Dan in Real Life

   My brother turns thirteen in December. He's in seventh grade. In my opinion, seventh grade is the hardest year of an already hard age. You're in the middle of everything, lost in a sea of expectations and newfound pressures that come with getting older, especially when it comes to socializing in school. Grades are different and teachers have less empathy. This quick sand is hard for a marathon athlete of life’s hardships at thirteen. Therefore I try to be for him what I needed someone to be for me at his age. These are my guidelines:


you have to let them make their own choices; the best you can do is educate them as much as possible and hope they make the right decision
you can't protect them from everything; letting them make their own mistakes is how they learn
support them no matter what


They're a lot easier to preach than to practice but we’re all doing the best we can do.


   After looking at the most iconic photos of this millennium, I realized what fuels my fire is taking those in a moment fleeting photos that capture something so beautifully astounding and breathless which tells a story far beyond what words could ever do. I want to go to Iraq and India and Ethiopia and so many other places that will strip me of all but the bare necessities to gain perspective and lose the materialistic edge that I'm in a battle with everyday. I want to help those that have suffered far more than I ever will, and those who bear stories most people in this country will never understand. All the while, I want to share that with the world; to inspire those who sit in the back of an economics class listening to over privileged teenagers try to talk about something they know nothing about and feel like the world is against them because only they know the truth; it will be a reminder that the world holds so much more than a life of trying to make millions and losing everything you thought you stood for along the way. Love and selflessness is what holds the world together.


   I like to think that if tubing and hide and seek were Olympic sports, I'd be a gold medalist. While I won't spill any of my secrets for either, hide and seek was a special favorite pastime of mine to play as a kid and still is. My favorite spot in my house to hide was the very back of my mom’s closet, behind all of her long black clothing reserved for certain occasions, upon the plastic tubs in which the contents are still unknown to this day. Sometimes when I was feeling the need to be alone in a quiet, safe space I would climb to the back of the closet in the hallway across from the bathroom. Behind all of my mom’s fancy dresses and past the spare toilet paper, to lay on the comforters and blankets. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that.