January Blog of the Month: More Living, Less Scrolling by Jenna Stevens

Truthfully, I don’t think there’s a better depiction of the state of society today than the approximately 12 hours the United States went without TikTok. Millions were in shambles, not knowing what to do with their lives without hours to waste mindlessly scrolling through brain rot.  And although there were alternative apps for scrolling, many complained that the content was not of high enough quality. I watched as friends frantically opened and closed the app, greeted with the same impending doom of “Our services are temporarily unavailable” each time. Appalled at the sight, I was witnessing what some genuinely referred to as the worst event that had ever occurred in their life. This really opened my eyes to the concerning overdependence many have on TikTok for entertainment, and even just to function throughout the day. 

Being that I have never downloaded TikTok, I feel that I can call people out on the issue, but I would be lying if I said that I was completely innocent. I have fallen victim to the trap of Instagram Reels. Trying to convince myself that I’m better than everyone else just because I don’t have TikTok, I do recognize that I waste just as much time scrolling through reels, and that it’s just as much of an issue. I’ve considered the issue on multiple occasions, but I still don’t understand what makes these short, one minute clips so addicting. I tell myself that I can spend no more than ten minutes scrolling on Instagram, but then find myself in the same spot, continuously scrolling an hour later. It’s like I’m in a trance, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get myself to look away.  I’m stuck in a state of scrolling paralysis, my face glued to the screen. While I enjoy (or really am just addicted to) watching these reels far more than I would like to admit, I wish more than anything that this was not the case. It’s absurd how much time I actually spend scrolling, and how much of the world I miss because of this. 

Each day as soon as I get home from school, I flop on the couch and begin to scroll. After finally working up the courage to move after at least an hour of scrolling, I do my homework, complaining about the unrealistic amount of work my teachers require me to do. I then stay up far too late doing homework, blaming the “massive workload” for my lack of sleep and free time. However, the true reason I don’t get enough sleep is not because of my homework, but rather because I spend hours each day scrolling on my phone. Even today, I sit here drafting this blog when I should be going to sleep. And it’s not because I had hours of homework to do before this, but because I spent hours scrolling on my phone. I even took breaks throughout writing because I couldn't go two hours without feeling an itch to scroll. 

Not only does my scrolling addiction waste so much of my time, but it also causes me to completely disregard what is right in front of me. I’ve lost track of the amount of times my mom has attempted to tell me something important, and after five minutes of her talking, I look up with a “Huh, did you say something?” She gets so frustrated that I have ignored everything she said to me, and rightfully so. It’s honestly crazy how I’m able to tune out the rest of the world when I’m scrolling. 

I have decided that in 2025, I am going to make a change. It is disrespectful to those around me that I can’t have a full conversation without feeling the need to check my phone, and it’s dangerous to my own well-being. I attempted to make this change in 2024 by setting time limits on my social media apps, but those only work so well when you can turn the time limits off yourself. I recognize now that the change is going to take more than an easy fix. It feels ridiculous that it has come to the point where I have to say this, but I am going to have to put forth great effort, determination, and perseverance into ending my social media addiction. Nevertheless, it is going to be done; I will spend more time living than scrolling. I am determined to have more meaningful conversations this year that don’t just get blurred into the background of the videos on my phone. I am going to prioritize my homework so that I can have more time to do the activities I enjoy with the people I love most, without the need for scrolling getting in the way. Enough with the excuses, a change is going to be made. 

I encourage others to try to make this change as well. I don’t think people actually realize how much time they waste scrolling away, and how much of a dependence people have on social media, myself included. In spite of this, I believe that making a change is possible. Spending a little less time scrolling and a little more time living could work wonders for everyone. Imagine how much better of an understanding we would have of each other if we put our full attention into conversations. How much more productive we would be with all of the “extra” time on our hands. How much our overall mental health would improve. How much more time we would be able to spend doing the activities we enjoy with our loved ones. 

More + Less - by Adeline Connors

More elation, less pain.

More peace, less suffering.

More joy, less agony.

More comfort, less torture.

More relief, less ache.

More order, less trouble.

         More love, less hate.

                     More pride, less doubt.

                                 More calm, less stress.

More heal, less hurt.

More life, less death.

         Sometimes we let ourselves worry over the littlest things in life that really don’t matter in the long run. The tendency to let our stress eat away at the little peace we have in life is self-sabotaging and the moments of true joy never last too long. So, it’s important to find the things in life that can be stress relievers and safe spaces. The joy and pride I want to experience daily needs to be able to outshine my constant doubt and fears in order to be successful.

The year 2024 was difficult. The everlasting hours at school, the constant doubt at the studio, the controlling anxiety that disrupted all my peace. There were so many aspects of my life that collided at the worst possible times that led to volcanoes of chaos erupting at any inconvenient moment. I was more than ready for this year to end.

So I hope that this year can be different.

I pray that this year will be different.

I wish to have all my friends beside me for any problem or task that I take on.

I desire the knowledge that will bring me to the college where I belong.

I hope that I will be able to find the bright side in all of my situations.

I can’t wait to find someone who will give me the right affirmations.

I crave the validation from my family that I have yet to receive.

I long for the patience that I need to be able to succeed.

I want to live my life to its absolute fullest.

And experience all of the things

And take on all that life flings

And I think what I want most of all is to have the ability to love and care for myself as much as I do for everyone around me.

The year 2025 will be different from the rest. This year, I’m willing to take risks, make sure I stay happy and healthy, and look for the good in everyone. I want to find the peace and patience I’ve always longed for while also being bold and a risk taker. I can’t wait to start senior year and a new chapter in my life, but I also can’t wait to spend the rest of junior year working on myself and my growth so I can become the best version of myself that I can be.

Holiday Songs--Best and Worst by Kendall Patterson

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, Christmas! That means it's time to hop in your car with the holiday music blaring and scream your favorite Christmas tunes. Christmas music has been around for hundreds of years. There are so many catchy songs you can listen to during the holiday season while you're Rocking Around the Christmas Tree. From carols to jingles, to upbeat Christmas pop, there are many Christmas genres you can choose from. Now it’s time to buckle up in your sleigh while I rank Christmas music from your top-notch listens to the songs that should appear on Santa’s naughty list. 

5) Feliz Navidad

This Christmas song should be banned from all radio stations. The unbearable repetition sends me into an angered state of mind that can’t be described. Over and over he repeats “Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad.” Like, stop repeating yourself! We got your point seven Feliz Navidad’s ago. It quite literally causes my ears to bleed and makes me want to punch a gigantic hole in the wall. I will never again want to waste 3 minutes of my life listening to that horrendous song. If you have never heard of or listened to this song, I highly suggest you don’t even take it into consideration. Trust me, it is not worth your time and energy. 

4) Baby It's Cold Outside - By Dean Martin

I have a love-hate relationship with this song. When I first heard it, I fell in love and played it repeatedly. I would prance around my kitchen singing each lyric wholeheartedly. When my neighbors would visit during the holidays, we would perform shows and blare this song from my living room through my retro red karaoke machine and sing our hearts out. (I would always sing the girl's part, obviously.) However, the song's power began to die out after a certain amount of time. Nowadays whenever this song plays from my Christmas playlist, I skip it. It was overplayed when I was a child and now it has lost its magic in my mind. But, if you're looking for a catchy Christmas tune this holiday season, this may be the song for you. As long as you have not overplayed it…

3) Underneath the Tree - By Kelly Clarkson

When I am told to think of the most upbeat, perky, cheerful, magical, uplifting, and catchy Christmas song I think of Underneath the Tree by Kelly Clarkson. The amount of energy and holiday cheer produced through her vocals and the music itself is absolutely phenomenal. This magical melody will never fail to brighten my mood and put me in the holiday spirit. If this song doesn’t have you dancing around the foot of your tree, I don’t know what else will. You may wonder why this song has not sprung to the top spot of my Christmas music listing. This is because there just happens to be two different songs that jingle my bells more than this one. Nevertheless, I recommend adding this to your holiday harmonies this Christmas season. 

2) All I Want For Christmas Is You - By Mariah Carey

This merry melody is the mascot of Christmas. When you think of the word Christmas I am willing to bet this is one of the first things that pops into your head. This song currently holds the title of the world's most well-known Christmas song; and for very good reason too. It brings a feeling of delight and cheer that nothing else can’t create. (Mariah Carey outdid herself with this one!) Although this song is an absolute Christmas banger, I can’t rank it in the top spot because it is not as good overall as my go-to Christmas song.  If you are looking for a song to scream at the top of your lungs while driving around looking at Christmas lights or hanging with friends during the holidays, this song is most definitely for you. So go ahead and crank up that volume and transport yourself to your wonderful winter wonderland with the help of Mariah Carey’s number-one hit. 

1) Last Christmas - By Wham

This melodious Christmas tune is the definition of perfection. The beats, the vocals, and the lyrics all come together in perfect harmony to produce what I call the greatest Christmas song of all time. This song can put anyone in the holiday spirit just from the first 5 seconds. From personal experience, I know this song can put a smile on anyone's face, anytime, anywhere. I could listen to this song throughout the entire year and never get sick of it. It doesn’t even have to be Christmas time for me to play this spectacular piece of music. All it takes is one click of a finger and off I go singing till my voice feels strained and weak. If you're looking for a jolly new jam this Christmas season, I highly recommend adding Last Christmas to your holiday playlist.

Christmas truly is one of the best times of the year; especially because of the fantastic music played during that time. Holiday cheer is spread rapidly through the harmonious sounds of Christmas tunes. If you are ever in a sour mood all it takes is the beats of some of your favorite Christmas music to bring a bright smile to your face. Christmas music is like medicine to our souls. One listen and you will be overcome with Christmas spirit and joy. I hope this ranking has been helpful to you when you are picking out what Christmas melodies to jam out to this holiday season. 

My Most Bizarre Christmas Gifts

by Ella Crone

         When I was younger, I had an extremely unrealistic hope that if I didn’t give my parents an idea for my “big” Christmas gift, then they would get me a puppy. Every year on December 25th before 7:00 A.M. I bounded down the stairs and ripped open the red and green wrapping paper that indicated my big gift. I’m still not sure, but I have the sneaking suspicion that my dad took this as a challenge to buy me the weirdest gift he could think of at the moment. So this list will be a chronicle of my most bizarre Christmas gifts in chronological order.

#1) Hot Pink BB Gun

         I was seven years old. I tore the wrapping paper open, and caught a glimpse of the shiny hot pink exterior. Just like that, my hopes for a puppy were dashed. When I brought my new BB gun out of the box, I wasn’t quite sure what it was. But, as my dad explained it to me, some of my excitement slowly returned. Later that day, we went outside to the backyard and shot at some targets, my dad standing behind me so that the kickback didn’t push me back too hard. As a tiny child with my matching hot pink protective glasses sliding down my face, grasping the huge hot pink BB gun with white knuckles, it surely was quite a scene to witness. Despite the initial disappointment, I did love that gift because of the quality time that it brought me with my dad.

#2) Compound Bow & Arrows (Also Pink)

         I was nine years old. I made quick work of the red and green paper, again realizing that a puppy was not in the cards for me this year. I’m not sure why my dad thought that I needed another hot pink weapon, but perhaps he was hoping this one would stick when the BB gun didn’t. I quickly signed up for archery lessons, and practiced in the backyard every day. Oftentimes, my dad would give it a try too, but he was never as good as me. I had a lot of fun with that bow- and it did last significantly longer than the gun- but I never developed a lasting love for the sport.

#3) Spotted Leopard Gecko

         I was 12 years old. The wrapping paper ripped easily under my older fingers. My parents had warned me to be gentle, because whatever was in the large box under my hands was alive. I could feel the hope making my heart beat so fast, it almost burst out of my chest. But when I finally got all of the paper away, I didn’t see anything inside the large tank. There was just a green felt floor and some rocks. I was perplexed, until my dad gently lifted up one of the hollow rocks, and a creature was gazing up at me. Orange, brown and red, he was undoubtedly beautiful. My dad informed me that he was a leopard gecko, and that I would have to be extremely careful with him. I forgot about the puppy that I had been hoping for as soon as the rock was lifted. Buddy quickly became a close companion, and I would do all of my chores with him resting on my shoulder.

         The BB gun was retired after a few weeks, discarded with a disinterest that only young children can muster. The bow and arrow lasted longer, but ultimately met its end on top of my fridge in the garage, collecting dust. Buddy, I raised for years, slowly adding more to my collection until school required too much of my attention. These odd Christmas gifts are a tribute to my father’s imagination, and the things he came up with when I refused to give him any ideas.

Top 5 Worst Things About Christmas

By Olivia Trice

We live in a world where faces light up at the mention of Christmas.  Everything is happy and jolly, and it’s everyone's favorite holiday.  And if you say you don’t like Christmas?  Oh good luck my friend.  You will soon be bombarded with reasons Christmas NEEDS to be the season you look forward to for most of the year.  It’s so cozy and fun, and the music, and decorating, baking cookies, seeing family and friends, shopping, giving gifts, seeing lights, and CHRISTMAS MOVIESSSSSS.  These are all great, but this is only one side to Christmas.  Like everything, this holiday does have cons.  So here are the top 5 worst things about Christmas:

Starting backwards at number 5: the traffic.  Have you ever tried to go somewhere during the holidays? You can’t.  Holiday congestion -- the car kind not the nose kind -- is the absolute worst.  I mean seriously December is the time of year when you question if it’s too easy to get a driver's license and wonder how many Subarus are at the front leading the pack of cars you're stuck in.  And this traffic is not only annoying, it’s scary.  Cars are everywhere and between missed exits and wrong turns it’s so easy to accidentally bump into one; or for one to accidentally bump into you.  Then next thing you know you’re dealing with police reports and insurance claims on top of your already mile high stack of holiday to do’s; and expenses.  As someone who got her license in the month of  December, I can vouch for the fact that holiday traffic is one of the worst things about Christmas.

Next at number 4: the cold.  Remember all of those fun outdoor holiday traditions? The activities you look forward to all year?  Yea well somehow you forgot about the cold again.  And no it’s not the cozy winter cold with hot chocolate and a blanket.  That’s inside cold, this is outside cold.  The kind of cold that brings tears to your eyes and red to your face.  Yes, looking at Christmas lights sounds fun.  Until you’re actually there, when you can’t feel your fingers and your ears are burning with a cold heat that makes you wonder what frostbite feels like.  Also with the cold comes depression and oftentimes sickness.  Coughs and congestion — yes the nose kind this time — that make it impossible to even fully enjoy all of the holiday fun.  Also, we live in Virginia, so this cold is not at all accompanied by snow which would be the only possible positive to 20° weather.  Nope instead what do we get: freezing rain.  Which turns to ice and causes more issues for con number 5 as well as the coldest cold you’ve ever felt; the kind of cold only a hot shower can fix.  So there you go, the cold coming in at the 4th worst aspect of Christmas.

Up next, an introvert’s nightmare. 

Number 3: constant social events.  Most people, even introverts, love to get together with their close friends and family.  However Christmas social events are overwhelming, for anyone, including extroverts.  They’re not the normal hangout, they include the creepy uncle and the great great aunt talking about how much you’ve grown since 2007.  Well duh it’s been 17 years.  And it’s not just a one time thing, it’s constant around the holidays.  Between church, family, and friend events it gets exhausting constantly shoving a smile on your face and pretending like you heard what the person you're talking to just said as voices mush together in the noise of liveliness.  Then next thing you know, the book you set aside to read in December goes flying out the window (back on the shelf) to never be seen again (to be pulled out and not read again next year).  The holidays mark the funeral to your already sparse free time; which is what earns holiday gatherings their number 3 spot on the worst parts of Christmas.

Number 2: not being able to sleep on Christmas Eve.  This one sounds very childish and in all honesty, I’m not really sure if this still happens to anyone other than me.  Either way it made it to the list because this is the WORST FEELING EVER.  Tossing and turning all night with anxious thoughts racing through your mind.  Awful.  Absolutely horrendous.  And the worst part is that every year I am tired, but for some reason I can never find sleep.  It’s not like I’m waiting for Santa to drop off my presents, but I still get too excited for slumber.  Sleepless nights are the longest ones, and for some reason they always lead to a movie of my top ten most embarrassing moments.  This is why Christmas Eve nights are a major con of Christmas and are number two on my list.

Now, time for the worst part of the entire Christmas season; the thing that could single handedly cause a hatred for Christmas: extra homework.  The few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas are filled with one thing, and it’s not jolliness.  It’s homework.  Each teacher needs to finish their unit before break, but there’s rarely actually enough time to do so.  So the end result is usually a full unit crammed into three weeks where 90% of the work is done at home.  Say goodbye to family time and traditions, you’re in high school now, you have extra Christmas work; the present we all dream of.  The month of December has to be one of the most stressful months of the year because of the doubled workload on top of balancing holiday chaos.  The truth is this makes the holiday season more stress than it’s worth; leaving extra homework as the worst part about Christmas, and the portion that can potentially ruin the entire holiday.

I want to start my conclusion off with a clarification that I do love Christmas.  In fact it’s my second favorite holiday.  However I can see why people don’t like the time of year, because everything doesn’t magically become merry when December rolls around.  So these were my reasons someone could hate Christmas.  And my reasons for why Christmas falls short to the Fourth Of July in my book.  All holidays are fun, but which one is the most stressful?  I bet your answer is Christmas. 

The Perfect Fall Playlist by Cooper Conrad

The leaves change colors, and the air gets crisper; fall has begun. Whether paired with hot apple cider, perfectly cooked shepherd pie, or even piles of homework, nothing competes with a perfectly curated fall-themed playlist. 

#5

Lover, You Should’ve Come Over by Jeff Buckley

This Buckley song proves a testament to the saying “an oldie but a goodie”. It perfectly captures the essence of fall with its slow pace and driving guitar beat. Almost instantly transporting me to the set of Gilmore Girls, where I can bask in the sunlight shining through the openings of the town's gazebo. 

#4

Lovers Rock by TV Girl

My love for this song started in October 2023 (prime fall time), when my friends and I spontaneously bought tickets to see TV Girl one week before their concert. We thought, why not; it was only a 25-minute drive on a Sunday. In our one week before the concert, we had to get everything ready, and fast. I grabbed a $3 shirt from Goodwill and found my old pair of khakis under the heap of all my other “nice” clothes that hadn’t been worn since the last wedding I went to. The day finally came and we arrived at the venue only three hours early, trying to secure the best spot on the floor. When the doors opened, we rushed out, not caring at all what everybody else thought. We were just three manic teenagers trying to get to the barricade. As we secured our spot, we stood there, continuously, for the entirety of the concert, and as soon as we heard the first note of Lovers Rock, we all looked at each other, knowing that this song was perfect. 

#3

I Remember Everything (feat. Kacey Musgraves) by Zach Bryan

Although not an avid country listener, when I heard this song I suddenly found myself engulfed in the Country world of music. I don’t know whether it is the strum of the guitar or the duality of both Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves. There is just something about this country song that makes me want to go pick pumpkins in my cowboy boots, which I don't have and contemplate life while hunting out in the country. 

#2 

Only (feat. Drake, Lil Wayne, Chris Brown) by Nicki Minaj

A fall playlist wouldn’t be complete without some Nicki. I couldn’t possibly imagine driving to school on a cold fall morning without listening to Nicki Minaj belting her vocals and serving baddie. While many get distracted by the speedy lyrics, the instrumental background provokes a moody, introspective feeling that is perfect for a chilly fall morning. 

#1

Virginia Beach by Drake

Nothing encapsulates football season better than bumping VA Beach in the car ride with all your friends dressed according to theme. This song is reminiscent of every high school milestone. From the pink out game to the pirate game, and even the homecoming dances. I don't know what it is, this beat is extremely nostalgic. The best memories have been driving in my overly packed car with this song blaring from the radio, practically breaking the sound barrier, but I somehow can still hear the memories being made. 

My perfect fall playlist; while it doesn’t include “Spooky Scary Skeleton” or the “Monster Mash”, I feel that this assortment of songs perfectly captures how I want my fall to feel. Everything from a cozy country song to a highly intense rap about Nicki Minaj’s multiple relationships, these songs provide comfort and make for an interesting side-eye from the passengers in my car when I turn on “Cooper’s Fall Playlist”. 

Killer Halloween Costumes by Ruby Watson

While this is a judgment free zone, if you have dressed as Harley Quinn and the Joker for Halloween with your best friend or as peanut butter and jelly with your sibling in second grade, just know I am judging you. Take no offense, not everyone can be as creatively genius as myself. Last year for Halloween, I dressed as Snooki and my best friend went as JWoww. You might not find my masterpiece all that masterful, but if you had seen the bedazzled camo print miniskirt I wore with my cheetah microtop, paired with uggs and cut up tights, you might take that back. Needless to say, I was creepin’ it real. But since I’m such a saint, I have decided to unveil all of my killer costumes so you don’t make a ghoul of yourself. 

Masterpiece #1: Christina Aguilera

If you ask me, your best chance of being recognizable as a faux Xtina, wearing her infamous yellow race car bra and chaps. But I think the rather iconic option would be dressing in the criss-cross stripey blue crop top and jean miniskirt she styled with knee high stripper boots for the 2002 MTV VMA’s. P.S. If you want to pumpkin spice this one up, feel free to text your ex-boyfriend and tell him he should dress up as Eminem. 

Knockout #2: Emily from The Corpse Bride 

Once again, this could be easily paired with a skinny white male on your arm. But as we know by now ladies, they really aren’t necessary. Nonetheless, Emily (the Corpse Bride) and Victor would be the couple of the year. Just imagine you paint your skin white and chisel your cheekbones with dark gray eyeshadow, then add some dark purple around your eyes…killer. You can go to the thrift store and find a white slip dress then throw it around in your backyard. Maybe even smother it in bacon grease and let your pooch go to town. You’ll have the perfect, cheapest, most legendary costume at the function. And if you want to approach your crush and tell him you want to get married, it doesn’t matter if he rejects you. After all, you were just getting into character…right? 

Sensation #3: Elvira from Scarface

If you’re a blonde bombshell who just so happens to have a bob, I hope you seriously consider this one (although it is likely only a Swedish model would truly replicate the beauty of Michelle Pfeifer). Picture this: a v-cut navy blue slip dress, decorated in some of the finest fake diamonds you can get your hands on, and finished with subtle red lips and a smokey eye. If it pleases you, heels aren’t even mandatory. Any black ballet flats would do the job perfectly. Of course, if you happen to have any friends that are in the mafia, extend the invitation to them as well. At the end of the day, there is no Elvira without her Tony. 

Honorable Mentions:

Katherine Pierce and Elena Gilbert from The Vampire Diaries, Aquamarine from Aquamarine, Poppy from Wild Child, Destiny’s Child, Beavis and Butthead, Beck from Victorious, Jeremy Wade from River Monsters (If you know, you know).

Love, Luck, and Leaving Your Life Behind by Caroline Coleman

As a child, I was obsessed with finding a four-leaf clover. My dewy spring mornings were spent looking through patches of grass for the magical plant. Looking back I don’t remember what I would wish for—maybe a new toy or for my best friend to be able to sleep over that upcoming weekend. As I am now much older I have tons of wishes that pop into my head; Whether that be the guy I think is cute to talk to me, to meet Taylor Swift and explain to her why “False God” is my favorite song, for my mom to get better, or to be more confident with my appearance. However, I have one wish that could never be fulfilled without a four-leaf clover or any other type of sorcery- to be a kid again. 

I have officially reached the homestretch of high school and there are SO many things to look forward to. I’m meeting my future roommate in April and beginning to plan my graduation party. Despite all the exciting things coming up ahead of me, I can’t help but miss my childhood. I frequently reminisce about my elementary school days and all the memories I made playing on my street. I would wish on every shooting star, the lucky number on the clock, and of course, a four-leaf clover to relive waking up from a sleepover with all my old friends.

Nostalgia has always been near and dear to my heart. When I was seven, one of my older friends wrote me a birthday card that read: “I can’t believe you’re already seven!” I don’t remember much from that day specifically, but I remember crying because I was getting older. However, this was a weird feeling to me; I was the baby of all my cousins and everyone esle around me and I couldn’t wait to be older. In particular, I wanted to be just like my cousin Brookley. 

When Brookley was sixteen she cried in Kroger when she found out my mom was pregnant with me. For whatever reason I still get emotional when I think about that. It’s hard for me to grasp that someone could be that excited to meet another person they knew nothing about. Flash forward sixteen years I’m the one crying because her third baby, Everette,  was born on my late aunt’s birthday. My wish every year since then on my birthday candles, dandelions, and four-leaf clovers has been for Aunt Bonnie to have stuck around a little longer so she could have met him. 

I’ve always wanted to be just like my cousins and I have no regrets about that. All of them are great people and amazing parents to their children. I just wish that I didn’t want to rush through my own childhood to join them. Much to my surprise, my cousins are also growing older too. The days of my cousin’s childhood have been passed down to their own kids. It recently hit me that I am now the older figure they look up to. 

As I mentioned earlier, I have plenty of wishes that I could put to use if given the magical chance. But above all, I wish to relive my childhood. There isn’t necessarily anything I’d do a lot differently, I just want to experience youthful bliss again. I want to hug everyone a little harder, make better apologies, and quite frankly be a kid. Time is limited and I wish I knew that before it had all run out…

Ode to The Summer by McKenna May

The world turns to June,

When tan lines peek out and life feels simple.

No school for three months,

Trips to a sunny beach,

And no dreary, cold days lay ahead.

When hair becomes a touch blonder,

And the curls come out to play.

A time involving playlists filled with good times,

To accompany you during the drives,

With the windows down and a breeze that swirls throughout the car.

Sunsets become paintings in the sky–

Making everyone stop, stare, and admire the beauty of these warm days. 

The time that is spent sitting at the pool, soaking in the sun

with the well-known song blaring from the speakers of the ice cream truck reminding everyone of the sweet treat that’s sure to cool you off.

This season contains one of the best holidays involving everything from fireworks and parades

to barbeques and sparklers.

It fills me with comfort knowing that it’s a time of familiarity.

The days of my youth were spent splashing in a pool,

and my nights revolved around firepits and hunts to catch lightning bugs while listening to the crickets sing their hymn to those who took the time to listen.

The memories of this season will always accompany me with feelings of longing as the days begin to shorten.

I understand we must return to the other seasons who have been patiently waiting for their turn to reveal their beauty 

The cycle must repeat itself and leave a year until I can once again welcome my favorite season: summer.

The Chaos That Is Life--by Olivia Trice

Who am I?

I’m a reader.  I love to read but I never do it, I never get time.

I’m a dancer.  I love dancing so much, but this year I’ve been so overwhelmed with school that it’s getting hard to enjoy.

I’m a Christian.  I love God more than anything, but at the end of the day I’m so tired I don’t even have the energy to read my bible.

I’m a good student.  I get good grades, but I make myself miserable constantly trying to be perfect.

I’m a writer.  I love to write, but I see prompts like this one and panic because I don’t know how to answer them.

I’m a daughter.  I love my parents, but every time I get asked to hang out with them my answer is I have homework.

I’m a sister.  I love my sister, but I take my stress out on her.

I’m a granddaughter.  I love my grandma, but I can’t remember the last time I took her up on her offer to go to church.

I’m a friend.  I love hanging out with my friends, but my social battery runs out.

I’m me.  I love being me, but sometimes I lose who I am in the chaos of life.  

I don’t want to lose myself.

I want to take time out of my day to read, even if it’s not long.

I want to learn to enjoy dance, even when I’m worried about something else.

I want to put God first and take time to read my bible before I’m exhausted, even if I still have more homework to do. 

I want to try my best in school, but not put such an emphasis on failing.

I want to stop worrying about having the perfect answer to a prompt and just write because I love to.

I want to take time to spend with my parents, even if it means setting my homework aside; even if it ends up being late.

I want to learn new ways to manage my stress and grow closer to my sister.

I want to find time to spend with my grandma, even if I’m busy during church.

I want to learn to say no to hanging out with my friends when I think I need time alone.

I want to prioritize my relationships and myself so that I don’t lose who I am in the chaos that is life. 

Good Grief: The Six Stages of Gingerbread Construction by Casey Rutman

Every family has their own traditions around the holidays.  Some families do Secret Santa or wear matching ugly Christmas sweaters, some go caroling (do people actually go caroling or does that just happen in movies?), or add suspense to the season with an advent calendar.  One tradition that has developed in my family is going to our family friends’ house after the Christmas morning festivities to have dinner and build gingerbread houses.  A Christmas movie is usually involved as well.  

Since we’ve been doing this for years, I’ve noticed a pattern in regard to this seemingly easy and fun holiday activity; and good grief, this pattern is one that comes in waves, or should I say stages?

Stage 1: Denial
Hold on there’s a step before this that’s not really a stage of grief.  Let’s go back.

Stage 0: Everything is Great

This is the stage where the excitement of building a gingerbread house is all you feel.  Your expectations are high…much too high.  (I blame Pinterest.)  You have an array of candies layed out on the table, all sorted into piles.  The bags of icing are full and sit happily next to the bowls of candy.  Right now you and your fellow gingerbread construction workers are sitting happily as well.  A festive Christmas movie begins to play in the background.  Overall, everything is going great…and that’s because nothing has happened yet.

Now that we’ve established that, we can pick up where we left off.

Stage 1: Denial

This is the stage where you actually begin construction.  You’ve got all the pieces of the house laid out and now you need to stick them together.  I’m gonna spoil the ending for you – it doesn’t work.  Maybe the icing was too warm and wouldn’t set, maybe you didn’t hold the pieces together long enough.  Either way, as soon as you remove your hands, that house is going down.  Now you’re a little disappointed, but the night’s still young and you’ve still got hope in your heart (not for long, but right now denial is the name of the game).  You tell yourself that this was a fluke and immediately try again.

That brings us to…

Stage 2: Anger

Your house has fallen once, but no matter.  You try again.  The house falls again.  A little bit of that positive holiday spirit swirls down the emotional drain in your heart.  Of course that one friend already has their house built perfectly and is beginning to decorate it with all the best candies.  This motivates you to try again.  Third time’s the charm, right?  Absolutely not.  Your house falls once again in a landslide of sticky icing and gingerbread crumbs.  Any little children that are attempting this holliday task are crying right now in frustration.  You’re not far off from crying yourself, but you aren’t a child, so you must do the more emotionally mature option… scream in anguish at your gingerbread graveyard.  Buddy the elf looks down on you from his spot on the screen as he expertly builds the Empire State Building out of freaking Legos.

Now, you can’t let Will Farrell do you like that, so you build the house out of spite, or a second gust of holiday spirit (whatever kind of mood you happen to be in).  Now you are finally getting somewhere.  You borrowed someone else’s less messy icing bag and walls are beginning to go up.

What's this…?

Stage 3: Bargaining 

(in this scenario you’re the bargainee, not bargainer, but whatever)

This stage is far more common if there are children in the mix.  That sad little child from earlier, you know the one, they still can’t build their house.  Tears are in their eyes, their nose is running and all they want in the world is to switch houses with you so they can get to the fun part – decorating.  Now, you can’t make this child cry again, especially if they’re a family friend, so you put on a nice front and give the kid the house you put your blood, sweat, and tears into to finally get built.  Sure, you are happy to see that little face smile again…until you are passed the steaming pile of gingerbread crap they called a house.

And now we’ve hit…

Stage 4: Depression

The kid is happily sticking gumdrops to the roofline you were antagonizing over for the last however-many-minutes, and now you’ve got a plate full of broken walls and shattered dreams.  How are you even going to fix this?  Despair hits and you’ve gotta go take a break.  You sit there, mindlessly watching the movie, trying to gauge your next steps, when alas…

Stage 5: Acceptance

You realize that this is just a gingerbread house, not a test of your worth or anything else, so you look at the “house” you’re stuck with and decide to make the best out of it.  You look over to that kid and their – eherm, your – house is covered in a mountain of sweets.  There isn’t really any order to it (and you obviously would’ve done a much better job) but they look happy.  Thinking back to a time when you were the little kid in this scenario, you stop all the annoyed feelings and focus instead on having a fun time with your friends and/or family.

That’s when you’ve reached…

Stage 6: Reconstruction/Moving On

You embrace that kid’s spirit and begin piling every candy within reach on top of your disaster of a house (you did manage to get something built from it) and now you’re finally having some fun.  The house’s frame may be imperfect, but so are the holidays, and that’s what makes them special (or at least entertaining).  By this point, a valuable lesson has been learned.

The sweet (architecturally challenged) kid comes over to you to admire your house and asks to help.  Of course you oblige.  The two of you sit together, placing a pattern of gumdrops on the roofline.  The joyful sound of Elf’s end credits and the smell of gingerbread surround you and everything really is great…

…until that kid pushes the dang candy on too hard, causing your house to fall.

And that brings us to…

Stage 1: Denial

How a Frappuccino Saved My Life by Evie Naglic

I've competed six 5k´s this year, but my first could be considered less than ideal. It's 3:30 in the August summer heat and I am ready to run 3.1 miles as fast as I can. My nerves are brooding and I'm already sweaty, despite my shaking hands and fast heartbeat, I wasn't prepared for the race that would entail.

The gun goes off. I've started running now. I'm surrounded by girls of other teams, and my own as all of us compete for the top spot. I can see my friend Zoey in the distance in front of me and get myself situated. Immediately I feel like I'm burning up, the body heat of everyone and myself fills the air with existential dread for the coming miles.

As I'm approaching the second mile I suddenly feel extremely cold. Goosebumps cover my arms and legs, and the hair on the back of my neck starts to stand up. I'm confused but quite honestly too busy with running for my life. When cresting the highest hill, I lose all hope and motivation to keep going, mixed with the urge to throw up my lunch. While walking quickly out of my coach's eyesight, I see my friend Zoey – also walking. She turns back to look at me, we have a mutual understanding. Mutual understanding that something is seriously wrong. 

I cross the line with my god-awful time and walk off the line. I see teammates sitting in the ambulance with a grey hue to their clammy skin. However, for me, I beeline to my sister. She is uninterested in my droopy eyes and general confusion.

 She asks impatiently, 

¨we can go now right¨ when I tell her yes she groans

¨thank goodness I'm so hot,¨ 

We go straight to the car and she rambles on about whatever party she's going to that night or how she never has enough money. Finally, she offers that we both go get Starbucks, ¨as a reward.¨ I delightfully agree. These were moments when I really felt grateful for my sister. She doesn't even ask me what I want but orders a venti frappuccino. While typically I wouldn't order such a childish drink, I was so thankful. ¨All the sugar will wake you up; I'm using Dad's card anyways,¨ she hands me the large drink and continues chatting. 

I drink the whole thing in a matter of seconds. She says she doesn't want to go home, and we drive on the back roads. My head is hanging out the window and the cool air lowers my fever I was unaware of. She plays her music and we complain about everything under the sun, despite being well-off suburban white girls.

I could choose to remember that I had untreated heat stroke, fever, and being more tired than I ever have; but I didn't. I remember the time my sister willingly hung out with me. I remember her gracefully ordering exactly what I needed. When we got home, I slept for 16 hours. However, I probably would've never woken up if it weren't for the venti frappuccino I downed after the worst race of my life.

Blog of the Month of October: Spooky Season

A Ranking of my Halloween Costumes by Zoey Artis

As a really shy kid (--that later ended up not being shy and just having severe social anxiety) I loved Halloween. Halloween allowed me to be anyone I wanted to be, and hide behind a mask, both literally and figuratively. I was a different person when I put on a costume and the prospect of having one night a year that I could be anything I wanted was appealing and a relaxing thought, because I could escape from my own problems, life, and anxiety, and take on someone else's. So, here's a ranking of my Halloween costumes and identities throughout the years, enjoy!

Hannah Montana: 

As a four year old I didn't understand the differences between white and black and the somewhere in the middle that I was, but more importantly I didn't understand that my blonde wig did not look as natural as I was convinced it did. I wore my glittery dress, converse, and iconic blonde wig to preschool for my class party, and I'm not going to lie, I felt like ‘That Girl’. I spent the entirety of the day flipping my new lucious golden locks and wondering why I hadn't been blessed with blonde hair; spoiler alert, it's because I'm half black.

I'm giving this one a 10/10 because it was simply my most iconic costume to date. I think about this costume at least once a month and I truly just don't think I can ever top it.

Instagram in a group with other apps: 

This was so middle school. If you looked up “cute halloween costumes for tweens” on pinterest in 2017 you would have seen this picture. The capri leggings and the pop socket on my Iphone 6 really screams “I AM IN SEVENTH GRADE”. I went with a big group of girls that all go to Hanover now and we were different apps. My best friend was Netflix. There was Twitter, Music.ly (yes, it was that long ago), and some other miscellaneous apps because not everyone could be Netflix and Instagram. 

I’d give this a 8.7/10 simply because I was Instagram and I knew all the other girls wanted to be me. 

Lagoona Blue from Monster High: 

Yes, I was a doll one year. No, wasn’t a Barbie. I was a Monster High Doll, if you don't know what that is, pause right here and look it up because my picture IS NOT an accurate representation. My mom wouldn't let me buy the licensed Lagoona Blue Monster High Doll costume because she said it looked too grown up, but she really meant raunchy and hoochie momma-ish. The costume had fishnets, need I say more? So instead I settled for a blue wig, heavy blue makeup with glitter, and high Monster High socks that went halfway to my knees. and high Monster High socks that went halfway to my knees. Every house I went to they would ask me who I was, I would say “Lagoona Blue” and they would just look at me really puzzled.

I’d give this costume a 3.3/10. What was I thinking? The fact that my original costume idea was too “grown up” (we’ll call it that because this is a school issued blog), should have cued me in to just stick with the norm and be a witch or even a Barbie if I wanted to be a doll, but no, I was stuck wearing knee high socks and a blue wig. I'm only giving this costume points because I appreciate the creativity and dedication to being THE Lagoona Blue. 

Football player with full padding: 

It was SOO hot. I remember this year being one of the hottest Octobers to date and still my parents encouraged me to wear full football padding. I was sweating bullets and I felt like I was going to puke the entire time I was trick-or-treating. I also could barely breathe because the padding was so tight-- you know when you’re watching football players change out of their padding and they have to put their arms over their head and pull at the collar. They have to squirm and practically invert their bodies to free themselves from the padding. That's how I looked but a million times worse because I wasn't used to being confined in foam and rubber. After trick-or-treating my breathing was shallow and I frantically asked my mom to take it off of me. My mom grabbed at the collar and I remember screaming and crying because the tension of my mom pulling made it feel like my head was going to pop off. Thankfully, the padding came off (phew) but I was left with rug burn and a broken ego. I'm giving this costume a 4.9/10. It was cute, but I think I developed breathing problems. 

Tennis player: 

This was two years ago. I went to a bonfire and it was dark and smokey. I kept the shirt and skirt in hopes that another costume party would come up and I could be a preppy tennis player again. The shirt (which was my step brothers that I cut) still kind of lingers with smoke and it sits in a bag in my closet full with feather boas, capes, and other things I’ve worn to parties and football games throughout highschool. I can say confidently that this is one of my favorites of my costumes in my teenage years. I just wish it wasn't so dark outside that night so everyone could have seen my cute little visor. 

I'm giving this a 9.2/10-- points taken off for the lack of racket, but received points for the practicality and simplicity of the outfit. I still own this skirt and the shoes and I'm planning on re-wearing the shirt, so it was definitely the most sustainable out of all of my costumes. So props to me for being so environmentally friendly! 

Angel: 

The fake Brandy Melville skirt, the fake Brandy Melville shirt, and the Converse. Everything about this costume is so middle school. This was 2019, this was seventh grade, and this wasn’t cute even though I thought it was at the time.

This costume gets a 5.3/10. This was the vibe at the time (it shouldn’t have been, but it was) so I think I deserve points for being so in tune with the trends. Plus a lot of the cool girls in my grade told me my costume was really cute so it was a winner in my book. But I really wish I didn’t wear this in public-- I also posted this picture on Instagram which I severely regret. 

Shark: 

 A couple weeks before my 5th grade Halloween party I went with my mom to pick out a Halloween costume-- I picked out a gigantic shark costume. This costume was very out of character for me, so when I walked out of the Halloween aisle at Target with a shark costume that was bigger than me my mom hesitantly asked me, “Are you sure?”. 

The day of the Halloween party I got ready and made sure to get there extra early to sit in the car and scope out everyone's costumes from afar. Unfortunately, as my classmates piled into the clubhouse where the party was being held I noticed a frightening pattern: Half of the girls in my grade had the same costume: Thing One, Thing Two, and so on as the Things overran the entirety of the fifth grade. I was mortified because I wasn't cool enough to be invited to be in a group costume, but also because now I had to open the door and walk in dressed as a gigantic Great White shark. I walked in and when I tell you the entire place went dead silent I'm being so serious. I looked around at the Things wearing their cute little tutus and matching shirts and I looked at the girls who wore tiaras and cat ears to not appear too over the top, and then I looked down and I couldn't even see my shoes because my Caudal fin was so big. Tears immediately filled my eyes and I rushed back out the door to hop back in my moms car-- unfortunately she was speeding off as the tears trickled down my face and I had to turn around and walk right back in until the party was over.

I would give this costume a 2.1/10. I don't think I need to say why it scored so poorly. The only reason I'm giving this costume any points is because it went through too much to leave empty handed. 

Pepper Shaker: 

Salt-N-Pepa’s here!! I don’t know how my sister and I came up with this costume, but I like to think it's because we had a soft spot for classic hip-hop. As we trick-or-treated nearly every door that was opened was followed by a Gen X-er greeting us with the phrase, “push it real good!”. 

8.9/10 because we were clearly “number one in the hot party show,” that was Halloween 2014.

Mad Hatter in an Alice in Wonderland group costume: 

This costume actually cracks me up, because I totally had the choice of being Alice and I was like NO, “I want to be the Mad Hatter.” This was 2016-- the era of school girl skirts and obnoxious prints, so as the little fashion diva I was I picked the Mad Hatter because of his little plaid moment he had going on in the live action version of the movie. I was so excited for this costume to come in the mail. I truly believed that I would be turning heads, instead I wallowed in regret the whole night because my little sister looked really cute as Alice and I couldn’t pull off the plaid skirt. 

This costume gets a 2.5/10 because I looked the worst by far out of everyone in my group and I was so embarrassed. 

The fun of Halloween is being someone or something else. The spirit of Halloween is for becoming comfortable enough in your own skin to be someone or something else and appreciating our own individuality in and out of costume. So, although I don't like a lot of my costumes I'm glad that I can face everyday as myself rather than a pepper shaker or Hannah Montana. 

Blog of the Month of April: Our 2022-2023 Composition Theory Class

This month, we collaborated on a story modeled after the popular Netflix series, Kaleidoscope. Our story can be read in any order. Click on each link in any order you'd like. Here are the stories and their respective authors:

Red: Two Years Before by Molly Bower

Blue: The Lockdown by Caroline Coleman

Gray: Two Years Later by Molly Moloney

Forest Green: Two Hours After by Emily Neff

Green: Ten Minutes Before by Hannah Cipollina

Indigo: Four Hours After by Carter Salapka

Orange: One Day Before by Mack Brittle

Brown: One Day After by Lacy Walters

Plum: Leaving School by Liam Tempro

Black: Later That Evening by Maggie Watson

Maroon: 1.5 Hours After by McKenna May

Midnight Blue: Three Hours After by Taylor Peery

Yellow: Three Hours Before by Lilian Chamberlain

Peach: Two Hours After by Emily McDermott

Pink: Thirty Minutes After by Payton Diep

Violet: Ten Minutes After by Anna Collins

White: One Hour After by William Ellis

Teal: One Year Before by Kelly Pace

Blog of the Month of March 2023: Caroline Coleman

Most Influential Women: March Blog

I have always been fascinated by the idea of how people are just collections of other people; I, myself am living proof of this. All of my mannerisms and habits have been picked up from other “characters” in the story of my life, and most of these actors have been women. Everything from how I think to how I hold a spoon has been subjected to me by women. So, let me break it down. 

My mindset: growing up, my mom always told me “don’t worry over things you can’t control.” Although I haven’t always done so, I’m glad she continuously reinforced this. And this should go without saying, but I would be a completely different person if it wasn’t for my mother. 

Problem-solving: in tenth grade, my yearbook teacher always told us to “be problem solvers.” Sometimes it would have been nice to just have been given the answer to the issue I faced, but in my journey to the resolution, I learned a lot. It was also nice to be reminded by my teacher that “it’s gonna be okay, baby.” Because it always was. 

Holding a spoon: when I was seven years old I was at my childhood best friend’s house and we decided to have spaghettiO's for lunch. Shortly after being served the big bowl of red soup, I noticed how differently she held her spoon. (For context, she was holding it in a fist). I was appalled that her parents allowed her to eat so “unladylike” at the table. I mentioned that I believed how she held her spoon was wrong and, in turn, she gave me an earful about how I was incorrect. When I got home and told my parents about this matter, they quickly assured me that I was holding my spoon right, and ever since then, I have never held my spoon in a fist. 

Jewelry: “I hate mixing metals,” said my co-worker the first day I met her. To be honest, I didn’t really understand what she was talking about. I thought that wearing a silver necklace and gold rings was no big deal. Little did I know how atrocious this actually was. I began examining the colors of my jewelry and as it turns out, silver and gold really don’t go that well together.

Anxiety: whether it is my grandma dying or a long essay due three days after it was assigned, there is always something to worry about. Luckily, there’s always Emma Chamberlain’s podcast to reassure me that my anxiety doesn’t define me. It only makes me stronger.

Women: shaped me into who I am today. Down to the smallest details. It’s impossible to pick just one to give the title of Most Influential to. 

Blog of the Month February 2023: Maggie Watson

I love carpool karaoke, singing into fists, and dancing on tables with microphone whisks.

I love effortless communication, knowing each others’ thoughts, and acting in unison.

I love when people share - their emotions, their dreams, their things - when there are no open seats and knees become chairs.

I love candles that smell like breakfast and dessert, alit and unburnt, purposeful fire, a flavorful flame dance.

I love photographs with stories written on the back, photographs that cannot be explained with stories, and stories that have no photographic evidence.

I love unashamed, ambitious people with no fears or phobias, who don’t calculate risk, who enjoy the thrill and freedom of being alone.

I love people who make me forget about my phone.

I love the ritual of pulling my notebook out from under my bed and allowing myself to spill onto lined paper, disrupting midnight quiet with the click of a mechanical pencil. 

I love westcoast sunsets and washing sand from my feet with a hose and the impermanence of beauty and discomfort.

I love big shirts.

I love that I am the same person rushing my makeup in the morning and eagerly wiping it off before I touch my bed. 

I love when someone doesn’t mind pushing you on a sled, someone who wants to go down the hill just as much as you but waits patiently, instead.

I love donuts drowning in toppings, so generous and addicting that you eat every dropping.

I love globes and the big world and never quite comprehending the unexplored.

I love people who don’t mind tap water.

I love sons and daughters -- every person who has and will ever live, the people we remember, and the people forgotten in history -- the not-so-simple awe in existence.

I love that everyone’s perceived world is different than mine, and that everything wrong and right for each of us will come in time.

Blog of the Month January 2023: Lacy Walters

More or Less

My prompt this month is more self love, less self doubt.

Easier said than done, right?

I’ve always hated when you tell someone you’re feeling insecure and they say “don’t be insecure, you’re so bea- blah blah blah blahhhhh.”

Like thanks for the kind words, but come on? We both know it is NEVER that easy. 

Insecurity isn’t just fixed by the wave of a wand. This isn’t Cinderella. And we don’t have our very own fairy Godmother. 

Being insecure about something is rooted in us, like a tree with roots so thick in the ground they break through gravel. 

And insecurities come at you quick, like when you're up at bat in a softball game during the third quarter. Tired and unprepared. 

You never see the ball coming. A flash of yellow and then BOOM strike one. 

Except in this case you’re looking in the mirror and every little thing about you is being pulled apart. 

In my mind, insecurities are like a scar, they fade and fade over time but they’ll always leave a small mark. 

That mark can be beautiful though. Your marks, scars, and bumps are what make you unique. They are what make you, you. 

I’ve always thought there was something amazing about finding beauty in your faults. 

Finding the beauty in something unique to yourself is gratifying. 

Gratifying in the way, getting a homerun on the pitch that would’ve struck you out, is gratifying. 

Learning to love yourself is never gonna be simple. And it will never come from one person telling you that you're beautiful. 

Self love comes from within yourself. The same way that insecurities come from yourself. 

You have to learn how to differentiate the two within your mind. And remember that you CAN love something you're insecure about. 

I love the things I also dislike. I love my nose but I wish it was smaller. I love my height but I wouldn’t mind shrinking two inches. I love my laugh but sometimes I feel as if it’s annoying. 

I can’t change these things though. So I might as well embrace them. 

Embrace my nose that I suddenly think perfectly fits my face, embrace my height because I think it’s funny I’m taller than most boys I know, embrace my laugh because I know some people love the sound of it. 

Embracing every inch of myself but still being aware that insecurities will forever be there. I don’t mind that. 

I just had to get it in my head that insecurities don’t define me. 

The only thing that defines me, is me. 

More self love, less self doubt. 

I guess it sounds easier now. 

Blog of the Month December 2022: Anna Collins

Top 5 Reasons I Hate the Holidays

I don’t know about you, but being forced to go see the Christmas lights with your brother, rather than your non-existent significant other, absolutely blows. I don’t think I would ever associate the words “jolly” and “merry” with Christmas, as my experiences with it don’t really match that vibe. Some may call me a Scrooge, but I consider myself a realist. The whole idea of Santa and spending an exorbitant amount of money at the end of the year was a scheme developed by Hallmark, and we all know it. I may not have the “holiday spirit”, but at least I don‘t have the ho-ho-hole in my wallet. Here’s to the joys of the world!

1. Fa-La-La-La-Blah

I’m sorry, Mariah, but all I want for Christmas most definitely isn’t you. I honestly believe there’s a reason Christmas music is only deemed appropriate for a specific (quite short) time of the year. It is something of a tradition, but I’ve dealt with listening to the same songs for the past seventeen years, and I am already over it. We truly don’t need to be recalling the names of 

Santa’s nine reindeer and the attributes of the most famous one. Christmas music is overplayed on the radio and in your crazy, Christmas-fanatic friend’s car. It for some reason decides to start playing before the turkey can even make its way to the table. Even though some people feel the need to be rocking around the Christmas tree all December, I certainly believe we can wish people a Merry Christmas without having to sing it over and over again to them. Christmas music promotes the sickening and incessant behavior of many individuals to belt it out, which many should never even think of singing Happy Birthday. Christmas will still go on without all the exasperating music, so, please, let’s consider watching Frosty the Snowman to learn his story, rather than listening to his song on repeat. 

2. Aren’t you a Jolly, Ol’ Elf!!!!!

“Omg, I’m going to start decorating for Christmas on November 1st!” said no sane person ever. This reason goes out to all the Christmas-obsessed, overly-festive holiday freaks, or, I mean, people. There’s nothing like walking into school on a Monday morning and having that one person exuding Christmas spirit to the rest of the room, especially when it’s nowhere near December 25th. These people apparently forget there’s a world outside Christmas, as it is the only thing they can talk about. No, literally. I feel like they would be asked a question about their math homework and still bring up what they think they’re going to be getting their friend for Christmas. These people must have eaten too many candy canes as they run on “Christmas spirit” and are most definitely guilty of the addiction I spoke about above. There’s a line between getting up and being excited on Christmas morning and doing the same thing the day after Halloween. One of them is definitely not normal behavior, I’ll let you decide which. 

3. Oh, the Dreaded Family Time.

“Who’s excited to go to your grandparents over Christmas break?” This is the dreaded question I hear every year, and I have developed quite strong feelings about it as I have dealt with its loaded repercussions. Now, some of you may enjoy sharing a bedroom with all of your cousins of the same sex for a week on end, but I, personally, enjoy the ability to breathe without tripping on my cousin’s dirty laundry. This is especially great when you don’t associate with many of them much over the entire year, because for some reason it’s fun to pretend to like people you barely interact with. Family time is fun for a day or so, but once you catch up on who is happy to see who, there’s not much left to converse about, at least not of substance. The best part is when you travel six hours to see your family and there’s not really an option to leave and get away for a while. So, you’re stuck answering why you’re still single and listening to your uncle talk about the same hunting trip you’ve heard about your whole life. This is supposed to be an enjoyable way to spend the holiday season because staying in the comfort of your own home and Facetiming your family can’t suffice. So, when you gather around the Christmas tree on December 25th, don’t forget to smile and say “thank you” to your aunt for the pack of socks she so graciously got you!

4. Everything plus the… Fruitcake?

Who doesn’t love a good fruitcake? Fine, you got me there. I guess the real question would be who does love fruitcake? Christmas has adopted this as a delicacy and I really can’t understand why. This food could perfectly substitute for a brick, and that’s not only dangerous when you’re around your baby boy cousins, but also quite disturbing. Coming in at a close second to an upsetting Christmas item of consumption would be eggnog. It is putrid, to say the least. The flavor is not only off-putting but the oddly thick consistency makes me nothing short of nauseous. Christmas has sadly made these items a part of its traditions, a concept that I don’t think I’ll ever understand. Additionally, there’s the overload of Christmas cookies and the overly-dry turkey, both of which also contribute to the two-week-long stomach ache. If the excruciatingly painful music and your relatives don’t do the trick, I really do think Christmas food can cause that uneasy feeling of the holiday season. 

5. The Perfect Gift

Woe to the “perfect” Christmas gift. As it comes on to the holiday season, it is our job to start saving up and purchasing gifts for our friends and loved ones. Even though it's quite disheartening if you end up doing a lot more giving than receiving, I do think this is a thoughtful act that people take part in. Although that's the problem, it is expected to be thoughtful. There’s nothing worse than having that nagging feeling of knowing you need to get someone a Christmas gift and you have no clue what to get them. There is a level of competition in this gameplay, as you want to strive to either equate to the “greatness” level of the gift you’re receiving or exceed it. There’s nothing worse than thinking you’re at the Five and Below stage in your relationship, and the other person is under the impression it’s a Bath and Body works type deal. This is all so unfortunate, as Christmas has become more than just spending time with loved ones. People are so focused on the gifts and all things material, they don’t take the time to stop and smell the reindeer cookies in their mom’s oven. 

So, cheers to the most wonderful time of the year! Don’t let the stress of disappointing others with your gifts, spending time with family, and making sure you have enough money for gifts stop you from having a great time. The Christmas season is upon us, and maybe it’s the happiest time of your 2022, just please try to be mindful of those of us who can’t belt about our two front teeth (or lack thereof) at all hours of the day. So, good luck dreaming of a white Christmas, as the impending doom of global warming has made that one quite difficult for us. Merry Christmas!

Blog of the Month November 2022: Molly Moloney

 When sitting down to write something inspirational I was at a bit of a loss.  I could tell you about my mom working her way to the top of her field without a degree or support from others. I could tell you about my grandmother overcoming her abusive adoption experience. I could tell you about my dad making a new life for himself in America, alone at 18. But no matter how incredible I think these stories are, I don’t think they’d sit with you for long. I believe you may wake up in a couple weeks and not be able to recall what happened within these stories, or why it mattered. 

What could you remember? Well, the people in your own life. To me something far more inspirational than success is simple gratitude. We can’t say how well our lives are going to go. We can’t say we will always rise from the ashes, or keep our heads up 100% of the time, but more importantly we know we have the connections and the people around us. And no matter how long we get with our people, our memories make us eternal.

When I find myself hopeless, nothing helps me more than to think about the people who matter the most to me. I think about my mom's fiery personality and charisma that excites every person she meets. I think about my dad’s intricate and intelligent mind, and his ability to make anyone laugh. I think about my sister and my best friend and how we understand each other so effortlessly. I think about my boyfriend and all the hard work he puts into everything he does. I think about every teacher, friend, classmate, and family member that has helped to mold me into the person I am today. 

I look back at all the moments I’ve had with each one of these people both recently and long ago, through different schools and different houses, different ages and different problems. Through snow days, holidays, vacations, and power outages. Through success, achievements, heartbreaks, and growing pains. I look back and I realize that no matter what happens to me I will always be lucky enough to have the memories of these people to hold. 

So this November, take a moment to be grateful for all the people who’ve had a part in your story. Take a look at your life's big picture: where you’ve come from and where you are now. If you can find happiness and gratitude in your life and the people in it, you will always be successful. 

Blog of the Month of April: Jackie Drago

Slipping out of my fingers. Similar to the feeling when you go to grab a handful of ice cubes, and they all somehow slide out of your grip. Like going down a waterslide, and at the last minute you try and grab hold of the hot plastic tube because you’ve decided you don’t want to do it anymore, but it’s too late. 

Slipping. Uncontrolled. Unstoppable. Just barely out of reach– just enough to make you curse yourself that you weren’t fast enough.

I feel as if I am slipping. My childhood is slowly dissipating, despite the frequent comments from adults of “you’re still a kid!” I’m being pushed (violently, in my opinion) into the realm of taxes, salary jobs, marriage, kids, death. Adulthood.

Realistically, my situation is not as violent as it may appear. I have a supportive family who is helping me pay for college. Helping me move on. I know in my soul that they will keep supporting me in whatever way necessary until they die or I die. 

However, the feeling won’t leave. The ache in my chest, the tingle runs across my skin like a deer walking in the woods. Slow, calculated, painfully quiet. 

The tingle is so painfully quiet that I feel that I’m not understood. Everyone around me is ecstatic about the opportunities presented to us: frat parties, random hookups, freedom to turn into whoever we are meant to be like a caterpillar into a butterfly. Sometimes I sit and wonder why I don’t share that same excitement. It feels as if something is wrong with me.

I’m starting to think this slipping feeling is not universal. This is a me thing. This is an abnormal thing. Maybe it’s my diagnosed anxiety disorder. Maybe it’s the atrocious fear of change I suffer from. Maybe it doesn’t actually have any sort of explanation. It is simply just something that is blatantly wrong with me. Something that makes my parents shake their heads in frustration as tears stream down my face. They don’t understand.

So I cage in the feeling. I cage in the feeling of losing my grip on the monkey bars as a kid because the metal was so hot and my hands were too sweaty. Finger by finger, I ungrasp the yellow painted poles and fall. Not far, though. I’d land on my feet and laugh while the feeling of fear escaped me. Yet, I’m not quite sure if when I fall, my feet will hit the ground and I’ll laugh it off like I used to. 

Slipping. It’s a feeling that doesn’t like to be caged. In fact, it likes to fight back. It pushes against the gate it’s behind, throwing more fear and panic your way, like tomatoes. The accompanying feelings beat at you until you start to break. It takes time, though. This isn’t a quick process. It turns into a slippery slope, and all of a sudden, you start falling quicker and quicker, breaking apart by more and more pieces at a time.

Yet, the end is in sight. Joy from this dreaded change of adulthood is seen. The light at the end of the tunnel starts to burn brighter and brighter. Yet, I fear I will break entirely before I reach the light. I reach out to my resources, and little by little I put up feeble attempts to rebuild. It works, sort of. I gain confidence as I drag myself and all of my broken pieces towards the end of the tunnel. I’ve worked too hard to fall apart now. 

The slipping feeling, though, is not gone. It still pokes at me in my darkest moments, reminds me that I’m not ready. Slipping slowly. So, I wait it out. I wait for the fear of change to pass. I wait for the panic to subside. 

I wait. Slipping. Uncontrolled. Unstoppable.

Blog of the Month of March: Lilian Chamberlain

Dear COVID-19,

On March 11th, 2020, the World Health Organization officially declared you a Pandemic, a day that will live in infamy for everyone--a day that changed the world. 

Who knew that society would still be putting back its pieces that you tore apart like a predator at its prey two years later? Who acknowledged the millions of deaths the U.S. and other powers would face? Who felt that you would change our lives--because when I first heard about you, I barely blinked. 

Think of the damage you inflicted upon the billions of people on the globe. It’s unimaginable that a little virus like you could do so much damage. Families were torn apart. People were isolated from the rest of society, forced to live their lives in a bubble, repeating the same few tasks day-to-day. 

You didn’t just affect us physically and mentally; you changed how we looked at the world around us and each other—some for the better, others for the worse. For me, it was the latter. 

Two years ago, I was a different person. Someone who judged herself to the breaking point, felt like she didn’t belong, and took life for granted. That’s all changed now because of you. 

Quarantine. Who knew that this one word would become the definition of society’s daily lives for almost two years? I used to think the word only applied to sick people--involuntary put by themselves, alone from the outside world. You changed the meaning of quarantine in my mind as you placed the world on lockdown, people’s doors the only things blocking you from entering and inflicting the worst harm possible. Many look at this as a negative thing--focusing on the less than ideal quarantine parts instead of what it brought them. It allowed me to spend more time with my family; before you, I couldn’t recall ever having genuine “free time” with the ones I loved most. Life just seemed to get in the way. 

You made the world pause, take a step back, and look at the fine threads woven into the way we lived. We would wait for the clock to hit a specific time on a strict schedule before moving on to the next task--almost like robots following the coded instructions in their hardware. The way I lived was boring, unfulfilling in its origins. Through quarantine, I learned to love life for what it was because who knew when it would be snatched in the blink of an eye?

Granted. I took life as something that included the passage of time with some periods of fun placed into it, nothing less, nothing more. “Every day is a blessing.” I had heard this mantra many times before, even had it mentioned to me; I never fully believed it until you stormed into my world, turning it upside down.

Love. I used to think that love was something only given to others, never myself. My hands would travel my body inch by inch, pulling it at the seams until I fell apart. I fell prisoner, trapped in its talons, letting the darkness enter me. I’m not sure if the darkness would’ve entered my life with or without you, but it did, and a part of me is thankful for your introduction of it. Why should I be grateful for something that almost killed me? Because I came out of it, beaten and bruised, but stronger. You made me stronger, COVID. 

So I thank you, COVID, for the tears and laughter. For teaching me how to grow in the most trying times of life. Thank you for always being a topic of conversation, no matter the background. Thank you for improving who I am as a person. 

But--I don’t thank you for the pain and suffering you brought upon the world that we’re still healing from two years later. That was unjustified. 

Thanks again,

Lilian Chamberlain

Blog of the Month of February: Ellie Morris

Dear High School,

Things have changed between us. Before I tell you why I’m leaving you, I want to start by thanking you for everything you’ve taught me. Thanks to you I know all of the functions of cell organelles, how to find X, how to use the quadratic formula, all the steps of photosynthesis, and so many more things I can’t wait to use for the rest of my life. You’ve always known exactly how to keep me safe, even if I don’t understand it. When I get dressed each morning, you’re always there to tell me what to wear so I won’t be a distraction. When there’s an intruder, you always keep me close by. I don’t worry though, because your school-approved wooden doors are always there making an impenetrable blockade between me and anyone determined to cause harm. 

I can always count on you to help me grow new skills and learn important lessons. When I'm sick, you stay persistent in pressuring me to show up so I don’t get too many absences. If I'm ever going through a tough time, you have counselors for me to talk to if I make an appointment two to four weeks in advance. When my mental health is plummeting and I’m failing to turn in my work, you make no exceptions so I can learn that if  I make it there, my “college professors would do the same thing” and “I’ll definitely thank you later.” If it weren’t for you, I would have never known the exact number that represents me ranked among my peers. Thanks to your flawless grading system, I am able to show colleges precisely how worthy I am.

I’m thankful for the situations you’ve given me. I’ve been able to make great friends through you. I’ve even met people that like to help me just as much as you do. I have lots of great people to talk to if I’m ever feeling too smart, pretty, worthy, or loved. They always keep me in check and tell me what I can do to make myself better and more likable by their standards. Not everyone is like that though, some of them give me lots of compliments. The compliments usually come with advice, just to even things out of course. Most commonly I hear “everyone likes you for your body but not your personality."  I appreciate that anyone takes the time to talk about me.

On the common occasion that I am assaulted in your halls, you always gave me plenty of space to deal with it on my own. Don’t you remember all those times I couldn't hold myself together in class and you would let me lie in the nurse's office? As my tears traveled up to exit my eyes before falling down my face I would rush to the familiar leather bed which rested in the dark, enclosed corner of the office. There, I could have a break and be alone with my thoughts. We shared so many memories together like that. 

I’ll definitely miss your dark sense of humor. The way that no matter what things had been like outside of school you carried on exactly the same as if my problems hilariously didn't exist. That always got me. You made me laugh when you called my parents because I couldn't be still. Thanks to you, I’ve gotten the medication I needed. Now, I do all my assignments perfectly and stay quiet. My teachers no longer have to worry about me bringing crafts to school to stabilize my mind, talking to new people or anyone at all, getting emotional, or eating. I sometimes think that those things made me myself but you’ve convinced me I was wrong. At least I'm smart now. You told me that’s all that matters.

I promise I'll never forget you and the memories we shared. I mean, how could I? Everything reminds me of you. Even if I'm doing something we’ve never done together, I’m always thinking about the next time I’ll see you. You’ve set pretty high standards for me. They push me to always do better, to always be better. You taught me that there’s always a better version of me to be, at least until I'm the best. You told me to follow my dreams… unless they’re too big, and then I should settle for something more attainable, like a C- on a test.

As long as I try my best you say I'll be fine. Unless I want to play a sport, take special classes, be smart, or be successful. Then I'd have to do better; then I'd have to stand out. But I need to be careful not to stand out too much of course, that wouldn't be acceptable. We are a family after all. We’re supposed to stick together. You always tried your best to make me “normal.” It’s nice that you always do “what’s best for me.” If I weren’t so “normal” I wouldn't have friends, respect, or a future. Thank goodness you’ve been there to keep me in place. With you surrounding me, I won’t be going anywhere.

Anyway, none of that matters now. I need to try something new. I apologize if this is all coming as a surprise to you, but for once I need to put myself first. With us apart, I’m finally going to do the things I’ve always dreamed of. I’ll meet new people, try new things, and learn new things without you. Don’t worry, though I’m moving on, I'll never be able to forget the permanent impressions you’ve left me with.

Blog of the Month of January: Jordyn Anderson

A Playlist for 2022

I’ve never been a fan of outward productivity goals. I’ve never liked them, mainly because I usually never reach them, or if I do, it’s in a completely unhealthy or taxing way to my existence. So, the goals I like to set and ponder are of a much more introspective nature. They usually occur along the lines of what I feel, how I’m existing and interacting with the world around me, and how I want that to change. 

Something that I’ve spent a lot of time trying to wrap my head around recently is the idea of peace and how to find it. I've pondered the idea that peace doesn't always come from meditation or stillness – sometimes it comes from being loud, getting everything out. So that’s what I want 2022 to be for me: a year of off-beat peace found in ways that aren’t always related to yoga or Instagram affirmations. 

The best way to invoke feelings from my wee little brain? Music. 110%. I tend to group my life through music, knowing that anything by Panic! At the Disco will send me back to middle school and that the 1975 will send me to rainy days in 2019 when I would walk the path outside my neighborhood. Music is such a powerful thing in my life and I’m ready to utilize it this year as my weapon for peace. 

I think I’m so focused on peace because 2022 is supposed to be a big year for me. I’m graduating high school, moving out of my childhood home, and giving collegiate education a whirl. That’s a lot happening all in one year, yeah? And it’s so hard to let go of everything around me knowing that I may never make peace with the confusion and loss that surrounds adulting. I believe the proper term for this feeling is “quarter-life crisis”. 

And what better way to face the tidal wave of emotion that comes with growing up than Andrew Garfield singing about the desperation to stop time? “30/90” from tick, tick… BOOM is a song of constant question and answer that reminds me so much of my inner voice – desperately pleading to understand, separated by moments of forced rationality. It’s so freeing to listen to, with the chorus ending in the ever-burning question of “what can you do?” That one question is defeatist to some, but it sounds more along the lines of acceptance to me, saying it’s ok to be helpless sometimes. This carefree song will be my first line of defense when my head won’t stop worrying about all that is to come and change. Also, Andrew Garfield is just a really good singer. 

After the upbeat acknowledgement of loss and anxiety that “30/90” provides, I think the deeper emotions come out. When I think of not only acknowledging, but processing the loss of what was, “Gale Song” by The Lumineers is a first contender. It’s such a beautiful and cinematic song, telling the story of letting go of what you love, even when it hurts. The timing of the music and raspy vocals combine to convey a compelling narrative that speaks to me. It acknowledges the resistance to change that I feel so deeply and allows me to fall into slow motion. Peace may not fit this song’s style so much as pensive echoes of stoicism that can reverb through life; it allows for feeling everything that comes with this year. And sometimes that’s what I need to do to process – just feel freely, no matter what the feeling is. 

But eventually, I think it will be time for a lighter tune. Continuing to go along with this journey, the third song on my playlist is “Mr. Blue” by Catherine Feeny. Not only is this song the feeling of acceptance conceptualized into melody, it also holds significance to me by being the final song played in one of my favorite shows ever, Bojack Horseman. This song is gentle and upbeat, a perfect balance between understanding sadness but not being tethered by it forever. This song will be one to sway to in the moments that I find myself in a place that's easy to breathe and smile. 

These three songs aren't the only ones on my playlist this year, but they’re a good start. I don’t want these next months to pass by without allowing myself moments to absorb it all. I want to be able to step out of my house, my highschool, and my county knowing that I don't have to be okay, I just have to find peace in the ways I can. I want to allow myself the hippie-dippie pleasure of actually validating my own feelings, even when they aren’t easy. I hope that this year, you can do the same; I hope you're able to find off-beat peace through whatever ways you can, so that we can breathe easier. And if my New Year’s goal doesn’t sound like something you're into, at least go listen to “30/90” for me; Andrew Garfield is still just a really good singer.     

Blog for the Month of November: Anna Collins

The Great Grandma Debate: Which Kind is the Best? 

You might think that’s a strange title. You might think that there is only one kind of grandma. Although have you really thought about it? What happens to the jock and the quiet kid that sit next to you in math class? Do you really think they end up being the same type of grandma?

When you think of a grandma, you most likely think of the stereotypical sweet little old lady that you see on television. Although, I’d like to believe that some of you have the other kinds of grandmas. The unique grandmas. The ones that no one talks about. 

Now high schoolers have the inherent need to rank everything from sports to the latest fashion trends. So, I believe it’s time to rank the grandmas and decide which kind truly is the best.

The Dead One

Now, this is the grandma you never met. It’s the one you hear about all the time and your whole family absolutely adores.

 It’s also the one that apparently would be ashamed of you all the time, which is kind of rough since you never met them. They seemingly have all these high expectations of you from the grave. You know you’ve messed up when you hear, “Oh, if Grandma Marilyn could’ve just heard you!” They somehow have this power in their name, and you’re almost glad you never had to find out what would’ve happened if she was there. 

The dead ones are good in the aspect that you don’t really know what you were missing out on. You never know if you would’ve had a connection, because who knows what kind of grandma they were when they were alive. Ultimately, the unknown could be better than what could have been. 

The Overbearingly Sweet One

This is the grandma that most aligns with the stereotypical grandma. They’re the kind of lady that keeps candy in her purse, gives the biggest hugs, and always leaves you smelling like her overbearing perfume. There’s almost never a time you’re not smiling with them because they just radiate positivity. 

These are the supportive grandmas. The one that will buy you the things your parents won’t let you have. They’re everything you want to be one day just because they are such amazing role models. They’re the grandmas you can count one; the ones that don’t even seem real.

The only downside to them is if they pinch your cheek too hard. They are truly remarkable ladies.

The Mysterious One

Falling outs are common when it comes to families. Some people just aren’t meant to be a part of your life. These grandmas are the ones you know nothing about. Maybe when you were little you would imagine she’s this amazing lady that for some reason your parents just don’t like. You’re just simply curious who this person is. 

They’re the kind of grandma that if you brought them up at a family function you would just get stared at. Your parents would never answer questions about them. You most likely don’t even know where they live.

The greatest part about these mysterious women is that you can always make up what they’re like to your friends. You can enjoy a mystery and not have to worry about dealing with another crazy member of your family.

The One That Lives With You 

You may as well just call this grandma “mom”. They’re always cooking, cleaning, and taking care of you. There’s not a time she isn’t doing something for you. The house wouldn’t run without this lady. In most cases, these are the women that have to step up and take over in place of your actual mom.

These are the women you adore and will one day name your kid after in some fashion or another. You become dependent on them but you also form an amazing bond with them. They’re a part of your immediate family and you don’t know how to live without them. 

Unfortunately, these kinds of grandmas have the most downsides. Firstly, once they pass, you don’t even know how to function without them. No, really, you end up finding out that you don’t have a magical laundry fairy. You also can very easily be recognized as someone that lives with your grandma. Whether it’s the way you dress or when you act dumbfounded when your friend says they pack their own lunch, people know your grandma is living with you. 

The Disapproving One

This is the kind of grandma that drives you crazy. Now, I’m not saying they’re just irritating sometimes. I mean you don’t really want to spend time with them because they are absolutely no fun to be around. 

This grandma criticizes your every move. It seems that you can do absolutely nothing good in their eyes. They make you envy the kind of people that have the overbearingly sweet grandmas, making you wonder what you did to deserve them. 

They’re the kind of people you almost wish were the mysterious grandmas. You also wonder where your parents came from because they most definitely couldn’t be from them. 

Surprisingly, I do believe these grandmas have an upside to them. They give you the thickest skin possible. When you feel only tough love from your grandma, you truly can’t be hurt by other people in your life. These women may be impossible to be around but they show you how not to be for your grandkids, and that’s equally as important as how to be. 

Each grandma has its benefits and drawbacks, meaning it's truly up to you to decide which kind is best. It depends on how much you value relationships, life lessons, and their presence in your life in general. Although you may not choose what kind of grandma you have, you can always choose what grandma you’re going to be.

Blog for the Month of October: by Greg Durgin

To the man who taught me everything I know about being a guy.

From school friends to coworkers everyone who I come into contact with knows my love for pole vaulting. However, what few know is why. 

Why would I love something that makes me feel like I got into a fist fight after every practice? 

Why would anyone love something which takes 20+ hours a week of time commitment and makes me feel like the walking dead every day?

Why would I love something that could very well end my life with one wrong jump? 

For me, it is because of one man; my coach and role model, Billy Chapman. 

While Billy may have been my coach he was so much more than that to everyone he spoke to. Whether it be a freshman learning to hold a pole or a senior getting ready to jump the state record he made everyone feel equally loved and appreciated. Everyone knows the quote that says something to the effect of “they’re so kind they’d give you the shirt off their back”. While I may have heard this said hundreds of times in my life never have I EVER seen someone actually do it. That is, until one incredibly cold practice in the middle of indoor season when Billy gave Brynn Edmiston his only long sleeve shirt -- leaving him wearing a tank top in 45-degree weather. See, this is what I love about Billy. While, officially, he may be there to coach he never stops to add so much more to practice. 

For me, going to practice wasn’t really about pole vaulting. It was about seeing Billy and learning whatever I could from him. Growing up with a less than ideal father I never learned how to shave, how to use manners, how to present myself and most importantly how to be vulnerable. When my dad told me that I needed to “Suck it up and keep it to myself” in regards to one of the worst months of my life Billy gave me a hug and told me to do three more pullups and that he was proud of me for coming to practice despite it all. Billy could have told me the same thing my dad had because, after all, he was JUST a coach. 

Except he didn’t.

 What he did that day instead is what made me fall in love with the sport. No matter what was or is going on outside of my life I know that I will always be able to make it through because all it takes to come out better than I was before -- as exhausting as they may be -- is 3 more pull-ups. 

Billy Chapman understood that we weren’t all perfect and he never expected us to be. However, to Billy, a bad day was never an excuse to be anything less than respectful. After I jumped 3 and a half feet under my PR to come dead last in states my Junior year I was viscerally angry. I wanted to take my pole and javelin it right into a wall but as I looked over to Billy and he motioned me towards him. As I walked over I knew he could tell I was mad. With tears of anger in my eyes after my god-awful performance, I looked down at the ground as he talked to me. I was wholly ashamed of myself. Out of nowhere, he barked

“Look at me when I’m talking to you” 

While I may have wanted to punch him in the face at that very moment this is one of the things I respected most about Billy. No matter how angry you are, it is never an excuse to not be pleasant to those around you -- especially when they are the ones trying to help. As I looked up he smiled and told me there is “always next year”. As I begrudgingly agreed and walked off I heard him say behind me 

“Where do you think you’re going” 

I turned back around and saw him pointing at the officials and motioning to the other coaches sitting across from him. After 5 years of vaulting for this man, I knew what he meant. Win or Lose Billy taught me to keep my head up, not to hide my struggles, but in spite of them. As I turned back around to go thank all of the individuals that made it possible for me to jump today I smiled. 

While that meet may have been Billy’s last meet before retirement, through the 5 years of his coaching I have learned more than just how to swing my trail leg to rotate a pole. Billy gave me a male role model to look up to and whom I could honestly say I love. No one in my life besides my mother has ever inspired me to achieve quite as much as Billy. While I will not be getting coached by him this year it is my goal to lead the Atlee Pole Vault Team the same way Billy did -- with kindness, understanding, and compassion.