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Siani enjoys reading in her bed, snuggled up with pillows. However, don’t let her friends around her or she’ll get distracted very easily. Siani’s life as a book would be Taking It By Storm. She’s a fierce and determined person who takes anything thrown at her, and if she had to throw a book out the window it would be We Need To Talk About Kevin (ba dum tsk). Siani does not like to read slow and boring books. Siani would live with George from the Lathe of Heaven because his dreams affect reality. She would have him dream up a million dollars and become rich. That’s pretty smart.

Her favorite book from her childhood is a story about a mouse named Chrysanthemum who was bullied for her name and later learns to appreciate it’s meaning. Her favorite genre is historical fiction because it takes interesting facts and relays them on a personal level. If she could live with any character from a book she would live with the twin sister protagonists from a book called Slice of Cherry because they’re great at self defense.

James Thomas is an avid reader of comic books, sci-fi, and super heroes. From a young age, he looked up to Static Shock, the first black super hero of that time. Static Shock was the first thing that came to mind when asked about his favorite childhood book. His favorite book is Marvel Civil Wars because it shows that friends can fight to the death. He likes to read about time travel, biographies, Louis Armstrong, and comic books. His favorite place to read is on the bus, where he is most bored. He often listens to instrumental music while reading. A good ending to Thomas is an ending that doesn’t leave you hanging. He doesn’t like if there is no resolution in the book or a sequel to continue it.

James made it known that his least favorite book is Lord of the Flies just because it is boring. He likes to read for an hour day, not much more. James is currently reading Counting by 7’s by Holly Goldberg Sloan. It is about a 12 year old in middle school whose foster parents have both died. This shows the main character going back and telling the story.

When Tarleton was a very young child he loved to read about the adventures of Thomas the Train and friends. As he grew older, Tarleton started to move towards action books because it seemed to be most interesting. In his past he liked to read all types of books, but every year Tarleton would start to be very picky. He would only read the books that seemed excited or adventurous. His least favorite genre is poetry because to him poetry is more thoughtful than what he usually read. Tarleton has never had a book that changed his life because he never took books serious enough to affect his life style. If Tarleton had one character to live with, he would choose wally because there would always be an adventure around the corner.

Alex Chuon is currently reading “It’s Kind of a Funny Story”. He enjoys the the book but I had some follow up questions about his reading in general. When asked what kind of reader he would like to be he said “not at all” and that life is holding him back from doing so. His reading reading weak spot is losing interest in the book and not having motivation to read it anymore. Even though he doesn’t like to read, his reading happy place is anywhere that has music. If he could be any book, he would be a comedy. Who doesn’t like jokes? His favorite reading position is anything that keeps him comfortable because comfort is key. If was stuck on desert island his handy dandy book would be “The Martian”. This is because it teaches you to survive with nothing but potatoes and poop.

Aniya’s childhood book that she loves is the Junie B. Jones series. She thinks they’re really funny and she can relate a lot of the books to her personal life. Her least favorite book is the Harry Potter series and is definitely not a fan. She personally thinks it’s too long and it gets less interesting when she reads it. If Aniya can meet anyone in a book it would be Vanessa from Kidnapping By The Enemy. She says that they are completely the same. They’re both goofy at times but can also be serious. She says they can get along very well.

This is le Reader Profile of Gil Rosen. Gil’s current book is “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian.” If this book was a human, he said that his book would be a Native American because the main character is a Native American. A book that Gil was proud of finishing is “The Book Thief” because he didn’t believe that he could finish it because it was so long. If he could toss a book out of the window, it would be a book e read in African American History called “The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano” because contrary to the title it was not interesting. So he said that if a book was written about his life, the title would just be “Why, Just Why?” And finally if he had to live with any character, he would choose the Cat in the Hat because he has Thing #1 and Thing #2 and they can help him clean his room.

It turns out Emma is not a fan of reading but she was still able to answer my questions while strongly getting her personality through. The first question I asked her was “What kind of reader would you like to be?” and she said she would like to be a person who enjoys a book SO much that she can not put it down. Another question I asked her was “What book would you toss out of a window?” and she responded very forcefully “WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN!” and then went on talking about how awful the book was and how she simply could not finish the book. I then asked her “What is one book you were extremely disgusted by?” and she said “The Native Son because the racism was drawlin’ and just really bad, and there were heads getting cut off and bashed inward so it was gross”. I then asked her “If you had to live with a person from a book, who would it be?” and she said “I would want to live with Harry Potter because he knows magic and can protect me.” Lastly, I asked her “What’s the most damage she has ever done to a book and she said simply to tare the cover off.

Question 1 How important is a book to you? I would say that books are very important in my life and I’d say it was all the books I read are very important to me which book is the most important to you I think for me that would be the shock Doctrine in the disaster capitalism which I read last year around November and really changed how I saw the world.

Question 2 Would you consider yourself fast reader or slow reader and how good are you at Reading? I would say that I’m a fairly fast reader although I have recently met several people who just completely Eclipse me in Reading PA I would say I’m a good reader and of that I can comprehend what I’m reading very well although as I just said that I cannot read nearly as quickly as I thought I did.

Question 3 Do you have any stories you could write as book? The answer is yes there are stories from my life that I could put into a book although I’m not sure how exciting not necessarily be thinking more exciting than they actually are and I personally do have ideas for what I could write into a book although I’m not I’m pretty lazy so I haven’t gotten started on anything yet probably never will.

Hannah’s favorite book from her childhood is A Series of Unfortunate Events. She read all the books when she was really young and enjoyed them a lot. Hannah cannot read when there is a lot of noise where she is. Her reading happy place is a comfortable couch or sitting place. A book that influenced the way she thinks is A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. The book is about a girl who was in a really tough situation but had a lot of perseverance and maintained a positive outlook. The genre she finds herself reading a lot if fiction because that is her preference.

For a book to have a bad ending Justin said that it has to say “to be continued” because it makes him want to know more and that’s frustrating especially when there isn’t a series for the book. Justin tries to avoid books like that as much as possible. Justin says that he does not have a favorite book because every book is unique in its own way so every book is interesting to read. Justine would love to live with The Lorax because it seems like in the book he lived a pretty chill and lavish life.

Ms. Pahomov hates it when strangers ask her “what book are you teaching in your English class right now?” Usually it means they want to just talk about what they liked to read (or not) in high school. When she was in high school, people told her she was a “fast reader,” and that was a bad thing for her, because she often read too quickly and missed the details. There are a lot of books she likes better now that she slowed down when reading, like “The Great Gatsby,” which she has probably read ten times at this point, each year when she teaches it. She is proud of the fact that she has the stamina for long books, but is more likely to carry around something that is 200 pages or less in her backpack.

One of the great sadnesses of her school year is that she uses so much of her brain to read and respond to student work that she has limited capacity to read on her own. She also recently discovered that she is old enough to have read books and COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN what they are about. Take, for example, the novel “Cat’s Cradle” by Kurt Vonnegut. She is certain she read it as a teen, but a student asked her about the plot recently and she couldn’t remember a thing. She is a little bit worried that this represents the rest of her life: forgetting things and having to go back to them.

One of her great joys of the school year is when she gets to read alongside her students in class. Her plan is to re-read “Cat’s Cradle” as soon as she finishes “Bone” by Fae Myenne Ng. The hardest time for her to read is on a plane or train. She always tells herself that she will, but she’d much rather listen to music and look out the window. She is a little bit ashamed of the fact that she never reads in German anymore, although she can. Never enough time!

Ms. Pahomov hates it when strangers ask her “what book are you teaching in your English class right now?” Usually it means they want to just talk about what they liked to read (or not) in high school. When she was in high school, people told her she was a “fast reader,” and that was a bad thing for her, because she often read too quickly and missed the details. There are a lot of books she likes better now that she slowed down when reading, like “The Great Gatsby,” which she has probably read ten times at this point, each year when she teaches it. She is proud of the fact that she has the stamina for long books, but is more likely to carry around something that is 200 pages or less in her backpack.

One of the great sadnesses of her school year is that she uses so much of her brain to read and respond to student work that she has limited capacity to read on her own. She also recently discovered that she is old enough to have read books and COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN what they are about. Take, for example, the novel “Cat’s Cradle” by Kurt Vonnegut. She is certain she read it as a teen, but a student asked her about the plot recently and she couldn’t remember a thing. She is a little bit worried that this represents the rest of her life: forgetting things and having to go back to them.

One of her great joys of the school year is when she gets to read alongside her students in class. Her plan is to re-read “Cat’s Cradle” as soon as she finishes “Bone” by Fae Myenne Ng. The hardest time for her to read is on a plane or train. She always tells herself that she will, but she’d much rather listen to music and look out the window. She is a little bit ashamed of the fact that she never reads in German anymore, although she can. Never enough time!

Lights on Lights off Johnny! My mother angrily said. This was not the first time this has happened. “Why are you still awake?” “You need to rest” “Wake up we are going somewhere”. Those are my memories of my mother. The switching of the lights are the same as my emotions. Lately my mother had enough. THOSE ELECTRICAL CURRENTS MAY KEEP THAT DEVICE ALIVE, BUT IT WILL NOT KEEP YOU ALIVE! mother shouted. My mother never understood me. I was just a kid trying to fit in. Making my personality like what I see. A smooth greased hair back greaser, or a jacket wearing football jock, or a glasses wearing know it all nerd. Trying to fit into a school where I had to choose who I wanted to hang out with. I could not fit with the others. So I would switch through them each an every day. It eventually became second nature to me. Till this day I still switch my personalities. I do not feel comfortable to show the real me, even though I do at times mess up and reveal the real me. A quiet male, not wanting to be near people. I remember the first time when I entered this school education system. I did not know where to place myself. I had the name Jonathan Saldivar, however I did not know if it felt right for me. Throughout my life I would just ignore that name and instead go by Johnny Saldivar. I felt like my name would be a name that will go far. Mostly everyone would ask me why do you not go by Jonathan? Why do you go by Johnny? I would just stay being quiet. Words may not be said out loud, but no one ever said they can not be said in my head. I always have judgments on everyone whether they are a good or bad. I am just another human being. When it comes to my talents/skills I tend to spark and when it comes to a time where I do not find myself confident I tend to hide and stay back. “Johnny you should participate more”. “Johnny you are a great student I just wish you would talk more in class”. I do not talk more because if I am not confident and answer the question wrong then I will like I embarrassed myself. I want to learn but I do not like failing. Whenever I have to speak in public I feel like a turtle or snail going into their shell for protection. Social anxiety puts a me in a dark spot where their is no light. “Johnny! Are you alright?” Yeah I am even though I stay looking down at the floors tile. The dirty that is on the floor reminds me of how I can not find a way to break out of this cage I am in. It creates an image within my head thinking what I could be doing instead. I do not like talking to people, I feel a heavy weight pulling me down so I can not speak. I open my mouth but the words will not come out. “Johnny!” Yes I responded. “Why are you not talking.” I just lost myself in my thoughts sorry.

The science behind prenatal diagnosis

Prenatal diagnosis is the screening or testing for genetic diseases or other conditions before a child is born. Although there are many different techniques and tests, I will focus on a few:

• Preimplantation genetic diagnosis (PGD): During an IVF cycle, cells from the developing embryo can be genetically analyzed for chromosomal abnormalities - usually trisomy 21 (Down Syndrome), trisomy 13 and trisomy 18. The parents can then determine which embryos, if any, to transfer into the uterus. It is also possible to determine the sex of the embryo.
• Ultrasound: An ultrasound uses sound waves to “look” at a fetus as it develops in the uterus. Since sound waves reflect off of tissues differently depending on the density of the tissue, the sonographer can create images of the fetus’ external and internal anatomy. Ultrasound can be used to measure an embryo or fetus in order to predict the due date, detect twins, diagnose heart and other growth defects, measure heart rate, look for signs associated with Down Syndrome, and determine the sex of the fetus.
• Chorionic villus sampling: The chorionic villi are a part of the placenta that arises directly from the embryo (as opposed to the mother). They are, therefore, genetically identical to the developing embryo. Chorionic villi can be removed from the placenta and genetically analyzed to detect Down Syndrome and other genetic disorders. CVS has a slight risk (.5-1%) of miscarriage, and can also lead to amniotic fluid leakage and/or infection.
• Amniocentesis: A fetus develops in the amniotic sac, which is full of amniotic fluid. The amniotic fluid contains fetal cells that have naturally sloughed off. The doctor, using an ultrasound image as a guide, inserts a needle through the mother’s skin, abdominal wall, uterine wall, and into the amniotic sac, away from the fetus. Amniotic fluid is then collected, and the fetal cells contained in the fluid can be analyzed for genetic conditions such as Down Syndrome. Amniocentesis has similar risks as CVS, although CVS can be done earlier.
• Maternal Blood Testing: A relatively recently developed technique can detect fetal DNA in the mother’s blood stream. Thus, with a simple blood draw, the fetus’ sex can be determined, and it can be screened for a variety of genetic disorders.

Societal Impacts

While the above techniques may sound like wonderful advances in medicine, they also have their downsides. First, there’s a difference between screening and testing. A prenatal genetic screen - like maternal blood testing - only gives the level of risk of a condition, but it can not with 100% certainty diagnose a condition. Prenatal genetic tests - like amniocentesis and CVS - are more diagnostic, but also have higher risks for the pregnancy. And if a non-invasive screen detects a high risk for Down Syndrome, for example, the parents are then faced with the decision of whether or not to do a more invasive, high risk test in order to more accurately determine whether Down Syndrome is present. If the results of a CVS or amniocentesis indicate a genetic disorder, then the couple could be faced with the decision to terminate the pregnancy. At the very least, these weeks of testing and waiting for results can be draining and extremely stressful. Pregnancy can already be a stressful time, and these prenatal screens and test can add to that anxiety.

On the other hand, some parents feel that they’d like to know the risks, regardless of the outcome of a test. If a screening test comes back positive for a genetic disorder, then the parents at least won’t be surprised at the birth. They’ll have time to prepare, educate themselves, and possibly arrange for special care that might be needed for their newborn.

Some people opt out of the screens and tests altogether. They might argue that what’s meant to be is meant to be, and they’d rather spare themselves the stress and anxiety surrounding these tests and their results.

And finally, with PGD it is possible to choose the sex of your child. This is illegal in some countries, including Canada - but not the US. Given that IVF and PGD could cost $15000-$20000, the opportunity to screen embryos for genetic conditions and possibly select the sex would not be affordable for everyone. Is this fair? Should people be allowed to choose the sex of their children?

Personal opinions

As someone who loves science, I’m fascinated by these medical advances, and support further research into tests and screens like these. It’s exciting when new, improved tests come out that can help people get answers to their pregnancy concerns, and hopefully allay some of their fears. However, it’s easy for me to support these tests in a general, abstract way. It becomes more complicated when we’re talking about real pregnancies in my personal life. I’ve gone through some of these discussions and decisions, and sometimes there is no easy answer. I can see why people would be in the “no testing” camp - the screenings and testing definitely can raise anxiety and stress levels during pregnancy, which can already be pretty stressful. Still, I’m glad the tests are available, and I think they should continue to be offered to pregnant women. Key to this though, is that they need to be able to make informed decisions. Through discussions with their doctor and a knowledgeable genetic counselor, the parents-to-be can weigh the pros and cons for themselves, and then decide how they want to handle the conundrum of prenatal genetic diagnosis.

References: Nierneberg, C. (2014). Prenatal Genetic Screening Tests: Benefits & Risks. Retrieved February 24, 2016, from http://www.livescience.com/45949-prenatal-genetic-testing.html

Sidhu, J. (n.d.). Women Are Paying Huge Sums To Have a Daughter Rather Than a Son. Retrieved February 24, 2016, from http://www.slate.com/articles/health_and_science/medical_examiner/2012/09/sex_selection_in_babies_through_pgd_americans_are_paying_to_have_daughters_rather_than_sons_.html

I wish I hadn’t known: The ups and downs of prenatal testing. (n.d.). Retrieved February 24, 2016, from http://www.pregnancyandbaby.com/pregnancy/articles/944203/i-wish-i-hadnt-known-the-ups-and-downs-of-prenatal-testing

The science behind prenatal diagnosis

Prenatal diagnosis is the screening or testing for genetic diseases or other conditions before a child is born. Although there are many different techniques and tests, I will focus on a few:

• Preimplantation genetic diagnosis (PGD): During an IVF cycle, cells from the developing embryo can be genetically analyzed for chromosomal abnormalities - usually trisomy 21 (Down Syndrome), trisomy 13 and trisomy 18. The parents can then determine which embryos, if any, to transfer into the uterus. It is also possible to determine the sex of the embryo.
• Ultrasound: An ultrasound uses sound waves to “look” at a fetus as it develops in the uterus. Since sound waves reflect off of tissues differently depending on the density of the tissue, the sonographer can create images of the fetus’ external and internal anatomy. Ultrasound can be used to measure an embryo or fetus in order to predict the due date, detect twins, diagnose heart and other growth defects, measure heart rate, look for signs associated with Down Syndrome, and determine the sex of the fetus.
• Chorionic villus sampling: The chorionic villi are a part of the placenta that arises directly from the embryo (as opposed to the mother). They are, therefore, genetically identical to the developing embryo. Chorionic villi can be removed from the placenta and genetically analyzed to detect Down Syndrome and other genetic disorders. CVS has a slight risk (.5-1%) of miscarriage, and can also lead to amniotic fluid leakage and/or infection.
• Amniocentesis: A fetus develops in the amniotic sac, which is full of amniotic fluid. The amniotic fluid contains fetal cells that have naturally sloughed off. The doctor, using an ultrasound image as a guide, inserts a needle through the mother’s skin, abdominal wall, uterine wall, and into the amniotic sac, away from the fetus. Amniotic fluid is then collected, and the fetal cells contained in the fluid can be analyzed for genetic conditions such as Down Syndrome. Amniocentesis has similar risks as CVS, although CVS can be done earlier.
• Maternal Blood Testing: A relatively recently developed technique can detect fetal DNA in the mother’s blood stream. Thus, with a simple blood draw, the fetus’ sex can be determined, and it can be screened for a variety of genetic disorders.

Societal Impacts

While the above techniques may sound like wonderful advances in medicine, they also have their downsides. First, there’s a difference between screening and testing. A prenatal genetic screen - like maternal blood testing - only gives the level of risk of a condition, but it can not with 100% certainty diagnose a condition. Prenatal genetic tests - like amniocentesis and CVS - are more diagnostic, but also have higher risks for the pregnancy. And if a non-invasive screen detects a high risk for Down Syndrome, for example, the parents are then faced with the decision of whether or not to do a more invasive, high risk test in order to more accurately determine whether Down Syndrome is present. If the results of a CVS or amniocentesis indicate a genetic disorder, then the couple could be faced with the decision to terminate the pregnancy. At the very least, these weeks of testing and waiting for results can be draining and extremely stressful. Pregnancy can already be a stressful time, and these prenatal screens and test can add to that anxiety.

On the other hand, some parents feel that they’d like to know the risks, regardless of the outcome of a test. If a screening test comes back positive for a genetic disorder, then the parents at least won’t be surprised at the birth. They’ll have time to prepare, educate themselves, and possibly arrange for special care that might be needed for their newborn.

Some people opt out of the screens and tests altogether. They might argue that what’s meant to be is meant to be, and they’d rather spare themselves the stress and anxiety surrounding these tests and their results.

And finally, with PGD it is possible to choose the sex of your child. This is illegal in some countries, including Canada - but not the US. Given that IVF and PGD could cost $15000-$20000, the opportunity to screen embryos for genetic conditions and possibly select the sex would not be affordable for everyone. Is this fair? Should people be allowed to choose the sex of their children?

Personal opinions

As someone who loves science, I’m fascinated by these medical advances, and support further research into tests and screens like these. It’s exciting when new, improved tests come out that can help people get answers to their pregnancy concerns, and hopefully allay some of their fears. However, it’s easy for me to support these tests in a general, abstract way. It becomes more complicated when we’re talking about real pregnancies in my personal life. I’ve gone through some of these discussions and decisions, and sometimes there is no easy answer. I can see why people would be in the “no testing” camp - the screenings and testing definitely can raise anxiety and stress levels during pregnancy, which can already be pretty stressful. Still, I’m glad the tests are available, and I think they should continue to be offered to pregnant women. Key to this though, is that they need to be able to make informed decisions. Through discussions with their doctor and a knowledgeable genetic counselor, the parents-to-be can weigh the pros and cons for themselves, and then decide how they want to handle the conundrum of prenatal genetic diagnosis.

References: Nierneberg, C. (2014). Prenatal Genetic Screening Tests: Benefits & Risks. Retrieved February 24, 2016, from http://www.livescience.com/45949-prenatal-genetic-testing.html

Sidhu, J. (n.d.). Women Are Paying Huge Sums To Have a Daughter Rather Than a Son. Retrieved February 24, 2016, from http://www.slate.com/articles/health_and_science/medical_examiner/2012/09/sex_selection_in_babies_through_pgd_americans_are_paying_to_have_daughters_rather_than_sons_.html

I wish I hadn’t known: The ups and downs of prenatal testing. (n.d.). Retrieved February 24, 2016, from http://www.pregnancyandbaby.com/pregnancy/articles/944203/i-wish-i-hadnt-known-the-ups-and-downs-of-prenatal-testing

When I was a little kid, I use to watch the Looney Tunes every Sunday morning. I began to grow a connection with the show and the characters. When I was younger I saw the movie Space Jam starring Michael Jordan and that’s when I knew I was hooked on the Looney Tunes and basketball. I remember going into my dad’s room and seeing this picture of an all white background, with nine Looney Tunes characters with their heads down next to a microphone on a stand. As a kid I fell in love with this picture not even knowing the real meaning behind it but just because Bugs Bunny was in it. When I got older, my dad let me put the picture up in my room. Then that’s when I found out the real meaning behind it. On the top left corner of the picture there is a word that says Speechless. And under the microphone stand there is a name that reads Mel Blanc with the dates 1908-1989 following under it. Mel Blanc was the man who voiced all nine of the Looney Tune characters in the picture. The Looney Tune characters were standing next to the microphone honoring the person who voiced them since he passed away in 1989.

Everyday I wake up, I look at the picture before I leave my room. It makes me think about life and the actions I choose. Looking at those humble and symphysis Looney Tune characters everyday reminds me of my dad, my dad remind me of me. Everything I do , I do to create myself into a better human being. Every experience I go through, good or bad I look at it like a blessing. Everyday I look at what those Looney Tune characters have brought to this world and the impact that they had on people and I try to impact people’s lives the same way they did. One of my biggest goals in life is to just improve my way of life, my way of thinking, and my actions. The universe is a wild trippy road and I just wanna come out of it being the best me I can be. Without that picture reminding me everyday to impact this world like the Looney Tune’s did. I wouldn’t be the man I am today.

I can recall plucking it from a bin at Ross’s. A skinny, tall red-and-black book with white letters on the front. Surrounding the title was a plethora of flags, representing the banners of various nations, from Japan to Sweden to Botswana to Brazil. It was entitled “Flags of the World”, and it would soon be my constant companion.

Even though I was born with Asperger’s Syndrome and so was at a deficit when it came to interacting with people, I became fascinated with the wider workings of the human world. “Flags of the World” was stuffed full of interests tidbits and facts that thrilled my five-year-old brain. That Cuba was the largest island in the Caribbean. That there were two Koreas. That Russia was the largest nation in the world and that Vatican City was the smallest. At the same time, I was studying a duo of puzzle maps of the United States and learning the names of all the capitals of each state. It was easy to accomplish; for when you picked up a puzzle piece of a state, it would reveal the name of a capital beneath. It was with these puzzles that I learned how the nation operated on a grand scale: the nicknames and highways and byways and the two peninsulas of Michigan and Alaska and Hawaii, cast off from the others. It instilled within me an appreciation of the beauty of knowledge, and humanity’s place within it. By the time I entered school, I had memorized all fifty state capitals, from Augusta, Maine, to Olympia, Washington, and everywhere in between. This interest in the doings of the world’s peoples and nations lead to a wider interest in history, helping me put everything that has ever happened into a grand sweeping context, while still focusing in on the little details which I love. It lead me to the hobby of collecting of old postcards so I can horde places around the world, and see how they have changed and morphed across the decades and centuries. It has given me the “travel bug” and lead to two trips to Rome, Italy, where I viewed the entirety of the world’s collective past in one metropolis. It seems that my interest in geography and history and whatnot instills a sense of order 6and understanding into my chaotic relationships with other people. It’s easier to understand someone else if you know the geographical and historical circumstances which shaped them. It makes the human race seem less intimidating and alien. One could state that my love for maps and geography of all kinds has been affecting my life since I started school. I remember clearly my kindergarten classroom, with my teacher, Mrs. Brennan, seated at the front with a large photograph of two children playing in the snow. Mrs. Brennan quizzed us as to what the image depicted, to which I raised my hand and replied, “Two Inuits from Iqaluit, Nunavut, Canada”. I had recently viewed an episode of the PBS program “Postcards From Buster”, in which the titular animated rabbit from “Arthur” went to different cities in North America. In this episode, he had journeyed to Iqaluit, the capital of the territory of Nunavut in Canada’s Arctic regions. Mrs. Brennan was taken aback-in a rather good way-by my response. It was not so much that it was wrong as that it was unexpected-a kind of mental trick which I am apparently good at. Today, I still love geography very much. I know more about more specific areas than I once did, and my knowledge of national capitals and regions, as well as major cities and bodies of water, has expanded greatly. I can name several states of Mexico and Brazil, counties of England, regions of Italy, and islands of Indonesia. Meeting people from other parts of the world has also greatly increased my knowledge of how this planet functions. And do not even get me started on Google Maps-I can get lost in there, spending hours piddling about the streets of cities and towns and the roads of the countryside on Street View.
In conclusion, geography will always be my original passion. Even as I learn new things, geography will always be there. It has opened new doors of communication for me, and given me the skills to navigate both around Philadelphia and in places that I’ve visited on vacation. Geography is me; geography is you; geography is all of us; humanity is one big map.

Why I Left Progressivism (Proud to be an Ex-Progressive)

I used to be a progressive, but I am proud to say that I have left—er, no pun intended. What is progressivism? When I use this term I am talking about the idea of a “progressive stack,” which is the notion that some people are oppressed, some people are the oppressors, and in order to solve this imbalance, the oppressors must “stand down” in the face of the oppressed. I am talking about the belief that in order to move forward, “imbalances” between oppressor and oppressed peoples must be resolved by the oppressors—that those who are “privileged” must correct the “inequalities.” Now, initially I found myself drawn to progressivism through the misguided idea that I was oppressed because of my sexuality; I identify as bisexual. Because of this, by the time I was in 9th grade, I was more-or-less a full-on progressive. But as the school year moved forward, I began to notice fallacies in progressive thinking, and I identified areas of my own thought that I began to believe were wrong.

So what inspired me to change? There were several motivational factors that caused me to leave behind progressivism. They were not necessarily specific events that I can remember off of the top of my head. Nothing emphatically turned me away. Instead there was a series of discussions, questions, and thoughts that slowly wielded influence..

That said, I do recall one specific idea that especially nagged away at me and probably played a big part in pushing me little by little away from progressivism. It was the idea of privilege. At first, I didn’t see anything too crazy about it. I remember reading, for example, those little comic strips that progressives made, many of them originating on Tumblr, that claimed the existence of pernicious “white privilege” and “straight privilege,” etc. But then as I looked at what writings like those were really saying, I realized just how overblown the idea of white and straight privilege is, to the point that it obscures the way many white and straight people live. There are many who struggle economically. Sure, for example, you could look at Philadelphia neighborhoods and compare Fairmount to Strawberry Mansion and argue that this is an example of some sort of “white urban housing privilege” or bring up “all these privileged white people living in the suburbs,” but at some point along the line you would have to acknowledge all the white people who grow up and live in battered trailer parks and rundown sections of small towns, or the fact that Asians and Asian-Americans (especially and specifically those living in urban areas) have just as much privilege economically and socially as whites. Seriously, compare the crime rates of any predominantly Asian neighborhood (with the obvious exception of Native American Reservations) or white neighborhood, and you will see what I mean.

I also remember one specific discussion that challenged my opinion on progressivism. It was a Friday in October in Ms. Jonas’ African-American history class, and we were talking about, well, privilege. I cannot say that I remember how the discussion was going because, to be honest, I was sitting there anticipating the wrap-up, imagining Ms. Jonas uttering a word or phrase in Spanish so that we could be dismissed. (No matter how interesting the talk, it could never be captivating enough to overwhelm that “last period on a Friday” feeling.) As I sat there, the question of privilege was brought up in the context of race. I remember hearing some students make a point about how “all white people shouldn’t be blamed”, a point that, by the way, I believed was correct and still do agree with. In response, one girl (who will remain anonymous for her own privacy’s sake) raised her hand and said, “Nobody is blaming all white people; however they still do benefit from institutional privilege.” While this was not an insane argument or response at all, by any stretch, it did get me thinking about some things. What was “institutional privilege” exactly? How did the institutions decide? Did this mean white privilege was strongly entrenched in society and wielding power—like an institution? How come did this make sense when I saw so many fragile white people? Were they benefitting from white privilege? Many more questions came to my head, and the habit of questioning continued.

Another experience that got me to rethink progressivism was coming across the idea of “internalized biases.” Now when I say “internalized biases,” I am talking about the idea that people simply have some sort of ingrained notion of who or what is “better” or “worse” and that it can be hard to detect in yourself and hard to change.  Anyway, I remember a day during my 9th-grade year while I was lounging about at home, probably in late October or early November, screwing around on YouTube and catching a video entitled something like “Internalized Biases.” (There was probably more to the title, but that is all I can remember.) Halfway through, I thought to myself “Wait. What are they saying? People can be born with biases because of their ethnicity or religion or something like that? Hmm, how can people just be born with biases? Why are they just assuming that some groups of people just naturally carry biases and if so, that those biases are done deals? It’s not like biased beliefs have a genetic basis. Aren’t the people in this video just making a bit of a biased assumption themselves?” I mean, I did understand and do understand the idea of learned implicit biases. However, what the people in the video were saying was just too extreme--that you are born biased because of your gender, ethnicity, etc. I continued to think, and looking at my apparent “oppressor”--heterosexuals, I realized that this did not seem right. Assuming that a group of people all think the same thing--and a negative, damning thing at that--because of their race, religion, sexuality, or whatever, is bigotry, no matter who does it, majority or minority.

In conclusion, I am no longer a progressive, and proud to say so, too. I have realized the fallacies in the progressive belief system, such as the practice of blocking people into categories based on race and gender, for example, are too easy, often represent a kind of bias themselves, and erase the individuality and humanity of others. I feel like I have been enlightened. I now have more of a live-and-let-live view and want to keep an open mind about the beliefs of individual human beings of all backgrounds. I also believe there is room in our culture for people of all backgrounds to work against any disadvantages they face. I am now a believer in personal responsibility. Finally, unlike progressives, I am a bit of a traditionalist in some ways. I support the preservation of traditional values, like the traditional family, involvement in religion of some type, and the preservation of unborn life—and, as for progressivism, I will never be returning.

At my house I opened up the draw and got the jersey whether it is old or new I always get excited when I put it on. Then I get the extra stuff such as a hat,wig,beads, and rally towel which makes me extra pumped. Then the next thing is me calling my dad to tell him I am ready to go. We begin to talk about Stats on the game and how they are going to win which always helps us stay positive.

Then that moment when I enter the subway and see the logo is very cool everyone is talking about the game and your pulse begins to rise up. Then the train speaker says Next stop AT&T Station and sports complex then they announce the stadium names. Everyone begins to stand up then the station comes into sight and then when the doors open it is like sharks smell blood they come out. You go up the escalator and then walk out the door and bam the stadium is right there you begin to walk up and you see more and more orange.

Then you walk in the doors go through the metal detectors then you give your ticket to the usher he scans it then you are in you hear that beep of the scanner then you’re in and it is the best feeling ever. When you go up the escalators it is cool you see all the players names and numbers then you start to feel excited. So as you get through that entryway and you feel that blast of cold air it is like the best AC ever and you’re not hot anymore. Then you see that beautiful rink and wherever you sit you can see it which is cool as well. Then the game starts to begin and those red seats start to turn to orange and more orange which is awesome.

Then the players start to come out and the crowd is getting into it and my pulse begins to rise. Then the players are introduced by the Lou Nolan and then the national anthem by Lauren Hart Which during the season is The star spangled banner and during the playoffs god bless america with a split screen of Kate Smith which is great. Then everyone is is so happy and cheering. Then the mohawk puck comes and says flyers then the road team and then now so an example of this would be flyers rangers now.

Then Lou Nolan says let’s get ready for some hockey than puck drop starts. Then it is officially game time and then I am excited. You hear all of those great sounds the hits on the boards,the players stopping on the ice and then the ice shaving going everywhere then the tape to tape passes and then the players shooting the puck to the goalie the 2nd best sound ever but the best sound ever is when the puck hits the crossbar. The fans start to cheer which also makes me excited during the game.

The worst part and most exciting part of the game is when the players shoot and shoot and shoot on the goalie and the fans keep saying ooh and aah like a thousand fireworks are going off below their feet. Then when the period comes to an end my heart can now rest for about 20 minutes we walk around and get some drinks such as the best ice tea ever that always rest on my taste buds because it is so good. The next thing is the crab fries which do have a kick to them that is why there is a cheese sauce with them. Then the game starts back up.

Then After the game finally starts back up and my heart is kind of back to normal now the other team scores which is a sword through the heart. Then as Lou Nolan announces the name of the goal scorer and then the fans start booing and booing. After that the players are getting scruffy and mean so of course we get excited and we wait for a fight so then as you can guess it comes the fight. It is over and then the crowd is energized and pumped up as well then Lou as you know announces the penalties then the game continues Then the end of the period.

As we wait 20 minutes my breath smells like crabs,cheese and of course ice tea the 3rd starts. The fans are rowdy and excited then finally after about 20 hits that looked very painful there was the tying goal. The game went to OT which means overtime the most scary experience ever it is 3 on 3 sudden death hockey for 5 minutes but it is the worst 5 minutes of your life. After that if no one scores the 2nd most scary experience ever is the penalty shot shootout a 1 on 1 shooter vs goalie. 1st round no 2nd round no 3rd no and then 4th the flyers score and they win 2 to 1 I am so happy and so excited. Then the sad part I half to put my jersey away for next game.

Introduction This paper focuses on my legacy, how I want to be remembered. I included my thoughts on how I think people view me or think of me vs how I view and think about myself. I am proud of this piece but I also feel like I could of went into more detail in my body paragraphs. I am most proud of my conclusion. This is where I talked about how I want to be remembered and I feel like it summed the whole paper up nicely and it was a good way to finish.

Advanced Essay #1

“Hey, umm excuse me… Can I touch your hair?” random people sometimes ask me. I usually respond with a light chuckle and say “Yeah, go ahead.” It’s like I’m programmed because after I hear those words, I respond the exact same way every time. After people feel my hair they always ask me, they always ask “Do you dye your hair?”. And I respond “No, not at all, this is all natural.”. When I say that some people are a little shocked so the next question that people usually ask is “Who in your family do you get your red hair from?”. Honestly I don’t know how to respond to this question because nobody in my family has red hair, nobody that I have met at least. So I just tell people that I get it from my mom, her hair is the closest to red so I just tell them that.

As people run their fingers through my hair, I can’t fight to think like I don’t know this person at all and I don’t know where their hands have been, so what pushes us to say yes to these questions that people we don’t even know ask us? I guess it is just something that naturally happens. Maybe we are just being naturally polite or we just think to ourselves “say yes just to get it over with” without even knowing it. Not all people are like this or think this way but this is what is going through my mind when I get into this situation. Saying “yes” to a simple question like that just seems like the right thing to do, like it isn’t causing any harm and saying yes just gets it over with faster. On the other hand saying “no” just doesn’t feel right. I feel like that kind of just makes it awkward for the both of us and it gives you a bad vibe. Some people are like that where they just wanna go about their day not being bothered.

When people ask me if they can touch or rub my hair, I’m not going to to lie, I kind of like it. I guess it just makes me feel like I’m different, and there is something about my physical appearance that stands out from other people. Unless there are people out here asking everyone if they could touch your hair, than that is a different story, but I highly doubt somebody would do that. But at the end of the day it kind of makes me feel good when someone asks me that question. It makes me feel like they see something in me that don’t really see in anybody else or at least something they don’t see too often and that makes me feel good about myself. There are also the people who make comments about my hair. “You have a beautiful head of hair” is the most common one. I also get “I love the color of your hair”. Hearing compliments like this from people I don’t know, just brings a smile to my face

I feel like my hair is the feature that people think of when my name is brought up. Like if my name comes up in a conversation people think to themselves like “oh the tall kid with the long red hair”. Of course being the tall kid with red hair isn’t the only thing I want to be remembered by, because that is just something that stands out with my appearance. I want to be remembered by who I was as a person and the things I like to do. Someone who could easily lighten up the mood and put a smile on people’s faces with no trouble at all. The guy anyone could come to if they needed advice or if they just needed to talk to somebody. And at an athletic standpoint, I want to be remembered as a great baseball player because I dedicate my life to the sport. But most importantly I want to be remembered as a rising photographer of Rough Cut Productions… Nah I’m just kidding.

The air was crisp and clean. There was not one cloud in the sky. The sand was warm from the beaming sun and soft from the tide. We were so happy to be out here together. My mom loves the beach the feeling of sun in her skin is her favorite thing and she thinks that the best sun is beach sun. We walk up to the water. It is the beginning of summer so we have a sure idea in our heads that the water would be warm. The water was so cold my mom grabbed onto me in shock. I heard her let out a very uncomfortable scream. I would have reacted but the ice cold water froze me into place. We both laughed as we shivered. My mom, she likes the beach but, she doesn’t like the water, the shriek of seagulls or, the taste of salt water. I just don’t like the smell of salt water. If you get too close it goes up your nose and causes a sting kinda like when you eat wasabi but definitely not as bad. One of the best parts was that she hadn’t been to the beach in a while. The last time she had been here was with her best friend.

She was so cool. She didn’t have any kids my age. Heck, she didn’t have any kids at all. I loved hanging out with her so much. My mom’s best friend Ms. Tisha. She was my godmother and truly cared for me. I remember we had a great time together on the beach. Our family went on a vacation to Jamaica and we had went to less rowdy part of the beach near the bungalows. The sun was beaming and the water was clear. Clouds threatened at the edge of the sun rays causing shade and sun to alternate. We were relaxing and wading in the clear blue island water. I remember her asking, “Take a picture of me and Des?” It isn’t the best photo but it is one of us and that means the world to me. 

The moment my mom pulled it back up from our dusty Toshiba computer I was in shock. Five years can really change a person. I have grew a few inches. I’ve leaned out a lot especially in my face. My chubby cheeks are no more and I’ve matured since then . Looking back, I didn't think too much of this picture and forgot about it often. It wasn't until I saw it again, last week, in her obituary. It had been printed out into a small grainy image in the center. It felt weird being there but it made me realize how important she was to me. At the time life was moving fast around me. It was the first day of school, I had a good amount of friends, everything was fine, until it wasn’t. We had known she was sick but the shock of her gone left us shook. There would be no more game nights at her house. Those nights were fueled with laughter and smiles. Chips and dip spread across the table. Alongside the food were pokeno boards and decks of cards ready to be played. It always smelled of chicken that someone had brought from the store or fried themselves. You could hear the laughter all throughout the house as well as the jingles of quarters. Everyone bought all their change hoping that they would win it all back plus some more. I miss it now more than ever. I would never be able to be on her CatchPhrase team or be neck and neck in Scattergories. I would never be up past my bedtime yearning to call the cards as well as her in pokeno. I miss her. The last time I had even seen her was a year ago when she first got sick. I didn’t know how to miss her because I already hadn’t seen her in a year. I had never felt so conflicted on how to feel in my life.

No one really tells you how to feel when someone you love dies. In some ways it is rude and insensitive to tell someone else how to grieve but, in some ways it can help. I’m still really unsure on how to grieve when someone dies. I don’t take death well. It is kinda of like when you get a paper cut. It happens it heals but if you keep picking at it, it’ll leave a scar. I don’t want to forget about her but I don’t want to dwell on the past. Yes, it did happen but, she’s in a better place, probably teaching angels how to play CatchPhrase and making unforgettable beach days. People always say life isn’t a game, but isn’t it? We play around with death until it finally takes us. It could be quick and painless or full of suffering and failed treatments. For some reason I used to think that all adults had the game of life all figured out, but I guess they don’t. My mom is pained the most by her death. They were friends for over 20 years. I could almost smell the tears on her face through the phone because I knew she had been crying. The taste of salt welled up inside of my mouth. But, when you look at the bigger picture, she was electric. She left her mark on the world and for that I will be forever grateful. 

What do you want to be when you get older?” I don’t know. “How about hobbies that you enjoy?” Hobbies? “You look like you’re going to be a doctor. Or maybe a lawyer?” All eyes were on me. My feet were shifted towards the other side of the room, ready to run. My mother peers at me out of the side of her eye awaiting my response, along with the rest of my family. Their eyes are fixed on me, necks stretched outward and heads tilted to the side to exaggerate their anticipation, half smiles on their faces. I can feel my stomach fill with butterflies, but in this situation, replacing the butterflies with matches would be more of an appropriate fit. My body sparks a fire and spreads quickly. My heart beats in my ears and my underarms burn. I was running out of time. I hated to have to think on my feet, especially when I couldn’t come up with an answer that would prove satisfactory.

“I guess I want to be a nurse.”

The room is brought back to life and everyone quickly returns back to their own conversations. I bolt to the bathroom to catch my breath, replaying that moment over and over in my head.

Why hadn’t I told my family what my true interests and passions were? Why didn’t I mention my journals, my poems, my books full of short stories and notes full of ideas? How I saw it: If I had told them flat out that I wanted to be a writer, I could already hear the sympathetic “reality checks” and looks of concern. Enjoying writing and wanting to take it up as a profession simply isn’t seen as legitimate, at least in my case. I started to feel like I didn’t belong with my classmates. All throughout elementary school I’d sit for hours trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with me. All of my peers wanted to be architects or veterinarians or just something that was generally praised upon. By 8th grade I’d concluded that I was going to have to find another passion to throw my energy into, because writing was just something you had to do when the teacher said so. Of course I loved assignments that required me to write, but they weren’t ever really as fulfilling as I wanted them to be. I was following a list of instructions to get me an A, and then that list was thrown away and the essay was thrown away and nothing was ever looked at again. I was gaining nothing. So, I took it upon myself to start writing whatever I wanted.

By middle school I had gone through one and a half journals that I had used to write stories. Whenever I had the free time, I was writing. I would grab my belongings right before lunch began, head for the gym and up the back stairwell. Dropping my bag below me, I’d blow the dust off my throne and try to get as comfortable as I could on a cold concrete flight of stairs. I would write about anything, really. It all depended on the type of mood I was in. If I had been out of focus all day, I’d find myself writing fairytales or fictional stories with myself as the main character. If I was feeling overwhelmed, I’d write a story that contained anger or even mystery, something that would keep me engaged with my own thoughts. The real reason I kept and still keep my writing to myself is because of the demand that would come out of publicizing everything I wrote.

It was my 8th grade graduation. I sat in the front of the stage and stared off into space as they called out awards for my classmates. A tight ball formed in the pit of my stomach. I had won a couple awards for theatre, but that was expected—they gave those out to everyone. What I did not expect was to hear my name called again. I turned to my english teacher standing at the microphone, smiling. She waved for me to occupy the spot next to her. My dress slid across the floor behind me, and I prayed for it not to get caught in my high heels and cause a complete disaster.

“This girl has written her way into my heart. She creates one of the greatest pieces I’ve seen in the 8th grade class!”

She looks down at me. I search the audience, locking eyes with my mother. She doesn’t look proud. She doesn’t look disappointed, either. I couldn’t read her expression.

“I’m proud to give her this award, but also sad to let her go. I’ll miss her constructed responses.”

The crowd clapped, my mother smiled, my peers praised me.

In moments like that, all the attention and positive feedback would have me thinking of ways to put myself out there and get someone to read and publish my writing. I still struggled with doubt, and had so much to learn. Even now I’m trying my hardest to be confident about the poems and papers I write. What I want to do, I don’t have a solid idea on just yet. But I’m hoping that it never requires me to stop doing what I love.

“Line up to start heading downstair!” I was second in line with twenty dollars in my pocket. Everyone was fairly excited for the biannual book fair in the library at my school. I had seen from walking by the room earlier that day what they had in store this year. I was really excited to buy a poster with my favorite show on it. As we were walking down the steps, i asked all my friends what they were going to get. Many said books, a pen for their brother or sister, some said posters like me, and some said that they didn’t even have any money. It was just a way to get out of class, honestly. I was wondering where i was going to put mine in my room. Near my tv? Next to my closet? Behind my door? My teacher instructed us to be quiet while on the steps, but i wasn’t really concerned about that. Should i buy someone a present? But who? I don’t have a sibling who would appreciate it. I knew if i got something for my parents, it’d be small. “Where should we put our stuff when we get back to class?” someone asked “In the closet with your jackets, it should be okay there” the teacher said. As we got to the bottom of the stairs, i was so excited to be first in the book fair. I walked in, but was now conflicted. I always remember my classmates talking about their brothers and sisters; how they walked with them home or just their lives in general. Simply adding them into conversations or talking about how old they were. My school was set up in a way that if you had an older or younger sibling, certain things would be set up just because your family consisted of more than one child. When we would do things like the book fair, all of the kids in my class would talk about how they were going to buy things for their younger siblings and I didn’t understand why. Why would you buy something if it wasn’t for yourself? I have always had that mentality and i think it is strictly because i am an only child. I am not exactly an only child, i have an older brother. He’s fourteen years older than me and moved out when i was really young, so I just live with both of my parents. I don’t necessarily remember when he left or even how old i was, but i just know it felt like my house my emptier. My brother was always very reserved, so when he left the house was still quiet. I remember when i came home after school one day and his room was empty; all the furniture was gone and it looked like no one had ever lived their teenage years there. My family is very split; i have about five sides to my family. My brother is actually my half brother because we have different dads. When my mom and i would go to Harris family events, i felt as though i didn’t exactly belong there because i wasn’t related to anyone by blood. They made me feel welcome, though, everyone would kiss and hug us when we walked in. Christmas would be a loving exchange of presents and hot food that brought everyone together. Bright red and green twinkling lights hung on the tall tree in the corner of the living room. The dim lighting and candles would make the mood even more festive.

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.1) Types of feedback that would be most helpful for the author: Use more descriptive words nice flow write more 2) Feedback from peer #1: Use of words Seems to have the transitioning of ideas down pact Can link together non relating ideas ? Can you relate it back more to the topic? ? How is this important? ? Does it have a bigger meaning? 3) Feedback from peer #2: +NIce story + Engage the senses + Structured well ?When did this take place? ? How can you make it more descriptive? ?

5) Author’s plan for revisions: I plan to read over my entire essay and fix any errors that i made. I read the feedback and i will use it to make my essay better.

Have you ever had a day that completely caught you by surprise? In days like that, things happen that you never would have imagined. When you have days like that and you wake up after a nights sleep, you wonder if you were dreaming about the events that shook your life the day before. I don’t particularly like those days because of how they make feel, and all of the unanswerable questions that they cause to flow through my mind.

It was a day in January year of 2014. I had basketball practice. I had to be there before 6:30 am. “Madison, you are not going to basketball practice” my mom said. I looked at her with a distinct face. The puzzling statement ran across my face. “Why wasn’t I not going?” I asked her. I go to basketball practice every morning. Will my coach even care? Am I in trouble? “I will tell you later, text your coach and tell her you are not coming for personal reasons.” she told me. What personal reasons I wondered. With crud in my eyes barely looking at her I said “okay”. It was weird. I just simply went back to sleep. We usually go to the train together but today she didn’t go with me. She left me alone. It was a cold winter morning. It was a Wednesday. I went on with my day proceeded with going to going to my classes. I was in my freshman year at SLA. After my last class of the day, it was time to go to TFI. I got a call from my dad. “Hey Madison I am going to meet you at TFI after your class is over, I will call you back when I am here”. For what? I was confused or should I say puzzled the whole entire day seemed crazy. First my mom, then my dad. Everyone was all over the place. After TFI I waited patiently for my parents to come. The schedule changes were messing up my normal routine. First I would walk to Suburban from TFI and catch the train home and then do homework. “Madison I’m outside come to the car” my dad said when he called me back. I did not know what to think of it. I get in the car. I see the tears on my mother’s face. I didn’t know why she was crying or what was happening. I looked at her frightened. My blood boiling rising through my veins as my heart was becoming fearful. My dad came into the car. “Madison, you’re cousin was shot early this morning.” My face broke. I couldn’t believe it. I immediately broke into tears. I didn’t know how to feel about it . I did not say anything. My legs were shivering. I didn’t even ask which cousin it was when I first found out. He is still a part of me. He is very close to me. My mom use to watch him before I was around. Is this real? Or am I dreaming? My emotions were everywhere on the way to my house. I did not want to talk to anyone. I stayed to myself praying that I would see him again. I got home and just sat. I did not want to talk to anyone or discuss what I was feeling. The tears were still trickling down my face and I could not stop them. Everything was going through my mind. The fear of never seeing him again or even the fact of seeing him well again. We shared so many memories together. He wasn’t really a cousin, he was more like my big brother. I didn’t know who I can tell I felt alone. I instantly went to my best friend at the time which was Hannah. She was the only person I could really talk to about it. Her first reaction was trying to calm me down. “You will see him again” was all she kept saying to me. I didn’t want to hear what she was saying. I was filled with anger.. Who would do this to somebody? Why to my cousin? There are people out there that have no regard for human life.

Because of this event, my life has changed completely. I view my friendships differently now and I am more aware of my surroundings. But I do cautiously break boundaries with exploring new relationships because it’s worth taking the risk. “You can’t know what to expect , unless you explore it for yourself.”