Monologue

Ever since i was little I always looked forward to growing up. I am the youngest of three and still look up to my older siblings to this day. As I grew up whatever “cool”  thing I did was never as cool as what my older siblings could do. For example, by the time I was finally allowed to go out and stay in front of my house by myself my siblings were allowed to go around the block. When I was allowed to walk to school alone they could stay home alone. Whatever privileges I had they always topped them. My parents always told me that with age comes privileges and because I am the youngest I have to deal with it. Just deal with it? Yeah right.

This childhood issue of mine caused me to make many stupid decisions in my life. One of them happened two years ago during the winter, and i must say, this was by far the worst one. It all started when all of my friends including myself turned 16. Finally, we would all be able to get our permits, one step closer to the real thing. I drove a car before this but never on the street. My  brother would sometimes take me to empty parking lots and let me drive around and that was exciting at first, but soon I found myself wanting more.

One day I decided to do the unthinkable. I decided to sneak out my moms car. My mom works in Manhattan during the week and leaves her car at home. Lucky for me I knew where she had the spare keys hidden. I called up a couple of my friends, told them my master plan, and before I knew it we were all cutting school and on our way to a nearby shopping center. What did you think I was just going to pick them up and drive them around the block? Yeah like that would be enough… I wanted to pick them up and go somewhere, anywhere, just to say I drove my friends here to do something fun. What better thing to do then shop?

Once I parked the car I felt a huge responsibility lifted from my shoulders. I was able to get there without any problems and now I would just have to get back. My friends and I hung out for a couple hours shopped at a few places and by the time it was time to leave I remembered what I had done and the huge responsibility was thrown on top of my shoulders again. As I hopped into the drivers seat I thought to myself how I was a good enough driver to make it there so getting home shouldn’t be a problem. As I drove home I kept boosting my self-confidence and before I knew it I was a block away from my house. Just as this sense of safeness began to fill my body I made the next and last turn to my house.

During the moment everything seemed to be going in slow motion but as I look back at the memory I still cant figure out what went wrong to this day. Mid-turn I noticed that the car was not turning fully and almost gliding on the street. I tried turning the wheel more and more and before I knew it I couldn’t turn anymore. I knew what was about to happen and there was nothing I could have done to stop it. I slammed on the brakes hoping to lessen the damage but it didn’t even help. Before I knew it I slid right into a parked car. Luckily the air bag didn’t come out and the car was still able to run. I quickly turned the car back on and sped away. That one minute of driving back home was the most information that was ever going through my head at the same time in my life. I was hoping that the damage was not too bad and if it was how I could lie my way out of what happened. Before I knew it I parked and thought to myself, okay here it is, the moment of truth. As I turned my head to look at the damage my jaw dropped. The headlight was smashed in to basically the middle of the fender. The grill was smashed and hood dented up. The worst part of it all was that I knew what was damaged on the inside of the car would be twice as bad as the outside.

I slowly came to my senses and decided that there was no way out of this one and called my mom. It felt like every ring that I heard lasted for at least 10 minutes until my mom finally answered the phone. After I told her what happened she didn’t even believe me at first. She thought I was just pulling a prank on her and told me not to mess with her because she was at work. Slowly but surely she began to realize it was the farthest thing from a joke.

The cost of repair turned out to be $2,500 and I ended up working the rest of the year into the summer to pay back my mom. That was the longest summer of my life. To this day I look back at this memory as not something stupid that I did but more as a lesson. I am not sure what that one lesson is, but there are plenty of lessons to be learned from this experience and I am positive it is a very important one. I just hope the owner of the car I hit doesn’t read this and find out it was me. That would be one long summer that I would NOT be looking forward to…

I’ve racked my brain pretty hard for this story as I’ve usually kept my life boring or as simple as can be. Although I do remember one time in high school, where me and one of my friends were sparing with 2 meter long sticks we found in the room. Now we were cutting class and staying in the computer room of the school, our domain as we were the technicians of the school. So we were bored we started sparing. Now we had done this many times before just for fun, where we would block attack and if we managed to hit the other person we would back away and start over. However this time was different. We started off like usual. However one particular strike left my friend cursing in pain. he was holding his hand, when uncovered his thumb was swollen. At this point we were due to go to our next class. While me and some of my spectating friends went to class, my sparring partner went to the nurse. An hour later I see him again with one of those small casts on his thumb. It turns out I broke his thumb. So after that he stopped sparring with me or anyone else for that matter.

Something that happened to me which made me more aware of my surroundings and taught me that I have to act/think fast in certain situations occurred not too long ago. I was a counselor at an afterschool program and I was on a school bus picking up kids from school. When I picked up all of my kids, the other counselor and I got them all back on the bus and we were headed back to our community center. All of a sudden, the bus makes a wide turn and I see an elderly woman standing right in the middle of the street. I scream STOP! just a second before I hear a loud THUMP! and I immediately understood what happened. I screamed and the bus driver realized what had happened. He told me to get all of the kids off the bus and call 911. I tried to get the kids off the bus as quickly as I could without the fear and panic being too visible on my face, but the kids saw right through it. They all started to cry and look frightened as they all curiously surrounded the womans body and the pool of blood around her. This was the first time I had to make a 911 call for anything and in a couple of minutes the fire department, police, and ambulance arrived. The kids were all panicked so they all looked up to me to help calm them down. I realized how can I do that if I myself am a complete wreck. I told myself to keep it together as I successfully got all the kids away from the incident and back inside our community center.

Coming into high school, I had a strong desire to join a sports team. Soccer was my favorite sport. But, having no more of a experience than playing casually with my friends, it was obvious that I could not make the team. I won’t even bother explaining my “excuses” for other sports. So I had no choice but to join the Track team, the “infamous” walk-on sport team of the school. Afterall, you only had to do “one” thing. Run fast. However, I learned, with my body, that running fast wasn’t the easiest thing to do. On the first day of practice, coach made us run a 400M run. He told us to take it “nice and easy”. Back then, I did not know coach meant to pace yourself. So, as soon as coach blew his whistle, I ran as fast as I could, and to my surprise there was no one obstructing my view. Then I thought, “Hey, I am fast!”. How naive I was.  I kept running at full speed and it wasn’t long before I passed the 100M mark. Soon enough, both of my legs pleaded me to stop. I began to feel pain everywhere from the tip of my toe up to my hamstrings. My breathing also started to fail and I began to puff for air. However, I did not stop running. I kept on going even though I thought I would collapse at any moment. At this point, I honestly cant say I was running, I think my speed was similar to that of “crawling”. I struggled and managed to finish the run. As soon as I stopped, everything turned white for about five seconds and I thought I was going to faint. Needless to say, I came in last. To add, I did not know until the next day that walking upstairs from basement of my school to the third floor was such a pain in the @#%.

It all started during my high school years. When I entered Townsend Harris High School I disliked it right away. I wanted to transfer but I never did and after surviving my freshman year I realized that I would regret not experiencing the different things my school actually offered. I wanted to try everything possible to make my high school years memorable and of course to put on my college application.

I remember freshman year how I wanted to join Track but I was always too afraid because I thought I wouldn’t be fast enough. Therefore, I ignored it for another three years until after going to one of the meets to watch my friend. Then and there I knew I had to give it a try. It’s better to try once than to not try at all. It was during my last few months of junior year that I joined. It was the start of outdoor season.

I was never a long distance runner so I was a sprinter. I would go to practices and do tons of drills. Then it finally came time to go to my first meet. It was different and it was new. I couldn’t believe that I was here. I didn’t do too well during my first meet but everything happened at Queens Champs. We were all patiently waiting for our heat to go. When it was my turn I got really nervous. I felt all jumpy and I looked at all the girls on my right and left. They seemed confident, like they’ve been doing this for years, which they probably have.

When the gun fired we all sprinted forward. It was only a 200-meter race but some of these girls can run. I put in all my effort but one by one girls started to pass me right away. I thought to myself ‘I can do this.’ Honestly, I actually didn’t want to be last. I ran as fast as I could and slowly I started to pass the girl in front of me. It was a great feeling and it pumped me up to pass the next girl as well. I was on a roll and I kept passing everyone. I even beat my time from the last race I did. At the end of the day I felt accomplished.

Imagine this: if you lose your footing you are dead.  That is reality on some of the more extreme polish hiking trails.

I visit Poland during the summer roughly every year, and this visit usually encompasses trekking on some mountain trails.  My mom and aunt usually take me on some trails which are more or less just a steep path winding around a mountain.  But because of my lack of interest in these non-exciting trails, my cousin (whose name also happens to be Jack) promised to take me on a path that’s more… engaging.

So a month into summer we get up nice and early and drive over to a mountain my cousin promised would not be boring for me.  The approach to the mountain and the beginning of the trail were nothing more than what I was used to, a steep trail in the wilderness.  But as we continued on, I realized that this trail would be exciting.  A lot of narrow ledges and big gaps in the trail started showing up.  Now this excited me.  And as usual I would challenge myself by leaping over the gaps and traversing the ledges unsupported by the chains that are anchored to the mountainside that you are supposed to use.

This was fine until I lost my footing near one of the gaps in the trail.  Now this wasn’t any ordinary three foot hole in the trail or anything.  It was a narrow ledge that literally had a three foot section missing.  If you were to fall in that section there would be nothing that you could grab onto to prevent you from tumbling down the mountainside.  Trees don’t even grow at the altitude we had reached.  And instead of taking it slowly I jumped the gap, but there were loose rocks were I had taken my final step and launched into my jump, so I came up short on the other side.  My first leg slid just short off of the edge of the other side, but thankfully I was able to catch myself in this awkward position where I was half squatting on the edge of the gap with my other leg.  Needless to say I began to make use of the chains provided and generally took dangerous areas slower for the rest of the day.  I don’t know if I would have died if I had fallen, but that drop did not look pleasant at all.  My cousin just looked at me with an “I told you so” look on his face, but it was funny because on our way down from the summit he got himself into a similar situation when descending too fast.

So I honestly I no clue what to talk about because I really am not someone who can come up with anything off the top of the head or random stories. It took me really long to figure this out, which is why I am posting this on the day before the actual reading. So it finally came to mind that I should talk about one of my many embarrassing moments.
So basically throughout my life, I’ve had some pretty embarrassing moments and to say them all would probably take me forever and a day. But one that really sticks out in my memory was something having to do with my pants dropping to the floor. I do not know if any of you guys have ever experienced this, but everyone looking at you in your underwear, yea not a good feeling.
Well the memory that most comes to mind is back in 9th grade during JV basketball. It was a rivalry game at home and the stands were packed, even though my school is really really small. Well it was about to be halftime and we were losing by a basket or two i can’t remember that, but before the game i had a big situation. My shorts strings were stuck in a knot i could not take out. I already had the shorts on in the locker room and i did not have enough time to take it off and ask someone to do it for me. I would have asked while i had them on, but that would look a little suspect. So i figured if i folded them over, it would not be as loose and i would be fine because it was not falling off as i was standing in the locker room. Mind you the shorts were an inch or two above my knees, no bueno.
The whole game i was running up and down the court with my hands holding these shorts up and it came to another situation where i had to choose between scoring this bucket or holding up the shorts. For sure coach would be upset if i didn’t put the rebound back up and score on the layup, so i did what i had to do. Next thing you know, my shorts were on the ground. I could not help but put my head down and run back on defense with shame. The whole crowd had seen my drawers.
To make it worse, at halftime our Athletic Director came in and yelled at the whole team as other players shorts were drooping. But he singled me out saying he had no problem letting my mother know of this “humiliation” we put our School name under. All in all, it had to be one of the most embarrassing moments in my life, something i won’t forget.

I have always viewed myself as just the artsy girl, who sang in chorus, worked in interior design galas, exhibited her art in a MoMA program, and made a bra out of Victoria Secret shopping bags. Strenuous, competitive sports were never my forte. But in the summer of 2009, I found out about dragon boating through my internship. The practices were held at Flushing Meadows Park every weekend and the team had a month to get into shape before the Dragon Boat Festival. I would’ve never caved into joining if it weren’t for peer pressure and the decision to be spontaneous.

Dragon boating, despite the peculiar name, is a very demanding sport. I woke up at 6 in the morning and traveled 2 hours to practice. Our team consisted of a drummer to keep us in sync, a sweeper to steer, and 12 paddlers, 6 on each side. I was a left side paddler. When you first get on the boat, it was wobbly and unstable and there was green gunk everywhere. water was murky and smelled putrid. Despite the Youtube videos I watched beforehand, paddling was not as easy as it looked. Your arms had to be raised to a certain height above you head, your elbow had to be at a certain angle, your paddle had to be parallel to the boat, and it can’t be too deep or too shallow into the water. The hardest part of all was pacing with your teammates because if you fall out of sync, you will hit the paddler either in front of back of you, which will drag down the whole boat. My arms and back were sore beyond relief and there were blisters all over my hand. I decided to quit. On the verge of giving up, my mom told me that, not only will I let the team down, but I’m proving to others and myself that I am weak and a failure. I had too much pride for that. So the next morning, despite the pain and exhaustion, I hauled myself out and gave it a second chance. So for a whole month, I rowed as well as I could. I began to realize that my body was adapting and that this sport was exhilarating. When you put your mind into rowing, your stress disappears and everything is a happy blur. It’s the adrenaline rush when your whole team is rowing together and every single one of your teammates is sweating the same amount of effort as you. It’s the bond you share on and off the boat. It’s the knowledge of knowing you’re doing something good for your mind and body. In the festival, we placed third in a friendly competition. Winning would’ve been nice but I was proud for doing something I never thought I was capable of and having such a fun and insightful experience.

Afterwards, the team disbanded but I decided to try for a more competitive team. The first day of practice for this new team was pure agony because they were professionals. We rowed through dead fish and geese for 3 hours STRAIGHT. As soon as we docked, we had to do pull ups, sit ups, and push ups. My whole body was numb. But unlike my first experience with dragon boating practice, I embraced this pain because I know I’m could get through it. Even though I’ve stopped dragon boating for a year now, I never forgot the emotional and physical experiences I had and how it changed me. I’m actually thinking about rejoining this summer.

Around two summers ago, my friend James and I had been ceaselessly excited–the reason?  In about a week from then, we would be heading upstate to one of his relative’s summer homes.  The area was enveloped in a thick wood, with a rather large lake a few miles north.  While we initially couldn’t wait to leave, with time, we would realize that the experience would be more excitement than we could handle.

When we arrived to the house, we were informed that there was a wonderful picnic spot by the lake–and his uncle insisted we head up there with family and friends.  Without hesitation, James and I agreed and packed our bags meticulously.  We were escorted to the lake on foot, walking through the thick, trailless woods.  The picnic itself was a wonderful experience–as I was immersed in the dissonant songs of nature and the gentle touch of the cool breeze.  After eating, both James and I explored the nearby woods until twilight approached.  On our walk back to the picnic site, we realized we could no longer hear the chatter and laughter as we did before. To our disbelief, when we finally returned, everyone was gone.  It had been as if they all forgot about us, and as we had no service on our phones, there was no way of contacting anyone.

I immediately noticed the panic treading through James, as sweat began dripping from his head and his hands began to shake.  I remained calm and thought logically about the predicament at hand, as panic would not achieve anything.  With no other option, we went back into the woods and walked slowly in the general direction we came from.  James’ fear eventually led to anger and resent–he was clearly too emotionally involved to help at all.  Through basic navigational techniques, I realized the sun was setting, ergo wherever the sun was, that was west.  I was able to verify the direction, and reinforce my position when I noticed that moss was growing thicker on one side of the trees–which indicates we were heading north.  Knowing that the way back was northeast, I was able to gain a step forward;  I simply thought about the situation rationally, and hoped for the best.

With both these navigational concepts in mind, I successfully got back to the house safely, with a calm and collected attitude.  James began to calm down when he noticed we were there, and his relatives apologized, as they assumed we followed them.  Although the experience may have initially been a traumatic one, in retrospect, the both of us simply laugh it off and treat it as another addition to our vast collection of life experiences.

jolly & carefree, love for friends & always encouraging (:

I used to be on a crew team, and it was a co-ed youth team. It was my first summer on the youth team, with zero experience. The seating arrangement depended on one’s skill level. So if I were experienced, I would sit towards the front of the boat, but since I was new, I sat at the end of the boat. The people in the front were called Pacers, people in the middle were called the Engine, and people at the end were called the Rocket.

My team had a tradition of team bonding after every practice. We did things like going to eat brunch, singing at karaoke places, shooting pool, or going to the manager’s house to play games. Everyone seemed really nice and easy to get along with at first. Then as I got to know the people on the team more, I realized that people on this team were extremely arrogant and competitive. I specifically remember this one guy that I met: he would always put down the new youth, saying how we are really bad at this sport. He would belittle us and act a if he was the coach. I disliked this guy so much.

I started to get competitive myself, and I was determined to prove to that guy that the newbies got skills too. I went out to every practice – four times a week, twice in the evening and twice in the early morning. By early I do not mean 10a.m. I meant practice was at 7a.m., and I had to leave my house 5p.m., so that meant I had to wake up at 4 in the morning! I always went to practice early too, so that I can get extra advice on rowing techniques from my coach.

Week by week, I was moved up row by row: from Rocket to Engine to third row Pacer. By the end of the summer, which was two months from when I first started, I was placed as row one Pacer. I felt so empowered at that moment when my coach read off the roaster for the New York race that was scheduled in a week. I was finally able to prove to the guy that I disliked that he was wrong about the new youths.