Okay? Okay. (The Fault in Our Stars Review)

     Recently (and by recently I mean like two weeks ago, I just haven't gotten around to writing a blog post yet...) I read The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. This book was recommended to me by several friends, and I had seen a lot of posts about it on Tumblr. I even heard something about a movie. So I decided to borrow it from a friend and give it a read.

     As an honest opinion, it was good, but it lacked the "wow" factor the internet had led me to believe it had. Yes, it was sad, and yes, it was a good book, but there was something just... not there.

     I finished the book in about a day. It just so happened that the night I had decided to read it was the same night I decided I wanted to drink an energy drink and not get any sleep. So I got maybe... two hours of sleep that night and managed to almost finish the book. Despite being around 300 pages, the font size was nice and large which allowed me to speed through it. 

     The beginning of the book was extremely rushed, which I think was one of the reasons that I had disliked it. Hazel goes to a support group for her cancer and suddenly she meets this Augustus guy. After an intense staredown with him, they finally talk. Before the first chapter is over, she's headed over to his house to watch V for Vendetta. Basically they are already on their first date.

     This was something I disliked about this book; I enjoy a little background to the book, see the characters and understand their situation. Know their backstories. Etcetera. Green revealed this backstory as a few morsels of dialogue throughout the rest of the book, but still. The beginning of the book dropped us off in a normal situation and then threw us right into the love interest. I just feel it all happened so quickly to be given to us in the first chapter.

     That was really all I disliked. The rest of the novel was pretty good. Green said some great things that are pretty inspirational (I'm on a roller coaster that's only going up), and had a couple of good twists right there at the end. Isaac was a fun and relatable character, and we all ended up with mixed feelings towards van Houten. I did end up feeling pretty sad at the end of the book too (and don't even talk to me about spoilers. It's a book about two star-crossed lovers who have cancer, something sad is bound to happen), although I didn't cry (I've only cried when watching film, so if the movie is any good then I'll be bawling my eyes out).
     I think my favorite part would have to have been the writing style. I just finished Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk, which was written in the same style (except you know, more cynical with strong tones about anarchy). I enjoyed reading the thoughts of Hazel, which were sometimes funny, and other times sarcastic. Either way, John Green managed to make it fun to read and keep me interested.

     Time to wrap this up. Liked the book, although it was obviously written for young adult fiction. I can check off another book from the "100 Books You Have to Read in Your Lifetime" list though. Here's to reading.

Hobey ho,

Nate

(Word count: 580 words)

The Importance of Being Earnest (The Dark Mind of Lovecraft)

     I don't want to write anything more than a paragraph on that mindbogglingly silly play. It was a riot, but the damn thing was an insult to my intellect. Honestly, I only named this post after it for the earnest puns.

*high hat*

     Okay lets move onto something a little more interesting! The Importance of Being Earnest was not the only thing I had finished reading today. I recently finished a novel which was a collection of various short stories by H.P. Lovecraft, who, if you are not familiar with the name, is one of the forerunners of the American horror genre and the mind behind the inception of the Cthulhu mythos. You can look him up on Wikipedia if you'd like to know more (and to be honest he looks like he could be out of a horror story himself, if you know what I mean).
     The book I picked up is called The Call of Cthulhu and Other Dark Tales and includes Lovecraft's stories such as The Colour Out of Space, The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, The Whisperer in Darkness, and of course, The Call of Cthulhu.
     The writing was fantastic to say the least. The way in which Lovecraft inspired an entire culture posthumous to his original publications is unseen in many other genres. His writing pushed the horror genre into new frontiers and practically created table-top gaming. Not only this, but the methods in which he described information to the audience is phenomenal as well. The descriptions of New England are elegant, but the vaguely descriptions of the eldritch horrors leaves much to imagination. Of course, this does not justify the blatant racism in his writing; but that's not really what I want to focus on. You can read more about this here.
     For many of you, the name Cthulhu rings a bell. The elder god's influence on popular culture is somewhat overemphasized and even a little ironic. Cthulhu first appears in the story The Call of Cthulhu and is later referenced in many other Lovecraft stories. This happened to be my least favorite story though. Much of it was an impersonal retelling of several events that took place, which the speaker later connected to the raising of Cthulhu from the city of R'lyeh. Unlike his other stories, I felt this one had no real horror factor, but instead served as an introduction to a character who played a somewhat significant role in the cosmic picture of Lovecraft's writing.
     My favorite story on the other hand would have to of been The Case of Charles Dexter Ward. Despite Lovecraft's tendency to write in the form of a memoir--revealing the end of a string of events at the introduction to a story--I was kept on my toes for most of Charles Dexter Ward. The author drops hints at what will happen many times throughout this novel, rewarding clever readers who analyze fiction and can predict endings while giving more casual readers a pleasant twist. I was in between these two, following the trail of hints enough to have an idea of what was going to happen, while still being surprised at the end of the book. This is one of the longest stories in the collection, and one of the longest stories which Lovecraft wrote, so a lot of time was dedicated to fleshing out past events as well as what was going on in the current moment.
     Time to move past this sort of appreciative ramble. It's late and the creatures who pipe tunelessly in the darkness at the center of Chaos are whispering to me and informing me to sleep. Not sure where I am going to go next with my reading though. I've tossed a few ideas around in my head this far. I've got some Sherlock Holmes stories which would be fun to read, Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, various works of Edgar Allen Poe (I own a huge textbook of his complete works), any of the seven books I have by H. G. Wells, finishing the A Song of Ice and Fire series by George R. R. Martin, or A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. So much to read, and so little time... So we'll see where I go from here! For now, I've got to start on The Wizard of Oz for book club and get some rest.
     May your adventures lead you away from those dark temples where ancient cults once worshiped.
     No seriously, your brain will turn to soup.

Hobey ho,
-- Nate


(Word count: 769 words)

Graduation Speech -- 1st Draft

     Hey everyone. Here's a little blurb of what I plan to be writing for my graduation speech. At my school, each student is required to write a graduation speech. Then, our peers will congregate and select the three best speeches. Then, depending on what the teachers and administration think, three speeches will be selected for graduation. 

     I tried to express my whole high school experience in a very short 350-word nutshell. I wanted to express the loss of friends and the new ones I gained. I wanted to detail some of the fond memories that occur to me while I look back at these last four years. Personally, I doubt I have properly expressed in proper words how I really feel. Lastly, I wanted to express how my school had changed my life. How the teachers, students, administration, community, and everyone else worked with me to bring me an experience that no other student has ever experienced. Sure, other students may have had a similar experience, but this one is mine. So please enjoy this speech, which will hopefully be updated more and more to reflect how I truly feel about this amazing school.


     Do you remember walking into the doors of our school for the first time?
     How about how you felt when you sat down in your first high school class?
     When your doe eyes stared up at your first high school English teacher, who talked with such a passion it was considered yelling?
     Do you remember all the friends you got the year after, all the ones you lost?
     Or maybe picking on the freshman because you were the cool sophomores now and you could?
     Only last year we struggled together with figuring out what we were going to do with the rest of our lives. Not only that, but we started to become a family for the first time. I think we can all agree that Jaysen’s dancing led him to be that funky uncle who can rock the Cha-Cha Slide.
     Now here we are. We’re splitting up, each going our separate ways. You cried and you laughed and you experience so many emotions and now, you’re being forced to leave. Looking around at my peers now, it seems we all have those same doe eyes that I noticed four years ago when we were just little freshman, but a new set of headlights barrels towards us. The nervous anxiety of graduating high school is finally here.
          So what do we do? Well, there is one thing the big passionate English teacher has told us day by day. Carpe Diem. No matter how cliché or cheesy it is, it’s a sound bit of advice. We’ve got to seize the day and never give up, even when the going gets tough. The satisfaction of success will far outweigh the struggles of not doing anything at all. We’ve got to seize the day and be ourselves. Even when other people try to change us, it’s so important to be the person we want to be. Finally, you need to seize the day and know there is always hope. Worries and fears aside, everything is possible when you set your mind to it. As our school motto says, imagine the possibilities. Thank you.

(Word count:  548 words)

Late-Night Drinking -- A Rant

     Just a note in advance; if you think you are offended easily, I would avoid reading this post.

     These past two weeks, my English teacher has been constantly repeating a single phrase. Sometimes it's a statement, sometimes it's a question. The idea remains the same:

Has any of this been ruining poetry for you?

     I always feel my answer is no; I feel that I can easily handle the class, and even though I spend an hour or two working the hundreds of poems my teacher throws at me, I still understand them. I feel I take these poems like one would take wine at a tasting party.
     I take the poem, and give it a long whiff. I shake it around a bit, and try a sip. The words flow into my mouth and settle on my taste buds, washing them over with a unique yet bitter flavor. My expression sours, and bystanders might see my nose cringe or my lips purse; a normal reaction for this kind of experience. I mull the poem around inside of its cup, letting the red drink breath. Once again, I bring the glass to my lips. This time, something's different. The taste of sweet grapes fills my mouth, saturating the spaces all the way through my nostrils with the strange aroma of alcohol. My palate soars with flavor. I sit back with satisfaction, reaching for a chunk of cheddar, and selecting another drink.
     That was a way to describe that, wasn't it? Every other night, I attend these tasting parties. I whet my appetite with so many different selections of prose. It's one of the many reasons I enjoy reading so much. Even when poems have deep subliminal meanings, I feel I at least have some grasp of understanding on what I am reading.
     So what is the problem? Well, that's easy. The problem is that the whole experience is ruining poetry for me.
     Despite my deep adoration for written language and poetry, my English class in general is something I am beginning to despise. My goal past graduation is to major in English, eventually becoming a teacher of the same subject. The whole idea of me hating my English class must be outrageous to some. The situation is complicated, a whole other story, for a whole other day. What I have made clear to several people though, is that my belief is that the class isn't challenging enough.
     I selected an AP course this year specifically to be challenged in my education. Of the five AP classes I am taking, or have taken, four have succeeded in being challenging; AP Literature, the class I am in right now, has failed to meet that criteria. Maybe it's because I understand the course so well that it is a breeze for me, but I have an entirely different opinion.
     I feel that many of the students in the class do not give the effort required for an AP course, and it's reflecting on the class as a whole. Our teacher has been forced to sit down and explain the poems to us, as if he were teaching a class of freshman a work of Shakespeare for their first time. Students who are called that cannot give an answer, can ask for someone else to be picked. Don't get me wrong, there are several students who do put the effort in. I'm only pointing out what I have noticed from an extremely skewed perception. 
     When I wish to answer a question, I'm asked to put my hand down and let another student try. I  understood the logic behind this when the year first began, and gladly adhered to my teacher's request. Now I am into my second, and final, semester of high school, and I'm still receiving the same request.
     Tell me, am I still intimidating to students who choose to stay silent this far into the year? Or is it just an excuse for why students aren't participating? Am I seen as a know-it-all McSmarty FartyPants who's expected by the class to know every answer? To be brutally honest, many times I find myself having the completely wrong answer. I can't voice my opinion to know if I am correct though, and it leaves me distressed.
     The challenge that I feel in every AP class simply diminishes when I step foot into my English class early every other morning. I want to just walk out of class sometimes and not come back, because I know it would not make a difference. I want to sit in the corner and spend the class period enlightening myself, rather than wishing to participate. Participating in class feels like a chore now.
      So that's the rant I have prepared for you on this cloudy, dark night. I would like to note that if I did offend anyone, I am truly sorry. I felt it was necessary to express these feelings that have built up for so long. I don't want to compare myself to anyone and emerge superior, because I sure as hell know I'm as average as they come.

      Now I am off to a wine tasting. Late-night drinking is my favorite pastime.

Hobey ho,
-- Nate



(Word count: 874 words)

Blurb #1: The Romantic

     A mini-post perhaps. I don't really want this to count for anything cause I don't think it will quite be long enough, but I felt it was necessary to share and hey I might be wrong. Still, this will be more of an informal and sarcastic post, rather than the more serious stuff I tend to post. Hence, a blurb. 
     A new post will be up tomorrow, perhaps discussing the eye-opening experience I had reading this Emily Dickinson poem, or maybe something about the Lovecraft I had been reading lately, or analyzing a movie...or a song... there are so many things I would like to do, but haven't gotten the chance or the concept of putting it out into words and comprehensible language. Then again, that is always the fun of writing.

     Here's your fun mini-post, enjoy;

     There are many ways you can describe to your girlfriend that you appreciate her beauty as she spends time in that eternal regions that she experiences whilst she dreams.
     The first option is to be a hopeless romantic, telling her that you thought of that lame Aerosmith song that is too catchy for its own good, and then proceeding to be that guy with the guitar and singing it for her.

          I could stay awake, just to hear your breathing
          Watch you smile while you are sleeping,
          While you're far away and dreaming
          I could spend my life, in your sweet surrender
          I could stay lost in this moment, forever.

     Wow dude, that'll be something she remembers. Maybe she'll think of you when that song comes on the radio after you guys end your relationship. It was pretty hopeless in my opinion.

...then again, you could throwback to the early 19th century and recite some poetry for her.

          No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
               Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast,
          To feel forever its soft fall and swell,
               Awake forever in a sweet unrest,
          Still, still to hear [your] tender-taken breath,
          And so live [for]ever--or else swoon to death.

     Nailed it dude. Get some roses and candles, you just put yourself in the romance business. You smooth, sly dog.

     So pick your poison, if you think the guitar and somewhat off-key singing will win her over (please never try to hit that high note again), go right ahead. But if you think you can recite some poetry like a smooth Samuel Jackson (for the word I really wanna use... well yeah), and want to relay the same message, know you now.     Crazy how these days, love is just "everything that's been said before in a thousand ways by a thousand songs (and poems), some with the same four chords."

(Shout out to my references. I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing - Aerosmith (1997), Bright Star - John Keats (1819), and finally Repeat Stuff - Bo Burnham (2013). I want to thank The Academy for this post. Good night America.)



(Word Count: 488 words)

Frankenstein: Conclusion Edition

     Welcome to the conclusion edition of the novel Frankenstein! Here, we will post several thoughts about the novel that the author of this blog, Nate, had felt! Free of spoilers or other issues. Stay tuned for more info!
     (A small intermission plays, in which a pseudo-realistic man covers himself in green paint and announces: "Hey everyone! Tired of your own creations trying to destroy your life? Get my patented product, Victor's Vicious Monster Miasma! Guaranteed to remove any pesky problems you may be having in your lively life! And don't forget to use as many awesome alliterations as possible! V-Frank out).
     Okay, hey everyone. I wanted to sorta write my thoughts on Frankenstein, so I'll try to be frank. I am tired, after all, and I have several tasks I need to do in order to be ready for my finals this week. Here goes.
     The book was a lot better than I had originally expected. If you had not read my previous post that described how I was not too excited to read this book, then you would have a good understanding of how I felt starting to read it. 
     Luckily, most of the book didn't go through the annoying letters process, and it was only the beginning of the book. I think the main reason I disliked that format is because of the stop-and-go process that it makes my mind squeeze through. Not the easiest thing to stay focused on when suddenly you are having a three month time shift. That may be the other problem too. I like books to be linear, so when suddenly a chapter jumps around several months I feel like something important is missing and my mind strives to want to fill that gap. Either way, the book didn't end up like this.
     It really nicely explored the themes it presented as well. To name a few off, there was the theme of what it means to be human, and what defines being human; there was the theme of how science can go too far, tying in a sort of man vs. nature theme; and finally there is the value of friendship and family (a subject I will likely write about next week). Each one was distinctly explained and shown in the novel, although my favorite is the one about what it means to be human. Throughout the novel, you are presented with the idea that the beast is a monster; an un-human freak of nature which wishes to destroy villages and eat people's raw flesh. Even the media represents him that way.
     For many of us, we have seen a Frankenstein movie before we actually read the book. Whether it was Young Frankenstein or Frankenstein or even The Bride of Frankenstein. Each one sadly portrays the creature as this inherently evil demon. When you read the novel though, you do have to ask yourself...

Who is the real monster? Frankenstein? Or the creature?

     This question arises from a variety of topics. Mainly, the fact that the creature did not intend to try and be harmful and filled with hate. He wanted to be a functioning part of society. He wanted to have friends, to have a family, to be knowledgeable, and to be loved. Yet, every time it got close to these dreams, they were dashed by the fear of his unsightly, hulking body and gross appearances. The main perpetrator behind the creature's failures though was his creator. Many times in the fiction, the creature wishes he was not created to be so hideous, and blames Frankenstein for his disfigurement. When he asks simply for a companion to live the rest of his miserable life with, Frankenstein betrays the creature and rebukes his promise.
     Frankenstein's argument was that it was bettering mankind. That two creatures procreating and releasing their wretched spawn across the world would bring an end to it. Yet it was out of what seemed fearful visions that Frankenstein believed this. Had he originally kept his promise, I think I can safely assume that the creature would have held true to his promise, and left forever. Victor would have ended up with a lot more friends and family if this was the way it had gone.
     So was the creature, with his thirst to simply be human, actually a monster? And could this have possibly been an allusion to the situation which Shelley grew up in?
     I learned progressively more and more about Shelley's character while reading this book. It can't be ignored that Shelley was raised in a household the regarded feminism in high esteem. Her mother was even one of the first wave feminists. The monster might possibly be a reference to the women who were oppressed in society at the time Shelley had lived. With a thirst for love, knowledge, and acceptance in society, they were constantly shut down. I could probably write an entire blog post proving this, with evidence. But I'd rather not.
     So that's what I leave you with tonight. Good luck everyone this week with finals. May the patron god Bullshidicus and his muses Caffeina and Thesaurae be with you all this week to provide you with assistance.

Hobey ho, 
-- Nate


(Word count: 873 words)

I Find It Kind of Sad.

     Welcome back.
     Shall we continue?
     Lets begin with a small intermission.
     It perhaps wasn't the most smart idea to have written this as a two-part post. At the moment when I had been writing the first entry, my brain had been on a single track; I felt exotic, I felt weird, I felt like I had been nothing more than a mass of meat and matter floating on a lump of damp space rock as it zooms through the infinite universe. I feel a little different now, and I am having trouble relating my tale in the same manner I had related it earlier. In fact, I hardly even remember what I was going to write today. Nonetheless, I will force my hand to make an attempt, for better or for worse.
     Where were we?
     What do we truly know? What is straight hard evidence? And what is nothing more than a figment of imaginative thought, springing from the complex connections of circuits, wires, and electricity which constantly rushes through our heads? As I pointed out in my story earlier, I am unaware of what the truth is anymore. I want to believe that it happened the way I tell it everyday, and that might be the only thing keeping me sane. It might be the only thing keeping any of us sane.
      In English we discussed a very thought-provoking concept. What if we all see different colors? What if for you, you saw the sunsets in beautiful shades of blue and purple? What if the trees all had ghostly white bark with blood red leaves? What if you saw black as white, and white as black? Would anyone know? Since birth, we were directed at colors and told what they were. We took it for granted and accepted it for our entire lives, but if we weren't would we know any different? There is no way to tell if the lives of others are radically alien. No way to understand the way that you perceive color, thoughts, sensation, or other perceptual senses. That's one thing that begins to scare me.
      Because the only thing that I, or any of you know for certain is that we are alive. Our pasts, which include the infinite amounts of knowledge and memories we have experienced, are nothing more than memories. There is little to no physical proof that they technically every happened.
     In a way I believe this a form of quantum physics. We don't perceive the past anymore, therefore it doesn't exist. We may have trinkets that remind us of the past, but no actual proof per-se. Sure, the stuffed animal you have sitting on the shelf is a constant reminder that you had a childhood, but how do you know that for sure? Depend on a somewhat unreliable memory?
     In the end, that's really all we can do. We have to believe that our memories are true with all the imperfections and discontinuity. Throughout generations, memories are passed down to retain traditions. Memories create everything that exists today, so that poses my last question...
     If everything is created in one form or another by memories, what good is society.
     The answer is, it isn't. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. In a perfect world, everyone would be perfect--and when everyone is perfect, no one is. The fact that we have inconsistent memories and that we all may share memories or have those that stay secret forever is what makes us unique.
     It's what makes human.


I find it kind of funny,
I find it kind of sad.
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had.
-- Mad World, Tears for Fears

(Author's Note: The Gary Jules version from Donnie Darko is a much better version of this song, but I do want to credit the original artist.)


(Word count: 647 words)

I Find It Kinda Funny,

     This weekend was kind of weird for me. I'll try to be brief.

     I found out that the world is a small, weird place. You don't truly know anyone, but you know everyone, if that makes sense.

     I've felt pretty odd every since the weekend. For whatever stupid reason it is, it's put me in a mood where I am not sure about anything anymore, except what is happening right now.

     I'll try to explain.

     So we all have that story that we tell everyone about from our childhood; we stuck our tongue to a flagpole and it got stuck, forcing our teacher to call the fire department to get it removed. Or maybe you were just a tiny little eight year old bundle of romance and you got your first kiss under the willow tree with some girl who ended up moving away forever.

     Think about that story, try to remember ever detail. Every. Single. Detail. Do you have it? Now try to figure out which details are wrong. The ones you put in there yourself to make the story more appealing, whether it made your story more humorous, heroic, or hectic. Over the years, your story has come to be somewhat of a half-lie, and a half-truth.

     For me, my story takes place in fifth grade. I'm not going to go into detail, but at this point, reflecting on it, I'm not sure if it actually ever happened. Maybe it did, but it was way less dramatic than I make it seem to be. Maybe it was close. Maybe I tell the story the way it happened. I've told it so many times, adding so many half-lies into the story that I don't know what the truth about it was anymore. In my memory, I even see it occurring to me in the third person.

     In case you don't know this about me, I dream in the third person. That may be a confusing way to describe it, so I'll clarify; I dream as if I'm in a movie. When I dream, I see myself doing actions, with other people doing things unto me, or the world happening around me. I am aware of my thoughts, and what I am going to say. I can sometimes affect the outcome of the "story". I am perfectly aware of my surroundings and where I am. But my view from the dream is limited to a camera. My view is watching at a difference, experience and feeling my character, but not quite being there in his eyes. I'm not certain this is the way I dream at all though, but as I wake up and recall my dreams; I recall them in the third person.

     Back to the story at hand.

     This memory is in the third person. It makes me speculate whether or not it actually happened. I have no physical proof that it did, besides my memory, but even that is sketchy. If I can convince myself that it did happen, even if it didn't, what is the point?

     Then I look back at all my memories, and nothing seems real. Did I really walk home today? What was my proof? Did I go to Six Flags earlier this year? Have I already gone to Pasadena? The mind is so fragile, and so easy to lie to. It's hard to tell the differences between thoughts and truth.

     For example, one time I dreamt that a friend of mine had come up and told me that he was going on a vacation for the next week. When I went to school after the weekend had ended, I asked him why he wasn't gone for vacation. The dream had felt so real that I couldn't tell the difference between if he actually said that or not.
     Even worse, if I ever happen to take a nap, I get so disorientated that I am often in a state of confusion for the rest of my night. The dreams I have during this time are so exotic and real; they tend to frighten me.

     So where do my true thoughts actually lie? At what point is my brain storing my dreams and my experiences and merging them together in one? Archiving my negatives away in old video banks, to be accessed when they need to be? Why are these negatives decaying and suddenly changing?

to be continued...

(Word count: 738 words)

Doing That College Thing (Otherwise Known as Scholarships)

     Well, I've been doin' that college thang. We were given an assignment in my English class to write for a scholarship a 300 word essay about our career and education plans, as well as how our current situation, including our skills, personality, and experiences, applies to that.

     I've almost done that.

     I have spent the last... Hour and a half trying to write this stupid thing. My first draft --which was a wonderful metaphor that weaved my voice in and out of my essay, informing in an alluring manner what my passion was, which would definitely have been a Grade-A essay-- ended up being somewhere closer to 400 words. That just won't do.

     So I cut out the flowery metaphor. My paper was a lot more... boring, but it was also shorter.
     Final result? A 303 word essay. At this point I really just want to be done with it, but I am three words off from completion. Right now I really can't figure out what I want to get rid of. Since this was the "first draft" of this essay (in the most basic sense of the phrase), I think I'll be able to let it slide.

     Now I just have to get it to my teacher and talk to him about what I need to do to fix up my three-word dilemna. I'll have him look at it, maybe find a few words, and maybe find a way to make it even better. Because free money.

     Anyways, here's what my essay looks like...

            Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? Not many can say that they want to tackle the challenge of interacting daily with students, parents, or teachers, or to scale the mountain of massive workload that is often thrust upon them, or more importantly, to teach a future generation of students and shape a better world. One of my career plans that took shape and was sculpted into a beautiful possibility during my high school experience was the dream of being a teacher. It isn’t just the thought of wanting to be a teacher that made this goal a possibility though; it was the combination of my personality, my strengths and weaknesses, and the occurrences I have embraced that creates this possibility.
             Teaching is a career in which I can use the confidence and social skills I have, and apply them to a real world situation where I can change lives. What other careers require you to undertake the role of cooperating with thousands of people, all while maintaining a positive demeanor? Yet my personality is only a single link that chains together success in this career. I also have a passion.
            This passion is of literature and English. Ever since I was a child, I’ve always been a book-worm. Throughout my teen years, I consumed books more often than I did food. I was once told that it takes passion to be successful at anything. A passion for this subject is just what I need to be inspired to pursue it.
            Finally, the events and occurrences that have surrounded me throughout my life; the teachers and heroes who inspire me to do better, stand out as the most important aspect to this career. I felt inspired, because the same traits I see in myself are so prevalent in the teachers who have already made the decision to shape the future, by shaping young minds to be smart, creative, and thoughtful.
            So do I have what it takes to be a teacher? I have the passion, the knowledge, the personality, and the experiences. All that is left is for me to take the leap to shape my future, as well as the worlds.

     Well that's all I got for you guys today. Enjoy your nights and good luck with all your toils and foils.

Hobey ho,

 -- Nate

(Word Count: 649 words)

Procrastination 101

     So I'm sure we're all amazing high school students, who turn on their work on time and ensure ourselves an amazing future. No? Perhaps you forget to turn something in every once in a while. Perhaps that new popular app is begging to be played. Perhaps there is a million other reasons that we aren't doing something. I believe we all have the potential to be that "amazing high school student."
     I know what is stopping me though...
     Procrastination.
     I'm sure many of us battle this... thing. We see the overwhelming Work Monster (probably looks something like this) and suddenly we're a little moist at the waist and are running towards the nearest exit. From that exit, we find the bliss of procrastination...! Suddenly even the most boring task sounds fun and we tell ourselves that we will have time to finish. Usually we don't. I'll spend six hours watching a new Netflix interest, or playing some of those new games I find online, or making food to make myself not hungry even though I never really was. Sometimes, I even clean the house.
     It's these demons that are the toughest to kill. Today, while telling myself I was gonna get on homework, I went and browsed through my Tumblr and Facebook feed. I've got a sticky note on my right that is telling me all the important work I need to get done today. Ha. Hahaha. So whilst browsing through this feed, one of my friends shared an article about Procrastination.
     "Hey! This will be a good thing to read rather than reading Frankenstein! Lets do that!" I told myself. I assume you can understand the irony of this situation. So I read it, and it was actually pretty cool (if you're interested, you can read Part 1 here, and Part 2 here). That post is actually the inspiration I had to writing this blog post today. It explained procrastination in a way that really helped rationalize the situation; it explained ways to combat it. The post was light-hearted but serious, so I felt as if the writer had a clear understanding on the subject (and spent some time thinking about it, rather than just throwing thoughts out there as I usually do in my blog posts).
     Well, I don't have much else to share with you guys today. I wanted to share this post, and that it could possibly bring you a beacon of hope that you can get over it. I'm overwhelmed and worried about my own problems, and that it will cause many more issues in college. So I'm gonna try to tackle it, one step at a time.

Hobey ho,
-- Nate


(Word count: 451 words)