Our Fish

       A tiny blue fish floats about aimlessly in a glass bowl, its fins drooping downward like blue streaks of water color cast upon a canvas. The bowl only holds about a gallon of water. It is decorated with a handful of cool colored pebbles, a sandcastle figurine, and the ghostly flakes of food floating at the surface of the tank.

       The fish's bowl sits on a golden pillar atop a lush rolling hill. Our friend, the tiny blue mottle, can see the world around, and it stretches for miles. He can see the patches of tiny purple flowers that grow near the clear trickling stream at the foot of the hill. He can see the shiny red bike laying on its side, dotted with dazzling orbs of rain from the morning's drizzle. He can see the girl in the pink skirt and the silky blond pigtails laugh and run away from the dark haired boy in the blue shirt as he chases her with a plump, lime caterpillar clinging to the back of his outstretched arm. He can't hear it, or smell it, or taste it, or feel it, but he can see it. He can see the whole world run on for miles and miles, straight into the soft light of the mango sun, suspended on the horizon like a tight rope walker.

       The fish is not fit to live in the real world. That is why he has one of his own. The sun will dry him up, or the grass will poke his gills, or the dirt will stain his scales, but he has a gallon of water, a ceramic sandcastle, 37 glossy blue pebbles, and three square flakes a day. The people have given him a safe home, and they have showed him the world, as not to deprive his opportunity. The people have provided for the fish, and cared for him, and put him on a pedestal, so that he may be known to the world, and the world may be known to him. The people have done a fine job, and the fish has had a fine life.

       But the people do not know what it is like to be a fish.

       They do not know how unsatisfying it is to swim in circles, merely observing the world around you. They do not know the bore of eating the same brand of dehydrated flakes of salmon and kelp. They do not know the ache of a wandering mind, or the pang of loneliness and containment. They do not know what it is like to see the splendid world rolled out at your feet like a plush, red velvet carpet, and not being able to take a step outside of your artificial world.

       Maybe we should take our fish out for coffee sometime, or whatever.

Pic of Maurice the fish

Digital Idiot

       Why do adults assume that teenagers are so technologically advanced? Yes, we know how to perform the basic, yet incredibly challenging in the eyes of some adults, tasks such as turning on the computer, pausing a video, and making a table in a Word document. While we may navigate social media and elementary computer programs with ease, we are NOT computer geniuses. Well, that’s not fair. Some teenagers are proficient in complex tech skills, but that is not to say we all are.

       I am a computer idiot. A novice, a rookie, a noob. I don’t know how to upload a video to YouTube, and I once had to Google how to turn on a Mac computer. I am here to admit to every adult that gives teenagers way more credit than we deserve: teenagers are not all computer wizards.

       The reason that adults assume such things, are because we are growing up in an age filled with technology more advanced than they ever could have imagined as a kid (expect for the hover board of course). We can access information in seconds. We can share photos with ease. We can even, while would never admit it, find the exact answers to all our homework with the tap of our fingers. This doesn’t mean we know computers. This means that have learned a basic-BASIC skill, and apply it daily.

       So what does it mean to be a computer wiz? To me, it means not having to ask your dad for help every time your printer disconnects from your computer, but in reality, it has something to do with the skill rising in importance and popularity: programming.

Programming and coding skills are beginning to be taught at a very young age, sometimes even in elementary school. For example, in Egypt, there is a 14 year old boy qualified to teach the programming language C++ at a college level. But more commonly, it is taught less rigorously, through fun and interesting programs, like the Coder Dojo located in my home town. No matter how intense the training, the truth is that these types of kids are the real computer geniuses.

       Now that digital literacy is becoming such a relevant skill set, especially for young people yet to enter the work force, we need to stop convincing teens that just because they know that you can’t zoom in on an Instagram picture, they are computer geniuses. Instead, let’s stress the education of actual skills, that will be valuable in the real world.

We Create Here-Cedar Rapids, Who Knew?

This week I had the opportunity to write for a blog linked to my city's paper that focuses on community, called "We Create Here". Here is a post on how my impressions of my hometown have changed as I've grown up. 

http://www.wecreatehere.net/2015/01/19/guest-post-cedar-rapids-knew/

What Fuels People

According to NASA, each of the two Solid Rocket Boosters on a rocket use more than one million pounds of solids propellant.

According to worldwatch.org, the world's planes use 205 million tons of kerosene fuel each year, and on short flights, 25% of that fuel is used just to take off.

According to the U.S. Energy Information Administration, in the year 2013, the United States consumed 134.51 billion gallons of gasoline, which is average of 368.51 million gallons daily.

But what fuels people?

Food, of course. Bread is one of my personal favorites. But that is a bit too literal of a point to make.

I want to know what fuels people. What keeps us going? Why do we wake up every morning to go through the all too grueling task of ripping ourselves out of bed, smelling decent, and heading off to work or school or whatever monotonous routine our days are composed of? Well I'll tell ya, it's not for the carbs.

I think our source of fuel, our weapon against the mediocre, is like a target, composed of three rings.

There is an outer ring,the largest in circumference, that is like fuel from the world. It's your paycheck, it's your vacation days, it's your happy hour. It's all the material things. The things that we mention when we're feeling stressed. “Boy, I could use a glass of wine” or “Man I really need a vacation”. My outer ring, for example, is three hours of “Friends” and a bag of sour gummy worms.

The middle ring, sitting snug between the material world and the bullseye, is like fuel from people. It's a complement in passing, it's a call from your mom, it's a night out with your best friends. It's the people that don't make you want to set your textbooks on fire, or in some cases, it's the people that will help you do it. Your friends, your family, even just the goofy classmate that makes you smile, are matter of the middle ring.

The center, the circle, the bullseye, is of course representative of the fuel from yourself. It's uncommon, it's underestimated, it's a unicorn of a thing, really. We scarcely give ourselves enough credit, and we scarcely give ourselves enough praise. We think that the pat on the back we give ourselves doesn't mean anything, but I'm telling you, it means the most. The two outer rings can dissolve in an instant, and the only source of fuel you will always carry with you, in your innate sense of drive, and passion, and self worth.

 Whether it is the little things, the little people, or the little voice inside your head, people are ultimately fueled by the world around them. If there is tragedy, there is the fuel of recovery. If there is happiness, there is the fuel of fellowship. We always know there is more. We will always have the desire to pry ourselves out of bed and pursue that-our world, our people, and ourselves will be our fuel.

Photo creds here and here

Sisters and Siblings and Family

My sister, is currently wearing suspenders with her pajama pants.

My sister, eats approximately 3 bananas a day, drizzled with honey and cinnamon.

My sister, asked for organizational units for Christmas.

My sister, is a weirdo.

       But you see, that's the thing about family. Do you think she would ever wear suspenders to school? Do you think see would ever ask her friends for a sock drawer organizer for her birthday? No. She would not. Because there are certain things about ourselves that we all deem unfit for the public eye. Your family however, doesn't count.

       So here is a brief appreciation post for my sister, because we can be weird, and we can scream at each other, and we be best friends. We live together. We've experienced ups and downs together. We are drawn up from the same gene pool. No matter how different we may look, I promise we are sisters, for more reasons than a shared set of parents.

 Here's to Maci, and sisters, and siblings, and families everywhere. You're a real treasure.

Five Reasons to Get Pumped About Poetry

If you ever find yourself in a high school language arts class, and the teacher says they will be starting a unit on poetry, you can expect a chorus of groaning, with the same confidence that you would take in expecting that the sky is blue and that the sun will rise. The thing about poetry is, it looks easy, and in some regards, it is. But the other thing about poetry, is that is does take a bit of work to understand. However, the point of poetry is not to understand at all. The point, is to be moved. However, our society is one troubled with the question of “why?”, and there lies the challenge in poetry-the reason teenagers always seems to resent it.
So why do people like this stuff? It's hard to understand, and can make you cry-why even bother? Well, I'll put it simply. Here are three reasons to get pumped about poetry. 

1) It's a form of expression.
Humans feel a lot of feels, and think a lot of thinks, and to keep those all inside is such a chore. Getting those out, be it on paper, or the stage, or by means of your very own vocal chords, is a treasure to witness. It doesn't matter if it's quality. The desire to express one's self is universal, and taking in others' forms of expression is what helps to connect us all.

2) It forces you to feel.

Poetry, when well written, stirs up images and sounds to evoke some sort of emotion from the audience. Whether you enjoy being in touch with your emotions or not, it's important that you are on some level. Too often, life becomes a routine, very distant from the definition we've assigned to that word. It's important to not feel like a robot, and it's important to know the ups and downs of life, whether you experience them on the street or in the stanzas of a well written poem.

3) It sends a message.
The hidden messages in poetry that we strain our minds to seek out and understand, often send the strongest message. Say that I, a sixteen year old girl, am reading a poem about an affair. I'm not going to understand right off the bat that that's what the poem is even about. But if I were to read a poem about stress, the message would ring loud in my ears. I don't need to hear about an affair-that's not relevant in my life. Stress, however, is very relevant, and while I find it hiding in the creases of my brain, I find it hiding among the metaphors and line breaks of a poem.

4) It forces you to think
While this might be the most undesirable trait of poetry, it is certainly an admirable one. Anything that forces you to reflect, is to be both despised and desired. Despised, because our lazy human nature insists that we don't put forth the effort to go deeper than the surface. Desired, because we all need leashes for our thoughts. With nothing meaningful to ponder, our minds drift off the most absurd places, but with something like a poem there to trigger reflection, we may grow in our thought.


5) It's fun.
While poetry can be deep and thoughtful, and can also be whimsical and light, or a balance of both. It can inspire, and elate, and mourn, and sadden. It is this diversity that makes poetry so beautiful.