Paw Prints Weekly

The official blog of Glen A. Wilson's Journalism.

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By MIN WONG | STAFF WRITER

Drama happens during highschool. That’s just how the world works.

With all that said, I would advise you to not follow in my footsteps. Getting involved in drama affects your rationality. It affected my rationality because during this time of my life, I always had the urge to fight back. If you get involved in a fight during your high school career, try to avoid letting it escalate. Letting the fight spiral out of control, will cause you to focus all your time on the situation at hand. Then you will not be centered on your schoolwork. This may affect your performance in all your classes.

For that reason, try to evade the drama that happens during high school. If someone says something rude towards you, ignore it. However, if the situation gets dire and you feel that you need to defend yourself, tell the antagonist to be quiet or that they don’t know what they are talking about. When someone insults me or my family, I will find the need to defend myself against their comments.

Another thing that is important to keep in mind is that you should take no notice of the troublemakers in your classes. If you find that your teachers are always calling someone out in your classes, do not talk to them. Keep away from these talkative people so that you won’t be labeled as one of them.

Drama took a toll on my behavior and personality by causing me to be rude and disruptive. I said things that I regretted later and I just want you to not follow in my footsteps. When you are feeling irrational, step away and think before you act. That is all I can say.

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By YUKO USUI | STAFF WRITER

I currently have a nearly endless list consisting of all the changes I want to make in my lifestyle, including those of fashion, attitude and even diet. These goals motivate me to drag myself to class every morning, and since I’m in my third year of high school, I’m finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  

Sometimes, in the midst of my daydreaming I lose sight of the whole year I have ahead of me. As if that isn’t disheartening enough already, I’ve been counting down the days until this treacherous year is over.

Also, it’s true what they say about junior year. It’s a year of H-E-double hockey sticks. The stress of keeping up my grades in my AP classes and doing well on the corresponding tests, the anticipation of achieving satisfactory scores on the SAT, and not to mention the importance of internships and volunteer work (both of which I still have yet to do), all topped off with extra-curriculars are the sources of all of my sleepless nights.

My lack of preparations for these aggravating forms of student enslavement are weighing me down internally. The light at the end of the tunnel is starting to dim, and I’m starting to lose sight of who I really am and what I am doing. 

My personality is starting to resemble that of a hermit and my resistance towards change is growing stronger as I am getting more and more comfortable in the boring, sheltered routine that is my life. Wake up. Go to school. Go home. Do homework. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.  I see less of the world everyday and I haven’t moved a step towards improvement. Through this infinite loop, I am starting to question myself. Can I move on and break out of my shell? Is there hope for me to renovate my future so I can successfully change my identity and move on from my adolescent past?

The “support” from my friends, parents and teachers are all starting to only turn into pressure, and my future is fogging up. I don’t know what I want to do in my life anymore. My attempt to start anew to lead a more exciting life seems to be plummeting into failure, and when I look around I fear that all of my peers are maturing and escalating into success, while I am left behind in the dust of disappointment. 

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By MAILE FOK | STAFF WRITER 

     My favorite rides in Disneyland are Space Mountain, Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, Matterhorn, Indiana Jones, Star Tours and Splash Mountain. They are exciting, fast-paced, and in my opinion, the best rides in the park. They’re always the rides that I plan my day around, making a schedule on which rides to go on first. 

       I have so many fond memories about these rides. I remember skipping violin class every Friday to go to Disneyland with my cousin and aunt. Getting together was always fun, since they live so far away from us. This was also at a time when my cousin’s father recently passed away, so we spent even more time with them to console them. Disneyland itself wouldn’t cheer them up, but our being together would.    

     That’s why Disneyland is a memorable place for us. It represents our time together through the good times and the bad. My cousin, sister and I would try to get soaking wet on Splash Mountain at night, because no one else was crazy enough to get wet in the cold. In addition, I remember the day we didn’t have to wait in line because of my aunt’s wheelchair injury which allowed us to go through the handicapped lines. We also took turns sitting on the wheelchair too. All of us still laugh about that day. 

     However, those magical days have passed. My sister and cousin have gone off to college, and we can only see each other once a week for a couple hours, and that’s only if we squeeze it into our schedules. We meet up to eat before my cousin goes to school and my sister and I go to dance class. But going back to Disneyland sweeps me away to those happy memories of being a kid.

     My cousin, sister, and I used to go to Disneyland every Friday because we all had passes. I remember my sister and always getting so excited on Friday waiting to go. I don’t really know why it became a weekly thing, but it was nice because none of us had to drive really long if we met up at Disneyland, and we all just had fun together. Disneyland would be my escape from the world and work. 

     Just three weeks ago, I went to visit Snow White’s Scary Adventures with my sister. This was one of my favorite rides as a child because Peter Pan’s Flight was, and is, always crowded. My sister and I used to be scared when the stepmother popped out and turned into an old woman. As we went on the ride again, we clutched onto each other and screamed like we always did when we were younger. This reminded us of the days our mother brought us to Disneyland, and this was one of the rides all of us always went on as little kids.

    Disneyland is the happiest place on Earth, but there is always darkness where the light is. Going back brings bright, bittersweet memories of the worry-free days of the past. Nowadays, my days are filled with the darkness of studying and stressful late homework sessions, squeezing more events into my packed schedule, meeting journalism deadlines, rushing to lessons and performances, dealing with crazy teachers and trying to keep a level of sanity.  

     Whenever I can get some free time away from my crazy schedule, I find myself longing to be in the most memorable place in my childhood, and letting its magic sweep me away.

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GRAPHIC/OLIVIA CHANG

By KARISHMA SHAMDASANI | STAFF WRITER

 As a vegetarian, I am aware that my dietary restrictions are self-enforced. Thus, I have sole responsibility to monitor what is on my plate.  

With this is mind, I ventured into Wilson’s lunch line for the second time this school year. Wary of stepping into a line that did not offer anything I could eat, I decided to keep it simple and get a salad—my one absolute guarantee for a meat-free lunch. 

To my frustration, there were no more vegetarian salads and  the lunch lady promptly offered me a salad with tuna. Despite her good intentions, this did not make me feel any better. To clarify, vegetarians do not eat ANY meat, and even though some may eat eggs, those who only eat seafood are categorized as pescatarians. This distinction may seem insignificant and fussy, but it means a great deal to the groups involved; people hate being misunderstood, especially about the things they care about.  

Ultimately, I settled for a salad with bits of chicken I could pick off and—despite the hassle—I was able to finally eat my lunch. The experience left me thinking about the availability of vegetarian options at school, where there are only two options available: a salad or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Still, this is understandable since getting a hot and fresh food at school—even without worry about dietary restrictions—can be difficult.

Yet, I cannot help but feel left out; sulking with a salad is just not as fun as waving around chicken strips. It seems odd that a cutting-edge city, so well-known for accommodating new-age trends, takes a nosedive in this area. An entire group of people, albeit small, has not been recognized and perhaps this is a sign that our community has not fully accepted the vegetarian population. Nevertheless, I have high hopes that in a few years the lunch ladies may be asking, “Would you like a cheese quesadilla or a veggie burger?”

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GRAPHIC/STEPHANIE MA

By YUKO USUI | STAFF WRITER

   Many people often say that laughter is the best medicine, but how much truth lies behind these five words?

   I personally believe that joke-telling must be told with full respect toward the joke itself; each word in the antic is essential. If you’re not going to mean it, why say it?

   Just like an empty apology, an empty joke without proper sentiment behind the voice is dead, lifeless. Laughing at such a pathetic outburst of meaninglessness is just as pathetic as listening to it.

    In my years of obsessing over “lame” jokes, mainly puns, I have acquired many strange looks and reactions that break my heart. Most people’s first impulse upon hearing my puns is laughter, yet they follow the millisecond of satisfaction with a crude comment or two.

   I do not understand why the haters cannot express their true feelings of happiness upon hearing the beauty of my simple-minded humor. They snort, after all, so it would only make sense for them to carry through with their feelings and express it whole-heartedly without any shame!

   Compared to all the tasteless, highly inappropriate jokes that seem popular in today’s society, I think my puns are beautiful.

   Puns are so wonderful; they have multiple meanings and are so magnificently thought out. I am one of the few people I know who can think of puns on the spot in any situations, and I take pride in my “dumb” humor.

   There aren’t many circumstances in which one can say something witty to break the ice on the spot, especially one that can mean so much more than what meets the EARS.  

   I nurture my puns and think of them like my own un-born children, and I honestly take pride in them so greatly that I have cried on numerous occasions after hearing them, both from laughter and from the pure beauty of the art.

   Puns have played such a big role in my life to the point where I am thinking about them nonstop, regardless of whether I’m doing my homework, marching from set-to-set in band rehearsals, watching television, or even when I’m about to sleep.

   When met with nothing to do, I typically look up new jokes and laugh tirelessly for hours on end, while other teens pour their hearts and souls into pitiful statuses on social media sites and aimlessly look up pictures of happy teenage couples holding hands.

   My life has more meaning, if you ask me.

[pawprintsweekly]

By CARINA LEE | STAFF WRITER/GRAPHIC DESIGNER

   “Identity” is defined as possessing unique characteristics held by no other person or thing. If such case is true, I am a character without. I am an identical twin.

   For some unspoken reason, people are under the impression that is acceptable to not only refer to us as pair, but to label my sister and I as “the twins”. Even worse is hearing the passive aggressive, “Hey. Twin.” Depending on the speaker, I considered this as an insult that I had no choice but to reluctantly accept, as evading the black and white truth was rendered as useless. For years I’ve pondered, is a matter of personal convenience more important than making an attempt to distinguish us as individuals? To all strangers, acquaintances, and even some friends, I was not worth my own name.

   For as long as I can remember, I craved to become my own person. In fact, I desired change. I even cut and dyed my beloved hair in a desperate endeavor to become my own individual. Alas, this as a futile effort as more questions were piled on about who had the longer hair.

   As if my prayers were spontaneously answered, there came a time in my life where my sister and I were separated, between schools at least. As ecstatic as I was, to be able to obtain what I inclined so long for, I realized that I was without a companion. I was alone. In that moment, I realized I didn’t have an identity because growing up, I didn’t establish it.

   When meeting new people on my own, I rarely mention the fact that I have an identical twin. Not because of shame or animosity, but because I prefer to establish the identity that I created as an individual, regardless if it is temporal. From my experience, a face and a name are meaningless components if the two are used not in conjunction.

   Be it scandalous gossip or envious praise, I want people to know exactly the person they are referring to. I am not a clone. I am not some sort of package deal or unit. I am my own individual, whether or not people choose to acknowledge that.

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By CINDY KIM | STAFF WRITER

   Many families in America deal with a member who serves for the United States military.

   In my family, my mom works as an Army Chaplain Captain. She joined the army force on February 15, 2011, because she felt the call from God and her friends. The news was unexpected and shocked many of my family members because my mother had no special physical capabilities. I honestly felt unsupportive of her decisions because the idea of a scrawny and weak person  running with the “big dogs” did not seem realistic. My brother and I had numerous questions such as: “Will you being handling a gun?” “Can you meet Mr. Obama?” “Will you get deployed to war countries?” and even serious questions like “Will you be facing death?” Although I try not to think about her facing death, the thought still occurs every time I see her wear the army uniform.

   The constant change of my mom’s training location from state to state has definitely affected my life. At first, it was hard to adjust to the idea that the woman who was always there for me would be gone at certain months of the year. I remember missing my mom during birthdays, Christmas, Mother’s Day and “once in a lifetime events” such as my eighth grade promotion and first day of high school. The absence of my mom’s presence at particular events was not always welcomed but it is always comforting to know that she is protecting the country.

   Next month my mom will be getting deployed to Texas and possibly Kuwait. I feel somewhat disappointed that she will be missing a big portion of my life including my 18th birthday, high school graduation, and college acceptances. Despite all these worries, I am also very proud of her many accomplishments. At a recent training at Wisconsin, my mom was voted the “chaplain of all chaplains” during program. Also, her improvement in running miles proves that hard work really pays off. My mom continually inspires not only her soldiers, but me.

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By VIVIAN KIM | STAFF WRITER

  “Get over it. If you’re going to be sad, be sad by yourself. If you can’t do that, at least pretend to be happy for other people.”

  My older sister went through cancer three times, and my family had too many financial problems to count amongst other issues. With these problems, I was constantly under stress, making me very bitter and cold to everyone around me. 

  The only way I knew how to deal with all of my anxiety and stress was to just cry. I cried over my friends, family and financial problems until finally my mom became sick of me feeling sorry for myself. She told me to just mask my sadness and that no one should ever see me cry, because crying is a sign of weakness and the Kims are not a weak family.

  This hurt me in so many ways, but what hurt the most was the fact that my own mother did not comfort me like other mothers do. 

  After this incident, I always put on a smile for everyone and constantly made jokes to stop myself from crying. 

  Because I constantly masked my feelings, I began to start to repress my feelings. I stopped acknowledging that my problems were actually problems. Instead, I saw them as events that did not and cannot make me feel any emotions. Since I never felt any true emotions, I was never able to feel that warm tingly feeling in your stomach that everyone talks about. I never felt what it was like to be truly happy. 

  I began to forget the true meaning of love and joy from the lack of love and compassion I have felt in my life. To this day, I still wonder if these emotions truly exist.

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By NATALIE ONG | STAFF WRITER

   I remember watching the varsity players practice against one another and I wanted to be like them so badly that I put sports before academics. I came home from school I was exhausted, but I still would motivate myself to continue practicing badminton.

   The first thing I did to improve my abilities was condition. I started by jump roping hundreds of times and then worked on footwork. Afterward, I practiced my swinging form in front of a mirror until my eyes started burning from focusing on my neon colored racquet for such a long time. I received blisters on my thumb and my pinkie; I wrapped bandages around my hand and continued swinging. My own conditioning was harsher than badminton's. I would practice until midnight and start my homework around 1 a.m. after I replenished my energy and showered. I would finally go to sleep around 3 a.m. to 4 a.m.

   In addition to training, I would go to the badminton court on the weekends and play with random people who were better than I was, to try and improve my game. As time went by, I could see improvement in my game.

   As badminton try-outs came up, I was anxious to show how much I had progressed from my off-season training.

   During tryouts when we were given time to play, I noticed a dramatic difference in my skill level. Now I was competing against the varsity starters, not my fellow freshmen.

   For me, this is only the beginning because as continue improving, I know that Wilson isn't the only competition I want to beat.

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Paw Prints Weekly: Volume 46 after first issue.