"how you love yourself is
how you teach others
to love you"
- Rupi Kaur
"Somewhere between right and wrong, there is a garden of hope."
"A 2.0 student can know more than a 4.0 student.
Grades don't deteremind intelligence,
they text obedience."
"Bliss does not come from materials or possessions. It comes from fulfilling ones purpose in this existence."
- Adam Braum
"Live not in dreams, but in contemplation of reality that is perhaps the future."
- Adam Braum
"Leadership isn't just about telling people what to do. It's about doing the right thing even when it's not written in the rule book."
- Adam Braum
"Where you start in life doesn't dictate where you end."
"Stop acting so small, you are the universe in ecstatic motion."
- Rumi
"The planet does not need more successful people. The planet desperately needs more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of all kinds."
- Dalai Lama
"I'm surrounded by people who just wanna get blackout drunk for fun. Like nah man. Let's go camping or take a road trip or do some stuff we haven't done before. I wanna live."
"No wonder you are all sad. They've stolen your childhood and replaced it with homework and grades. They don't let you dream any more, they crush it with the pressures to be medicore yet pretend they want greatness from you."
"I will not beg for your time or try to convince you to choose me, the world is too big and I have too much to offer."
"Seventeen seems like the perfect age. Not naive like sixteen. Not feeling the pressures of daunting adulthood like eighteen. Just plain and simple, seventeen."
"This vicious world might sharpen us like a blade, but whether we use that power to protect people or cause them pain, it always our choice."
- Beau Taplin
"Character is how you treat those who can do nothing for you."
"When something bad happens you have three choices: You can let it define you, you can let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you."
Thursday, September 29, 2016
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
How It Begins
I know why the child cries over his homework,
why teenagers these days take comfort in drugs.
The child is beginning the long process of growing up,
the drugs save them from cracking under the pressure
of being perfect and getting good grades and trying to maintain a job as well as a healthy social life.
The drugs are their only escape.
The child will far too soon become those teenagers.
The weed allows him to breathe for the first time
since middle school,
but by the end of freshman year
it is no longer strong enough to overpower the anxiety.
Through the haze he faintly recalls screaming parents,
lacking comprehension of why their perfect child's grades are rapidly falling.
As sophomore years wraps up
the LSD is the only thing keeping him going.
He's constantly struggling to go stead fast at the same pace with a growing work load,
hanging on by the worn out threads
of people who used to care about him.
Just trying the breathe under water.
Half way through junior year
he discovers candy is not for him,
ditching the cocaine he moves on to a new adventure.
Chasing the Dragon becomes his favorite past time,
like little boy playing with a brand new toy.
By the beginning of senior year he's doing it on a daily basis.
Those friends that tried to keep his head above the Black Sea,
no longer speak to him.
They bask in their golden light with the rest of the living.
The spiraling has almost come to an end.
He's too far gone,
or at least that's what he thinks.
Graduation night approaches.
His anxiety sky rockets.
Blacken veins don't look good in graduation gowns.
One drug,
Two drug,
Three drug,
Four drugs past counting.
An overdose dampers the night his life was supposed to begin.
Instead, it ends.
why teenagers these days take comfort in drugs.
The child is beginning the long process of growing up,
the drugs save them from cracking under the pressure
of being perfect and getting good grades and trying to maintain a job as well as a healthy social life.
The drugs are their only escape.
The child will far too soon become those teenagers.
The weed allows him to breathe for the first time
since middle school,
but by the end of freshman year
it is no longer strong enough to overpower the anxiety.
Through the haze he faintly recalls screaming parents,
lacking comprehension of why their perfect child's grades are rapidly falling.
As sophomore years wraps up
the LSD is the only thing keeping him going.
He's constantly struggling to go stead fast at the same pace with a growing work load,
hanging on by the worn out threads
of people who used to care about him.
Just trying the breathe under water.
Half way through junior year
he discovers candy is not for him,
ditching the cocaine he moves on to a new adventure.
Chasing the Dragon becomes his favorite past time,
like little boy playing with a brand new toy.
By the beginning of senior year he's doing it on a daily basis.
Those friends that tried to keep his head above the Black Sea,
no longer speak to him.
They bask in their golden light with the rest of the living.
The spiraling has almost come to an end.
He's too far gone,
or at least that's what he thinks.
Graduation night approaches.
His anxiety sky rockets.
Blacken veins don't look good in graduation gowns.
One drug,
Two drug,
Three drug,
Four drugs past counting.
An overdose dampers the night his life was supposed to begin.
Instead, it ends.
- mental and emotional health is just as important as physical health
Monday, September 19, 2016
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
Writers Dreaming
I'm currently writing an opinion article for the KHQ magazine over the upcoming election. While trying to write it, I knew that no matter what side I take my opinion will still be shut down and people will still be upset either way, so I decided to steer it in a different direction than left or right entirely. Going through all the articles written about Hilary's emails and Trump's discrimination, it was difficult to discover what I was looking for. There was more written about Hilary's health the past weeks than anything about the libertarian nominee throughout the entire election. Therefore, in this case giving the "bad" news more attention allowed it more power over what should have been covered. In other situations, like the Stanford rape case, talking about the "bad" news gave others the chance to have a voice in justice, as well as the opportunity to learn and become aware of what happens to 1 in every 4 women throughout their lifetime. I suppose it just depends what what the "bad" news is in relation to power. Sometimes giving the "bad" news power can actually be a good thing.
In my four years of learning the French language, and as I begin to study new languages, I've acquired a decent amount of knowledge of the inner workings of languages. Learning how to read or write in a language is completely different than learning how to verbally speak in the language's dialect. Especially because there can be many different dialects within one language. Besides, you don't speak the same way you write. It's an intricate process of fluency, yet it is so much more than gaining another vocabulary. You fall in love with the culture that the language is braided with. Each languages comes from a rich history, and with that knowledge is a deeper understanding. You develop a different personality for the language. It changes you in many vast ways besides just being able to say you speak another language. Everyone should learn another language other than the one they born into.
"There’s still a gap between who I am in this moment and who I want to be, and in the future version of myself, I hope to gain that freedom back that I took from myself."
While I find it hilariously tedious that I have to quote myself for the fear of plagiarism, the meaning behind it holds merit. I'm quoting my first blog post in which I explain how from middle school to high school I robbed myself of the opportunity and ability to be adverse and openly accepting out of fear of what others would think. After that realization I have been able to reverse the mindset, yet now I'm constantly aware of how true the only constant thing in life is change. I feel as though the older people get the more they fall into a rut of the mindset they grew up in. I mean it's hard to remember to be all these different things on top of worrying about the house payment and trying to be home in time for the Sunday football game. It's easy to get caught up in life and forget about the change going on around you. It happens even with teenagers. You just have to remember the realization every once in awhile and conduct a thorough self evaluation.
(also my personal blog is kellivolonte.wordpress.com :)
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Dream Marks on My Pillow by Ana Lancu
"There was a sacrificial ritual inside my room last night,
it was held there in secret
hard to see anything in the candle light.
Now there is melted wax all over my floor
and the scent of incense is rising up from underneath the door.
Now maybe it was not as serious as I am making it sound,
just you and me
getting high and hanging out,
getting high and messing around.
Getting high trying to figure it out."
- "Historic Cemetery" by The Front Bottoms
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Summer Nights
The floors are made of the kind of dark polished wood that is a refreshing cold to the touch of bare feet. Windows enclose the kitchen, allowing the afternoon light to fill the house with sunny positivity. Ligh neutral colors coat the walls and kitchen cabinets. Grey marble counter tops follow the same pattern. Dark wood stools flank one side of the island as the bowl of fruit reflects off the surface. A coffee maker sits on the counter off to the side of the sink, next to a jar of homemade chocolate chip cookies. The stainless steel fridge is covered in photos of smiling children and bright, colorful drawings. All the cereals are organized in clear plastic containers in the pantry. Fruit snacks hide behind the granola so bars on the third shelf. The French doors look out to a yard of green. A treehouse stands proudly as an accomplishment for Dad. Attached to a far off branch, a homemade swing sways slightly in the breeze. The pool's water glistens as the sun chairs daydream of pool parties and barbecues. The grill reminisces of veggie burgers and stir fry on warm summer nights.
If I Were in Charge of the World
If I were in charge of the world
I'd cancel Fox News,purple eyeshadow,
The meat industry,
and required summer reading.
If I were in charge of the world
there'd be cleaner air and visible stars,
love around every corner,
and ball pits in the DMV.
If I were in charge of the world
you wouldn't have gender and race wage gap.
You wouldn't have police brutality.
You wouldn't have school courses so incredibly unreasonable it made you want to drop out,
Or an impaired educational system.
You wouldn't even have a broken system in general.
If I were in charge of the world
vegetables wouldn't be a bad thing,
and a person who sometimes forgets that how they acts effects others,
and sometimes forgets to be selfless
would still be allowed to be
in charge of the world.
Monday, September 12, 2016
Lost Title
In middle school I read this book about a girl from a wealthier family in India. She lived in a beautiful home with two parents. Her mother took her to the country club everyday to play bridge, but the solidarity of this life had she seeking adventure.
One day she was walking through the part of the city that was more run down and what we would consider "ghetto". The book is set back in the 60's or 70's, right before/after India had gained independence from British rule. For a girl her age to be wandering around that area was incredibly unorthodox. She was supposed to be finding a husband and starting a family, like her best friend had done. In India the parents arrange a marriage for their children, usually when they're young, and the more kids you have the more the family is considered "well-off", especially if they have many sons.
Anyways, she was wandering around and she comes across these beggars. They were children with physical handicaps in scraps of fabric, dirty and bone thin, begging for coins on the street.
The man who "owns" them was the worst person in town. He was known for buying babies who families didn't want them or couldn't keep them, and while their muscles and bone are still soft, he would twist their legs so they wouldn't be able to walk and forcing them to beg on the streets for him. They have to get a certain amount of money each day and if they wouldn't make that amount he would starve/beat them.
Well she had heard that he had just bought a new baby. She rushed home and the next day came back to buy the baby from him. He scoffed in her face, but still handed the baby boy over to her in exchange for two coins.
When she came home with him, her parents were appalled. How was an unwed fifteen year old with another person's baby, a beggar child nonetheless, be expected to be worth anything? What kind of man would want to marry that?
In India, the wifes are not always seen as people, especially when they're on arranged marriages as practically children.
This is one of the first books that really captured my attention with culture differences. It allowed me to open my eyes past just American living standards and understand and empathize to those in other countries that are not as well off as we are.
The way the main character describes India made me fall in love with it. While it has its faults, there are many beautiful sides to the country and culture. It began my interest and desire to explore and learn about other countries, especially beyond just in books. I'm hoping to experience what she described in real life over and over again with each new place.
While the details of this book may be a little shaky (it's been a few years since I've read it), this book was definitely one of the most influential ones I've read growing up.
One day she was walking through the part of the city that was more run down and what we would consider "ghetto". The book is set back in the 60's or 70's, right before/after India had gained independence from British rule. For a girl her age to be wandering around that area was incredibly unorthodox. She was supposed to be finding a husband and starting a family, like her best friend had done. In India the parents arrange a marriage for their children, usually when they're young, and the more kids you have the more the family is considered "well-off", especially if they have many sons.
Anyways, she was wandering around and she comes across these beggars. They were children with physical handicaps in scraps of fabric, dirty and bone thin, begging for coins on the street.
The man who "owns" them was the worst person in town. He was known for buying babies who families didn't want them or couldn't keep them, and while their muscles and bone are still soft, he would twist their legs so they wouldn't be able to walk and forcing them to beg on the streets for him. They have to get a certain amount of money each day and if they wouldn't make that amount he would starve/beat them.
Well she had heard that he had just bought a new baby. She rushed home and the next day came back to buy the baby from him. He scoffed in her face, but still handed the baby boy over to her in exchange for two coins.
When she came home with him, her parents were appalled. How was an unwed fifteen year old with another person's baby, a beggar child nonetheless, be expected to be worth anything? What kind of man would want to marry that?
In India, the wifes are not always seen as people, especially when they're on arranged marriages as practically children.
This is one of the first books that really captured my attention with culture differences. It allowed me to open my eyes past just American living standards and understand and empathize to those in other countries that are not as well off as we are.
The way the main character describes India made me fall in love with it. While it has its faults, there are many beautiful sides to the country and culture. It began my interest and desire to explore and learn about other countries, especially beyond just in books. I'm hoping to experience what she described in real life over and over again with each new place.
While the details of this book may be a little shaky (it's been a few years since I've read it), this book was definitely one of the most influential ones I've read growing up.
Pieces of a Red Pie
Tangled in an orange and golden fist fight
Dawning red breaks over the horizon
And spills in through the windows
As the house comes alive with victorious red hope and ambition.
Small feet in ruby red slippers
Run across the hardwood floor
As a hand painted in coral reef nail polish
Sips a colorful home decorated coffee mug.
Dawning red breaks over the horizon
And spills in through the windows
As the house comes alive with victorious red hope and ambition.
Small feet in ruby red slippers
Run across the hardwood floor
As a hand painted in coral reef nail polish
Sips a colorful home decorated coffee mug.
Colors and Culture
I middle school I read this book about a girl from a wealthier family in India. She lived in a beautiful home with two parents. Her mother took her to the country club everyday to play bridge, but the solidarity of this life had she seeking adventure.
One day she was walking through the part of the city that was more run down and what we would consider "ghetto". The book is set back in the 60's or 70's, right before/after India had gained independence from British rule. For a girl her age to be wandering around that area was incredibly unorthodox. She was supposed to be finding a husband and starting a family, like her best friend had done. In India the parents arrange a marriage for their children, usually when they're young, and the more kids you have the more the family is considered "well-off", especially if they have many sons.
Anyways, she was wandering around and she comes across these beggars. They were children with physical handicaps in scraps of fabric, dirty and bone thin, begging for coins on the street.
The man who "owns" them was the worst person in town. He was known for buying babies who families didn't want them or couldn't keep them, and while their muscles and bone are still soft, he would twist their legs so they wouldn't be able to walk and forcing them to beg on the streets for him.
They have to get a certain amount of money each day and if they wouldn't make that amount he would starve/beat them.
Well she had heard that he had just bought a new baby. She rushed home and the next day came back to buy the baby from him. He scoffed in her face, but still handed the baby boy over to her in exchange for two coins.
When she came home with him, her parents were appalled. How was an unwed fifteen year old with another person's baby, a beggar child nonetheless, be expected to be worth anything? What kind of man would want to marry that?
In India, the wifes are not always seen as people, especially when they're on arranged marriages as practically children.
This is one of the first books that really captured my attention with culture differences. It allowed me to open my eyes past just American living standards and understand and empathize to those in other countries that are not as well off as we are.
The way the main character describes India made me fall in love with it. While it has its faults, there are many beautiful sides to the country and culture. It began my interest and desire to explore and learn about other countries, especially beyond just in books. I'm hoping to experience what she described in real life over and over again with each new place.
While the details of this book may be a little shaky (it's been a few years since I've read it), this book was definitely one of the most influential ones I've read growing up.
One day she was walking through the part of the city that was more run down and what we would consider "ghetto". The book is set back in the 60's or 70's, right before/after India had gained independence from British rule. For a girl her age to be wandering around that area was incredibly unorthodox. She was supposed to be finding a husband and starting a family, like her best friend had done. In India the parents arrange a marriage for their children, usually when they're young, and the more kids you have the more the family is considered "well-off", especially if they have many sons.
Anyways, she was wandering around and she comes across these beggars. They were children with physical handicaps in scraps of fabric, dirty and bone thin, begging for coins on the street.
The man who "owns" them was the worst person in town. He was known for buying babies who families didn't want them or couldn't keep them, and while their muscles and bone are still soft, he would twist their legs so they wouldn't be able to walk and forcing them to beg on the streets for him.
They have to get a certain amount of money each day and if they wouldn't make that amount he would starve/beat them.
Well she had heard that he had just bought a new baby. She rushed home and the next day came back to buy the baby from him. He scoffed in her face, but still handed the baby boy over to her in exchange for two coins.
When she came home with him, her parents were appalled. How was an unwed fifteen year old with another person's baby, a beggar child nonetheless, be expected to be worth anything? What kind of man would want to marry that?
In India, the wifes are not always seen as people, especially when they're on arranged marriages as practically children.
This is one of the first books that really captured my attention with culture differences. It allowed me to open my eyes past just American living standards and understand and empathize to those in other countries that are not as well off as we are.
The way the main character describes India made me fall in love with it. While it has its faults, there are many beautiful sides to the country and culture. It began my interest and desire to explore and learn about other countries, especially beyond just in books. I'm hoping to experience what she described in real life over and over again with each new place.
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Keaton
“I love how you incorporated an "in the future" part. It added an intriguing twist to the poem.”
" I feel the life of the blanket somewhat represents growing up and starting to see the holes in the world until it becomes one big knot of tangled strings and pieces that we learn to live with and enjoy."
Hey, I loved this analogy. That's such a unique way of looking at it, and it's quite true.
Samantha
“Hey! Your poem does a really great job of painting a crystal clear picture of everything you're describing, and I think that's fascinating since that doesn't most of the time in poetry without losing it's poetic-ness, yet you managed to do both. It's very lovely. “
“I admire how open you can be about your grief and memories. That's not an easy thing to, especially in front of the entire class. Your writing depicts the memories vividly and that makes the essay come to life. “
Alec
“The poem describes you perfectly while at the same time throwing in some things that people might not know about you. I think it's adorable that you're overprotective. Hope to see some photos of your dogs on here!”
“This piece kind of reminds me of the children's book "The Giving Tree." It's such a different perspective, and I love your descriptions; they really paint a vivid picture. i agree with Samantha about your last sentence. It's my favorite part of the essay. “
Katelynn S.
“I love how your poem starts with something short and sweet. I think it adds this declarative vibe, like you know exactly who you are and is not afraid to show it. Plus the photos are awesome (:”
“At first I couldn't decide it the story was true or not, but I'm dying to read more. That ending was perfect; it makes me want to keep turning pages until I've reached the end of the book!’
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