It's getting chill in November...

Returning from Sunday school and mass, I wrote on Aaron's timeline, wishing him a happy birthday. Lately, I've been catching up on my online classes as I enjoy my weekend. Through research, besides the Silversea expeditions, I discovered Travel with WWF. It seems adventurous; what I think life is worth living for. As of yesterday, there's a poem I'd like to share, one that I submitted for English honors that had to have a tragic ending.                                                                                       

Defiant Drusilla
Sometimes with materialistic glee,

one isn't bound to liberty,

to make choices of theirs,

when they are entitled heirs.

 

There on the throne sits an heiress,

and although she sinks in cheerfulness,

her happiness in love was far much less,

when her marriage fell into a loveless mess.

 

Her family thirst for royalty like light of dawn,

that her life was destined to take part as a pawn,

and so away into the woods she ran,

and there she found a caring man.

 

Preferring her new life instead of old,

her audacious moves were disobediently bold,

She ran from everything once precious like gold,

to find new treasures misunderstood if told.

 

The life she found was on a thread,

but so much better than when married,

for if she stayed indulging elegance instead,

someday the king might decide to take her head,

 

Her betrayal has brought revenge,

and only by her husband would she be daggered,

to please him as it was his amends,

to separate her and her other man in different worlds.

 

To his kingdom there he rids of the faithless,

for it was under his law to enforce morals,

but past him would he never guess,

that his wife cursed him with laurels.

 

                   A new age finds grace,
                                      In the evening of November,
                                                        Dressed in dignifying lace,
                                                                   An enigma to remember.

Where's the climax gone?

What's the difference between these photos?

Everything that was pulled together was shattered.

 

Time, running to no end. The chapter just descends.

With fleeting rain, the clouds empathize.
History seems accurate when I replay, realize.

There is one that still remain, and the settings as it were.

Trust took its bounds, and I stepped from silver.
Three gems, two distant, one in town.

Precipitation tells of a tale once sound.
The instability rests and return.

Towards those that in my mind, I discern.
Clarity triggers one's becoming maist lorn.

Enduring novelty, embraced by quaint thorns.

 

 

 

July. Ever has a morning been of such worth to note.

The raindrops splayed all over the window glass. Its clear, hydrating mist unaffecting, but just cascading assymetrically downwards. The pale, vanilla skies invites a feminine coziness, of the heavens consoling, subsiding the melancholy dawn. The mango trees are still, swaying only by breeze, the featherweight unseen. The light, ravishing and radiant, but soft, has it never harsh, peered through the crevice of my blinds. The flourescent faints, and the windows with its light, brings the gray shades of my white painted wall to art. How unmatched this sight has become.... the vanilla skies and the gray shades.... the mist then disappears...

College research

                 

 

Lit essay

How will the SUNY-ESF majors you have listed... fulfill your educational and career goals?

     Conservation Biology. Two words can mean a lot, depending on the type of person reading it. Images swirl about in my mind, those images of lively vertebrates grazing in the savannah, the valleys, among other landscapes unnamed. These thoughts composes neverending amazement in its existence. It stirs my curiosity of the possibility of conserving the environment and the life within it. SUNY College of Environmental Sciences and Forestry's "Conservation Biology" major will fulfill my educational and career goals by teaching me methods of conservation, of which I yearn to learn and an accurate focus on a specialization of biology, both of which prepares me to become a conservation novelist.
      Due to urbanization and an increase in population, it is distressful to see the recession of conservation. Technological advances promote the habitual essentials of human life, but at what cost? We, an aftermath species of evolution, should do the least to halt our vanishing terra, and the life yet to borne. There are inventors, however, in comprehension of our advancement, design materials that complements our other indispensable possessions. I've learned to carry canvas bags in place of grocery bags, and replenish my coolness from travel mugs instead of plastic bottles. The benefit in conservation can also be humane. I've read once in a science article that because we touch plastic everyday and in unavoidable situations relating to our roles in society, plastic can get into our blood. So while I consider silverware, it comes into question that there may be other methods to conserve.
      This accurate concentration of biology gravely appeals to me, as evidenced by its guidelines set to unravel my environmental conscience and drive to sprout preservation for the kingdoms animalia and plantae. Most schools establish biology in its list of majors. General biology, to refer accurately and indefinitely. This field of study is a trace of multidisciplinary sciences of life. Conservation biology devotes specifically to restoring the glory to both biotic and abiotic factors without interference of complicating distractions, such as physiology and psychobiology. My environmental conscience, in hypothesis, would expand if biology is solely based on conservation along. Upon the impulses and willingness to conserve, it brings preservation, concluding as a shield to the kingdoms and ecosystems.
     As a future conservation biology major, I've brought over and idealize a self-designed career as a conservation novelist, a phenomenon of English and science, sourced from past experiences involving literature and observations. I believe that most people don't see the dangers of being overly materialistic; in fact, it believably serves as a gain to them. If I could intersect health crises and the unsolved issues of conservation, it might spill emotions from people to care. From realistic fiction with intuitive narratives to melodramatic dystopias, the possibilities appear far into infinity. Majoring in conservation biology could be a route to becoming a conservation novelist, who therefore erupts change through fiction by introducing prospective wreckage.
     There are many fascinating majors offered out there. But I chose what I thought would bring the most potential to my lifestyle, and more so, to my career. Undecided applicants would choose their baccalaureate programs as a BSc in Biology, being unsure of their graduate plans. Conservation biology is a major that will leave my education dreams unforgotten and makes my career of certainty.

Writing Sample

Explain how being weird inspires you originality.

 

            Weird. It was the one word that has haunted my childhood. Flipping through a slideshow of photos on my labtop's library of photos, I recollected past memories without intending to. I never thought that my "weird" personality and interests would categorize into originality; that is, until leaving middle school did I begin to realize that being weird led me to where I am today. Despite the taunts, teasing, satire, and sarcasm, I wouldn't alter my history because it made me grow strong thereafter. Being Weird inspires my originality by the interests that I've taken, and the life experiences that I've encountered, thereby revealing that abnormality could be the north star to my trail of cognition.

             My weirdness traces back to the interests I've taken, as evidenced by the summers I've spent circa 2006 to present times and the hobbies I've acquired through the vast amount of time as an underage individual. Whether I am on summer vacation or not, I always have books nearby because there will always be a point in time where I will become weary of idle chatter. Ere my pre-sophomore year, I packed up about twenty novels or so in my backpack to bring along with me to the Bahamas. Unfortunately, my aunt declared that the Bahamas isn't an isolated island and that I should just take a novel with me, to which I inarguably fell into compliance. During my second year in middle school, I started to study Latin. It was then that I began to read about the Parthenon as well, and undeniably, I was fascinated by the ancient Mediterranean legacies and myths. I once mentioned studying Latin to my peers, to which few thought was interesting and many have responded, 'It's a dead language.' I don't exactly see how Latin is dead, with the exception that we don't regularly speak it in society. Note that universities' mottos are mostly in Latin and there are many students that major in it annually. Nevertheless, contradicting other people's beliefs would only give them another reason to claim that I'm weird. I do not, or rather am not, a branch diverging from the common crowd, and have not found reason to be so.

              I think that being weird brings the life experiences that I've encountered and still does, as evidenced by the events that collide around mu dedication to college preparation and the actions that ignite my devotion to motivation, all of which indicates ecstatic unexpectancies spiraling to a sequel of originality. A year ago, I discovered Lund University, where I'd like to study abroad for a semester or two in agreement from my home college or university. It was then that I became trilingual, since I wasn't fluent in Latin. As I crafted my proficiency in advance for studying abroad, I had some observative friends who muttered, or considered me weird. On December 27, 2012 during Winter Break, I was at Barnes & Noble when I didn't feel like such a misfit. There I met two sisters from Karlskrona, a city nearby Lund and introduced ourselves to one another. I recognized what they were saying and luckily, the older sister was fluent in English in case I lost my words. Supposedly, my so-called "abnormality" intersects with memorable reminiscences. The College Board had agglomerated the shards of my devotion to college-bound motivation and additionally made a couple of my friends think that I'm weird. As a sophomore, I took that SAT and found out that I was eligible for the Florida Academic Scholars (scholarship), irrespective of my terrible score. Then approximately two months later, I took the SAT Subject Tests and felt like I did well, although certain classmates who thought that my actions, such as registering for the SAT I and SAT II early, was weird, expected me to not do well. Yes, I will admit that I am not perfect, nor was perfection ever my target. Originality is. Being original is my method of being prepared. While I tend to associate being original with being weird, I won't regret taking my devotion as far as testing twice for three hours in a frigid classroom.

              Weird accompanies the notion of withdrawn. From society. From relatives. Weird is an abstract adjective, only depicted when expressed. It brings a vile gift of inescapable solitude. There is always a silent inquiry for understanding within me. In spite of this, being weird has its pleasant opportunities. I used to read classics in middle school, and especially loved the novels written by the Brontë sisters, which inspired me to write a shrinklit for the literary fair, to which I was awarded second place.

                The idea of being weird does not spook me anymore. It has grown to become my shadow, and I've learned to accept it; I have converted its title to "individualized originality." Another element has began to intertwine with being weird——genuine novelty——crocheting timelessness with contemporary, further enforcing the infinitely sprouting originality. If I wasn't a subject to originality, then all of those interests, archery for instance, wouldn't exist and those nostalgic occurrences neither. Originality elevates me to an extensive lake of perception, and being weird inspires it all along.

Spring to tests...

Testing schedules (were passed out yesterday morning) and Spring tension. This brings me to late-night studies and whatever so I wish. This Saturday, I will be taking my SAT Subject tests. May's the testing month, April was also about testing, but mostly for the underclassmen and  those tests were based on essential academic abilities or prerequisites. Time is extended for advanced tests. Trying to prepare these tests and doing my online homework isn't that easy, but it's possible with time management. Time was lost today, however, when I went to Barnes & Noble to get a Sparknotes SAT Biology book. Despite the shortage of time I currently have for studying, I am stirred with excitement to obtain these supportive resources. I'm going to tab tonight with one of my late-night studies. 12 hours from now, I'll be sitting in class taking my AICE Marine Science final part 1. I remember in Harry Potter when Hermione had a clock that she could rewind to change time for her studies. I really need that at this moment, but it's fictional. Earlier, afterschool, I was at an AICE General Paper review session, as I attended the one from yesterday with the seniors as well.

Ten days break, scientific discoveries to make

This Spring Break's is actually, ironic to its name, not a really a break.... That is, unless one considers getting through a stack of assignments a break from timewasting. Well, sometimes as I sort through my to-do list for school, I find new things to take interest in. For AICE General Paper, we're going to choose an article to read from the Washington Post or the New York Times.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/dreams-reveal-some-of-their-secrets-but-much-remains-undiscovered/2013/03/11/31f83518-6fcb-11e2-aa58-243de81040ba_story.html
http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/i-opened-my-laptop-and-my-eyes-snapped-shut/2012/03/13/gIQA6UPbcS_story.html
http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/home/new-batch-of-apps-for-bird-watchers-aim-to-make-experience-more-interactive/2013/03/05/c01695a8-7c58-11e2-9a75-dab0201670da_story.html
http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/ocean-acidification-emerges-as-new-climate-threat/2012/09/30/8457e6e8-08b8-11e2-afff-d6c7f20a83bf_story.html

2013, and a week well ended

It's Friday, February 8th. After our principal minimized our time between classes, everyone's been rushing through the halls as if a tsunami's coming. It was just yesterday when I thought, 'High school's getting worse.' and today that's changed it. My morning's gone well. A short packet in thinking skills and a subsitute. There was also a substitute for journalism honors, and we had to create a crossword puzzle for our journalism terms; while that went on, Hannah mentioned that someone spelled, 'intelligent.' wrong and she laughed at that irony. There was a test in history, and then AICE Marine Science. The bell rang, and Mr. Montenegro had to close to door. Just as the door was closing, everyone from building 17 walked in. It was a relief because before that, the class seems half-empty. While teaching, Mr. Monte placed a cup of colored gel-liquid onto a string-tied wood raft, and swung it to explain. At one point, the cup fell off and spilled. After it was cleaned up, he tried it again with a different cup, same substance, which didn't spill, but the class was frightened enough. He also held a water balloon and everyone's staring at it as if something's going to happen. That's how we remember inertia. In AICE General Paper, Mrs. Hautigan let us practice grammar mugshots like what we usually do in journalism, and when we're volunteering to speak of making corrections, I said to put a comma between the first adjective and the second. Mrs. Hautigan asked me to explain why and I replied, 'That's what I've been taught in thinking skills.', so she gave me a second chance to explain. I said, 'It's the rule of the ACT.' In 7th period, Mrs. Scher told us to draw a person and we did. My person looked out as if she was daydreaming, or looking into the future, had the same hair length as me, and we dressed almost alike. We then spent time starting our projects. Sheets of paper were snipped into squares and rectangles, and we were to ask our peers to write down something about our personality. I've got a lot of people that wrote for me, as I for them. There were people who knew me that volunteered to write after dismissal. Tonight I'm watching a new episode on t.v., then read a eastern Euro translated novel. Yesterday, I had a rented car ride, was tutored at Barnes & Nobles, and snacked on many cups of yogurts from different origins. Yesterday morning, Alyssa gave me my admissions ticket for SAT testing.
P.S. I watched Nashville and First Aid Kit's Emmylou was the background music towards the end of the episode! My show crossed with my song!