I Finally Know Whats Going On

At the beginning of the semester my major was up in the air. I decided to take a bunch of different classes to figure out what I wanted to do. The AMST 100 class was full when I initially signed up for classes, but I lucked out a few weeks later. There was one open seat and I grabbed it as fast as I could. Making that move has been my best decision in my college career yet. Being in AMST 100 has made this semester one of my best in 3 years. I finally have a major I enjoy!

Word Count: 100 Words

RIP Newsprint.

In my use of my chosen news media source I have learned that the newspapers around the country are being beaten out by digital versions. The New York Times has a website that has news stories in a logical order. If you want to read about health topics there is a link that takes you directly to articles about health. The website and app allow the reader to find articles they are interested in a lot faster then they would in a newspaper. The app also is more convenient for the reader because they don’t have to carry the paper.

Word Count: 100 Words

The Zipper

Celiac artery compression syndrome, those four words finally gave her hope. With hands shaking she laid down on the stiff hospital bed waiting to be rolled off to the OR.

It began junior year. I would find Megan hunched over, groaning from the pain, unable to move. Eating made the pain worse, so I spent every lunch period of that year with her in a classroom so she could avoid the smells rising from the cafeteria, the reminder that she couldn’t eat without feeling like someone was ripping out her stomach.

Oddly enough, my favorite memory of her was on a warm summer night, we were probably around five years old. She was invited to join my family for dinner. She ran through the back yard to ask permission. Twenty minutes later Megan skipped through the overgrown grass with a bowl of spaghetti her dad made for her.

Doctors ran test after test but found nothing. After a year without a diagnosis the doctor decided it was in her head. Six months of lying on the discolored leather couch in the therapist’s office pushed her to get another opinion.

She was referred to a Gastroenterologist who, after one visit, had the answer. It took two years to come up with four words to explain the horrible pain.

Megan and I have been friends since we were two. We would do everything together, our parents used to joke that we were attached at the hip.

I forgot to breathe when my phone vibrated alerting me of Megan’s plan for surgery. She assured me everything would go smoothly but all of the possible outcomes came flowing into my head all at once. I was terrified of losing my best friend.

The surgery was a success, only a scar and the memories remain.

Word Count: 300 Words

Teachers Make All the Difference

Ms. Toomer

In 10th grade I encountered the worst teacher I ever had. The teacher didn’t give clear directions and refused to explain the directions more then once. She "taught" us what we needed to know and then gave us practice problems while she sat at her desk and read magazines.

WordCount: 49 words

Mr. Roberts

Fifth grade was the best experience I have ever had as a student. My teacher made learning fun. Any chance he could find he would get us out of our seats. Almost all the lessons were interactive. He worked hard to be sure that his students had fun while succeeding.

WordCount: 50 words

Just Kill the Hate

            A few years ago, around Easter, my family went on a cruise. We stopped in Jamaica and spent our day at Dunn’s River Falls. Because it was a holiday there were many native Jamaicans as well as tourists. After climbing the waterfall I decided to return to the bottom of the waterfall to spend some time on the beach.

While swimming with my brother a young black Jamaican boy walked over to me and said, “What’s up whitey?” At the time I thought what he had said was funny, but I later realized that he was trying to be rude. Being white meant that I was never insulted simply due to the color of my skin. I did not enjoy being cast down for something I had no control over. I know I will never understand having to deal with the amount of hate most people have dealt with in their lifetime, but I do now understand the power of one single hateful word.

I have always believed that no matter the color of skin you should be treated with respect as a human being. But that day at the beach in Jamaica I learned that all those hateful words we throw around really do hurt, even if we don’t think they do. I hold tight to my belief that racial terms, even the ones that aren’t meant to be hurtful, shouldn’t be used by anyone; not even the people who the words were aimed at in the beginning. “Taking back” words keep the them alive; we need to just let all these words die along with all the hate that they have created.

Word Count: 274

The Digital Generation

We live our lives through our
computers, tablets, and phones.

 

My generation is one of computer based media. To make the digital media easier for us to reach technology companies are making computers smaller and more portable. Phones are now full of apps and web browsers; with this people are talking less and making more status updates. In some cases we tell each other way too much. Without the face to face communication we feel we can say things that we wouldn't tell someone to their face. We do not only communicate through the digital means; but we also shop, pay bills, listen to music, and pretty much everything else.

Word Count: 100 Words

Tanzina Vega, "A Friendlier Cellphone Brand," New York Times. March 6, 2012
Megan Angelo, "Yucking it Up on Yahoo, Like a Grownup," New York Times. March 2, 2012

how SAD can one HOUSE be?

This is not the Sad House, since moving out of the
neighborhood it was torn down and replaced with
a large home that matches the design of the others
in the community. It does look similar though.

Growing up in Catonsville I was surrounded by hundred year-old homes. The thing that brought our neighborhood together was the one small shack like house on the block. This house was known as the Sad House. The walls of the Sad House were falling down, the windows were all broken out, and the yard was always overgrown. It wasn't much to look at but the neighborhood kids would get together and tell stories about why the house was in such disrepair. The adults came together too, but they took turns cutting the grass when it got out of hand.

Word Count: 99 words