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Subbie Year Track

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            Throwback to subbie year. A simple selfie after a track meet holds so many memories of pain, excitement, and relief.                         It was our conference meet at PBL (Paxton-Buckley-Loda) the whole team dressed in the old but still bright orange uniforms. The 4 by 4 was happening. Arguably the most exciting event of a track meet. One, it’s the last event. Everyone crowding around the outside of the track cheering on their relay. Two, the 400 is fast enough were there is always something happening. HUGE comebacks can happen in a 400 and your position can change in an instant.                        Our 4 by 4 team was Olivia, Danbi, Allie, and I. Danbi was our main distance runner, running the 1600, 800, and finishing it off with the 4 by 4. Allie was the sprinter of the group running 200, 100, and once again ending with the 4 by 4. Olivia ran the 200 as well. I was a mid-distance runner rounding it out with the 400, 800, and long jump.            
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Harvest Celebration

Every year my family and I have the generic tradition of going around the table and saying what we are thankful for. A tradition I found meaningless when I was younger. Everyone had the same response   “Oh, I’m thankful for my family, this food, and the house”  “I’m happy to share this day with my family and have a roof to live under”  “Thank-you to my family for making this food and being here with me” Every response was a variation of the last. Each took little to no effort to say, as if we did it because we should. Not because we wanted to recollect on everything, we take for granted on a daily basis. It seemed remedial to me. Like making turkey on Thanksgiving because it’s a societal norm, even if no one in your family enjoys it.                           I find myself questioning this saying of thanks every year before Thanksgiving break. Same  with most holidays, why do we give presents on December 25 th , why should we get money for losing a tooth? All of the
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Welcome to Illinois

            Most people who grow up in Central Illinois have one word to describe it, boring. In my opinion this rings true.                         Driving through Illinois feels like an eternity because it’s flat. My family and I make a trip to Georgia every summer and driving through Illinois is the longest part. It’s to a point where a goal is to get out of Illinois before we stop. Which is four hours. In addition to the flatness of Illinois, construction also makes a trip a lot longer. The state of Illinois while in debt still funds construction projects. That appear to make no improvements on anything and never get done on time. The second thing that confuses me about Illinois is that we are the pumpkin capital of the world. Where are the pumpkins? I see miles and miles of corn and soy beans but not a single pumpkin patch. If I want to find a pumpkin patch it is a deliberate action, for example, going to Negangard’s Pumpkin Patch to look for pumpkins to carve. If anythi
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Light the Way

            Sitting quietly, we wait. Watching people slowly file out of the covered recreation shelter in complete silence. My eyes stay focused ahead listening for the last call of Cabin 3 and 4. We rise, take one another’s hands and make our way down the gravel path. It’s pitch black but we aren’t scared, rather reminiscing on our last few days. Taking a sharp right onto the sidewalk lit up by small tea candles. We’re almost there, to the big white pillars that mark the entrance to the sunken garden.                          We walk slowly down the steep steps, watching that no one falls. Joining the U-formation, waiting for the last group to make their way to the entrance and close us from the rest of the world. Its chilly, wind blowing just hard enough to blow hair into my face. I remove the candles from my pocket and place a paper cover on the bottom of each (to catch the wax). Making as little noise as possible I hand one to each of my campers and take my position in front
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The Death of a Dog's Friends

              Hello fellow readers, today I am writing this blog post while curing my dog’s heartache. As some of you know I have a Pitbull Great Dane named Boz. A real sweetheart but currently he is in a deep state of sadness. His favorite chew toy a purple bear was destroyed and ripped in half during an intense game of tug-o-war. Now this isn’t just any normal chew toy it’s a sleep toy, a chew toy, and Boz’s best friend.                          As a solution my mother went to our local TJ Max and bought a new bear dog toy wearing a pumpkin costume, perfect for Autumn. Once again Boz carried this toy everywhere and again managed to tear its head off. This means he has lost two friends in the past week and seen both of them fall in to the depths of the trash can.                          I felt bad for my poor doggo and decided to use my masterful sewing skills and cure his whining and whimpering. I ventured into the attic and found a small stuffed turtle, I carefully pl
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"Kevin"? Yeah, that's his name I just gave him.

                         Growing up I didn’t realize how much a name could affect you. I don’t have any memories from preschool, I was just a kid with a name learning about the big world all around me. I think the first memory I have about my name is from kindergarten, but before I tell you that story you need some background information. My name is Rani, in Hindi it means queen and it is a somewhat common name in India and in some parts of the Caribbean. When I first learned the meaning of my name, I felt special as if I was more than just a kid. Doesn’t every little girl want to be a princess at one point in their life, I was one better, I was a queen. Even though that’s not a plan for my future anymore it was my dream at one point, and at a young age I felt this could come true.                         While my first introduction to my name was positive, I realized that when meeting new people, different problems can arise. Starting school presented different issues whether
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