Senior year! The year that everyone has been dreaming about since kindergarten, the year that is supposed to be the most fun, the year where everything is supposed to be amazing. My class and I have come so far from when we came together in fifth grade at Woodbury to when we started high school, and no one’s excitement to finally be seniors could be contained.

Until now.

Going into this year, I was overwhelmed by every emotion possible. I thought it would be the most fun and exciting beginning of the year. But when I walked into school on the first day, I wanted to tear up. It was the last time I would walk into this building on the first day of school ever. Wearing our class senior shirts, taking pictures in the senior hallways, and signing the windows was surreal. I still remember the first day of freshman year so vividly, seeing all of the seniors who seemed so big and scary. And now, suddenly, I was one of them … It just simply did not feel right.

Entering any conversation with an adult being asked about college or plans for next year has been one of the most frustrating and truly annoying things ever. No one can prepare you for how stressful and scary the college application process is, and having the IBDP on top of it has turned these last few months into the undoubtedly most stressful months of high school for me. 

As much as I want to just graduate and go off to college now, I don’t know if I am truly ready to leave this school and community just yet. This fall sports season has been hands down the most fun yet of my high school experience. Do I play a sport? No. But running the Shaker Spirit Instagram account has boosted the school spirit like crazy, which has been unreal to see. I have made an effort to attend every game I can and get decked out in the student section theme, because I know that these games are some of the last chances I will get to cheer my friends on.

My final homecoming proved a challenge of itself. I never could have imagined waking up at 4:30 am to arrive at school by 5:15 am. But when given the opportunity to be featured on the local Channel 19 CBS News, I knew I had to do it, even if it meant getting only a couple hours of sleep. When I got to school well before the crack of dawn, I honestly did not feel tired; I just felt excited. Being on the news with my friends and classmates getting to shine a spotlight on our incredible school and community was truly one of the most amazing feelings. Even though I did almost completely crash in the middle of 5th period that day, it all was worth it in the end. Shaker’s first ever Friday night homecoming football game was a blast, despite the rain pouring throughout the entire game. And then the Saturday night homecoming dance was finally fun! After not having homecoming my sophomore year and then having the “dividers” last year, this year’s ginormous mosh pit made up for all of lost memories in the dark, sweaty north gym.

These four years have flown by so fast, and the idea of walking across the graduation stage does not seem so far away anymore. As exciting as it is, I am not ready to say goodbye to all my favorite teachers, mentors, advisors, etc. And more importantly, my classmates. We only have a few more months together, and I just want everyone to have the most fun they possibly can, despite all of the stress from college and classes.

I’ve always loved fall. Ever since I was little, I’ve held such a deep emotional connection to fall’s beautiful colors and chilly winds. Some say that it symbolizes the end of something, but I believe that it symbolizes the start. It’s a time of change, growth, and preparation. It’s a time of nostalgia, a reminder of all the falls before. I can’t make fall your favorite season, but I hope I can help you understand why it’s mine. Below I have listed all of my favorite things about fall – and why fall is such a special time for me.

• Fall foliage – There is nothing that makes me more happy than seeing a landscape full of red, yellow, orange, and brown trees.
• Versatility of it’s name – Fall can also go by autumn, which I personally find more delicate and romantic.
• The smell – I don’t exactly know what it is, but it’s that smell in the air when you step outside on a chilly day.
• Reading – Although I typically don’t have a lot of time towards the beginning of the school year to read for fun, fall is the perfect time to read – bonus points if you sit by a warm fire!
• Pumpkins – I love everything pumpkin (except pumpkin pie – but that’s another story). I love baking pumpkin bread, carving pumpkins, and drinking pumpkin lattes. Sure, this may be stereotypical of me, but I can’t help but give in!
• Apples, specifically apple cider or caramel apples – I have so many fond memories of drinking apple cider freshly squeezed on my Grandpa’s farm, or in the home of a close friend. Either way, it’s always comforting. Similarly, caramel apples are always such a fun treat! Caramel is one of my all time favorite sweets and paired with apples is just *mwah*!
• Change in weather – I’m not a huge fan of rainy and cold days, but I love the short period of time when the temperature drops just a little bit and the sun is out shining on all the golden trees – it’s the best time of the year for hikes.
• It reminds me of my childhood – Running through corn mazes, picking apples, going trick-or-treating, eating so much candy corn that I get sick (hence why I don’t like candy corn anymore).
• Taylor Swift – I won’t hide it, I’m a big Swiftie. Fall is arguably the best time of the year to listen to Taylor Swift. Just had to say it.
• Crunchy leaves – I LOVE stepping on crunchy leaves that have fallen to the ground. It is the most satisfying thing ever.
• Comfort – Fall in general is like one big hug. It’s so cozy and comfortable.
• Halloween – It’s one of the only spooky holidays of the year, and you can dress up to be whoever you want!

Anyways, I hope this post made you realize why you love fall too, or at least remind you of some of the good parts about it. If you aren’t excited for fall, just think about what’s right around the corner: snow and the holiday season! 🙂

 

 

(No offense to anyone who is actually a real estate agent. I realize your job is probably more difficult than it seems.)

 

There’s no better way to kill time on the internet than by browsing on Zillow. Whenever I need a break from reality, I turn to real estate listings to feed my imagination. I always enjoy browsing the homes listed for sale in Shaker Heights, or outlandish homes featured on the popular Instagram page @zillowgonewild. But my favorite feature of the website is the sort button: Sort by price, high to low.

Why do I derive so much satisfaction from looking at houses I cannot (and likely never will) afford? For one, Zillow offers me, a broke 17-year-old, a small peek into the lives of the rich and famous. You do not often get to see how the uber-wealthy live because their circles are so exclusive. With Zillow, you not only get to see the ins and outs of a Beverly Hills mansion or an Upper East Side penthouse; there’s a story that comes with each home. The decor of a listed home can tell you so much about who lives there. For example, as I browsed a $17 million dollar apartment in New York, I came across a room filled with–are you ready for it–poop emoji pillows. Why did this person have a room full of poop emoji pillows? Because they own a $17 million dollar apartment, and they can do as they please (I believe it was a 13-year-old boy who owned this home).

Eventually, I decided that it would be amusing to write my own descriptions for houses. What real qualifications does a real estate agent have that I don’t? While I’m only testing out one small part of their job, it made me realize: wow, those women on Selling Sunset are seriously untalented. So, I set off on my own journey to find houses and give my own reviews to my friends for fun. The rest of this blog will be a review of the home pictured. 

~enjoy~

Welcome home! This 6 bed 7 bath residence on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan boasts a full private floor, 18 rooms, an elevator, 12-foot ceilings, and so much more — all for the low price of $39,000,000. You will instantly be charmed by the decor here: portraits of old white people lined the walls, which are quite literally lined with gold. The 1970s called and they want their couch back. I mean this in the best way possible. But seriously, think of all of the entertaining you could do here! I’m never really sure what it means when they say this on HGTV, but I always envision a dinner party with a magician. That is entertainment to me. After a long, hard day of exploiting people on Wall Street, come back to one of your six bedrooms for a long night of restful sleep. And if you’re craving more, GOOD NEWS! There is a separate, $2.5 million guest apartment for sale as well. The perfect quaint space for guests who for some reason couldn’t fit in one of your other bedrooms, and at such a bargain! My only complaint here is that there’s nowhere to park the private jet. I’m sure daddy will buy some space in Central Park for you to build your airport!

 

 

To start, I would like to emphasize how relieved I am to write these blogs again. Spending my entire summer and this school year (up until yesterday) writing college essays has caused me immense suffering. It is extremely difficult for me to come up with and exaggerate the good qualities I possess. I find it obnoxious to write about my positive characteristics and don’t truly believe I have any. With the creative flexibility of these blogs, it is reassuring to do what I love the most: portraying myself horribly. I found the perfect opportunity to be brutally honest about my faults and the situations I have embarrassingly mishandled in my social issues class. My assignment was to fill out “yes” or “no” on a list of questions that asked about things we have done. One example is, “Have you ever cut someone off while driving?” As you can see, the purpose of the questions was to assess both the respondent’s morals and honesty. Unfortunately, I was unable to elaborate on my responses. So, I thought I would take advantage of this forum to go into detail.

I responded with a definite “yes” to the question, “Do you take pictures of people with your cell phone without their permission?” When I was younger, I used to take photos of random people I saw and put them into the FatFace app. As you could predict, the app turns a person’s face into one that is very fat. However, it can also make people bald or old, an effect I often used. I did not attempt to hide the fact that I was photographing strangers, and my parents would often have to apologize. When I photograph random people now, I make sure that they do not know. Whenever I see someone that looks strange or is doing something embarrassing, I ask one of my friends to take a selfie with me. We pose for the selfie but use the back camera instead, allowing me to take a photo of whoever I want without them knowing.

When asked “Do you gossip about others?” I marked “yes” as well. This was an obvious answer for me because other people’s business is all I seem to talk about, even to my closest friends. I resent people who tell me that they would rather discuss their passions, what they find beauty in, what they want to do with their life, and how they want to make a difference in the world. I don’t know why anyone bothers telling themselves they enjoy this; just give me the 411 and move on. I remember reading a quote on a poster in middle school saying that “great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.” My response to this is that if you have a great mind, please never try to discuss anything with me. The last thing I want to hear is someone’s philosophical ideas. I am proud to have a small mind.

I had to write “always” in response to “Do you complain a lot.” A simple “yes” was not sufficient. I see complaining as one of the most vital and beneficial tasks a human can partake in. Its necessity is on par with eating, drinking water, and sleeping. If I go too long without complaining, I enter a destructive phase filled with sadness, anger, and low energy. I think that if I went more than a week without complaining, my hair would start to fall out in chunks and my body would decompose. Some say that complaining is pessimistic and that it ruins one’s mood. But I think pessimism is a positive thing because optimism brings high expectations that will eventually be crushed. By complaining excessively, you will start to exaggerate how poor your circumstances are. If you exaggerate, you can always remind yourself that the reality is not as bad as you make it seem.

One question asked, “Do you refuse to apologize to others, even when you know you were wrong?” By now, you likely would expect that I would say “yes.” But to this, I actually said “no.” I may be an invasive, gossipy, pessimistic complainer, but I am at least aware of it, along with all my other faults. I always talk about my dedication to honesty, and even though it is a positive trait, the point of being honest is not to make yourself look good. This is why it is my favorite aspect of my character. I don’t care how moral I appear to others because I would rather be completely honest. And if everyone were open about their shortcomings, I think people would realize it is okay to have them.

“You said you participate in the IB program, can you expand on that?” My first-ever college admissions interviewer asked me, his brows furrowed as he scribbled notes on the paper in front of him. 

“Yeah, of course,” I answered, the gears of my mind already beginning to spin as I decided how to explain IB. “It’s a 2-year program and it’s super globally focused. You take multiple college courses and do cumulative research in each specialization. You also complete a research thesis over the course of the program. It’s extremely rigorous, but I would say it’s rewarding.” I was almost out of breath when I finished my answer, the taste of word vomit fresh on my tongue. That was my mechanical, rehearsed response, the description I used every time someone of authority asked me about my academic path. IB was tedious and exhausting, but it was ¨rewarding.¨ The long nights of no sleep, the increased stress levels, the constant barrage of assignments, it was all worth it for the sake of pushing myself toward success. I believed that when I said it, and I still do. I just didn’t know why I was saying it. 

“Can you explain why it’s rewarding?” My interviewer pushed. Alarm bells went off in my head. I had never been asked before why IB was beneficial to me. It was always just, “it’s beneficial because it’s a challenge”. It’s beneficial for the purpose of being difficult. It’s meant to propel me forward, and get me into a good college, a good graduate school, and a good job. That’s the narrative that’s always been pushed on me, that I need to attend an ivory-towered university, and that if I don’t, I haven’t done enough. That is why I began in IB, because I perceived it as the most challenging path, and if I succeeded, that would hold more weight. IB, to me, was initially about measuring up and attempting to meet ever-increasing expectations. That is not why I have continued. 

IB, most simply, helped me develop new perspectives. It made my brain work differently. I was given resources to look at history through various lenses. I was able to investigate the intersections between society and the environment. I was able to truly analyze. I was given the opportunity to form my own conclusions, and to make my own opinions. I was encouraged to research topics that haven’t been delved into, to create experiments, rather than recreating the same ones over and over again. My Extended Essay is written about something I’m really, truly interested in- the 1968 Democratic National Convention. IB gave me more control over my education. 

There are countless things I would change about the IB program, especially at Shaker. I want it to become more inclusive and I want the already-involved IBeeks (IB geeks) to feel supported. I want resources to be more equitable. I want the tests not to cost $140.00 a pop. However, I want to emphasize the positives of the program. I want more kids to experience a history class like IB History, or a science class like Environmental Systems and Societies. I don’t want the defeatist attitude surrounding IB to continue to permeate throughout my cohort. I explained all of this to my interviewer, practically rambling. The question he had asked me, seemingly small, had pushed me to evaluate my own viewpoint and to reflect on the reasons I have stayed in the program. 

In my opinion, it’s perfectly normal to dislike a celebrity. While a lot of them have said or done questionable things that would justify people not liking them, sometimes people dislike celebrities for no real reason. That’s how a lot of people probably feel when I talk about the celebrity that I have beef with- Nicholas Kim Coppola, better known as Nicholas Cage.

I think my dislike of Cage is justified. Most people would assume that I dislike him because of his acting or his personality. Not necessarily. In fact, my beef with him goes way back, even before I was born.

For as long as I can remember, my dad would always try to get a thoroughly derailed conversation back on track by saying “I love this conversation right now, but we should get back on topic. I’d take back these past few minutes if I could, but unfortunately Nicholas Cage stole my time machine. So I can’t.” He does this a lot while teaching. A few years ago, I decided to ask my dad about the full story. When did my dad build a time machine? When did Nicholas Cage steal it?

My dad told me that when he was about my age, he built a time machine with his brother. They finished it and were about to use it, only for him to show up, take the time machine, and disappear with it while yelling “thanks, boys!” 40 years later, the Szalay family has not forgiven Nicholas Cage. I most certainly haven’t. I could literally have a time machine in my house! I could use a time machine whenever I wanted! But no. Nicholas just had to take it for himself.

My anger even boiled over to the point where I devised a plan to steal (and by steal, I mean reclaim) the time machine from Cage. The plan involves strawberry milkshakes, my acting skills, and a driver’s license that I don’t have. I explained this plan to my dad using my signature “homemade diagrams,” best described as a collection of the few images that aren’t blocked on the school-issued Chromebooks and stick figures I made using Google Slides. Of course, the whole thing is animated. Despite the fact that this plan hasn’t been carried out (and never will), I think the effort is what counts.

Nicholas Cage, if you happen to be reading this, it’s not too late to give back the time machine. We’ve been waiting for decades. But until then, my beef with Nicholas Cage remains unresolved.

I am not a runner by any means. I have never done track or cross country or even participated in a formal race. I have been running sporadically, usually just two or three miles, for about 4 years, but I was never consistent until recently, so I never improved. In June I started to get more serious, running almost every day and using an app called Strava for pacing and distance. One of my biggest milestones of the summer was running five miles. This may sound like nothing to many actual runners, but I had never managed to run more than three miles in my life, so to me it felt huge. From there I was able to run six, seven, and even eight miles, something I never imagined I would be able to do.

This was very meaningful to me because I don’t often gain pride from physical activity. I have never been very athletic, so this feeling of physical strength and power that comes from pushing myself during a run was entirely foreign to me. It felt amazing to keep seeing the distance increase and the pace decrease. However, I am very careful not to put too much emphasis on either of these things. I try to run for joy, and if on a given day it’s going to make me happier to go slower, than I would rather do that. This is why I love being a hobby runner, because I don’t have coaches pressuring me to be faster or teammates to compete with. I just try to listen to my body, and do what feels right. I also try really hard not to associate running with making my body look a certain way, although I am proud of the muscle I have built.

The start of senior year has been incredibly busy, but I am trying to keep up the habit  throughout the year, because if I have made so much progress four months, I can’t wait to see what I can do in a year. It has been difficult recently, though, and required a lot more discipline, because often the last thing I want to do after a long day of school and extracurriculars is go on a run. I am trying to internalize the idea that any run is better than no run, so trading intensity or distance for consistency is a success. It’s always hard to start, but I have never regretted making myself go, and the feeling afterwards is unbeatable. I love running, and I don’t see myself stopping any time soon.

 

We’re sitting in a ratty diner, the kind lined with red-cushioned booths puffed with yellow foam and stained with the thick smell of burnt eggs and cheap toast. I’m sitting across from Ray, a sleazy business-type I thought died with the 90s, and gazing at the backwards neon Open sign while he feels around for the end of his current bit. Ray moonlights as a stand-up comic, and following a series of consecutive bombings is trying his hand at a routine he calls ‘the everyman,’ which started as an attempt at relatability but has devolved into a form of I-Spy. Every once in a while he stumbles on a line or a joke he thinks is sure to snag an exhale from his mostly elderly crowds and he scrawls it on a drink napkin, slowing his constant tempo for a moment before racing back to speed the next second. 

 

Normally, I’d ignore his brainstorming sessions and get lost in my thoughts and gaze off like a moth at a bright light, but something he said caught me today.

 

“And where’re all the bees?” He started, or maybe continued, I’m not sure, “it’s like, before I’d hear buzzing all the time, now it’s just when I work construction, am I right?”

It’s unclear what he meant to be the punchline. Maybe he’d found a new blue collar audience or something, who knows, but that’s not what I was focused on. The bees? The bees? What was he talking about? It wasn’t the joke that bothered me, it’s that he was right. There really weren’t as many bees as there had been last year or the year before, and every flower I’d seen had been the same wilted shade of brown, like they couldn’t support the weight of their own petals. 

 

“What do you know, it’s not like you study the things.” I spat the words out more spitefully than I’d intended, but it just bothered me, the way he spoke like he knew everything.

 

“I was just pointing out what I saw.” What an awful answer, he meant more by it than that and he knew it. It was a dig, he was trying to make me miserable.

 

“Well why mention it here then, why not just keep it to yourself?” Before I knew it I was shouting, I’m not sure why.

 

“I just—” But one of the neon signs burst before he could finish his sentence, and soon the entire wall was feeding the fire. He kept trying to say something but I couldn’t hear him over the cracking flames and the shouting people, and I think that’s what bothered me the most, that he wouldn’t quit. I kept shouting, nonsense at this point, but aggressively enough that he was glued to his seat, frozen in time. The fire spread along the booths and all four walls were a pale orange and I couldn’t stop shouting. I was standing at this point and he was sitting and the booth caught fire. I blinked because a part of the ceiling fell and he was a wax figure, dissolving into the flames. I got out before it all collapsed.

As someone who’s been emotional and sentimental all my life, there’s nothing I appreciate more than people or experiences that evoke my intense and complex emotional responses. I just love feeling – regardless of whether it’s ‘good’ or ‘bad’. In fact, I’ve begun to agree with Mayim Bialik’s belief that when we truly introspect we realize that success doesn’t feel that much different than failure. Almost everything I feel is somewhere in the broad ‘ok’ range between good and bad, which only makes me appreciate emotions more because it further exposes said intensity and complexity.

So here I am, in my Notes app once again – where writing meets my intrinsic need to reflect as I feel those feelings. The product: A list I’ve created over many years that embodies the experiences and people who give me the ‘best feelings’. They are highs and lows but the ‘best’ nonetheless because I can’t get enough of them when I’m in the moment. They are the experiences I reminisce on when I can’t feel anything and what I seek when the worst feelings start to creep in. They are little secrets that I hope you’ve felt – and maybe even understood to be the best too.

Happy reading 🙂

 

crossing the finish line at a half marathon or xc race

‘pr’ing

dying laughing with people you love over a joke with your specific humor

waking up in the morning without any obligations

watching characters you’ve read about and invested in come to life accurately in a movie or tv show

drinking lots of water and tea or fasting after a week of eating badly

waking up to rain and clouds

long walks with music and someone you love (night or day but especially night)

running in the rain (hot or cold)

buying new clothes and wearing them everywhere

waking up with sore muscles

sleeping in a storm (in the total darkness or with a little nightlight)

staying up late with friends just talking about all the things

getting a really good shuffle on a playlist

walking outside at night into a warm breeze

when you’re around someone so much you both pick up on the way each other talk and your colloquialisms just merge into one

when i see her contact picture come up on my phone

lightning storms (driving in them or watching)

waking up with really good dreams

when you can vividly see the video montage play out in your head to every second of a song

when the one song that you truly wanted to listen to comes up first on the shuffle

morning skinny

fake fighting with your friends

playing a song perfectly on the piano (at home or at a recital)

waking up in the middle of the night and doing stuff (homework, texting people, cleaning) and then sleeping in

having an outward reaction from reading a book and being alone

long hugs with someone you really love

remembering a dream in vivid detail

holding a warm mug of tea when its cold outside

harmonizing well with artists in a song

being validated by someone who is above the law (my piano teacher laura)

opening a can of sparkling water when you’re really thirsty

texting someone that has read receipts on for hours and no one leaves the conversation in between

eating perfectly cooked roasted veggies

reminiscing in detail on a shared memory with someone you love

intuitively recognizing or picking up on artists in songs

having a really good dream you can go back to

cuddling or sleeping with your sibling after catching up on life

rocking a baby to sleep and falling asleep in the chair

getting all of your tears out after an anxiety attack

wearing double layers (leggings and pjs, double hoodies) when it’s not actually that cold but it’s very cozy

singing a song well

being venmoed large sums of money

finishing my hair (after a wash or taking out braids) and going out

the first day that feels like spring seasonally (and days that are perfectly spring after)

memorizing a song and singing it a capella