Bubbleboy's Awaiting Departure from the Plastic World

So, for the past eighteen years of my life I've been living in a plastic bubble. Driving down the streets of downtown Boca, you will not fail to see an imported, luxury automobile, BMWs and Mercedes Benzes are constantly sighted at every intersection. Walking down the corridors of Mizner Park, you think your in a Stepford Wives movie set, almost everyone has one part of their body that is not real, from their easily spotted breast implants to their wrinkle-free faces from all those botox injections. Almost everyone is so immoral and corrupt, I mean what's the point of getting married, if you and your partner are just going to exchange "keys" with the next door neighbors, for those famous sexual escapades known in the back countries of England as "key parties" that still take place in Boca Raton, FL at this given day. And I'm not making any of these facts up, as Boca Raton is constantly made a mockery of in Hollywood films, daytime dramas, songs, amongst other mediums of media. Shortly after I was born in Long Island, New York, my mother and father decided to escape the hustle and bustle and fast pace life of New York and relocate to a slower pace, much more relaxed life in South Florida. At the age of two, you really do not have any complex understanding of life and it is not until you reach teen-land that you begin to understand reality. So from age two to about fourteen, I was too dumb to realize that I was living in a fantasy land. I lived a carefree life, enjoying my youth and taking a part in everything. My days, depending on the season, were spent either playing recreational baseball, basketball or soccer. And when not participating in athletics, I would live in my own little world with my friends, having numerous play dates at McDonalds, Boomers and many other venues, on a weekly basis. I was too dumb to know that I was living in a fairy tale. However, shortly after starting high school, and having developed my own mind and beginning to understand the reality of this affluent town, I began to have an inner hate for this paradise. My high school although public would be best described as a private school. Based on the parking lot and the student body, one would think that it was a private school. A good portion of the students left their lavishing and overpriced educations directly after middle school in order to attend one of the best public schools in the state of Florida. It wasn't till shortly after the beginning of high school that I began to wonder what I was doing in such a place. For most of my high school years, I was a pretty well known and happy kid, but I just was not going to live a lie of life like every other student at Spanish River. One minute everyone is friends and the next your best friend is sleeping with your girl friend, no thank you, I will not participate in these immature antics. Lunch time at River was a perfect representation of Mean Girls. Each click had their own table and it was like a war, most clicks kept to themselves and would not socialize with other people in other groups, it was quite detrimental to my social development to be quite honest. I guess the analogy holds true, children will imitate what they see, and it was apparent that the way these individuals were raised was complementary of their behavior. Everything in Boca Raton seems to be one big competition, from who has the smartest children to who has the hottest significant other. When I was of the age of a young Jewish adult, I went to a splurge of Bar Mitzvah ceremony, and each one I went to outdid the other. Religion has lost its' meaning in Boca and has become a mockery of who can show their the richest and powerful. Parents must have spent well over $500,000 at some of the celebrations I attended, with their elaborate decorations and entertainment. In high school, it was a competition of who could take the most Advance Placement or rigorous schedule and get into the best school. Funny enough, all of my classmates were denied by the top three ivy-leagues and other highly ranked schools such as Stanford, so that game did not work to that big of an extent. I remember in class one time, I heard some students discussing their senior year schedule, and the first question that was asked is how many advance placement courses your taking, and then one kid with a smerk said, all my courses are AP. I just got nauseous and wanted to set these kids in their place. Still some of them may be going to somewhat decent schools, but no one is going to Harvard, Yale, or Princeton, and the ones that managed to find their way into the top-tier schools are not doing much, so their parents can brag all they want, but their parents actually hurt them by telling them that they are so smart and now they go to these big schools and are average students. Then the best part of it all was sophomore year when everyone got their car and the parking lot was beginning to look like an exotic car dealership, from the slew or Range Rovers to the rows filled with BMWs. Fast forward two more years to senior years and let's look at some of the graduation gifts, oh yeah that's right, breast implants for little Jessica. Now I won't lie, I was handed the keys to a pretty nice car, so I won't be that much of a monday morning quarterback. Moving away from the superficiality that filled the halls of Spanish River, we move into my housing development. Now for some reason, my parents decided to move to a country club neighborhood and I've been living here for the past eighteen years of my life. At first, it was nice and all, with the huge resort style pool and two story gym, but now it's beginning to get really old. The people think there movie stars and that everyone should know who they are. They think there so much better than everyone else and are so ill mannered when it comes to interacting with the waiters, busboys and other employees at Woodfield. Never does a please or thank you come out of their mouth, just rude ass comments like "break a leg" or "what is taking so long, get my food or your not gonna get a tip". If there was not such a thing as the authorities, I would love to punish these people, just as I was when I was a younger rascal and disrespected my elders. There assed would be lobster red and there mouths would be stinging from all that soap and maybe with all of these enforcements, they would begin to check themselves and realize that there no different than the help or any of the residents that live in any of the subdivisions in Woodfield Country Club. The amount of wealth that occupies Boca Raton is unbelievable. Have you ever seen dog carried around in Louis Vuitton carryalls or sitting on Gucci seat covers at bagel shops? I mean, when there's a store called the doggie bakery, you know you're living in a fantasy world. And what's up with mother's dressing in the same skimpy outfits as their precocious teenage daughters, or with them not having one part of their body that is not artificial, it's like that song, "Barbie girl living in a barbie world", but there are plenty of Ken's too, and who knows, I bet you would not fail to find some fake Ron Jeremy who spent a ton of money on penile surgery just so he could have the longest schlong in Boca, it would definitely go along with the whole competition element. The last thing that I'm ready to leave is "God's waiting room". Boca Raton as described in a book is like a combination of an amusement park and waiting room for the old people. Every other street is occupied by a either senior citizen complex, nursing home, or assisted living residence. And you will not fail to see at ten people over the age of seventy five in any restaurant, shop, or other venue in the Boca/ Delray area. I do not mind old people, but I mind their constant complaining and miserable attitudes. If I could, I'd just dig holes for them and tell them to go in, as cynical as that sounds. I understand that older people have little patience, but seriously don't choose to live in a country club community and expect to not hear babies screaming in the street. As it may seem evident from this composition, I'm ready to break free and enter out into the real world once again. Time to take off my Rolex, stash my Italian designer wallet and slew of accessories, and sacrifice my Lexus for walking and public school transportation, and I do not care one bit about giving these luxuries up as I'm tired of living my life in a bubble, that is so secured and negatively diverse than any other area. Two months may seem short after living in this superficial land for the past eighteen years, but it's two months too many, and I'm anxiously looking forward to being around down to earth, middle class people who speak with polite diction such as "Yes m'aam and Please/ thank you". I can't wait for that fresh scent of Carolina and I'm ready to enjoy each and every bit of that everlasting smell of North Carolina.

Give It Up, Throw Your Hats In The Air...

Buzz!! "It's finally here, the big day where I make the transition from a immature middle-schooler to a somewhat mature student", said Brad. Thinking back to the eve of August 15th, I can remember maybe sleeping only five hours. I was so excited for my first day of high school at the renowned Spanish River Community High School. My brother drove me into the gates of freedom, or so I thought. The bell rang, and I remember pushing my petite structure through the halls that were crowded with loud, obnoxious students. "Oh no", I said. The second bell rang and i was sure to be late. I ran as fast as I could to portable 6009, where a middle-age man greeted me with a "Hello". Not did I know that this man would be one of my worse nightmares during my reign at Spanish River. "Ring", the bell went. I pushed myself throw the halls as fast as I could in order to make it to my next class both alive and on time. This time, a man about the height of 6'0 with glasses welcomed me into the world of Algebra I. Remembering back to this day, that class was one breeze for me. Let's see, next to me there was JoJo and April,where did you go April???!!!!. Then there was my bodyguard Justin, haha,. Now, the real fun begins. Ever since I was a ten year old boy in Mrs Hetman's fifth grade class, I remember drawing sketches of my fine estates that I planned to designed when I got older, but after spending 55 minutes in Mr. Barry's class, I knew that this was not the major that I was set out to do. Next class, Integrated Science. I remember an average sized lady intimidating me from the moment I walked into her classroom, and it would only continue to get worse, but I managed to maintain my strength and pull straight A's and B's. Mrs. Vacco is one strong woman, but don't let her intimidate you. You just got to show her that you can handle her work and criticism and she will learn to like you. Now it's time for lunch....NOT. Unlike most of my friends, I was given the dirty leftovers of Lunch B. So, it was on to Health with Mrs. Berke. Just an easy mandatory elective that required minimal effort. Remember discussing cellular phones and my first car, the Nissan Altima with Ashley Sater and Nadine, but of course the Altima was no where near my first car. Remember listening to some Spanish kid Nick talk about drugs and sex, and remember chatting to Diana about my brother. The second half of the year it was 4 months with Dr. Bernado. That class was AWESOME. I remember chatting with the fame SR football player Jason Chery and practicing my Spanish skills with Roxana and Noella. Now, it's time for lunch. Freshman year, I remember sitting with David, who looked like mini me compared to myself, but today looks like the freaking "Hulk". Only two more periods left till I can say, I survived the River. Sixth period was Spanish I with Mrs. Andrade. This class brings back some good memories. Especially the time, I got a detention for mocking the teacher's strong accent or the time she told Ron, he looked like her gynecologist, LMAO. Ahhhh..., the last period, but no, WHY MUST I GO OUTSIDE IN THE 90 DEGRESS WEATHERS AND DEHYDRATE MYSELF. "Ring, ring", said I. Now, I can say that I have survived my first day, only 719 left for me to conquer.In 10th grade, first hour I had the brilliant, Mrs. Mary Murley who taught me about the World. That was a fun class with Mike, David, Robbie, Rose, Nicole, Brooke, Maria, Angelo, and if I'm forgetting you, sorry. All the funny stories Murl's told us about the rulers of Europe and all the remarks she made about the stragglers in the class. Fighting with Jeffe for always sleeping, and letting two unnamed specimen cheat off of me, and Murley knew it, but hey, WHAT CAN I DO? Next, for the next 180 days, it was Spanish II with Mrs. Gervasio. She will never be forgotten. Has to be my favorite person I have ever met from New Jersey. Anything to make a student laugh, even if that was ridiculing another one. Remember all the smart freshman that I had to compete against in that class, mrs. "34" aka Jenna and Kokolina. The review games were always fun and beneficial. Third hour, was half the year spent with Mrs. Quevedo and half the year with crazy college guy we all know as Mr. Buck. Hmmm. I remember being the "Best Cascas" during our portrayal of Julius Caesar. Next, it was time to sing all those ballads with Mrs. Bolling. Half the days were just spent chatting with Chelsey, Stephanie, Joanna, Brooke, Cecila, Santiago, and many others. One funny thing that happened during that class, was my voice cracked numerous times while we were singing "You Raise Me Up", by Josh Groban. I remember the hilarious fights between Cecila and Stephanie. Oh yeah, and Max, always trying to put me in headlocks or practice his other wrestling move on me. Now, yes!, I got my way and was rewarded with Lunch A this time and never again will I have the torture of waiting till 12:18 to eat. I remember spending half my lunches laying out on the benches in the courtyard near the entrance, just sleeping and chatting about the latest Macintosh products with Ben, John, and Jason. Now, please don't even remind me of this hell. It was time for the most boring hour of the day, because it was hosted by the most boring teacher of the day. At least, I had some pretty outgoing classmates that made the class a bit more exciting such as Andrew, Josh, David, Veronica, Mikey, Jackie and the rest of you obviously did not have much of an impact on me. I still remember all the times her annoying children and their friends would come in to have a buffet. Also, the times she would belittle me in front of the class or the time I did my "Geometry rap", good times, good times. Now it was time to ACT in style with Mrs. Susie Rubin. I enjoyed listening to her gossip about her life, that was fun and I really enjoyed the monologues and the scripts I had to write and and act out, except for the time I got kicked off for being a little perverted, I'm a guy, I can't help it, or the time "accidentally pulled up one of my classmates provocative skirt and revealed her "goods" to them.(some of the guys thanked me for opening their eyes into their future, haha) The second half of the year, I had Mr. Weddle for TV Production I. I still remember watching Citizen Kane and all the simulations of the local news. Last period was a complete waste of my day. I'd rather be home sleeping, or getting my homework done. Much of seventh period was spent by babbling about the most random topics, such as Mr. Pope's crack in the back of his head or he spent his time caressing the female students. I sat next to Beth Weiner, Dan Davis, and Alex Zigman for the first half of the year, but after complaining to Mr. Pope about my "B", I was moved to the front of the room.As well all know, I was absent for a portion of the most important year of a high school student's life. But when I returned in the latter part of January, I remember having a great half year with some of Spanish River's best teachers. First hour, I had the privilege of getting the most chilled, laidback teacher that River has yet to seen. Sitting back, listening to some Jack Johnson and listening to many estrange articles of the day was one of my favorite pasttimes of junior year. Next it was time to work my vocals in Mrs. Bolling's Vocal Ensemble IV class. That year we practiced very heavily for our spring concert, and then we just chilled out the rest of the year. Fun stuff! Third hour was English with Spurgeon. My favorite time in that class would be the time spent working on our poems, because it required minimal work and was actually FUN. Remember Robbie telling Spurgeon that we see our grandparents to be nice just till they die and we get our trust funds, LMAO. Goody goody gumdrops, I get Mrs. Susie Rubin again, :). Half the days were spent with her sharing her traumatic stories with us about her rats, lmao. Ah...Mrs. Rubin, wherever you are, you definitely made that class fun and are one strong, opinionated lady. LUNCH, blah....! Sixth period was Espanol time with Mrs. Blanco. Mrs. Blanco will always be regarded by me as one of the most caring and accommodating teachers that River has yet to seen. From my death bed to the classroom, she was always there to whenever I needed her aid. I sat next to Shannon and she kept me occupied with her love/hate relationship with Marc. Last period of the day, YAY....and it was a BLAST. I had Mrs. Rothberg for Algebra II, and that was a piece of cake for me. Pulling the highest averages in the class with minimal study time and listening to Max share his ridiculous stories about his arrest.Finally, the year has come, where middle age teenagers become mature, young adults. We'll, I can't say that for everyone else, but it holds true with me, ask anyone! I am like a boring forty year old man, and I'm fine with being that guy, hehe. First hour, I had one teacher who I will never forget. Mrs. Leeds, what would I do without you? Without your very helpful lectures, and more importantly. your wondeful disposition. You were always there to accommodate me and always asked how I felt. I will never forget my chem partners. Faith, what would I do without you to keep my live spirited. Sami, always making me smile with your renditions of the latest hits played on Channel One and meshing well with me with our nervous mentalities. Keryn, I will miss calling you the "asian girl" and all your chitter chatter. Next, I had fun times in Trigonometry with Mrs. Castellano. Made learning matematicas, fun and easy. Stacy, what would i do without you to add some humor in my day or Amanda without your Connecticuit charm. Third hour, I had Mrs. Murley once again. Learnng once again about Europe. Have fun in retirement, Murls! Fourth hour was WOW, with Mr. Di-Figlio. Definitely the most talented teacher I have encountered in my eighteen years as a student. Everything from a brilliant AP Psychology teacher to a comedian to a talented singer. Fifth hour half the year was with Marks, and the other half with Yunker. Both interesting classes, but completely different layouts. Marks class was well organized and he had a regimentated schedule that he followed, while Yunker was more a chilled teacher who spent most of the time making jokes about himself or listening to the random crap that came out of various student such as Tammy and Maria. And as it comes to a close, :(, the last teacher who was given the privilege to teach me, hehe, was the infamous Ms. Counsil who was devoted to her job and did anything to make her students learn. Again, I had to put up with the stupidity that came out of certain people's mouth, but I was still able to learn a great deal including the works of Oscar Wilde, Franz Kafka, and Shakespear, and Henrik Ibsen.Weekends and holiday breaks were somewhat enjoyable. Throughout high school, I was not much of an alcoholic. Freshmen year, I remember spending half my weekends at Mike's house. Just kicking back and shooting some hoops, or playing the latest Playstation 2 games. During winter break, I went on the Carnival Victory, and I had an amazing time. Luckily, my sister met the man of her dreams, or so we all thought. One minor event that happened right after Winter Break, was the removal of my four wisdom teeth. Spring break, I went on the Golden Princess, which was like a Ritz Carlton on the sea. As a family ritual, I went to Southern California for summer vacation. Spending days of the time in La Jolla, Los Angeles, Santa Monica, Venice, Laguna Beach, and Newport area. California use to be one of my favorite destinations until I got my denial from UCLA. Now, I have no desire to vacation to the West, and much rather take a trip to the Orient. Also, I went to New York and Connecticut. Living the jet set lifestyle, drinking expensive wines and driving around in 200k dollars Aston Martins. Ahh, that's the life! Sophomore year was a pretty decent year. Weekends, hmmm....spent doing LEGAL normal teenager things such as relaxing at Mizner Park, many weekends at the beach, movies, malls, and friend's houses. We lost like two weeks of school sophomore year, I remember. Because of all the hurricanes. Remember hosting the senior citizen barbecue at my house, which brings back memories of a person who I just loss recently. Right after winter break, I got the keys to my FIRST car, a maxed out limited JM Lexus Sports Edt. 2002 Lexus IS300. This car was the ideal teenager sports car. Chrome wheels, upgraded engine, and the works. But, junior year I moved onto bigger and maturer things, when I got my 06 IS250. Now, I'm thinking maybe a nice SC430 after college??? Christmas and Spring breaks sophomore year were the normal cruises, or just sitting back and relaxing. Summer of sophomore year was pretty AMAZING. First, I went to New York to visit some old friends and to enjoy the scenes of Manhattan, and then the real paradise began, except for my life saving accident in Whistler's mountain. Besides that, I met so many wonderful people that I still make it a top priority to IM everyday such as Sam and Michele. Junior year was a very morid year. Half of my weekends were spent on the 2nd floor of the Nicklaus Children's Hospital, me lying in bed with potent chemicals being pumped throughout my circulatory system. There was the occassional Steak N Shake trip with Mike and Triet, or the occassional visits, but junior year was basically a blank page in my photo album. BUT...then summer rolled again and my wish came true. I got to go to the places that I've dreampt of visiting since I was a twelve year old boy. Places that I will continue to visit throughout life, for pleasure and business deals. Asia was amazing, and probably the best trip I've ever been one. It will be one of the last big memories I will share with my father, as I will be relocating to a different state for college. Senior year, ahhh...yes. Many of my weekends were abandoned ones to be honest I moslty kept to myself, and did all my homework and studied like the OCD student I am. Much paid off, as I have achieved great grades, but I do regret not taking advantage of all the senior events. Homecoming and prom are probably on the top three list fr most important senior events, but I will never get to experience them in my lifetime. One of th best memories of senior year has to be GRAD NIGHT. Probably one of the very last times that I wlll get to be with my friends due to distance factors, except for those winter holiday and spring breaks. We'll....now it's over. And it's time to move onto bigger and better things like COLLEGE. But, it can be said that we have definitely matured together into bright young adults, or at least most of us. And we will continue to grow together, and see the final results at our reunions to come in distant future. Farewell class of 2007, be safe and always remember the the wave that gave you that push into the big open sea.

The Red Light That Opened My Eyes

September 11, 2001, a date that will always live in the history of our nation. I remember it like it was just yesterday. I was in the seventh grade at Omni Middle School. A child who was getting ready to become a man. I was sitting quietly in Ms. Estep's seventh grade World History class, when suddenly, a familiar voice emerged from the speakers in the classroom, yet from the tone in the voice, we could all sense sorrow and danger. All the teachers were directed to immediately turn on the televisions. What could possibly be wrong? Perhaps it was a tornado warning or the death of President George W. Bush. But, no, it was something much worse and terrifying, something that we never thought could or would happen. As the teacher pushed the power button, silence ignited the classroom. "Oh my god, what is happening?", was the first sentence to come out of my mouth. It felt like we were watching an extreme, action film, but unfortunately, we knew this was real news feed and had to accept the reality of the situation. Given the situation, luckily it was a half day for our school, so we could all go home and be close to the ones we loved during this tragic time in our lives. Being born in New York and having parent's who were raised on Long Island, a portion of relatives and family friends worked in Manhattan, and I remember being so concerned as I stepped into the automobile as my mother picked me up. As soon as I walked into my home, I ran into my father's office. I wanted to make sure that his business partners who worked in the WTC were alright, and as he slowly told me that he has not heard about everyone yet, I began to feel my stomach churn. Fortunately, later that afternoon, he received word that they all made it out and were able to return home to their families that evening. I felt so happy that I began to cry for joy. I'm a very sensitive guy, but I rarely cry like a baby. The last three instances that I cried was the day I was diagnosed with cancer, my grandfather's funeral and my grandmother's funeral. Speaking of my grandfather, this was a very tough time for him. As a veteran of World War II and an individual who loved his country almost as much as his wife, son and daughter and five beloved grandchildren, I believe that witnessing this tragic event on his ill-ridden bed was the bullet that murdered him. Poppy, as I called him, was already severely ill, living off of dialysis machines from day to day, with only one motive for living, to witness his youngest grandchild read from the torah and become a young, Jewish man. However, at 2:00AM on September 16th, Bernard Steinberg passed away at his Boca Teeca apartment with his wife, Mathilda Steinberg by his side. I know how badly he wanted to be at my ceremony of Jewish manhood and how much he loved me, to not have him by my side as I took the oath on the bi'ma, I felt like a part of my spiritual soul was missing. However it made me stronger and a better person. For the next months to come, I remember how our country had evolved from a laissez-faire background into one of the most secure and aware communities. Security measures were tightening up and our nation was coming together as one at the same time. I remember everyone purchased an American flag and placed it on their car to show our nation's that tried to bring us down that no matter how hard you try to destroy us, we will always stand and never fall down. For a brief while, I remember the mentality of many Americans was changing, from very careless individuals into individuals who had hearts of warmth and sincerity. I could discuss the lesson that we as a country learned from this horrible event, but the focus of this composition is on my personal insight and knowledge. As a person, I learned to cherish life and not take everything for granted. I learned that family is more than important than anything in life and most importantly, the value of your lives is greatest. I would learn years later that the your life is the greatest wealth that you could inherit in life. Another very important lesson that I learned was the importance of our nation's fighting and emergency rescue forces. I do not think there will ever be anything that I could do to truly show our soldiers, armed forces, paramedics, fire fighter and miscellaneous heroes how much they mean to me, because they save our lives from dawn to dusk, day in and day out. But I discovered that there was one thing that I could do for other's, such as you, the person reading this, I could dedicate much of my life to the lives and beauty of our countries. Starting in high school, I began doing intense, community service projects and have kept this trend apart of my present day life. From making visits to children fighting for their lives to saving the lives of our elders and homeless at nursing homes and soup kitchens. On September 11th, a red light blinded my eyes, very soon after I began to see the burning light and have kept this light ignited and will continue to and will pass this light of courage, beauty, generosity and patriotism onto my children.

The Examination of the University

Ah..., it's finally over. So, after three midterms and one complex and tedious paper of no importance in my life, it's finally time to sit back, fill my bowl and inhale the fumes of freedom. Lately, I've been questioning the importance of undergoing four years filled with stress, joy, sorrow, and a variety of other feelings. Living in a time where the quality of life is failing makes me wonder if having a degree will even be of any importance when it comes time for me to pop this bubble and enter into the realms of reality. Surviving college is a test in itself. Getting through all the obstacles, whether it be receiving a mediocre grade on a midterm or finding yourself and the people you can associate yourself with, is more stressful and anxiety causing than that one course such as Microeconomics, that gives you stomach aches day in and day out. Professors are a melting pot of flavors. Some are spicy, some are sweet. You hope that you get the candy shop but sometimes you end up with the peppers and spices The expectations of a student from a professor are very high and instead of treating us like undergraduate students, they tend to throw us to the hounds and make us defend for ourselves and as if we're their colleagues. Professors find enjoyment with psyching us out and adding more stress into our already complicated lives. Yesterday I was having a panic attack in the school library due to the problems I was countering when attempting to print out my paper for English on one side. However, due to certain restrictions that Miami places on the control panels for the printers, I could only print it double-sided, so I finally gave up and just handed in my paper with double-sides. I guess I'll find out soon enough how that ended up, and if God willing, I get marked down one letter grade than there will be some complications between the English department, library and me. In my first three semesters of college, I have encountered some incompetent teachers and unfortunately, I do have one of those this semester. One of my professors who will remain anonymous lost one of my quizzes and it's taking forever for this person to get back to me. It should not be my responsibility to keep on this person like a dog, but my grade is at jeopardy due to this figure's messy and confused lifestyle. While we're on this subject, I would also to comment on the university's stupidity for employing graduate students. I do not want someone five years older than me, who is nervous and has his own stress load of work to worry about, teaching me about mathematics, philosophy, psychology when he or she does not know the first thing about existensialism. For a fucking forty-thousand dollar tuition, you better be having some Harvard and Yale graduates, middle-age men and women, teach me about the principles of foreign exchange. And what does this world say when Harvard graduates are unemployed, living at home with their parents because they were laid off from their high paying jobs at top financial firms like Wachovia.

Living A Defining Life of Happiness

Happiness, what is it? For the majority of our societies, happiness functions as an outcome. You always hear people saying, "When..., then I'll be happy", but that is just a fallacy. Thinking like that only leaves us wanting more and never reaching an absolute value of content. Now, I'm not embarrassed nor do I care how others will react, because I'm an honest individual who speaks his mind, like John Mayer says, "It's better to say too much, than to never to say what you need to say again." Lately, I've been having feelings of depression and loneliness. I felt like a microscopic specie that has been ignored, abandoned and abused. The transition for transfer students is a long, frustrating and hard process. I've been here for more than six months, almost two semester, and still do not feel that my social life is as strong as it was at the University of Maryland. Sadly to say, I've been having second thoughts about Miami and was considering to relocate one last and final time, but this time to actually take my time and examine the choices. I kept telling myself that I'll be happy when I get out of this place. With the conception that I would be able to develop a better social life at a university that is more diverse in the range of student, in terms of socioeconomic status and personal mentalities. Generalization and stereotyping the student body at the University of Miami brainwashed me into thinking that there were no people worth my time, or the people worth my time were dull and not full of live. However, I put on my glasses recently and am able to perceive an environment filled with a handful of down to earth individuals, who share similar interests and beliefs. I realized that if I kept deceiving myself with the notion that happiness would come when I move onto yet another school, then in reality, I would never reach the realms of happiness. The first step in finding happiness begins with the formulation of a true individualistic definition of happiness. To me, happiness is attaining the maximum amount of pleasure in one's lifetime. To that end, pleasure to me, is a feeling of satisfaction. Checking that definition with the course of my life, I would say I am a long ways away from happiness. Throughout the bulk of my adolescence, I have had set, written plan for my duration as a physical being. However, due to uncontrollable circumstances, we should allow room for revision in our outline. And we should not let these events steer us away from achieving our primary goals. Now I am not going to layout my goals for you, because I would like some of them to remain hidden from the public. Though I will tell you, it does include furthering my studies in California at Stanford or Berkeley, becoming an influential person in the world of commerce, and having a beautiful family with a residence in Orange County, California. However that is only a minimal portion of the true definition ideals of happiness in my life. Step three of this process will involve me catapulting my feelings of depression and after a while, I will realize that I have an amazing life and should be more appreciative. I am fortunate enough to have a fully functioning body, physically and mentally, that unfortunately many individuals do not have. Some people have no idea how stimulating it is to be able to see, hear, taste, smell, and even touch. These five objectives may seem simple, but the truth is that we do not value them enough, and we're selfish individuals. We take these major implications in our life for granted, when it is our bodies that can give us the most pleasure. The problem is that we're living a material world, just as Madonna sings about in her 1980's hit, "Material Girl". Living in a material world is not going to help us sustain a true value of happiness. However, materialism is one of the biggest marketing techniques in our societies. I'm not going to lie, personally, I am one of these individuals. I get one good and two seconds later I'm onto the next. Overcoming materialism is as hard as breaking the addiction with heroine. Just like these addicts, we ourselves addicts, suffering from SAS(Shopping Addict Syndrome). Unfortunately there are no additives to help break this compulsive disorder, and it probably will keep breathing until eternity. What you can do to make this habit seem a little better is purchase in moderation. Buy on an interval time schedule, instead of being stimulated to swipe that card every other hour, day, and even week. Now, the focus on my paper has already shifted immensely, so I am going to end it here and tell you to picture this. You are a sixty year old man, who has been unconscious for your life until now. Now, you are able to experience all of the senses. What are you going to do?, I'll leave that one to you, but just remember to stop feeling your way to happiness, actually live a life of happiness.