Meeting Sarah J. Maas | By: Kristine Le

my signed book

Two weekends ago, my best friend and I traveled five hours to Rochester, New York to attend Teen Book Fest. At the festival, I got to meet one of my all time favorite authors, Sarah J Maas. Looking back on it now, the moment felt so surreal. Ever since I was in eighth grade and I first met my best friend, we have been talking about one day meeting her and now it was finally happening. At the opening panel, all the authors attending the festival were introduced and I just sat there staring at Sarah not believing what my eyes were showing me. In the back of my mind I was thinking, “Oh my god, this is real. This is actually happening. It’s Sarah J Maas sitting in that chair.” Being the fangirl that I am, I had watched all of her interviews I could find on YouTube but, none of that helped to kept my excitement levels at bay. During the first fan session we attended that day, it was a simple Q&A with Sarah as well as another author Reneé Ahdieh (also an author that I really love). As a I sat there listening to them answer the questions, I found that I knew most of the answers myself but hearing Sarah talk and to witness her down to earth and very real personality was so special to me. Later on during the day there was a sessions set aside specifically for book signings. I had been preparing myself for this moment for the past week and had pre-packed a backpack filled with three of my favorite books by Sarah. After waiting for a total of three hours, it was finally my turn to get my book signed. I walked up to the table and handed her my book with the dumbest smile on my face. I had no idea what to say to her so I simply asked her how her day was as she began to sign my book. In my head, I was thinking, “Really? That’s all you’re going to say?” but I could not find it in me to try and start a conversation. She was so sweet and kept up the conversation for me. The signings had to be quick and brief, so I was only able to get a single book signed and could not get a picture. When the signing was done, I left the room feeling so accomplished and something checked off my bucket list.

Side Story: I wanted to include this in my blogpost but couldn’t find a way to squeeze it in so enjoy a little something extra.

As my friend and I were making our way to our first fan session for the day we were stopped by a stranger and asked to take a selfie with them. Not knowing what to do, my friend and I simply posed for the picture and after, the strange says to us,” You have no idea who I am do you?” to what my friend openly responds with, “ Nope, but have a nice day.” That “so-called” stranger turned out to be a guest author for the festival… oops.

Alzheimer's by Melissa La Fountain

It is a prolonged and unforgiving fall.

It is a slip through the grasps of a thousand nonhuman hands,
each pulling a thread from a brain that was once so full of memories.

 To hell and back.

And back, and back, and back.

It is like a head-on collision;
 you never see it coming, but once you do, it’s too late.

 It is without remedy, an unstoppable force.
It will peel back familiarity like paper being ripped off walls.

It is the cruelest of all fiends,
looming in the shadows of heredity like a rain cloud hanging over a head.

It is a thief, slithering through the brain
 and taking all that it can carry.

It is false hope,
bringing in small waves of remembrance, then pulling them back to sea.

It is an evil trick, stealing the minds of those who deserve it the least.

It is a vacuum,
sucking the humanity from its victim
 until they are nothing but an exterior holding blank space and white noise.

 It is Alzheimer’s,
a cold-blooded killer. 

Blog Posts and the Day I Ran Away By Rebecca Greenberg

So as I'm sitting here looking at my blank screen watching the bold line blink, trying to think about what to write my blog on, an idea came to me. What if I were to write my blog post, about blog posts. I'm sure that many of fellow bloggers on its Literature often get writer's block as do I, so I thought that it would be both fun and helpful to blog about blogging.  

While the term “blog” wasn’t coined until the late 1990’s, people have been writing online about personal experiences, news or just helpful hints for decades.

Blogs are a way that we can unite our classroom and the public virtually and mentally. Many of my fellow bloggers, blog about topics that interest them or they believe deserve special recognition. This not only enables intriguing topics to be made known, but allow for each individual student to express their opinion publicly, which is a pretty cool thing.

Below I listed 20 different ideas to blogs about for the next time anyone has a writer’s block and doesn't know what the blog about.

1. That thing that happened in high school that pretty much changed your life forever

2. The worst movie you ever did see, and why

3. Your favorite recipe, even if you’re the worst cook in the world.

4. The day you left home

5. That one time you told a huge lie and kinda got away with it. Or perhaps you didn’t and that would make an even better blog post!

6. The hardest thing you’ve ever been through

7. 9 things you just can’t handle

8. Your day in photos {take a photo every hour from wake to sleep}

9. Your most excruciatingly embarrassing moment. We’ve all got one.

10. A letter to your 16 year old self. What advice would you give?

11. Your celebrity dinner party. Who would you invite?

12. A how-to post on something you know nothing about

13. Your first crush.

14. The day you started blogging. What were you thinking?

15. The most difficult decision you’ve ever made. Write from the heart.

16. 7 things you learned from being a kid

17. A letter to your future self

18. An anti-bucket list: the things you hope to never do before you die

19. The last thing that made you cry

20. Your earliest childhood memory

I picked number 4 to blog about.

The day I left home was a cool autumn day, dried brown leaves rustling in the wind. I slid on my crusty “work” boots (since mom always made me keep an extra pair), and zipped up my pink north face jacket which had a huge white paint splotch on the back. As I walked downstairs I passed my brothers room and nodded, sealing our fate. I clunked downstairs and opened the hall closet. Standing on my tippy toes I reached for the yellow and black bag that rolled on wheels. As my brother came down the stairs and saw me mustering all my strength trying to  magically growing a few more inches to the reach the bag, he comes up along me and grabbed it placing it right on the floor in front of me. I rolled my eyes, boys. Grabbing the chest set, I shoved it along with two red Italian ices into the bag. While we were walking through the kitchen luckily I remembered the spoons. I looked at my brother, and nodded as he slid the sliding door opened which signaled that are journey was now starting. My backyard is a huge hill, that flattens out at the bottom. Two old rusty swing sets inhabit that land. We walk past our usual playing spot and continued into the acres of woods that lay behind our house. We walk deeper and deeper into the area swarmed with trees which blocks out the sun making some spots eerie looking. My brother would constantly shout out advice like, “Don't step there unless you want your feet to smell like skunk” or something like, “Watch out that skunks cabbage!” As a curious young girl my brother was like this professional navigator that knew the ins and outs of the woods like this was where he retreated to every night. We walked for maybe half of the day and passed some bear caves and other cool features that the woods housed. We then came to a clearing and my brother stopped signaling that this was it. Our place. I looked around making sure I soaked up every detail of this place, so we could return again sometime soon. I looked up and saw what must of been the remnants of a tree house perched up on a tall and narrow tree. There was 2 by 4’s nailed along the trunk, that I used as steps. I being the queen of this place was ushered up the tree. After a few steps my sense of balance went whack and I started to get queasy. However I knew the queen of this place must show no signs of weakness so climbed on until I was at the top of the perch. There was this small platform enough for one person to stand on. Once I was steady I looked up and saw that I could see over the neighboring trees and view my new claimed territory. It was breathtaking. At this point in the story you're wondering how old I must be or that my mother must be worried sick about us. I can assure you, she thinks we are playing down by the swings and I'm merely 8, a great age for a queen might I add. My brother and I stayed in the woods for the majority of the day doing what kids do best; letting our imagination run wild. We of course returned home in time for dinner. I kissed my mom’s cheek, and agreed in how wonderful our day was playing down at the swing set. My brother and I returned to that spot in the woods as often as we could, and to this day that will always be our little place.  

Thanksgiving by Nuriel Rozenberg

Thanksgiving just recently passed, but it is clear that most of us want to go back to the four-day food filled weekend we just had. I know a lot of us had the simple struggle of wanting to stay in bed because you are tired, but then getting hungry, so you contemplate the pros and cons of going downstairs. The aroma of delicious food making your mouth water. It was hard for me not to go downstairs especially when my grandma called me her "Official Taste Tester." Once downstairs, I knew I had to start helping set up three tables for all the family that was coming over. This year especially, I heard that a lot of families were trying to skip the political talk and keep a calm environment. My family was one of those families, but when thirty-five people sit at the table with not much to talk about, it became hard to not talk politics. Everyone was mostly in their own conversations until my uncle loudly disagrees with his brother. Then one of my aunts exclaims her reasoning for agreeing. By now, most of my family was listening to the argument. My uncle then shoots up from his seat yelling in his brothers face why he's right and why his brother should agree with him. This triggered his brother to then stand up too and yell back why he's correct. Suddenly, my uncle takes a small piece of turkey and flicks it in his brother's face. The room is dead silent, my grandma looks offended by the actions that my uncle took with the turkey that she made. His brother was about to launch some mashed potatoes into the air until my grandma hits the both of them on the head and yells at them and curses in Arabic. The feud died down and this was definitely not the point and purpose of Thanksgiving. As we all know, the real reason Thanksgiving happened was because of the peace that the Native Americans had with the colonists. That is not completely true either since the colonists not only took their land and invaded their villages. Also, a war was started. The real story that happened was that hundreds of women and children of the Pequot Tribe had gathered for the annual Green Corn Festival. This is similar to our Thanksgiving. The Natives who were sleeping at the time were surrounded by English who were ordered to shoot whoever walked out. Others, who did not go outside were then buried alive. The following day, the governor of the Massachusetts Bay colony declared that a day of Thanks should happen since hundreds of unarmed natives were killed. So, no matter how crazy or bad your Thanksgiving goes, just remember that we are honoring the natives that were caught in the genocide.

A Rainbow of Hope by Mrs. Kopp

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  This year has gone by so quickly that it's hard to believe that the holiday season is about to start again.  During this time of year we all should take a minute to consider all that we have to be thankful for.  I know that my own list is pretty long, but here are few items that make my heart swell:

- I have a loving husband and two amazing children

The Kopp Family
This is in Central Park, NYC

-I get to wake up each day and come to work at a place that makes me so happy.
-I have the most wonderful students this school year (yes, you guys)
-I'm thankful for my weekly kickboxing and spin classes that allow me to decompress
-I'm thankful for books (obviously)
and my list could go on and on and on - I feel very blessed in this life. 

However, this year my family has something very special to be thankful for.  Last week, on November 18th, my new nephew Zachary Joseph was born.  His birth is more than just another baby to love.  He is our rainbow of hope. 

In 2011, my brother, Joe, and his wife, Jill, had their second child, a beautiful baby boy named Joey.  When they were expecting him they found out that he had a very serious heart condition, but they wanted to give him the best chance at life that they could.  Joey was born and then four days later went on to have his first open heart surgery.  After that surgery the doctors were positive, they felt they had fixed his heart issue and that he would live a long and normal life.  We were all thrilled. 

 Unfortunately, as he grew other issues came up.  He went on to have two more open heart surgeries and many, many other procedures.  He spent months at a time in the hospital, but through it all he was a happy little guy.  He would try to keep up with his older sister and big cousins and it was easy for us to forget that he was sick.  Then, in April of 2013, our world fell apart when Joey suddenly passed away.  Our family was left carrying a grief that was and still is so heavy, we often wondered how we'd ever function again.  Joey was only 22 months old when he died and we will spend the rest of our lives wondering who he would have grown up to be.  The pain of losing a child is one that no person should ever have to suffer and I often wondered how my brother and sister-in-law could face each new day without their son.  

My nephew, Joseph Anthony - at about 1 year old 

Joey showing off his scars - happy as always!

So, our family had a decision to make. We could stay in bed and let grief consume us or we could celebrate the wonderful boy that we were given. We took the the more difficult path. We decided to choose joy.  We chose joy for Joey. We started Joey's Warriors, which is a non-profit organization and we work to help other families whose children have CHD (congenital heart defect). Over the last three and a half years we have raised thousands of dollars for CHD awareness, we put a memorial bench at a local playground in Joey's honor, we provide toys for kids in the PICU at the hospital, we donate holiday gifts for two families who have CHD children, and more!  We will always miss Joey and wish he was still with us, but we remember him and honor him through our charity work. 

The doctors determined that Joey's condition was genetic, so my brother and sister-in-law had resigned themselves to the fact that they would not have any more children.  My niece Kylie (Joey's older sister) was healthy and they took comfort in that.  

Then, this past June they told us they were unexpectedly expecting a child and they were very scared.  We were all nervous because we knew that it was possible that this child could also have a heart condition and that thought alone was a lot to bear.  

Babies that are born after a loss are referred to as Rainbow Babies; babies who bring hope after the storm.  Last week, my nephew, Zachary Joseph, came into this world with a full head of hair and a perfectly perfect heart!  We believe that Joey sent him down to all of us to bring us some joy.  He is a miracle baby and our whole family is extra thankful this year for this Rainbow of Hope.  

Zachary Joseph - Our Rainbow of Hope

This was his going home outfit! 

Me with Zachary on the day he was born!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Why Music is Important to Me by Melissa La Fountain

There are times when words just do not suffice for expressing feelings and thoughts. People often turn to music as a way of describing what they feel and who they are, because it seems like it’s easier to understand feelings when they’re described by someone else.

Music is one of the main things that has been helping me through one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to deal with. Seven years ago, my grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, a degenerative disease that destroys a person’s memory. At first, I didn’t know how to feel. My best friend had started to forget things that he had always known. He forgot who I was, he forgot who my father was...it was unbearable to watch him try to remember certain details about his life that had clearly disappeared. Eventually, his memories weren’t just the only thing that had dissolved. He stopped being “Grandpa,” and slowly became nothing more than a shell of what he used to be. This man, who was once so full of life, had lost almost every aspect of who he was. I was, and still am, utterly heartbroken.

Ed Sheeran is probably my favorite artist. I fell in love with his music after his first album, and have been hooked ever since. Specifically, the song Afire Love is the one I relate to the most. He wrote it about his grandfather, who was also diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. There are two sets of lyrics in the song that really hit home for me.

The first lyric is, “Things were all good yesterday / and then the devil took your memory.” Most people with Alzheimer’s have good and bad days. I have experienced multiple instances where there was one day that my grandpa was his old self, laughing and telling jokes and recalling things from his past, but then the next day he would be a shell again. It was as if someone had stolen it away from him.

The second lyric is, “My father told me, son / It’s not his fault he doesn’t know your face.” Probably the hardest thing about my grandfather’s illness was the first time he forgot who I was. It had been a fear of mine since I’d heard of his diagnosis, and when it happened I felt as if I was living in a nightmare and couldn’t wake up. I realized that he couldn’t help it, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

I love music because it reminds me that I am never alone. I didn’t have any friends at the time with grandparents with Alzheimer’s, and I didn’t want to talk to my family about it, so I felt like I was the only one that felt the way I did. Then, I heard that song, and I didn’t feel so alone anymore.

Personal Story - My First Horse by Josie Embleton

      On July 21 I was sad. I was sad because July 21 was the day that the horse that I loved was going back to his owner. I got this horse on a trial for one week and July 21 was the last day of the trial. My parents didn't wan't to pay for a lease on a horse, and that was the only way he could stay. He was a beautiful, large, chestnut, Dutch Warmblood horse. He was very kind and forgiving if I made a mistake during a riding lesson. On July 21, the horse, who was named Splash, was in his stall as I walked into the barn. I put a saddle and bridle on and walked out to the ring. Once I was on Splash, I felt happy. Whenever I'm on a horse I forget everything going on outside of the ring. Even though he was going back after that ride, I wanted to have an amazing last ride. So Splash and I had a wonderful, peaceful, and relaxing ride. As I walked back to the barn, I felt the gloomy sadness again. I had realized that my last ride on this perfect horse was over. I got off and walked into his stall, pulled the saddle off and took the bridle off. I began to groom him. This horse loved to be groomed, every time I brushed his neck, he would lean in and rock back and forth, thoroughly enjoying it. This did lift my spirits as it is very amusing. As I was brushing Splash, my mom arrived and sat down in the couches outside. Shortly after my mom arrived, my dad did too. I began to get a little bit suspicious that something was going on. In fact, I was slightly worried something bad happened. My mom, my riding coach, and my dad walked up to Splash's stall. As I was just finishing grooming Splash my mom asked me to stand next to him so she could take a picture. She raised her phone to take the picture and my dad and trainer did too. I smiled, and my trainer said "Don't you love this horse!" I replied with of course. (although I thought she kind of rubbed some salt in the wound considering he was going back that day) Then my mom exclaimed "I hope you love him, because he's yours for six months!" It took me a couple of seconds to process. When it finally did, I hugged my new horse, and burst into tears. I had never felt as strong of a connection with a horse as I did with this one. I walked out of the stall and hugged my mom, dad, and trainer, without my trainer we would never have found this horse. July 21 was by far one of, if not the best day of my life. It was the day I got my very own leased horse.