Category: Writing
Pathway to Success
Pathway to Success
By: Sreya Palnati
I remember that day perfectly,
Tears running down my face.
Dead cold stares on me,
A shattered grey vase.
Impossible, you say,
This dream of mine I’m dreaming.
But I’ve got lots of hope,
I’ve done some persevering.
Some days being fun with happy rainbows,
Other days filled with sadness.
I didn’t what was going on,
Or how do deal with this madness.
One day you told me about a song,
How it might help.
But then you never let me hear it,
Letting me feel the feelings I felt.
Soon I find out about a poem,
That shows me the pathway,
A very important one indeed.
Now I see everything in color instead of only grey.
We’re grown up now,
We know a little more too.
You know I’m living the life
That you’ve always wanted to.
Being Harish Karumuri
Being Harish Karumuri
When I first picked up Being Henry David by Cal Armistead through my club, Battle of the Books, I groaned. I was tired of these books about some guy who I don’t even know having amnesia who is trying to find out who he was. I mean, really? This is not a bad concept, but it is so overdone that the genre is no longer interesting. But then I started reading the first page. And the second. And the third. Before I knew it, I was reading the last page of the book, staying up until 2 o’clock in the morning to finish it.
The book is very well written, using a sense of living life to its fullest, feeling loss, and joy of a person trying to find out who he really is. This also has a scenario of what to do when life is controlling you, not the other way around.
The main character, who goes by many different names, but mainly as a character named “Hank”, wakes up at Penn Station without knowing who he is. The first person he sees is a psychopath named “Frankie,” a guy who will eat anything from ID cards to wallets and pages of books. The only items Hank has are a 10 dollar bill and a book called, “Walden” by Henry David Thoreau, an abolitionist with many careers such as an author and a poet. Thoreau has a major effect on the book by giving Hank a pathway through the story, giving him a person to connect and feel to, especially when no one was with him. This book personifies a quote by Thoreau; “Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.”
A good component of the story is the adventure. Hank has no idea about who he is or where he is from, but tries to figure out when life starts to stress him out, especially when he accidentally kills someone. Led by the book in his hands, he goes to Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts in order to see if he can remember who he is.
The upbeat part of the story is when Hank meets a person named Jack, who gives him shelter, food, and a job at the library. He then befriends many people, and even gets a girlfriend. Life seems to be simple, and most of all, he seems to be happy. However, he still goes searching for who he is and wants to figure out how he got to the place he was at now. Throughout the book, there seems to be a struggle between himself and a “beast” that seems to guard his memory and prevent him from remembering his past. However, once he finally gets information about himself, he freaks out trying to figure out what he should do next.
The end was very beautiful, as he begins to see everything come through. In spite of the hardships to leaving this new life, he decides to go back to who he really was and live his old life. That “struggle” is what makes the entire story very well written and enjoyable to read. This was one of those moments where I wished I could cry. It was just that moving.
As I mentioned before, the story gives a meaning behind “build your life”. You have control of your life; your life does not control you.
I feel that a story is made through emotions, actions, and interactions. The emotions are what the person is thinking behind his actions, and those actions lead into interactions with other people, other objects, and themselves. Cal Armstead has used those components very well making the book have an uplifting feeling inside of you after seeing or witnessing something emotional and inspiring.
I clearly remember the feeling that I got after I finished reading the book. I was struggling to go to sleep as the thoughts I had about the book were swirling through my head. I was and am truly glad about joining the club and deciding to give the book a shot.
As Thoreau said in Walden, “However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man’s abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace.” This quote is the meaning behind this story and for that reason, and the reasons before, I highly recommend anyone and everyone to read this book.
Missing Slippers
By: Sreya Palnati
I wake up to the sound of an awfully loud airplane. As I roll out of bed, I take a quick glance at the clock and realize that I am thirty minutes behind my schedule! I loudly groan as I make my way through the maze of bed sheets, comforters, and pillows. As soon as my feet touch the bare ground (at the precise location where I had placed my baby pink laced slippers the night before), a wave of coldness washes through me as if I were getting frostbite starting with my feet. “Slippers, where are my SLIPPERS?” I yell. I make sure to yell the “slippers” part louder so that my sister across the hall can hear. Little Jessica is seven and we pretty much hate each other. In fact, I can’t remember a time when we weren’t fighting. This is one of the pranks she likes to pull on me; she takes my slippers in the morning because she knows that I hate it when my feet get cold! Little kids! So immature! Jessica comes skipping down the hall like little red riding hood, skipping through the woods just in time to see her grandmother eaten by the wolf. This was the third time this week that she played this prank on me and I can’t believe that I forgot to check for my slippers again.
“Yes, my dear sister? What do you need?” she says in such a sweet, mocking tone, which kind of surprises me because I didn’t know someone so evil could talk that way.
“STOP TAKING MY SLIPPERS!!!” I scream at her.
“What slippers? You can’t blame me for everything Sophia.” she says with a mischievous smile and skips back out of the room. Again, so immature! I would’ve run after her, but at this point I really didn’t have the time. I walk into my bathroom and stop in my tracks. Tiny red handprints are scattered all over my bathroom floor and walls. As I trace the footprints to find the source, I open the curtains and gasp. I find my two year old baby brother sitting with his legs crossed and hands spread out wide. His hands are covered in red, just like the rest of his body. For a second, I thought it was blood and got really scared.
Then, he giggles and says, “Paint!” He recently learned that word and it seems like he’s using it everywhere he goes.
“Mom!” I shout.
A few seconds later, my mom appears saying, “What’s the problem?” She too, gasps when she sees the mess. Then, I tell her the story of how I found Tommy like this in the tub covered in red paint. She shakes her head and tells me to just take a bath in Jessica’s bathroom.
“What??? But her bathroom is super small and it’s way too bright and–”
“Honey, please it’s just one morning.” She seems tired and has black circles under her eyes.
“Fine!” I say and stomp my way over Jessica’s bathroom.
“What are you doing here? I told you I didn’t take your slippers. Just leave me alone!” she said.
“I’m not here about the slippers! Tommy made a mess in my bathroom and mom told me to use yours instead.”
“Ugh!” She says and scoots out of the way so I can open her bathroom door.
By the time I finish taking a bath in the cramped tub, I was late. I even missed the first few minutes of school. The whole day went by slowly with rigorous note-taking, tests, pop quizzes, and worksheets. During my fourth block, my teacher handed out the pop-quizzes we had taken last class. I guess my appalled face was apparent to my teacher because he said, “better luck next time Mrs. Markwelle!” I felt heat rush to my face as everyone in the class looked my way.
“I’m like the only one who got a bad grade on this quiz! I mean, I could tell it from everyone’s faces,” I told my friend.
“Don’t worry because I’m pretty sure that lots of people got worse grades than you,” she said.
“I’m not so sure,” I replied.
I get off the bus and walk down the path to my house. Then, I heard a rustling behind me and swiftly started walking backwards so that I could spot the source. I probably shouldn’t have done that because I didn’t see a rock and stumbled and fell on the ground. I scraped my knees where blood started gushing out. I walk home limping and knock on my doorbell. Jessica opens the door and I sigh in frustration. She looks at my bleeding knees and gasps.
“What happened?” She asks.
Then, the tears came out. I can’t help it. I’m devastated. This is the worst day ever! I actually answer her and tell her about my horrible day.
“Sophia,” She began, “It’s just a bad day. The only difference is that now, you have a chance to appreciate the good days even more! Oh yeah, I forgot something…” She quickly got up and jogged inside, leaving me sitting on the porch. A few seconds later, she came back with my much missed slippers in one hand.
“My slippers,” I exclaimed, “Gosh, I missed these so much, that I am actually happy to be holding slippers!” she chuckled and looked at her feet.
“Turn it over,” she said softly. I slowly turned it over and saw my name elegantly embroidered with a small note underneath it saying “to the best slipper in the world”.
“Wait…what? How did you do this?” I asked.
“Well, there was this girl in my school who offered to do it for me, which is why I took your slipper this morning.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah, I did this because I wanted to make up for all the trouble I have caused you and I’m really sorry and—“
I stopped her in the middle of her sentence and gave her a huge hug. Her smile was ten miles wide. “I love you,” I said. This time, I really meant it.
The Fault in Our Thoughts
By: Sreya Palnati
There is more to this world than grades, beauty, and gossip. There are things that are more “pure” in the world such as friendship, kindness, and perseverance. It feels as if the fact that we are being reminded of the same thing repeatedly wears down the actual meaning of the idea. In the book The Fault in Our Stars, John Green has a way of presenting this idea that continues to blow my mind every time I read it.
This author tells a delectable love story. Although this story isn’t the stereotypical relationship, it relates to modern relationships in many ways. For example, not everyone is perfect. It is okay to have imperfections. Hazel and Augustus learn to accept each other’s imperfections. This is necessary in many of today’s relationships. This is because people are constantly growing to be more diverse. We are learning our own imperfections and different natural talents. Even though I may not have uncovered any natural talents, I am still learning more about myself. In the past few years, I have learned to accept who I am. I learned not to be someone else, the person who I wish I was. Hazel truly motivated me to feel this way. She doesn’t change who she is throughout the book, even when people tell her about her limitations.
Also, it’s okay to make small mistakes once in a while; it is not the end of your life. Well in Hazel’s point of view, her life could end any minute. This shows me that other people have it worse. I shouldn’t be stressing over my small “problems” when it could be much worse. It actually took me a while to learn this. At one point in the summer, I realized that I was acting really spoiled and had become very lazy. That was when I knew that I had to change my ways. Reading this book made me realize that I was lucky just to be living. There are people in this world who don’t sleep at night with full stomachs, people who can only take a bath every other day. Some people have to even walk tens of miles just to get some medicine. Now here I am in my room too lazy to go downstairs and wash my clothes. It made me feel ashamed. I felt as if I was taking advantage of my circumstances, which I was. Nowadays, I take the time to appreciate what I was given. Hazel’s delayed death allowed her to fall in love with Augustus Waters, a persistent and truly ambitious young man. She was given a chance, a chance to start over, build up her life again. She definitely made the right decisions and used her second chance to be happy. She experienced things she never had before.
I hope to someday positively impact someone’s life the way Hazel did. I want to make them think “I sure am happy Sreya was in my life!” I want them to know me for who I am, not somebody I made up on the top of my mind. I want them to remember me at times of doubt, fear, and sadness. I want them to replace those feeling with faith, hope, and happiness when they think of me. In this book, Hazel impacted Augustus’ life in a way that I know I will probably never achieve. She taught him that there are people in the world who care about him and stuck to her own beliefs while showing Gus the true meaning of life.
This book shows the ups and downs of life and how we should appreciate the good things instead of being concerned with the bad things. Just live in the moment and be thankful for what you are given. After all, “you don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do get to choose who hurts you!” Take advantage of that fact and just be happy!
The Right to Be Forgotten?
The “right to be forgotten” from Internet searches ought to be a civil right.
By: Sreya Palnati
I think that the right to be forgotten from internet searches is needed and necessary. This is because people should have control over their personal information, and because of the fact that privacy is fundamental.
First of all, people should have control over their personal information and who gets to see it. 86% of internet users have taken steps online to remove or mask their digital footprints—ranging from clearing cookies to encrypting their email, from avoiding using their name to using virtual networks that mask their internet protocol (IP) address. 55% of internet users have taken steps to avoid observation by specific people, organizations, or the government, according to pewinternet.org. Many others who see these statistics think that people have control over the information they post on the internet. But the truth is that most of these people who have taken these careful steps still aren’t fully secure. Anyone can still look at their personal information anytime. Especially with today’s increasing knowledge about hacking systems, etc., many people will know how to use this information to hurt others. Instead, these are the facts that are really important to know. 21% of internet users have had an email or social networking account compromised or taken over by someone else without permission. 11% of internet users have had important personal information stolen such as their Social Security Number, credit card, or bank account information. All of these facts/evidence lead to the conclusion that most people might think that their personal information is secure, but it actually isn’t. Without having the right to be forgotten, the majority of the population will continue to be cheated online. That is one of the reasons as to why having the right to be forgotten on the internet is needed.
Also, privacy is fundamental. Fundamental rights are a generally regarded set of legal protections in the context of a legal system, wherein such system is itself based upon this same set of basic, fundamental, or inalienable rights. When people don’t have privacy, they often don’t feel secure. They feel as if they have been exploited and everyone can look at them, which is very true. This makes people be less honest on what they post on the internet, which could lead to very bad consequences, depending on the scenario. That is why privacy is so important and therefore a fundamental right. Having the right to be forgotten would lead many people to be more open about what they say and the internet would be a comfortable environment for people to post in.
Additionally, the right to be forgotten violates property rights. “Personal data and information is property” -shatterthelens.com. Just because someone posts something on the internet, it doesn’t mean that anyone can use that information in any way they like. “When you are online, you provide information to others at almost every step of the way.” says privacyrights.org. For example, if you give a website some of your personal information, you are providing information to others. Teen Twitter use has grown significantly: 24% of online teens use Twitter, up from 16% in 2011, according to pewinternet.org. This is especially bad because teens are now sharing more personal information than they did before. This risks their safety. If there was the right to be forgotten on the internet, this wouldn’t be a problem. Also according to pewinternet.org, teen social media users do not express a high level of concern about third-party access to their data; just 9% say they are “very” concerned. We wouldn’t have to waste money on teaching these teens to be careful on what they post on the internet if there was the right to be forgotten on internet searches.
People should have control over their personal information, privacy is fundamental, and the right to be forgotten violates property rights. Therefore, the right to be forgotten from internet searches ought to be a civil right.
Works Cited:
“Basic Privacy Rights.” Privacy Rights Clearinghouse. Web. 14 Dec. 2014. <http://www.privacyrights.org/>.
“Privacy Rights Statistics.” Pew Research Centers Internet American Life Project RSS. Web. 14 Dec. 2014. <http://www.pewinternet.org/>.
“”Right To Be Forgotten From Internet Searches”” Shatterthelens. Web. 14 Dec. 2014. <http://www.shatterthelens.com/>.
A Wall And A Stool
A Wall and A Stool
Another minute, another hour; I had been waiting outside of the theater after my rehearsal for 3 hours now, waiting for my dad to show up. I rolled my eyes and yanked my phone charger from the outlet. Another seven mile walk with my six AP textbooks and stage binders. I packed up my stuff and rose from the bench, with my hundred-ton backpack. I began my walk at a quick pace towards a small alley through Lanston Avenue, which I had previously taken as a shortcut. I gazed up the few stars visible in the sky and drew out a cold breath. The clouds thundered above as I tried to locate safe shelter for my textbooks and me. I swiftly stepped into a small, run down building as the rain began to fall.
“Hey!” I looked around to find a source to the loud voice. More mumbled cries echoed through the hall. As I stored my books safely in behind a wall, I caught sight of a small, dimly illuminated opening to crawl through. I slowly made my way towards a battered, but well-lit room. A tear rolled down my cheek and my heart ached.
Another shrill scream of an innocent girl reverberated through the room, and I grimaced. Small tied up children were being whipped, slapped, and tortured until the abusive adults reached satisfaction. I crawled backwards to the opening when I hit a wall. I tried to turn when something grabbed my legs and yanked me out.
“Well well, what do we have here?” A thunderous voice rumbled through the building, and I trembled in the large hands of this man with horrifying tattoos and scary piercings.
“Ha-ha! Boss will like this one, she’s fresh meat!” Another vicious voice spit, and at that, I scoffed and shoved out of his grip.
“Ahem,” dusting off myself dramatically, “I happen to be a person, and those children,” I said pointing towards the astringent room, “happen to be innocent and have done no wrong!”
Surprised by my sudden outburst, the men looked dumbfounded. My mother always said, ‘Hit a wall? Step on a stool and hit it right back’, I always thought that was ludicrous because in the end you’d anyways end up in pain; but today, I thought it came in handy. One of the men let out an acrimonious gruff and next thing I knew, it was pitch black.
I woke to, what seemed as hours later, a faint room with crying children around me, some crying in pain, others whimpering in fear. A loud thunderous voice pierced through the room, “All right men! We’re done for the day, these things will be shipped in the morning, oh and include the fresh meat as well.” I gasped at his order and pulled my legs to my stomach. They killed the lights and I squirmed out of the tight grasp of the rope to pull my phone out of my right boot. I quickly dialed ‘911’ when someone appeared in front of me.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Well! Not on my watch!” he kicked the phone out of my hand and my heart dropped several levels. “You think the police will come and rescue you? Well, forget about it! That’s another 35 beats for you!” He hit me, and he hit hard. I could feel the dents and cracks in my bones with the hard swings of the bat. Before I blacked out, I smiled at the next four words announced from the phone, “911, what’s your emergency?”
About 5 years later
“…and that’s my story. These children now are very healthy and all in school! The men who committed this injustice are also being taught a lesson, something for everyone! So yea, I hit a wall, but always keep a stool handy, because you never know when you’re gonna need it to jump back up and give it a turn around.” I smiled and accepted the applause as I hobbled off the stage with my crutch.
“That was wonderful! It was so inspiring, I’m crying!” My mom jumped with enthusiasm as she handed me another medication to be taken. It had been about five years since the incident, and well, I was still recovering from the traumatic event with the miracle work of the doctors. The news of my story went viral, and parents of those children were so thankful they all pitched in for my operation, which was one and half weeks long. I stepped out, signing autographs and taking pictures, slowly making my way to the car. Once we got out of the large crowd of people, we headed to the Rosettes Foundation HQ; I was proud to have begun this organization after my surgery had taken place, the foundation provided for abused children and strived to put an end to trafficking schemes
“Alexis! We have just found a small group working on Lanston Avenue,” my mind flashed back five years; “…we are sendi-“
“No, I will go along; some people will never get it and will have to have it the hard way.” And with that, I turned towards the car.
So to my readers: I really hope you find your stool, in any situation.
Business Letter
10-7-14
Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh of UPMC
One Children’s Hospital Drive
4401 Penn Avenue
Pittsburgh, PA 15224
Dear Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh Organ Transplant Division:
Over the 14 years of my life, I have lived 10 of them with a liver transplant. The other 4 years before the transplant weren’t so great, because it was then that I was sick with Maple Syrup Urine Disease. I have said thank you many times over the years after the transplant and took each day as a gift and a blessing. However, I never formally thanked you all for taking my mom’s seemingly impossible request back then. For if you hadn’t, I would not be enjoying the life I have. I told myself that someday I would formally thank you for what you did, but I never got around to it. I wanted to change that, so I wrote this to you in order to complete my long time goal. My name is Jakob Stapleton Jasin, aka JJ. I’m almost 15 and my parents are Chris and Susan Jasin, and I have a wonderful sister named Alyna, who is adopted, as well as a beautiful dog named Bella. I just recently started my freshman year of high school, and I am already part of the school’s cross country team and have a wonderful group of friends. So far I have straight A’s, and I’m taking all Honors classes. I could go further with what my life is like, but the point is that all of this I just mentioned would not be possible for me if you hadn’t taken the request that my mom made for something that hadn’t been successful before: liver transplantation for a MSUD patient. I am proud of whom I am now and will become, and I know my parents are proud of me, too. So, thank you for saving my life. I mean it and I owe you all so much for my gift.
Sincerely,
Jakob Jasin (JJ)
1st successful MSUD transplant recipient
The Cube
My challenge was capturing this cube. I had to solve this cube within 30 minutes, and if I did not complete it within the given time period, I would have failed this mission.
Let me start from the beginning. A month ago, I was given the mission to complete this relic in order to have some fun. I thought it was cool. And without knowing, I shuffled it up. The ticking bomb started. One problem though. I didn’t know it was ticking.
Originally I thought, It’s going to be alright. I have lot of time to figure it out.
I picked it up once in a while and looked at it. I could get through one part of it, but I could never figure out the entire puzzle. So I put it down and came back to it later. This was on repeat for days and days.
I also first thought that there was no importance in this mission. I had more important things to do such as slay my grades with material stronger than any sword or build my blueprint for my fortress within 20 seconds. But defusing a bomb that I had no idea was a bomb? That was the least of my priorities.
Days and days this occurred. I saw it, I attempted to solve it, failed solving it, threw it across the room and picked it up the next day. And everyday, I was getting more curious on how it worked and how to solve it
I then saw an article about it talked about how it was sucking in the minds of many kids, teenagers, and adults.
“Oh no!” I was shocked. This bomb, this cube, this object, was becoming a world wide toy and it was brainwashing the students all together.
“Hey Harish, can I check out that cube?” I promptly heard my sister say.
I was shocked but it was too late. The bomb had exploded and many more would come again if I didn’t stop this one.
With more panic within me, I grasped the cube with my sweaty hands. I turned each of the panels and layers on it and matched up the colors.
My hands felt frozen.
My teeth were chattering.
And all of this led to the moment I am in right now.
Right freaking now.
Each turn was more important than the last, and if I made a mistake, I would have to start this all over again.
My sister asked me 15 minutes later, “Can you help me with this puzzle?”
I responded in a panic that may have turned into a shout, “NO! THE WORLD RELIES ON ME SOLVING THIS CUBE SO DON’T DISTURB ME!” My sister went back to her workspace trying to find the missing piece of the 300 piece puzzle.
After a countless number of twisting and turning, I saw the end of the cube near.
I also heard the mission leader in my ear say, “H you have one minute left.”
Adrenaline rushed into me and my hands started moving faster, and faster, and faster. The colors on the cube started to become a blur and I could only hope that I knew what I was doing. Then, my hands started slowing down to see what was happening.
My finger moved as the final turn in my Rubik’s cube completed the simple colors on each side.
“Yes!” I thought when another thought dawned upon me.
“Can you help me now?” my sister said with her 300 puzzle pieces scattered over the floor.
“Agent H, your mission, do you choose to accept it?”