The things one finds!

Once in a while, I'll get bored and decide to go around my room, cleaning out my closet or rifling through a box of papers. Today was such a day. And oh, the memory/treasures I found.

For example, this is a little poem Alex and I wrote for English week at school. The theme: Renaissance. Alex and I were Zorne and Thorne, "the great duo that cannot eat corn", as stated in the poem below.

There is also this: a petition we got people to sign so that our school's cafeteria would be more vegetarian friendly. And yes, it worked.

There's my original forensic speech, "See Thru Like Saran Wrap: Absurdities in the Life of a Leftover". All the drafts are there. I had a lot of fun with it.

Here's an accompanying practice ballot:

This here is from yet another English Festival. I was sitting in class one day when my English teacher, Mrs. S, walked in wearing sunglasses and, wordlessly handed me this.

She left, and I examined its contents later, at lunch.

This is a Time-Travel Machine, as designed by myself. As you can see, it runs on rubber duckies. Makes perfect sense. This was during my senior year, by the way.

The assignment, also for English, was to create a product and the commercial to go along with it and perform it in front of the classroom. (The asterisk says, "Purple Travel does not ensure the return of all limbs with travelers".)

There was this letter from our very pale friend, James. Remember him, Gabs?

There are lovely memories linked to paper, aren't there?

-Veronica

Americana

“You’re stupid, hahahaha, that’s ‘cause you’re Puerto Rican!” Imagine my mortified face and the hot blush (that you couldn’t tell was there because of my dark skin) that was attacking my cheeks. And then imagine the few silent seconds as my mind processed what had been said. I was fifteen when I first encountered the harsh reality of racism and it was from a boy from Topeka, Kansas. Looking back, I’m pretty sure there are a lot of other things he could’ve told me, however, the hurt would still be there.

Ever since that summer morning, I’ve been puzzling over what pulls people to act a certain way towards things they are ignorant of and I cannot think of one reason to excuse such a behavior. I puzzle because I think back to what I was taught in Ethics, in History, even in English: America is a melting pot. This idea of cultures coming together, melting and molding, paints a beautiful picture of people being able to accept and promote difference and understanding between each other. Nevertheless, history has also shown us how widely idealistic this idea of a “Melting Pot” really is. Racism, tension, even violence, has tainted a fading ideal and yet it still doesn’t stop people from searching for the Utopian “American Dream”.

We are searching for that dream because we truly believe it to exist –even in the simplest of ways. People work through racism and marginalization because they believe in a better future that, in many ways, entails working through the insults with a brave and unwavering face. As long as the yearning for the “American Dream” continues to exist, the melting pot will continue to expand and meld into an amorphous mass of whites, blacks, yellows and browns and there will come a point where people won’t be able to distinguish between what they deem as right and the aspects of mankind society has deemed as wrong. And in the face of such adversity, I shout loud and proud, “I am ‘Americana’ ”.

Gabriella