A Lost Box

     I'm walking down the sidewalk, watching the clouds drift slowly by, when suddenly, I trip over something. It's a suitcase. I pick it up, and go to a bench to sit and examine it. There are no locks, so I open it. Inside is a stack of photographs. In all of them are a man and a woman, smiling and laughing. There is a journal of love poems. There is a Valentine's bear. It is a box of old memories, a box of lost love. In the bottom corner lay a box. Inside is a diamond ring. I don't know what to do. I decide to read all the poems. I look through the photographs again.  The lifeless glass eyes of the bear reflect the loss of love. I admire the ring, but I feel those glass eyes staring at me, chilling me to the bone. With nothing left to do, I put it back exactly where I found it. Once adored, now forgotten.

Veteran's Day

     Days like today are what make me disappointed in humanity. In the section I was sitting in, during a Veteran's Day assembly at my school, people were being extremely disrespectful. Not only were they talking, but also making rude gestures, noises, and comments the whole time. I took on the role of the "shusher." It got me dirty looks, but it worked.
      Veteran's Day is important. Without people like our veterans, our country would not be where we are today. They die for us and for our freedom. Even if you don't listen, your respect is necessary. We had real veterans with us, and you completely dishonored them all. Listening is deserved. Your childish manners are not only offensive, but also disrespectful. Around me were my three best friends, and all of us have had a relative fight in a war. Some died. It's a day to honor them. We teared up. You are despicable.
     If you don't want to give your respect, kindly leave.

What Would You Do?

     An argument. A threat. A reaction. Or is there? It is a commonplace to hear threats simply by walking outside. Most of them are meaningless. How do you really know? I would trust my better judgement. I would see if I could distract, see if I could help the threatened. I'd call the police if it were necessary. I'd like to call myself a good person, but sometimes there is no clear answer for what to do. In reality, there is nothing coming down from the heavens to shine light on the situation. Action. Reaction. It's a reflex. I do what I can, and I keep going. Sure I'll ponder it for a few days to come, but what more can you do? The world is a cruel place.

Facades

     Not everything is what it appears to be. In fact, almost nothing is what it appears to be. Especially people. People are fake. They fake happiness, they fake sorrow, they fake what they look like, they fake who they are. How many people do you know? I mean, how many people do you really know? You would probably be able to count them on one hand. Our whole world is fake. What is meant to be isn't. It is a world run by the media. We all know what the media does to people. For people in it, their egos grow. For people watching, our egos cease to exist. We all know this. So what are we trying to prove? Who are we trying to impress? In reality, none of it matters. Celebrities are regular people who were lucky enough to be recognized for their "talents." But how can we have deep, meaningful relationships with people, when we aren't even true to ourselves?

What Excuse Do You Have?

     Halloween. I will never understand it. Getting candy from complete strangers, while dressed like... Who knows what? The options are endless. The costumes range from refrigerators, to witches, to naughty nurses. My favorite character this year was a three year old boy in a police costume. He was adorable. He got a handful of candy. The scary costumes are great, I suppose they do represent the spooky holiday. They get two or three pieces. But the naughty nurses? The slutty costumes? One piece. I will never understand. Why on Earth is it a good idea to walk around at night, wearing as little clothing as possible?
     I get it. You get attention, you get to show off your stuff. You've got an attractive body. So what? If you have a slutty Halloween costume, kiss respect goodbye. At least from me. You're degrading not only other women, but also yourself. If you've got an attractive body, congratulations. Be proud of it. And yes, you can be proud of it without revealing it. I honestly feel as though I can't even express my hatred of these awful costumes. This year, I saw Alice from Alice in Wonderland. Her costume consisted of a blue mini-skirt, and a blue bra. Yes, I mean it. A blue bra. That's all she had on top. That's it. Nothing else.
     Not to mention how impractical this is. It's almost November. It's cold outside. Really? Just grow up. I don't know who you're trying to impress by showing all your business. But you are most definitely not impressing me. Think of something cute and original. Slutty is not equal to cute. Get your facts straight, or go home. Just leave the trick-or-treating up to the cute children, okay?

What Are You Waiting For?

     I'm running, but I can't escape it. I am unarmed. It is indestructible, inescapable. It's catching up to me with every second that ticks by, and only it knows where the end is. It catches everyone. It is Father Time. He has no choice. He is an enemy to many, and a blessing to some. I am not afraid of the inevitable defeat. I welcome it with open arms. For I know when time catches me, I can't change it. I must accept it. So, I don't worry. I don't worry over the things I cannot change. So, I embrace Time. With the hours I have now, I will live them to the fullest. What is past that, is up to Him. And I grant Him, Father Time, full access.

On Teaching

It's senior year, the time where all the questions about the future arise. “Where do you want to go to college?” “What do you want to major in?” “What do you want your profession to be?” And I've finally found my answers. But I started this post to talk about the last one, what I want my profession to be. You guessed it from the title, a teacher. Does that make me crazy? Possibly. Growing up, when people asked me what I wanted to be, a teacher never crossed my mind. I went through stages of wanting to be a veterinarian, a ballerina, a nurse, a gymnast, and even an optometrist. Teaching was not a possibility. In fact, I remember thinking as a child that I would never become a teacher. I'm not sure why I had such an aversion to it. I played “school” or “teacher” with my dolls and stuffed animals as students quite frequently. But would I become a teacher? Definitely not.

Well, as I got older, I discovered I simply wasn't fit for the other options I had open. As for the veterinarian, nurse, and optometrist? Well... I can't handle cutting open things, or blood, or even looking at eyes closely. It disgusts me. I can't even handle an earthworm dissection in school. My teachers soon realized they couldn't make me do the more complex animal dissections. As for the ballerina and gymnast? Let's just say... I can't even manage to go up stairs without falling on my face. I was not blessed with coordination. I had no clue what I would do after I kept losing options. Then one day, a realization hit me. I had to be a teacher. The more I thought about it, the more appealing it sounded. And then it became a calling. I just knew I had to do it.

And I will. Sometimes when I tell people that is my future plan, they scoff. They call me crazy. They tell me teachers don't get payed enough for what they put up with. Maybe that's true, but nothing can change my mind. I have to do this. Don't get me wrong, many people love that I want to be a teacher, and many encourage it, saying things like, “We need more teachers who are passionate about their subject, and also like kids.” If you ask me what subject I'll teach, or even what grade, I still can't decide. But I know one thing for sure: I have to be a teacher.