow you to give up on yourself. I hope that you, reader, will join me in following this advice. Whatever your dream is- learning Mandarin or becoming the first woman president- I think that right now, the very beginning of the book of our lives, is the perfect time to begin that push towards the future. Life can move pretty quickly and doesn't allow do-overs. That being the case, I am going to make the most of this rent-and-responsibility-free period of my life and dedicate it to becoming my best me. I am going to start by making a declaration, one that I am bound to by the laws of public access announcements, I am going to carry a notebook in my bag every where I go, write in it every day, and comprise a list of books that I have to read to enrich my literary knowledge. My hope is that maybe you will find some little routine changes you can make and maybe we will all be one more step closer to the stars.
    

Demons of a Dreamer

      It is 9:35. It is 9:35 p.m. and the SAT scores are not posted until 2:00 a.m. I should be altering my costumes for tomorrows dance recital or cleaning my room, but no. I- like many of my scholarly high school peers- am consumed by the anxiety that seems to have set up a sitting room in the back of my brain. As an incoming High School senior, the world seems to be coming at me more quickly than I would like. Gone are the days of "Oh well, better luck next time," and instead we, the leaders of tomorrow, are met with missed opportunities that, at least now, seem to alter the course of our lives. They say that High School is the best time of a person's life. I hope they are wrong.
     Now, this is not the point where I turn on the whining about how no one understands me and I am lost in this place we call earth and nothing will ever improve. On the contrary. I am a dreamer, an optimist, an idealist. Oscar Wilde said, "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." Well, I would like to consider myself a stargazer. My hopes reach fairytale proportions. My heart is set on going to an east coast university, becoming a novelist, and traveling Europe. But dreaming is scary. As much as I would like to think otherwise, there is a very real possibility that I am not the next Jane Austen and that I will instead be the Starbucks regular aimlessly typing the prelude to my rejection letters. So that is why I hope that High School is not the best time of my life. It is terrifying to know that a couple grades now or a number on collegeboard can dictate the school I go to, the connections I make, the education I receive, and the success of my dream. 

     That is why I am starting a blog. I think that the pressure I feel during this ride to adulthood is not unique. In fact I know it is not. I constantly hear all of my friends talk about how the college application process makes them feel so dumb, so insignificant. The smartest people I know feel shaken and crippled; so just maybe the sharing of ideas and experiences of high school will help someone in some way. Maybe by the end of it all, when we are through the transition, we will be out of the gutter.