by Hosanna (’14)
by Hosanna (’14)
The thing no one wants to be is a lone wolf. When do we ever hear about a wolf not belonging to a pack? Who’s the wolf supposed to hunt with? Who’s the wolf supposed to howl at the moon with, chase down white rabbits with, scare off predators with? It is all about being comfortable with yourself. It is all about being able to be alone. Being by yourself doesn’t necessarily mean running away from home to live in a crack-infested forest. Nor does it mean hiding in dark, moist, potato-growing closet corners reading a book you can barely see. I feel being alone is being able to walk down the street, see some annoyingly social kid from your school, and not wanting to find a stranger to talk to. It is being able to sit on the ground while waiting for a bus. It is being able to hear yourself cry and then laugh at yourself. It is being able to heal yourself. I’ve been a lone wolf since the beginning of time. The reason I started writing was because I felt left out. In elementary school I would listen to Amy Winehouse, type until I had to do homework, and read. Now, I’m plugged up, listening to Tupac, crying when I get too frustrated to deal with anyone, singing when a song is too good to be silent. If Chuck Norris can be a lone wolf and still sit in the corner of a circular room, why can’t anyone else? If you can’t deal with yourself, how can you deal with anyone else?
by Hosanna (’14)
Rejection. This nine letter word is common to everyone who has ever been on the planet. But what does it mean? Well, if I bring it up, most folks will assume I got rejected after I stuffed a bouquet of flowers in some dude’s face and asked him to take me out for ice cream. That’s not the case, though I wish I were that bold. Rejection doesn’t only revolve romantic relationships, it is a friendship, a social interaction, a life (is that too bold?). Taylor Swift sings about it all the time in When You’re “Fifteen”, maybe a little generic but tear jerking, “Dear John,” and “Invisible” (welcome to my life). Ever since my sixth grade year, I’ve been eyeing rejection, labeling it as my enemy. But now, my junior year, I’m beginning to find interest in it.
It’s funny on TV, in music videos, and on anxiety blogs but once it’s in our own lives, where’s the tub of ice cream, or in my case, where can I break some glass (not really). I’m stuck with the image of Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed (1999) getting egged by her super hot “prom date” as she stands, red nosed and nerdy, on her front porch. Or the many blogs about thirty year old men who haven’t been kissed, the third wheel syndrome, and dare I say it, the socially inept pretty girl! Oh! It drives a stake through my heart just thinking of it. Even though these blogs can be dubbed a therapeutic circle, they are entertainment, a laughing stock to internet viewers and themselves. Rejection becomes a negative thing, humiliating, instead of a learning experience.
But me? I say laugh at those humiliating times, shake it off, and learn from it. If you’re a third wheel, stop suckin’ your thumb and make yourself known! To those thirty year olds who haven’t felt another’s lips press against their’s, just go up to someone and kiss ‘em (just inspect for signs of mono). And the socially inept pretty people, flaunt it cus’ you got it because all you have to do is feel it. Rejection should only make someone more motivated, more ready to encounter unpredictable situations. This isn’t the time to skip the laxatives, who wants to be stuck on the toilet while everyone else is having fun?
by Hosanna (’14)
GLIDE Memorial Church is the place to be. My mother had told me about GLIDE, then my homepiece and peer, Flavia (a Creative Writer) told me we should check it out together. During the summer I decided to check it out. I went on www.glide.org, picked out a date, and received a confirmation email. Of course, because I spend a lot of time curled up, watching corny Bollywood love stories that make me cry, I didn’t know where 330 Ellis Street was (don’t listen to Google Maps . . . they misled me). I, from 6th and Market, ran through the surprisingly empty Tenderloin side streets (not to say there weren’t any creeps lingering around) until I ran into Glide. For my first time, things were surprisingly simple and the volunteers there, old and new, were sociable and very helpful. My sister and I signed in, put on some gloves, got better gloves, and stood by our assigned tables. We were put into the main cafeteria, a large orange space with a kitchen and a clean up room off to the side. My sister and I were given instructions on how to refill water pitchers, clean the tables, and who to give the used trays to.
Lunch started at around 11:30 and the cafeteria, after everyone got their food, was flooded with people. People were stuffed in the hallway, coming out of every entrance and exit, all waiting for a free lunch and place to sit down and eat. I had to move quickly, wipe down tables, remove trays, refill water pitchers, and get salt and pepper when they were asked for. This busy atmosphere continued until 1pm; I took off my very sweaty gloves, my hairnet, and sat down to relieve my feet. I felt grateful and more human than I had ever felt. I smiled out of happiness when I was thanked for volunteering, not out of pitiful kindness. I went to Glide once a week until the school year was beginning to approach. However, I plan on returning to Glide, balancing three trays on one arm, collecting tickets from eager faces, and getting told I look like Angela Davis (happened three times in one day– SCORE). I would encourage everyone and anyone to spend a Saturday morning, afternoon, or evening at Glide. All the Staff members are extremely nice as well as the people who go there for a meal. Help prevent a growling stomach, you never know what tomorrow brings.