Gym Rats
The term “gym rat” categorizes the type of person who constantly talks about the gym, thinks about the gym, and even goes to the gym nonstop. Their social media pages are littered with pictures of the gym, pictures of themselves at the gym, foods of what they eat, and countless retweets of numerous “FitnessLove” and “FitnessLife” accounts. They are constantly thinking about the gym, everything relates to the gym or a certain work out or food, thus hindering their ability to perform in every day, normal activities, such as school or work. Even their ability to recognize their friends and loved ones is distorted; they see the face of their favorite trainer instead of their family or loved one. This has become a prominent problem within society, especially in that of the ages thirteen to mid twenties. So, to alleviate the stress of these students who can only think about the gym, they should be placed in a fitness bootcamp for a total of eight hours every day for the full seven days of the week, that way they can remain in their “happy place” for longer periods of time. After all, Gym is love. Gym is life.
AP Students
AP students. We are all unified through one thing: stress. Stress has become a part of all of us; it is no longer an emotion or feeling, it has become embedded within our personalities. However, how each of us perceives this stress is and what we do with it divides us. There’s three categories of AP students: those who are naturally smart, those who study, and those who cheat. Those who are naturally smart can be determined through their test scores compared to the amount of time they study. Typically, those who are seen as “naturally smart” do not study or study less than that of the hardworking AP student, yet receive the same or sometimes even better scores than the cheater or hardworker. In contrast, the hardworking AP student studies hard and is usually organized, yet they may have not received the best scores, or even if they do, it was because of their studies. The cheater is on a different realm than the other two. Their success is all due to the work of others, whether from their fellow peers or from the abundance of outside resources available to them, such as the internet. They tend to never study and copy their work from others. These differences make up the whole of the AP students.
Love
What is love? Love is affection. Love is sacrifice. Love is compromise. Love is faith. Love is believable and unbelievable. Love is destiny. Love is strength. Love is eternal. Love is trust. Love is a desire with lust. Love is all of these things encompassed into one; it is the driving force of humanity. It is what we all strive to obtain in life. Love is all about expressing ineffable feelings, affections, and solicitude towards a person whom you care about. It is not only humans that possess love, but animals as well. The key to comprehending love is to understand sacrifice and attachment. Sacrifice is something that a person willingly forfeits for another, usually something treasured and valued. It is a selfless act in which is the embodiment of the verities of love. Attachment can be seen in humans and animals as another form of love. They show affection to express their love. They are attached to their mate, owner, or favorite person, thus exemplifying their love through this. Love can be whatever a person deems it to be. It has various forms, meanings, and definitions, each pertaining to one’s own individual personality and morals or beliefs. Love, in its simplest form, is a simple act of kindness, such as sharing one’s food with another or opening the door for someone. It is the attempt to make someone feel better, because their happiness reflects your own. Love is sacrificing your own time and money, much like a mother or father does for their children. Love is many things, but it is the single most essential thing in our lives.
Sunset
A large, grandiose yellow disk descends slowly from the sky, signifying the oncoming of night. Darkness is on the brink. It is the one last gift of the sun; it’s last acknowledgement of the world for the day. It is romance and substance, it cannot be denied. A kaleidoscope of colors and multiple forms of clouds stretch across the sky. It is the long, gentle strokes of a painter’s brush in hues of crimson, gold, and rose. The horizon is a thin, bright gold line and the sky is a gradient of pink, orange, and yellow. It is as if pigments of colors melted into the sky, seeping through the seams of the clouds. The sunset is forever. It is an everyday miracle; it is the eighth wonder of the world, yet so overlooked and underappreciated for its beauty. It is the essence of eternity. It is the one solid thing in our lives. The sun signifies the start of the day, and the end. As it sets, it encompasses us with one last feeling of its warmth. It embraces us for all that we are. It is never changing. It is infinite. It is conscious, substantial, yet holds a mysterious quality, something undefined. It is otherworldly, yet ordinary. It is real, yet abstract. It is the workings of a world we will never be able to truly understand. It is strength. It is of great vitality. It is alive.
Colors
By: Ireland Bhatia
Red. The flash of red, hot anger pulses through my veins; a fire igniting my soul. Black, the embodiment of hatred and pain, burning a hole through my heart. I step out onto the sidewalk, the same sidewalk I have taken for years, paving its way down to my home. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a car window, not recognizing what I see. A putrid green encompasses me. Self disgust. I look up at the sky. It’s an opaque gray, the color of loneliness. I come up to a shabby, dilapidated building, the empty shell of what I used to call my home. One. Two. Three. I count the steps as I go up. I open the door. My eyes trail over the room. The color of blue blinds me; a deep, wrenching sadness takes over. I stumble through the doorway, my back hitting the wall as I collapse to the ground. A picture falls, and I reach over to grab it. My fingers trace over the delicate frame. A shimmering gold lights up my eyes, the color of my mother’s hair. The same hair that was splayed across the pavement that night, a sharp contrast between light and dark. Pink. The color of my mother’s lips, spread apart, gasping for the last breath she would ever take. I threw down the picture. I stood and walked into what used to be my room. Purple. I looked down on the floor, eyeing the dress I wore for what was supposed to be one of the most exciting nights of my life, but ended up being the worst. I sat on my bed, staring at the chestnut colored headboard that I had begged my mother to buy me. I saw brown, the color of her eyes, which listlessly stared up at me from the pavement, no trace of life to be found. The same eyes I had looked straight into that night and lied to, making a promise that I did not keep. I turned over to turn on my lamp, light illuminating the room. I saw head lights flash before me, my reaction a second too late. I turned my head away from the lamp, closing my eyes, willing myself to forget. I push myself off of the bed, my foot kicking a glass bottle in front of me. I closed my eyes again. I saw the milky, cloudy color of intoxication. Intoxication dulled my senses as I got in my car that night to drive home. I open them to see a red blanket spread out on the floor. Red. I saw the light I ran. Red. I saw the sparks fly as I collided head on into another car. Red. I saw the blood of my mother, seeping into the black pavement, her life being taken from her. Red. I saw my broken promise.
The term “gym rat” categorizes the type of person who constantly talks about the gym, thinks about the gym, and even goes to the gym nonstop. Their social media pages are littered with pictures of the gym, pictures of themselves at the gym, foods of what they eat, and countless retweets of numerous “FitnessLove” and “FitnessLife” accounts. They are constantly thinking about the gym, everything relates to the gym or a certain work out or food, thus hindering their ability to perform in every day, normal activities, such as school or work. Even their ability to recognize their friends and loved ones is distorted; they see the face of their favorite trainer instead of their family or loved one. This has become a prominent problem within society, especially in that of the ages thirteen to mid twenties. So, to alleviate the stress of these students who can only think about the gym, they should be placed in a fitness bootcamp for a total of eight hours every day for the full seven days of the week, that way they can remain in their “happy place” for longer periods of time. After all, Gym is love. Gym is life.
AP Students
AP students. We are all unified through one thing: stress. Stress has become a part of all of us; it is no longer an emotion or feeling, it has become embedded within our personalities. However, how each of us perceives this stress is and what we do with it divides us. There’s three categories of AP students: those who are naturally smart, those who study, and those who cheat. Those who are naturally smart can be determined through their test scores compared to the amount of time they study. Typically, those who are seen as “naturally smart” do not study or study less than that of the hardworking AP student, yet receive the same or sometimes even better scores than the cheater or hardworker. In contrast, the hardworking AP student studies hard and is usually organized, yet they may have not received the best scores, or even if they do, it was because of their studies. The cheater is on a different realm than the other two. Their success is all due to the work of others, whether from their fellow peers or from the abundance of outside resources available to them, such as the internet. They tend to never study and copy their work from others. These differences make up the whole of the AP students.
Love
What is love? Love is affection. Love is sacrifice. Love is compromise. Love is faith. Love is believable and unbelievable. Love is destiny. Love is strength. Love is eternal. Love is trust. Love is a desire with lust. Love is all of these things encompassed into one; it is the driving force of humanity. It is what we all strive to obtain in life. Love is all about expressing ineffable feelings, affections, and solicitude towards a person whom you care about. It is not only humans that possess love, but animals as well. The key to comprehending love is to understand sacrifice and attachment. Sacrifice is something that a person willingly forfeits for another, usually something treasured and valued. It is a selfless act in which is the embodiment of the verities of love. Attachment can be seen in humans and animals as another form of love. They show affection to express their love. They are attached to their mate, owner, or favorite person, thus exemplifying their love through this. Love can be whatever a person deems it to be. It has various forms, meanings, and definitions, each pertaining to one’s own individual personality and morals or beliefs. Love, in its simplest form, is a simple act of kindness, such as sharing one’s food with another or opening the door for someone. It is the attempt to make someone feel better, because their happiness reflects your own. Love is sacrificing your own time and money, much like a mother or father does for their children. Love is many things, but it is the single most essential thing in our lives.
Sunset
A large, grandiose yellow disk descends slowly from the sky, signifying the oncoming of night. Darkness is on the brink. It is the one last gift of the sun; it’s last acknowledgement of the world for the day. It is romance and substance, it cannot be denied. A kaleidoscope of colors and multiple forms of clouds stretch across the sky. It is the long, gentle strokes of a painter’s brush in hues of crimson, gold, and rose. The horizon is a thin, bright gold line and the sky is a gradient of pink, orange, and yellow. It is as if pigments of colors melted into the sky, seeping through the seams of the clouds. The sunset is forever. It is an everyday miracle; it is the eighth wonder of the world, yet so overlooked and underappreciated for its beauty. It is the essence of eternity. It is the one solid thing in our lives. The sun signifies the start of the day, and the end. As it sets, it encompasses us with one last feeling of its warmth. It embraces us for all that we are. It is never changing. It is infinite. It is conscious, substantial, yet holds a mysterious quality, something undefined. It is otherworldly, yet ordinary. It is real, yet abstract. It is the workings of a world we will never be able to truly understand. It is strength. It is of great vitality. It is alive.
Colors
By: Ireland Bhatia
Red. The flash of red, hot anger pulses through my veins; a fire igniting my soul. Black, the embodiment of hatred and pain, burning a hole through my heart. I step out onto the sidewalk, the same sidewalk I have taken for years, paving its way down to my home. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a car window, not recognizing what I see. A putrid green encompasses me. Self disgust. I look up at the sky. It’s an opaque gray, the color of loneliness. I come up to a shabby, dilapidated building, the empty shell of what I used to call my home. One. Two. Three. I count the steps as I go up. I open the door. My eyes trail over the room. The color of blue blinds me; a deep, wrenching sadness takes over. I stumble through the doorway, my back hitting the wall as I collapse to the ground. A picture falls, and I reach over to grab it. My fingers trace over the delicate frame. A shimmering gold lights up my eyes, the color of my mother’s hair. The same hair that was splayed across the pavement that night, a sharp contrast between light and dark. Pink. The color of my mother’s lips, spread apart, gasping for the last breath she would ever take. I threw down the picture. I stood and walked into what used to be my room. Purple. I looked down on the floor, eyeing the dress I wore for what was supposed to be one of the most exciting nights of my life, but ended up being the worst. I sat on my bed, staring at the chestnut colored headboard that I had begged my mother to buy me. I saw brown, the color of her eyes, which listlessly stared up at me from the pavement, no trace of life to be found. The same eyes I had looked straight into that night and lied to, making a promise that I did not keep. I turned over to turn on my lamp, light illuminating the room. I saw head lights flash before me, my reaction a second too late. I turned my head away from the lamp, closing my eyes, willing myself to forget. I push myself off of the bed, my foot kicking a glass bottle in front of me. I closed my eyes again. I saw the milky, cloudy color of intoxication. Intoxication dulled my senses as I got in my car that night to drive home. I open them to see a red blanket spread out on the floor. Red. I saw the light I ran. Red. I saw the sparks fly as I collided head on into another car. Red. I saw the blood of my mother, seeping into the black pavement, her life being taken from her. Red. I saw my broken promise.