Sad Life

She wore her perfect blond hair in a perfect bun on top of her perfect head. Her clothes were nicely pressed and her makeup was flawless. She sat in the corner of the lounge where she saw students in her school conversating across the room. They were speaking in a different language she didn’t understand and she scoffed.

“They should feel lucky they have the opportunity of getting educated in this country,” she thought.

“They’re just taking the financial aid I could be getting just because they’re from a different country.”

Sheila looked at their smiles down to their dingy clothes and worn sneakers. She could not understand how they could be so happy when they had absolutely nothing. They ate nothing but homemade sandwiches and water and walked to the train a mile away. Sheila had a Greek salad for lunch with her Starbucks coffee at least twice a day and drove to school and home again.
Sheila finished people watching at the lounge and went to her two-thirty class.

Mohammad, Abdul, Raul, and Juan watched the pretty white girl pass them and slightly bump Mohammad on the shoulder. He smiled at her even though she didn’t look back to apologize and continued talking to Abdul, Raul and Juan. They were talking about the test that each of them studied for the night before.
“You think you’re ready to take the test?” asked Raul to Juan in his broken English.

“I think I studied the best I can,” he replied.

Juan watched how the rest of the rooms students moved so elegantly. He couldn’t help but think how easy it could have been for one student in particular, Max. Juan thought how easy he could have it if he were Max’s friend, the Deans son. Although he was there on a full scholarship because his family was on Public Assistance, he would have a ride to school everyday and wouldn’t have to spend money everyday on transportation. Max caught him looking at him and gave a half smile so Juan waved and looked away quickly.

“Hey, I know you think you are living difficult Juan, but we have it good compared to those living in true poverty. We have life, we have a chance at education, we have all we need. Wishing you were in Max’s position will never get you where Max is, only hard work will,” Abdul said putting his arm around Juan and looking at the Psychology textbook that had been open for about four hours last night on the counter in the back of the Taco place he worked at. The textbook even had remnants of refried beans on the back cover which made him nervous. He wondered if he could resell it if he had gotten refried beans on the back.

Abdul went back to Mohammad and Raul picked up the napkins from the table that had covered their sandwiches earlier. Juan wished he could be friends with Max or talk with him for just a moment to see how people like him lived, ate and have fun. But all the wishing could never make someone like Max talk to someone like Juan. To Max, Juan was a deadbeat, someone living off the system and stealing their money and education. Max was dating the most beautiful white girl in the school, Sheila. Although they were hardly seen together, Juan overheard Max saying that he loved Sheila and was thinking about asking her to be his steady girlfriend. A girl like Sheila would never even think about looking at Juan. “Why?” he wondered.

Mohammad left the group and headed to the other end of the lounge through to the lockers. On his left he saw his collage of friends of African and Hispanic decent and on his right were the preppy white kids that looked at them weird every time he walked in their air. He and his brothers were the first generation of Africans in their family so he wasn’t used to the stares and most of all the glares without smiles. Where he came from, everyone was family and a smile cost nothing. He could not understand the reasons for why they did not talk with people different from them. It was such a sad thing to him and did not care if he did not have them as friends, they obviously did not care about getting to know him so he would just do the right thing and treat them as human beings but they were no friends of his.

The world seemed to just be going. Fear seemed to dominate the room. No one was willing to tread into another’s culture and ask questions or try and get to know one another, so everyone remained ignorant. Everyone hated each other because they had no idea who they were or even cared for that matter who they were. They were scared that they would actually like each other, scared that they would actually have stuff in common or find each other interesting. Everyone lived their life the best they could with what they had and helped no one who they weren’t familiar with. What a sad life that would be, wouldn’t it, if it were what were happening today?

Darkness

Heavy like a twenty pound weight
on the chest of a baby,
the helpless despair you feel
will make you go crazy.

The silence suffocates you
but stillness lets you breathe,
it feels as if tonight,
you're as free as the nights breeze.

Although it may aid you in sleep
others cry in fear,
the beauty in the darkness,
is only in what one hears.

And this is the sound of tranquility
the words of your mind,
with the sensation of relaxation
comes the ticking of Father Time.

In That Room

My eyes were open but I was not awake.
I heard his voice but did not understand his words and was numb to the touch.
The two hours I spent in his room had mummified me, I could not believe what I had just done.
What Roxy had just done, what Emma had not tried to stop and what Tashi just let happen.
In that room Roxy kicked Tashi and Emma out and turned into a beast.
His lips touched my lips, touched my neck, chest and stomach,\
His tongue traced the inside of my mouth and made me trembled as he licked me….so sexy.
I sat on top of him and did what Roxy told me to, she was in control.
She rode him, held on to the wall and bit her lips as she felt a tingle go throughout her abdomen.
She smiled, she moaned when his fingers probed inside her tight crevice and then Emma came back.
“Stop” she said “Hold on”
The Dark Angel did.
Tashi played with her hair and Emma wiped her mouth.
She smelled like him. She was disgusted.
Tashi kissed him and Emma worried about missing classes.
The comforters weren’t enough to hide how scared Tashi was or how upset Emma was.
Tashi and Emma carried tired, worn, satisfied Roxy out of the white turned black room.
Walked slowly down the ramp and down the stairs to the bus.
The Dark Angel waited with us.
Emma remembered scrubbing her mouth with soap after she tasted him, which hadn’t worked. Apparently Tashi still smelled him.
She sat on the bus after giving him one last kiss and felt… nothing
Just the wind from the open window that assured us it was real.
I arrived back at my school where nothing had changed.
Roxy went away and Tashi met up with a friend.
Emma cried.

Page 13

The screeching and jerking,
Swaying and pulling…background is Jay-Z and Rhianna,
But so present and upfront.
I look at the dingy floor, fall asleep or stare at a page in the book I have been reading for a month.
Page?
13.
My life is screeching and jerking,
Its scratching and clawing, yearning.
My mind is swaying,
Undecided.
My heart is being pulled in all directions
But it belongs to him.
Lo quiero. I love him.
So beautiful, such a beautiful soul he is.
He is my safety,
While some may call on God, I call on Jami
Thoughts of him bring me peace and all of the screeching, jerking, swaying and pulling becomes non- existent.
I imagine his smile, so perfect is that, and I smile,
I imagine his warmth and I feel healed. Any pain I feel is gone with his one touch and all sadness disappears with those three words.
I just want to lay next to him in complete silence and listen to his heart beat,
I want to feel the rhythm of his breathing and match it with mine.
I want to kiss his lips until my lips are numb and even then I vow not to stop.
I want to sleep all the hours in the day nest to him,
I want to watch him, while he wakes and gets ready.
And then at 231st street I hear the last of the screeching and feel the last of the swaying, jerking and pulling as I awake from staring at
Page 13.

Reflection: Stepping out of High School and Into College

College is right around the corner for me, in less than three weeks I will be able to officially call myself a college freshman. But even though I am excited and anxious to meet my new friends and classmates, I am naturally very nervous. I am nervous about my new friends and my new classmates and about whether or not I will be able to work and participate in the school newspaper and literary magazine while still coming home early enough to ease my mothers worrying heart. These issues are constantly in the back of my mind, how to have a social life, make my own money while contributing to the household and satisfying my mothers at the same time. I have to tell you, it isn't easy. I haven't even started school yet and I am already anticipating my mom arguing with me on how late I get home and how late I stay up doing homework because I have to get up early the next day to go to school again. College is supposed to be the best years of your life and I am going to try and make it the best. Worrying about satisfying mom and not myself first is not going to help me make the best of these years but I just have to figure out how I'm going to do it all. It's so hard because I'm going to need a lot of help and I hate that because my sister isn't going to need as much help since her education is free and she is actually being reimbursed through her financial aid. I decided to go through private education and will end up borrowing a lot more money than I care to think about at this point. Soon, however, I will have the answers and maybe not, no one knows but I will stop until I have the answers, good or bad.
My internship this summer at Metro NY newspaper which I was placed at through the Futures and Options Program, taught me that I am uncomfortable working around adults and that I am uncomfortable being alone. I've always known that I don't work the best when I am alone but this summer it was a new and different loneliness I felt. I was afraid of talking to people and when I did I was hesitant to be myself and I thought they were constantly judging me. Can you say PARANOIA?! Yeah definitely but it was because I really had no idea why I was there. I mean sure I got into Futures and Options and they placed me there which is how I got there but I had no idea why I had gotten into the program or what I had done so great to impress these people. Now I realize that knowing what you're doing and why you're doing it is very important.
Q: Why do I want to be a journalist?
A: Journalism is a way to talk to a big group of people and getting information out that they might not know. I want to be the person to let them know "Hey you're supposed to know this information but someone hasn't told you."

Q: Who am I?
A: I am journalist but most importantly I am a sponge; soaking in information, attitudes, and issues. I am driven, ambitious and yeah maybe a little scared but at this stage in their life, who isn't?

I think I have to make a list of goals that I will stick to when I am in college:

1) Manage my time-- I will do this by keeping copious notes on my calendar/planner.
2) Do all my assignments on time and the best I can do-- I will do this by requesting the help of tutors or CSO staff.
3) Attend office hours for professors-- I will do this by managing my time to allow me the flexibility to do this.

I am very excited but I have a lot to discover, not only about my campus but about myself. Cross your fingers that will be successful at this. I will keep a religious journal on my blog of articles and personal entries about my experiences at the College of Mount Saint Vincent.

Wish me luck!

Fahrenheit 9/11...What Was Bush Thinking?

Sitting in my fifth grade class my teacher Ms.Baxter inconspicuously spoke to another teacher by the door. She looked as if she was contemplating something and asked my class if we all knew what terrorists were. A polish boy named Piotr who had just transferred to my school raised his hand anxiously. He explained that terrorists were people who didn’t like a group of people and tried hurting them. I still didn’t understand but being nine years old I did not question anything. Even after I heard the death toll was passed three thousand, I still didn’t question why it happened. My only question was why was the Twin Towers hit along with the Pentagon? After viewing the documentary Fahrenheit 9/11 the first time, I just hated Bush. But I hated Bush for all the wrong reasons. I hated him because he was a poor leader and because he just sat in that damn classroom reading the book with the elementary school children. But after viewing this documentary for the second time, I dislike Bush for a whole new set of reasons.
What made me most angry was the hypocrisy. There are people out there who join the army because they truly want to defend this country, some for financial reasons, and some join because they have no other option. This is the case for the Lipscomb family who lost their son to the war in Iraq. Lina Lipscomb could not afford higher education for her children and so since the time they were very small she implanted the seed of the army being a possibility. She was successful at recruiting her own children because bother her son and daughter enlisted and served time in Iraq. Unfortunately her son was killed. The problem is that many people are ignorant to why we are in this war. The problem is that many people buy into the medias tactics of fear. Fear of terrorism and the fear that soon we are going to be under attack once again.
But it wasn’t even the scene of Ms. Lipscomb crying so hard she could hardly remain on her feet that made me angry. It was the fact that the same people who would not sign a bill to get us away from war opposed to towards it, would not enlist their own children in the war. Media has made it look like such a glamorous deal. You get to wear the uniform that people everywhere recognize, you get to protect a nation something so much bigger than oneself, and you get to have all these opportunities in the army itself. You can learn a craft such as music production or play an instrument or even play a professional sport. These congress men have no problem the army recruiting people as long it’s not the rich white kids from the suburban areas of town. As long as its not someone importants child.
At the end of the film Michael Moore tries to enlist several congress mens children into the army. No one signed up for it. I have to say however it doesn’t surprise me that teenagers from more affluent neighborhoods don’t feel the need to join the army but it does surprise me that the people who support the cause won’t give back to the cause. If Former President Bush really admired the “men and women who help protect this country” as he says he does, then he would not have cut their pay down thirty- three percent. He would not deny them health care or leave them out in the street like many are because they cannot afford the cost of living on a disabled salary (Sicko, Moore).
I believe in practicing what you preach and if Sarah Palins son was willing to join the army and actually is serving as we speak, then why can’t all the other congressmen and women have the same ideology? It’s a sad day in America when the American people have no control over what goes on here, even if we make a little but of noise we aren’t heard. At least not on this issue.

My reaction to "Bowling For Columbine" a documentary by Michael Moore

As the American people we tune into the ten o’clock news every night. We get comfortable in our pajamas and the family dog and settle to regard what has happened while we were preoccupied with life. But who knew that a source of information such as the news that we trust would also be a source of fear. In the documentary “Bowling for Columbine” directed by Michael Moore, we see this behavior in the media.
In April 20, 1999, two teenagers from Littleton, Colorado shot and killed twelve students and one teacher, wounding many others. This event caused much havoc all over the country. Everyone was afraid but most importantly mourning this tragedy. After this, every Tom Dick an Harry had a theory of what caused these two boys to turn guns on their school.
Soon the alternative rock artist Marilyn Manson was being blamed. “I represent what everyone’s afraid of…we forget about the President and Monica Lewinsky and that we’re dropping bombs across seas…their objective is keep everyone afraid and they will consume,” says Marilyn Manson in response to being blamed for what these boys did (Moore 2002). And “consume” is exactly what we do.
When the turn of the century was approaching in 1999, there was something called the Y2K scare. Essentially the Y2K scare warned people that the end of the world was coming as soon as the clock struck twelve midnight on December 31, 1999. People stocked up on water and food preparing for “the end of the world”. On December 31, 1999 at twelve o’clock midnight everyone waited. We kissed each other and said Happy New Year and my mom popped a bottle of Champagne. The end of the world had not come close to nearing us.
Most recently we have had the swine flu. The medias solution was to buy hand sanitizer, stay away from people who had flu-like symptoms and some people even bought masks to cover their nose and mouth. Although it has claimed the lives of people all over the world, it has made people crazy. In china a group of Americans are being quarantined in a hotel because they may be infected with the swine flu also known as the H1 N1 virus.
This isn’t the only was we are bamboozled into fear by the media. In the time of the Columbine shootings and even today, the most common suspect is Hispanic and African American males. This is another reason that the Columbine murders came as such a shock. So not only do we have to be afraid of possible terrorist attacks, sickly and deadly flues, but we have to be afraid of Hispanic and Black males (Moore 2002).
It’s amazing that we regard the media as such a reliable source of information. And the messages after we watch that ten o’clock news cozy on the couch is, “be afraid, be very afraid.”

Torn Apart...Ignorant Bliss

She was taken away from me. Her body, mind, rationale, heart. I lie here completely violated by the person who stole her away from me. I wonder, does she know me? Does she remember or does she even know herself? I doubt it, that scares me. She lets her inpulses pulse through every pulsing part of her.She lets them consume her, control her. I look at her, stare at her and try to figure her out, figure out what shes thinking, what shes hiding but a wall stops my eyes where they're at. instead of my desperate internal cries, she runs to the thief. Its his fault she doesn't love me as much, his fault she only trusts him and his fault. I don't know her anymore through I wish I did. I used to like this thief that stole my baby from my arms. But he exposed sides of her I wish were kept hidden, kept silent, kept dark. This entity over took her and I feel she will never return to who I knew, person whom I currently identified with, felt comfortable confiding in. I'm saddened and I blame him, will never trust him with my priceless jewel, not even with a handshake. Tearing down my walls for this klepto was a mistake. My bad. My delicious delusion.

My Other Half

stared out the window of the M7 bus hoping that the ride would not take as long as it had for the past week I had been traveling to downtown Manhattan. I was disconnected to the world but I was connected to Lupe Fiasco and how he was a “Superstar”. To think I had to make this trip back home during rush hour after working, I was not looking forward to that. I looked at the Betsey Johnson store window but didn’t really see any thing. I felt drowsy, like I hadn’t slept in over two days. My eyes were heavy and wouldn’t stay open. I knew it was due to boredom but I could not even manage to concentrate long enough on the book I started the month earlier and the music in my Ipod acted as a lullaby at the volume I had it on. Just as I dropped my head to my bent elbow resting on the lip of the window, my cell phone rang. My phone was so loud it startled me and the person who sat next to me. I jumped and fumbled through my purse to get it out. “Hello? Hello?” I said, disoriented and still shocked of the volume of my phone. “Hi Tashi!” a small voice said on the other line. It was my sister, I hadn’t spoken to her since the night before and she had left this morning without saying good bye. “Hi Lee how are you? I miss you.” I said, excited to hear from her. “I miss you too, I’m good just wanted to see how you were doing because I know that you are on your way to work, right?” she was right. This summer was the first summer me and my sister were working separately. “Yeah I’m almost there, so I guess you can’t talk much now right? You have to get back to work?” I asked. “Yup,” she said “just wanted
to make sure my baby was ok.” We said our goodbyes and hung up after only about two minutes talking.
When I was born on May 23, 1991, there was someone waiting for me, someone who would be with me forever and someone who would understand me no matter what. I didn’t understand it then or even as I got older, but I was blessed with a life partner. A partner who would play dolls with me, help me with Trigonometry homework and show me an example of a truly mature and upstanding personality. I can honesty say I don’t know what its like to be lonely or go to sleep with something on my mind and not be able to unload it.
When I was in elementary school my sister and I would do everything together. We would go to school together, hang out together, and went no where without the other. I guess I didn’t see anything wrong with that. We had a very small family and were always told that we had to “stick together”. I liked being with my sister all the time. I saw other twins and they seemed to be the same way with each other. Eating lunch with one another and playing tag in the playground. I could not picture being away from my sister.
No one seemed to know our real names. To outsiders, our name was “twin”. Although our names obviously were not “twin”, we answered to it and were not really bothered by it. It felt like a nickname to us.
In high school we began slowly individualizing ourselves, having different friends and being away from each other a little more. In the summer leading up to eleventh grade we worked together at a youth center. We were in the same room everyday, doing the same thing and hanging out with the same people, just like when we were in elementary and middle school. And as the next summer approached we decided that we wanted to do separate things. I was a
little hesitant about this idea but eventually saw an opportunity to see life alone. My sister applied and got accepted into a District Attorneys internship and I was accepted to write for a teen magazine.
The first day of my internship my sister rode the bus with me and left me there. I watched her walk out of the office, abandoning me like I was a useless puppy. I wanted so badly to run after her and pull on her leg. For seventeen years she was the second part of me, we were like shoes: can’t buy just the left one, have to buy the entire package. I felt like I was missing one of my shoes. After she left I sat in the small stuffy room observing the other six interns. I couldn’t see anyone I would ever be even remotely interested in getting to know. I was not going to betray my sister by giving these people a chance to know me, I was being stupidly stubborn.
For almost two weeks I spoke to no one extensively and rode back and forth to work bummed and lonely. When my sister started her internship, she seemed to really like it. She made friends with her co-workers and energetically recounted her day to me. I wanted to share with her my experiences as well, to be excited about what I was doing like the day I got accepted to the internship. I made a conscience decision to try and make some friends and let my co-workers get to know me without my sister, something no one had ever done before.
The next week I went in with an entirely new attitude. I greeted everyone and got there early to talk to whoever came early. I made two friends quickly and from then on I ate lunch with them and engaged in conversations I had never had with anyone before. I really enjoyed myself. I went home everyday with stories to tell my sister and looked forward to the days ahead.

I began feeling confident in myself and didn’t think I needed my sister in order to win people over. I found out that I was an individual with my own ideas and opinions and I was not betraying my sister by enjoying myself.
Being a twin has changed my life. It has taught me that I have a lifelong friend that although we look alike, we are different people who will offer the world different perspectives and make different impacts. On May 23, 1991 I was born twenty minutes after my best friend, my twin sister, and although we are individuals following separate paths we will always an unmistakable bond that no one will ever understand.

I Am Waiting

I am Waiting (my version)
I am waiting
For a fairytale to come true
For prince charming to slip a glass shoe on my foot
For all the evil haters to watch in more disgust
And I am waiting
For the recession to recede
For the stimulus package to stimulate me
And for the protesters outside of Madoffs apartment to disappear
I am waiting
For the period to be over
For the day to be over
For Friday to come and for the week to be over
And I am perpetually awaiting
For the sun and moon to switch positions
And for 50 Cent to do a duet with Teddy Geiger
I am awaiting
A united nation
Where every state agrees to disagree
But still allows gays to marry
I am wondering
Now and forever
What Lies Beneath?
And I am perpetually awaiting
The truth about Christopher Columbus
And Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
I am waiting
To be taken
To heaven where ease is guaranteed
And I wonder
If that will ever occur
I am waiting
For a reinvention of love
Reinvention of hope
A reinvention of life
And I am perpetually awaiting
For the sun and moon to switch positions
I am waiting
To open my college admissions letter
To open my heart to new experiences
To open my mind to life
And I am perpetually waiting
For Silvia Browne to tell me who I was a billion years ago
I am waiting
For equality in the Middle East
For the Russians to finally win in Hockey
For Hitler to finally finish off the rest of the Jews
I am waiting
To stand up to all my fears
And stare them down like a “G”
And I am perpetually waiting
For the sun and moon to switch positions
I wonder
If Angelina Jolie will adopt Elian Gonzalez
And put Cuba on the map
If Pit Bull will finally “para” and make us all proud-er
I am waiting
To hear that Degrassi will go on for generations
That Gossip Girl will die
And that no one will aspire to be just like Charlie Sheen in Two and a Half Men
And I am perpetually awaiting
For the M7 bus
I wonder
If Flava Flav lives on 125th street
And if that hair is really Brett Michaels
And if Leilene really Loves Money or just wants it to love her
I am waiting
To hear from Manhattan College
To end racism
To really feel American
And I am perpetually waiting for the sun and moon to switch positions
I am waiting
For sleep to not be something we catch up on
And for pain to be healed by ice cream
I wonder how long I will wait
Perpetually. Forever.

Filters...Who Needs Them?

Recently I went to a professional event in which my sister was a part of. She was delivering a speech at City Hall voting for term limits. She was apart of the Edward T. Rogowski model New York City council internship, along with fifty plus high school students. While an intermission my sister introduced me to some of the staff and her new found friends. During lunch, I conversated with a staff member and three teenagers. I made jokes and talked freely during this exchange. At one point the staff member asked me “You don’t have a filter, do you?” I was a little embarrassed but I looked back at him and said, “No, I actually don’t.” I mean, I know when the right time and place is to let my guard down. I have a very outgoing personality and sometimes I can be brutally honest.
As I go back in time in my head, I can recall a time when my filter had microscopic holes that allowed nothing to go through. Even though I think everyone has awkward years, I think the source of that awkward is fear. My awkward phase is due to my fear of acceptance. I missed out on getting to know some of my peers because of fear. I was afraid to be too honest and that people weren’t going to like me. It really wasn’t until this past summer that I broke out of my shell and allowed others to decide right away for if they liked me or not. Surprisingly, I attracted a lot more people like that than being quiet and shy.
Some people may say that my personality is too aggressive but I find that once I step out of my shell other people feel comfortable. Don’t get me wrong I still get insecure sometimes but for the most part I am happy with myself. I know that I will always wonder, “What did he think of me?” Or “did I come off too strong?” but I hope I can help others become comfortable for being who they are.

Lives the Life of Service, Speaks the Truth

“I’ve done a lot of web work; I mean a lot of web work. Creating web sites for prestigious companies and I do graffiti art too.” He had such an excited and genuine look in his eyes that made me feel comfortable and excited for him. About four youth participants in a tiny room only about the size of a walk-in closet, we interviewed Wilbert “Will” Weeks for a position teaching graphic arts in our afterschool program. We were impressed and immediately knew he was perfect for the position.
Since that time I watched him become a staple in our quite large community of Harlem Children’s Zone Employment and Technology Center. Will is a twenty seven year old former graffiti artist who would, by his admission, “tag up New York City.” He loved finding new and different places to tag up. “Sometimes,” he says, “I would even be surprised at the places I would tag up.” Graffiti art was an outlet for him since he says that being the middle child and the example for his younger brother since his older brother went to the military, left him feeling starved for attention. “I was a knucklehead for a long time. I wanted to be a gangster. I made bad decisions that hurt my family. I ultimately made a bad decision that caused me to move away and drop out of high school.” Will went to Job Corps where teens have an opportunity to earn their high school equivalency and work at the same time.
After completing the Job Corps program, Will met a mentor who he says helped him “fall in love with servicing his community.” He saw teenagers who were going through the same things that he did and used to tell them, “your life is a mirror of mine,” which made him want to help even more. After discovering his love of the arts and community service, he fell back in love with school and began college.
“I just wanted to be somebody. I had to be somebody of substance. I always thought, what will my tombstone read... Lived the life of a gangster die the gangster? No, I wanted it to read… Lived the life of service, spoke the truth.”
Will left a full sociology scholarship in Mary Mount of Manhattan College to pursue what he was really passionate about which was arts. After realizing that the school was “over his head,” Will transferred to The School for the Visual Arts. He loved it there and took classes that he enjoyed, except for the required classes he says “were boring. I never understood why I had to take practical art. Eventually I saw the importance of it. But if nothing else, it made for a good conversation starter and impressing ladies.” He chuckles and puts his hand over his face briefly.
A this time Will waves over a student, “come here and sit down you should really listen to this.” After a little bit of fooling around and joking the student sits down and leans in listening to Wills interview. “I love kids man, you are the weirdest people but the most honest.” He says after he jokes with a group of girls sitting in the table next to ours.
Pursuing what he loves which consists of giving back to his community by working with teenagers who are just like him as a teenager and teaching a subject he loves, is his passion and dream. He says for anyone interested in a career in the arts, “its fun some days, hard most days. If you are interested in solving problems this is the path for you. Carry a sketch book where ever you go, anything is inspiration.”
He adds that if you are in the career for the money it will not happen for you. “if you don’t love your art, you’ll get raped by it,” he says. And he urges everyone to ask themselves what his mentor Alfonso Wyatt asked him repeatedly those years back, “Will you make it or will you not make it?” That choice is yours, will you?

Why Do I Want To Be a Journalist?...The people get inside the mind and inspiration of The Young Journalist

“I used to play by the clear blue water and hang out with my friends. It was a fun and care free life until I grew older and I watched my friends get drafted into the military and not finish school. I never agreed with Castro’s ways of governing the country. I started teaching people how to read and write who did not know how to I was passionate about my people and community. I used to give flyers away to people telling them to organize against him. Eventually, I was caught and put in jail for seventeen years but I never lost hope that someday all people would be able to read write and express their views freely.”
My uncle was a political protester in Cuba. He protested against the communist government, learned how to read and write, and taught others what he knew. At the end of his life in Cuba, he would have spent seventeen years in jail for standing up for what he believed in, exhibiting a commitment to his values that I will always admire.
Although I am American-born, I cannot help but get angry at the conditions in Cuba. In the year 2008, with all the progression the world has and is making, the progression in Cuba is at a minimum. In Cuba, Fidel Castro and the government do not want to be portrayed in an unfavorable way, and as a result l the media is biased.
It angers me that the Cuban people are not allowed to express their true feelings about their country. In order to make sure that never happens here, in the land of the free, I want to become a journalist. My goal in life is to ultimately become an investigative journalist, revealing flaws in our country like Michael Moore but informing the American people like Lisa Ling.
Being a journalist for my high school newspaper and the teen NYC-wide magazine New Youth Connections has given me more insight into the career. I am always amazed to find that after an interview I have conducted, or research I have done, how excited I feel. The process of research is not daunting to me. The inquiry and constant learning is what I enjoy and the interaction with people and being able to document stories are the ultimate reward. This line of work gives me an adrenaline high that I would not trade for the world. I am not only making myself proud and following my dreams, but I am speaking for all my fellow Cubans who cannot.
My uncle, who now lives close to us in New York, still recounts his stories, which I consider courageous and heroic. I just hope he knows that his experiences have inspired me to not only become a better citizen but also make a difference through journalism.

Hard As Nails- Empowering One Another

Hard as Nails- Empowering One Another

How many of us attend school everyday, possibly go to a job afterwards, or even attend an after school program? I know I do and many of my peers and friends do as well. Now, how many times in each of those events is someone ridiculed, ostracized, or mocked? I bet more times than we have fingers on one hand.
I recently saw a documentary by David Holbrook appropriately entitled Hard as Nails. This filmed showed the transformation of a young boy who hurt others and himself physically and emotionally, to a man helping others find god and find themselves.
Justin Fatica is a 27 year old, with a wife, baby and successful ministry called Hard as Nails. His organization travels around the country spreading the word of god and helping young adults build a relationship with God. Faticas unconventional style has awarded his banning of preaching in all catholic churches in Vermont, but he lives by the wise words of his elders: “you can either impact the world or make it worst”. As a delinquent adolescent who changed for the better, Fatica chose to “impact the world”. Now he impacts the world in the best way he knows how.
Faticas preaching style may intimidate some people but even watching on television I felt every single word as he hollered his message.
Justins wife, Mary, speaks at one of his conventions. Although the message she delivers is directed to young women, it applies to each and every one of us. She says “you can either empower or you can tempt”. In our society today women are portrayed as objects that are only useful to tempt, but as brothers and sisters we all need to empower one another in order to succeed.
In another segment of the documentary a young woman who is a staff member of Hard as Nails is pointed out of the crowd in Bishop Ludden High school by Justin Fatica. “Naturally” he says “what is the first thing that comes to your mind when you look at her?” he takes a breath and with that he begins yelling “she’s FAT!”. The young woman (Kathleen Sciame) cries as he continuously stabs her with the word “fat”. Finally, emotional he, Fatica then embraces her. “This is what we need to do” he explains in between sobs “we don’t need to look at her and make fun of her because she’s fat. We need to look at her- look at her heart!”
This part of the documentary really touched me. This demonstrated perfectly how our society reacts to people who are not <>. But I strongly agree with Justin Fatica. We must embrace people who are different and learn from each other. Empowering each other and we will be able to have more fun, friends, and happiness in life. We each are so special and when we isolate or ridicule one another it’s not only detrimental to our own destiny and fate, but it scars our fellow brother/sister. So I challenge every student, get to know your fellow classmates because we are all truly great people with life experiences different and alike to one another.
If you are interested in learning more about the Hard as Nails organization you can visit: HardKnocklifeforChrist.com
Don’t let the physical get between you meeting some really amazing people.